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time-to-write-and-suffer · 3 years ago

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I wouldn't mind that post on VNs!

So I was gonna write three different lists, but then after writing the first part I realized this is very long and takes a while to write and nobody cares anyway so I’ll just post my recommended list only. Well, I mean, you asked, but I doubt you wanted all this lol. Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this stuff, though. Hope you enjoy my ramblings!

An explanation for what this list is: Sometimes I know a game isn't perfect in many aspects but I still had a genuinely good time playing it, hence why I'm recommending it. Also I should mention that I could talk for hours about some of these games so if anyone’s curious about more of my thoughts, let me know.

Alright, now that that's out of the way ...

How to Take Off Your Mask / How to Fool a Liar King / How to Sing to Open Your Heart (f/m): This is a trilogy of smaller, single-RO games where you can take one of two routes depending on how you act, and they’re all interconnected where you get to meet and interact with the previous games’ characters in the sequel games. I went into this expecting very little but what I got blew me away with how funny, charming and cute the games were. They don’t take themselves too seriously, at one point an angsty male character monologues deeply about some shit, and another one just slides into frame and starts mocking him. It was so fucking funny, holy shit. Also, a central theme is literally racism against catgirls? Which is monumentally stupid, and probably the games’ main flaw, especially in the final game where it pairs up a catgirl with a catgirl racist, but that one still ends with a literal bisexual queen literally making a man her malewife because she fell in love with his cooking, so like ... It speaks for itself. My favorite game of the three is the second one, where you get to play a punchy fake catgirl and romance a pink-haired prince. And honestly, all the female protags in these games are lovely and a breath of fresh air, and the male characters are fun and not abusive assholes either. There’s full Japanese voice acting, and two out of three female protags are literal catgirls who pepper in “nya” and “mya” into their dialogue, and it’s just treated as a quirk of their catgirl race. I AM NOT KIDDING. Yet somehow it never comes off as cringe, because it doesn’t take it self too seriously. These games are just cozy. That’s the only way I can describe them. Cozy and hilarious. Play them yesterday. Dream Daddy (m/m): Man tumblr did this game dirty. This is just a cute, wholesome daddy dating simulator with gorgeous art. Coming out on Top (m/m): So you know Dream Daddy? What if it was EXTREMELY, MAJORLY NSFW? Though I realize how bad the comparison really is, the only thing these games have in common is that they’re gay dating sims and don’t have an anime art style and oh, yeah, they’re both really well-written. Or at least, extremely funny. COOT (heh) is DDADDS’ horny older cousin, and I first encountered the game on a lesbian letsplayer’s YouTube channel. Yes I watched a lesbian play a gay porn game and it was GOOD. I was there for the cringe and fun and got surprised by how genuinely funny and sometimes actually touching the game was. I can’t give it my universal endorsement because it’s not a game for everyone, as I said, it’s extremely NSFW and the menu theme literally includes the singers screaming “SEX SEX” at the top of their lungs. There’s more to this game than the porn, but there’s just so much porn. It can be censored in the settings but it’s unavoidable. However, I still think it’s worth a look just because of how funny it is and how charming the characters are. If you don’t want to play it yourself, at least watch Anima’s playthrough of it. It hasn’t aged super well in some spots but I still go back to it every now and then. Akash: Path of the Five (f/m): This game markets itself as a more “professionally produced” western dating sim, and that’s accurate in some superficial aspects. The game is pretty poorly written, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and has really good English voice acting by actual professional voice actors. The premise is quite self-indulgent, but I genuinely respect that about it. You play as the only female elemental in a village with only men, and all five of your classmates want a piece of you. It’s clear the writers have put some thought into the lore and worldbuilding of this world, but barely any of it comes through in the actual writing and plot, which is basically just a vehicle for you to get together with your boy of choice. The ROs aren’t very well-developed either, and the plot is the same in every route with only minor variations depending on which guy you pick, up to the point where the protag has the same voice lines in some parts regardless of which guy she’s talking about. It also has one extra half-route that’s so bad and pointless I genuinely wonder why they wasted resources on making it instead of spending a bit more on the writing/adding some variations to the main plot. So why am I recommending this game? Well, it’s pretty, and it sounds nice. This game is a himbo, gorgeous but dumb as rocks. Enjoy it for what it is. I know I did. Get it when it’s on sale, I think if I hadn’t gotten it at half-price I would’ve felt a bit more cranky about it. Also Rocco is bae. Mystic Destinies: Serendipity of Aeons (f/m): Yes that’s the full title, no I don’t know what it means either. You may have noticed how most of the games so far I’ve enjoyed because they don’t take themselves too seriously? Well, this one does. It takes itself SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY. Like, way too seriously. It’s a little embarrassing at points because baby, you’re an urban fantasy dating sim. Calm down. But the game has gorgeous art and 3 out of 5 routes are very good. The last route, the one with your teacher, is both the most problematic yet somehow the one that breaks down the very concept of a dating sim within its own narrative (yes, this shit gets fucking META) and it got so wild at the end that 1) I still listen to the soundtrack for that route and 2) I still remember it to this day despite finishing it ages ago. My favorite route is Shou, he’s a sweetheart, but the mindfuck route is so buckwild that I think the game is worth playing just for that. There’s also a route that’s like a neo-noir mystery? I Do Not Know. This game is many, many things and it does them so sincerely and tries so hard, you can’t help but respect it. It doesn’t always stick the landing but man, just let this thing take your hand and wax poetic at you for a bit. Also get this one at a sale because it’s very expensive to get the full version. I got it for 9 bucks on itch.io and I felt that was a fair enough price, I’d say I wouldn’t have minded paying more for it because there’s a lot of content to enjoy and/or be baffled by. Arcade Spirits: This one’s a bit more weird from what I recall, and I honestly couldn’t tell you much about it, but I remember having a very good time with it and recommending it to a friend when she was going through some tough times and she said it made her feel better. I remember it making me feel better, as well. This is a VN about an arcade and the ROs are wonderfully diverse, with very real human conflicts that get explored in each of their routes. It can get quite existential and heavy at times, but in the end it’s a kindhearted game that I think everyone can enjoy. The main character was also, how you say, mood. It’s a game about getting possessed by a video game and then learning self-love. Ebon Light (f/m): This one’s free/name your own price on itch.io so go play it. It’s a weird plot where you play as a girl who ate an elven relic? And then the elves kidnap you because you’re the relic now. All the ROs are extremely pasty (like, literally white, as in literally the color white) dark-haired elves, except for one, who’s an extremely pasty blond elf, so ... diversity? I honestly don’t know what this game is aside from unique. I used to be a bit put off by the art style but now I think it contributes to the general atmosphere. It’s a weird game that technically doesn’t do anything groundbreaking but still left an impression of “huh. weird” in my mind and I think more people should play it. The ROs are all pretty generic dating sim archetypes but done well, with bonus points to Duliae who’s just a massive creep and I love him, and also Vadeyn who’s the only bitch in this house I respect. The worldbuilding is honestly a bit buckwild and I can’t give enough credit for how unique the elves’ culture is in this game. Definitely give it a go. Hakuoki: Kyoto Winds / Hakuoki: Edo Blossoms (f/m): These two are newer releases of an older Japanese visual novel. I wouldn’t call it a dating sim, it’s ... it’s more of a super depressing historical fantasy epic with some minor romance aspects awkwardly wedged in. It’s seriously some of the heaviest and most grimdark shit I’ve ever played in a VN/otome. I don’t understand why it’s a dating sim, it doesn’t read like one, it’s just historical fantasy based on real world events with characters based on real people, and they kill and they die and they grieve and they suffer. The games are literally about the downfall of the Shinsengumi, there’s no way of avoiding everything going to shit and you get to watch and be in the middle of it all as they struggle to stay alive and relevant in a world that doesn’t need them anymore. And there’s the protag in the middle of it all, being useless and submissive and bland just the way the usual otome protag is. I don’t think these games are necessarily fun, and the romance is certainly a lot more downplayed and deeply problematic just based on the age differences alone with some of the men, but the sheer amount of horror and sadness in these games make them stand out above its peers. It’s like watching a war movie. Since most of the characters are based on real people, they feel like real people instead of the usual otome archetypes, and they are so, SO flawed, it’s interesting to just watch them deal with the shit the world throws at them. It’s an Experience, and if you’re up for it, I think it’s worth the time. Cinderella Phenomenon (f/m): This game is free on Steam so go get it. You play as a really, genuinely shitty princess who gets cursed to be poor and forgotten and she has to help one of the ROs break his fairy tale curse so that she can learn about being a good person herself and return to her normal life. This game doesn’t look like much, but it has a genuinely well-written main character who’s actually at the center of each of the stories and in the overarching plot instead of just being around to make eyes at the real protagonists, aka the love interests. Aside from the main character, my favorite part of this game’s writing is how each route slowly but very smoothly expands upon the overarching intrigue. If you play them in a certain order, you get more and more info revealed to you that you didn’t see in other routes, gaps are filled in as you find out more about what actually happened and why, but every route also stands on its own as a full experience and none is more canon than the rest. There’s also some really heavy emotional parental abuse explored, which I found quite potent at times. The romances themselves were alright, I think Karma and Waltz were my faves.

#eff plays

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pencilofawesomeness · 3 years ago

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Author Self-Interview

tagged by: @ljf613

Name: Pencil

Fandoms: *deranged laughter* Too many. I have written (and published) work for Fairy Tail, Genshin Impact, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Voltron: Legendary Defender, the Arrowverse, ~Disney~, RWBY, and Transformers: Prime. I have also written for Seven Deadly Sins, My Hero Academia, DC/Batman, Avengers, Danny Phantom, and soooo many others, but those are all WIPs and such. As for fandoms, well, there’s Miraculous Ladybug, Tales of Arcadia, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Tower of God, and more. I bounce around, and I never really leave anything behind, even if other interests are more at the forefront.

Where do you post: AO3. I used to, waaaaaay back in the dark days, post on ff.net, but not only have I forgotten my password, but I don’t like the interface as much, nor the things I posted when I was a Child, so AO3 it is.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Of Dragons and Fairies, so says my AO3 statistics.

Most popular oneshot: Sparks in the Night, which I by no means expected, being that it was a fun little thing I wrote pretty much in one night. Technically it’s two chapters, but I originally wasn’t going to post the second part I wrote, but decided to later, so I would’ve made it a one-shot, probably, had I thought things through. Besides, it’s only 3k, so that’s a one-shot in my book.

The “real” most popular one-shot would be Never Forgotten by Pencil-actually-made-it-one-chapter logic.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: F-favorite? Oh. Oh well, um, I have really, really enjoyed the How to Raise Your Dragon Slayer series, far more than I thought I would when I started Of Dragons and Fairies for the kicks and giggles. That said, my favorite installment so far is probably The Eighth Tower, but one of my favorite things I think I have written is a massive one-shot that’s an MHA-style FMA fic, except that I lost it in a harddrive crash and haven’t re-written it. ;-;

Fic you were nervous to post: I don’t know if I’m ever really nervous? I generally post things and accept whatever outcome (even though I always hope it’s well received, because I’m a selfish author who likes validation). That said, it would definitely be United. That story was, and still is, one of my favorite brain-children, but I guessed that it wouldn’t be popular, and I was right. I haven’t written on it in a long time, though I have always wanted to circle back to it eventually; I just figured I had time to follow my current interests, since nobody else was chomping at the bit. One day my child, one day...

How do you choose your titles: Heh. Heheheh. HAHAHAHA. Very carefully, actually, even though sometimes I try to just slap something on a page anyway because it needs one. Most of the time, I try to capture the theme of the story—or at least one of the core ones—and allow it to both serve as a descriptor and as a note that would tie the story together and highlight the theme. Though I do appreciate allusions, and I like to include those as well. (If anyone wants to send me an ask about how I came up with a specific title, I will gladly give my thought process.) Unfortunately, chapter titles—as much as I try—rarely get as much inspiration as the fic title.

Do you outline: Y— Yesssssss.... Sort of. I try. Ironically, my most comprehensive outlines exist as Spotify playlists. That said, HTRYDS probably has the best outline of anything I’ve written, though Tales of Valor had a decent outline as well.

Complete: Mostly just one-shots—I’m actually pretty bad at completing things, heheh—but there’s a few. Outside of an ongoing series, Finding Home is my only completed multi-chapter. Inside of a series, but existing as comprehensive arcs, I have Of Dragon and Fairies and The Eighth Tower.

Edit: Oh! And it’s short, but The Recruitment Spiel is an Art But Destiny Took the Fun Out of It is complete! And multi-chapter. Yeah.

Do you accept prompts: Kinda. I’m accepting prompts and ideas for extra scenes for the HTRYDS series, though I’ll tailor them to fit my canon if necessary. Generally, I have so many things of my own to write, any prompt I got would be placed in the back of the line (unless I got super inspired, which happens) but I do enjoy prompts, provided they’re not super shippy or specific.

Upcoming story you’re most excited to write about: Well, that untitled I-have-to-write-it-again oneshot for FMA that I mentioned is definitely something I want to do and post eventually. As for what I’m actively working on, I am really excited for the next HTRYDS arc (I’ve been trudging through TLS to get to it, ngl) which will be titled Demon Tales. There’s also this Seven Deadly Sins TOG AU I’ve had rolling around, though I may not continue that the way I had planned because 4KOTA gave me more ammo.

Stories you’re most excited to read: Hmmm. I have quite a few things queued in my Marked for Later list, some that I’ve started and some that I wanted to check out, but as to what I have been currently reading/following, the Poisoned Dreams Continuity by StrangeDiamond (AO3), which is currently inbetween fics, and Homuncular Nature by Otaku553 are a couple of things I have been following. I also read a lot of Webtoons, and I have some Tower of God to catch up on, and Room of Swords and Lore Olympus are always welcome updates. I’m currently perusing some of my Marked for Laters, and in regular searches, to see what my next few reads will be. (Feel free to send me recs, but I also got a hefty stack of ATLA fics to check out, I know.)

tagging @therosefrontier @ladylynse and @blueskyscribe (if y’all want to, of course)

#tagging game #writing #shameless self plug #fairy tail #htryds #voltron #genshin #disney #arrowverse #this was fun

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

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Sesskag week Day 4: Comedy

Summary: Kagome resolves to snap a photo of the infamous Killing Perfection, which proves more difficult than expected. Oneshot.

AN: For Sesskag Week Day 4 - Comedy.

Rated T

2,900 words

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

Camera Shy

To the surprise of pretty much all who knew her, Kagome pursued art and photography in those three years away from the feudal era. In fact, even after the well re-opened, she continued to take classes, often creating life-like drawings from whatever photos she'd taken.

After joining everyone on a warm spring day for a picnic, Shippo had innocently inquired;

"What's that, Kagome?" pointing at a square black box hanging around her neck.

Grinning, she tapped it with pride.

"This is my instant polaroid camera. Very vintage, very hipster- some might say," she giggled, noting everyone's puzzled looks. Raising it, she took a snap of the fox demon, who yelped and ducked behind Sango's leg.

Crouching down, Kagome held out the photo once it had slid from the camera, shaking it gently and showing him the blank space that slowly filled with his image.

"Fascinating," Miroku hummed, while Sango nodded in awe. Inuyasha merely snorted, unimpressed since he'd been exposed to so much future tech already.

Kaede gasped, staring at the picture with mild concern.

"You have imprisoned him."

"What? No-" Kagome smiled and shook her head. "It's just a photo. Kind of like a painting. I feel bad that I never took any before but I was always so busy with Naraku or studying for tests."

Taking the photo gingerly, Shippo grinned at himself. He then beamed brighter and tugged on Kagome's sleeve. "Let's go show Rin!"

---

After taking various photos that would make a historian lose their mind, Kagome sat back within Kaede's hut and sketched some snapshots. She quietly giggled at the candid pictures; Inuyasha caught mid-yawn, exposing his thick fangs. Miroku studying a scroll while holding his youngest son, who drooled all over his robes, Kirara playing with a ball of yarn, Sango teaching her daughter a style of kickboxing, or Shippo trying to cram an entire sandwich in his mouth at once.

While looking through them, however, one particular figure seemed to be missing among her collection.

Approaching the stoic demon lord with perhaps a little too much familiarity and enthusiasm, Kagome smiled at him as he peacefully reclined against a tree.

"Sesshoumaru," she raised her camera slightly from where it hung around her neck. "I don't know if you've noticed on your visits but lately I've been taking-"

"Photos. Rin showed me some."

Kagome stopped and hummed. He caught on fast. And judging by how warily he eyed her camera, the answer to her question simmering right on the edge of her tongue would be a big fat no.

"Right! Sooo I've taken photos of just about everyone now," dragging her sneaker back and forth over the dirt, a hopeful smile graced her mouth. "All except you."

"No."

Ah, no use in sugar-coating it, huh?

Kagome rose a brow and folded her arms. "May I ask why?"

Giving a sigh that bespoke of his annoyance with having to explain himself, Sesshoumaru idly studied sharp nails. "I do not believe you have earned it."

Out of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't on the extensive list. "I haven't earned a picture of you?"

"Hn."

Smiling slightly, she sized him up. "And what do I need to do in order to get a snap of the illustrious Lord Sesshoumaru?"

Golden eyes slanted up at her and crinkled at the edges in slight amusement. Kagome's insides went all warm for some reason, cheeks reddening. "You needn't do anything grand. This one is merely discontent with letting you capture a picture of me so easily. I will not forbid you from trying, however."

Kagome tried to follow his line of logic, experimentally shifting- before grabbing her camera and rapidly pressing the button.

Sesshoumaru blurred away from his spot.

Jolting, the miko whipped her head around, grasping her photo and watching as it cleared to reveal a plain tree. No Daiyoukai in sight.

A piquant scent filled her next inhale. Kagome's skin pricked, hot breath dancing over the nape of her neck.

"Do you understand now, miko?" he rumbled.

"Y-yeah," glancing at him over her shoulder, she tried in vain to ignore the heat in her cheeks and pleasant twinge in her lower stomach. "Sure, I'll play your game- and win too."

Confidence clung to Sesshoumaru like a second skin as he tilted his chin up, the ghost of a smile curling his mouth. "Hn."

---

The next time Lord Sesshoumaru deigned to grace the village with his presence, Kagome was ready. Having memorised his visiting schedule with Rin long before, she lay in wait within the trees.

Grinning sharply, she let out an evil laugh reminiscent of Naraku's 'kukukuku.'

Straddling a tree branch and hearing Shippo's signal (a whistle from further away in the trees) Kagome tightened both legs around her perch and held the camera, holding still. It had only taken a few lollipops to persuade the kitsune to help.

Heart thundering and eagle-eyed, Kagome waited with bated breath for any sign of the Daiyoukai wandering below en-route to the village.

Upon glimpsing the tell-tale red and white silks and silver hair, Kagome swung herself down. Gripping the branch hard with her legs, dark hair flew up, leaves being knocked free and cascading around her as she appeared before him, hanging upside down.

With a smirk, she struck her finger onto the button- just as Sesshoumaru blurred through the air, palm closing over the lens.

Kagome squeaked, mouth falling open. Her gaze slid from camera to Daiyoukai, who gazed at her, face quite close to hers. Thin lips then curved down, but from her flipped perspective, she realised the jerk was smirking at her.

Kagome's legs then lost their grip. Yelping, the miko dropped like a sack of potatoes, landing hard at his feet in a sprawl of limbs. Letting out a long groan, Kagome patted around, hands empty. Something light was then placed onto the crown of her head. Reaching up, she felt the camera and frowned just as Sesshoumaru smoothly stepped over her body and sauntered away, continuing on without a care in the world.

Growling, Kagome sat up, rubbing her throbbing skull.

Shippo burst from the trees and landed beside her. "Ahh that was a colossal failure! You okay Kagom-"

A giggle slid out from the miko, shoulders shaking. Shippo's tail puffed up, observing her wide smile with slight unease.

"Heh, he's pretty good," she flashed a sharp grin, cheeks glowing. "This is fun. Who knew such a stuffy guy could be playful."

Shippo tilted his head to the side, not exactly understanding but smiling anyway. "Let's go with plan B!" he encouraged.

Kagome nodded with determination.

---

Typically during the afternoon portion of his visit, Sesshoumaru would leave Rin to her duties and go recline against a tree situated near a small lake, sometimes reading. Following this ritual, the Daiyoukai now sat at the base of a tree and drew up one knee. Drinking in the quiet serenity of the picturesque scenery, Sesshoumaru leaned his head back and looked out at the glittering water-

-only to notice a reed moving.

Raising a brow, he blinked. Relaxed muscles then stiffened, and he reacted seconds before Kagome lunged up from within the water, a waterproof camera in hand and reed clutched between her teeth as a breathing tube.

Yanking her camera up, Kagome's victorious expression changed the second she registered red youki cloaking his form, curling around it like a thick mist.

By the time his energy dissipated, a giant silver furred inuyoukai towered above her.

Blue eyes widened, which only caused the smirk to grow wider on his feral jaws. Sesshoumaru slammed a paw down into the water.

Yelping, Kagome was soon consumed in a mini tidal wave.

By the time she'd surfaced, coughing and minding slick hair away from her face, the dog demon had trotted away, tail swishing behind him with an arrogant flair. Kagome glared and trudged to shore, leaving soggy footsteps on the sand.

"Uh...Plan C?" Shippo chanced weakly, hopping out of some bushes.

Kagome nodded, sputtering some lake water from her mouth. "Plan C."

---

The way she figured, Sesshoumaru was one of the fastest beings alive. Yet with every attempt to take his photo, he'd not turned tail and ran once, instead meeting her head-on.

This led her to believe that if she could distract him with enough things, he'd stay rooted to the spot out of sheer bullheaded pride but be too overwhelmed to react as she took a photo.

With all this in mind, Kagome adjusted the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder before gripping a saddle and unsteadily climbing onto the back of a horse.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Shippo said, tail twitching worriedly as he gazed up at the tall steed.

"Kaede said she didn't mind me borrowing her horse, I don't see the problem," Kagome wobbled and clutched at the reins.

"But you don't even know how to ride a horse!"

"I know the basics," she huffed, clicking her tongue and urging the horse into a walk. "See? Easy. Now, let's just do this as we practised and it'll run smoothly," touching the camera hanging around her neck, she grinned.

The fox demon hurried alongside the horse to keep up with her. "When we practised you weren't on a horse," he mumbled worriedly. "Can we go through it again, just to check?"

"Oh alright, worry-wort," Kagome smiled. "Sesshoumaru is going to come from that direction," she pointed further along the dirt road. "You'll burst out of the forest and turn into a smoke bomb to disorientate him. I'm going to come galloping by and release one of these," Kagome touched the fletching of an arrow. "Which has been modified to be soft pointed and filled with a strong perfume that'll release on contact. This'll temporarily daze him further while the smoke clears- and when that happens, I'll loop around him and snap my picture."

Shippo continued on all-fours, frowning to himself. "I'm still not too confident in my smoke bomb illusion though."

"I know you can do it," she smiled. "Don't sell yourself short."

"But maybe something else would work better, like this-" he hopped up and burst into his floating pink ball form with a loud 'pop!'

The horse suddenly reared, making a whinny of distress, eyes wide with fright. Kagome gasped, clinging to it's back and yelping as it bolted.

Shippo gaped and popped back into his regular form, watching her image draw further away at a breakneck speed. "Kagome!"

Squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the horse gallop with powerful strides that threatened to knock her off, all she could do was cling to its neck. The reins flailed in the air- and if she could just grab them and pull the beast to halt, maybe he would stop. Kagome whimpered, body jolting from the movement. Cracking open fearful blue eyes and trying to reach for them- she felt her thigh slip slightly. Quickly abandoning that idea, she clung like a madwoman, tears stinging her lashes from the breeze racing by.

I screwed up! This was a terrible idea!

Looking ahead of them with mild disorientation caused her breath to hitch the second she caught sight of a pale figure. She stiffened.

Sesshoumaru stood on the road. They were headed right for him!

"Sesshoumaru!" she cried, trying to get across to move aside.

The Daiyoukai observed them with a frosty expression, slowly raising his claws.

Noticing the toxins colouring them green, her eyes widened. "Don't hurt him!" she burst. The fault lay with her, not the horse.

Sesshoumaru's eyes flickered with mild frustration. He then leapt up in the air to avoid a collision, floating above their heads. The sight of him became blurry because of tear-filled eyes, and Kagome ducked her head into the horse's mane.

Speeding before them again and landing, Sesshoumaru then drew his sword. Lifting it- he then slammed the blade into the earth. Bakusaiga emitted a large burst of green youki, skittering over the ground in a wide arch that flashed like minty lightning.

The horse skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and neighing, rearing back on hind legs. Kagome gasped, unprepared for the movement- but clinging hard.

Slamming both hooves down and whickering, the horse panted wildly, finally still. Feeling hands slide under her numb thighs and wrap around her torso, Kagome stiffly unfolded from the saddle, placing her hands on broad shoulders as she was lifted down.

Kagome buried her face in the demon's neck, shuddering violently. She muffled sobs into his flesh, gripping his exquisite silks so tight her knuckles bled white.

Sesshoumaru held her without a word, nose dipping into windswept dark hair.

When Shippo finally caught up, having pursed on all fours, he jumped up into her arms and wailed louder than she, crying and nuzzling the frazzled miko.

Calming and smiling tiredly, she petted his soft red hair, looking up at Sesshoumaru. He gazed back, face closer than expected. He then shifted mokomoko beneath her legs to support her weight, picking up the reins of the horse and leaving the road.

"Are you angry with me?" she muttered, feeling the tension in his frame.

"Answer me this; can you ride horses?"

"N-no..."

"Then you were foolish," Sesshoumaru bit out. "But one cannot completely predict horses. I do not care for them," he threw a glare over his shoulder at the steed dutifully following them. He then released a hard exhale through his nose, levelling a frown at her. "Never do something so ridiculous again for a game, miko. My picture is not worth injury...or worse."

Kagome rested her cheek against his furs, looking up at him and feeling a twinge in her chest. His worry felt better than any blanket and hot cocoa could right then.

Noticing what direction he headed in, Kagome touched a striped cheek. "L-let's not head to the village just yet. I'd rather...calm down in the forest somewhere."

Sesshoumaru rose a brow but nodded, feet shifting and changing direction, walking beneath the shadows of the trees.

---

She felt glad of the quiet, the calm serenity surrounding their afternoon after all the chaos earlier. The horse grazed within a clearing near the lake, seeming to comfort eat. Shippo had fallen asleep, curled into a ball at her side. Kagome quietly sketched with a notebook and pencil in hand, sitting against a tree. Opposite her, Sesshoumaru reclined against his own, gazing at the scenery with a touch of daydream hazing his eyes. The light bathed his hair in a gentle glow, eyes the colour of milky honey instead of the usual burning embers.

So lost in thought was he that Kagome smiled. She then cleared her throat to gain his languid attention, turning the sketchbook around so that the page faced him.

"I win," she said softly.

Surprise slackened his expression, attention flitting over the paper where his likeness lay with impressive attention to detail. The pencil shading captured the soft shadows of his face, the richer, darker tones coloured his chest armour. Even the long silver hair looked sublime, life-like. Somehow the minute details and the idea of her watching- staring at him for so long made his ancient blood heat.

He realised, somewhat belatedly, that this was what he'd sought. Not a quick, cheap snap of a camera, but her willing and arrested attention upon his face.

Sesshoumaru dragged his gaze from the picture to dancing blue eyes.

"Indeed."

Kagome smiled, turning the picture back to gaze at it with affection.

"Why did you desire a picture of this one so badly?" he asked.

Not looking up, she brushed a thumb over the sketches pointed ear. "I like having pictures of my friends. Besides, this is yours now. A thank you gift for saving me."

Sesshoumaru observed her carefully, noticing the quiet fondness gentling her features as she looked at the picture instead of him. Because it was safer than gazing at him.

"Let me see it up close," Sesshoumaru uttered.

Kagome raised her head and blinked but nonetheless rose and walked over. The second she crouched before him- a clawed hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist and tugging.

This resulted in her body swaying forward, nose stopping inches from his as she squeaked.

"You seem to find satisfaction in looking at this one, miko," his voice curled into a teasing tone. "Perhaps this proximity is preferable."

Kagome's mouth turned dry, heart thundering. Setting the sketchbook down and shifting her knees beneath her, she nodded with a shy smile. "Y-yeah...it is. I'm glad you noticed," she murmured, placing her hands on the cool, steady metal of his chest plate. When she did not pull away in rejection, Sesshoumaru's clawed hand slid possessively to her waist. An aristocratic nose brushed hers, mouth hovering close.

"Do you do this with your friends too?"

She huffed, blushing. "No, only with crushes."

Thin lips tugged up at the edges before spreading wider with victory, flashing a fang. Kagome found it perfectly endearing. A rare, beautiful moment she wished she could capture forever. But, as the Daiyoukai guided her mouth to his wickedly grinning one, she figured they had plenty of opportunities to repeat such a soft moment, however many times they wished.

End

#sesskag #skw2020 #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskagweek 2020 #Kagome Higurashi #Sesshoumaru #Inuyasha

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adcres · 4 years ago

Text

howdy hey , pardnerrrs :> i’m rox ( she / her ) ‘n i’ll be playing yr residential sullen broodin’ boy , nico . i didn’t have the time to write out a whole new intro , given that i have back to back classes again today :-’( , so please forgive me for recycling his old intro akawodkgrsd ; . that being said , i did tweak around some tingz and i updated his wcs for him , so if yr down to clown around just hmu on my discord : 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔫𝔦𝔞#2854 ! okie okie , i’ll shut da eff up now ♡

BASICS.

༉‧₊˚✧ kim taehyung , cis man , he / him / his — did you see that nicholas “nico” yoon was trending last night ? the twenty three year old street artist has been getting a lot of press lately . i think it’s due to them being so + quixotic & + free-spirited , but i always thought they seemed - withdrawn & - sybaritic . their fans always say they remind them of soft smoke rings spun in a dreamy haze , silver-ringed fingers rapping against polished oak , and waning light refracting against broken glass though . i wonder if they’ve found out about REDACTED yet … i guess we’ll have to wait and see . [ rox , 22 , pst , she / her , none ]

PINTEREST & PLAYLIST .

01 and 02 .

PERSONALITY .

at first glance , nico reads as this aloof , arrogant type that doesn’t like to associate w the common public . always keeping the majority of people at a comfortable distance , nico moves almost exclusively within his own social network , and doesn’t like to deviate from what he knows best .

not so much pretentious as he is lazy , making an effort to socialize with complete strangers is simply something that nico would never do . hehe ... he’s kind of shy like that .... ♡ though he’d literally never admit it ♡

despite giving the impression that he’s some intimidating and chronically indifferent kind of guy , nico is genuinely a sweet boy — ‏‏‎ one who’s in a constant state of confusion as to why people seem to be so scared of him . it always comes as a shock when close friends of his admit that they thought he absolutely hated their guts when they first met him .

b/c tho he’s p smart , nico is very oblivious at times , and he’s 100% the kind of guy who’ll walk away from a conversation thinking he did a rly rly good job trying to make a friend ... when in reality he prob said four words in the span of thirty minutes smh .

overall , nico’s a private person , especially with what he’s thinking ... and it’s really hard to get a clear read on what’s on his mind . sharing his feelings has never been one of nico’s interests b/c he just genuinely doesn’t think whatever he has to say is rly worth mentioning . so he usually just shuts da fuck up n lets other ppl talk so he can mentally gain the strength to continue socializing .

push nico’s buttons enough tho ‘n you’ll catch this mf speaking in full sentences .

lastly , it should b noted that nico is a romantic through n through ... this mf probably d*ed in the victorian era ‘n got reincarnated b/c he’s got that ‘ lets share furtive glances across the room but never say a thing to each other ‘ thing on lock . mr. darcy headass

and while nico might play the role of long-suffering , ever pining lover to a T , he’s more in love w / the idea of love than he is w / any single person . and he literally cannot hold down a relationship w/o fucking it up for himself in some shape or form .

kind of sarcastic ... v much the teasing type ....

can b very impulsive at times , loves to go on solo adventures at night , prefers his own company tbh ...

overview : melancholic , reticent , noncommittal , humble , mild-mannered , romantic .

a mix of : josh from clueless and j.d. from heathers

more here .

MORE AESTHETICS.

the chill of silver jewelry against flushed skin , forgotten graffiti on porcelain sinks , flickering motel lights , kisses sticky with vodka , eyes ringed with lavender , sleepless nights surrendered to the dull buzz of television , obscure art house films , sun-kissed cheeks , the surprise of summer rain , chest aching with lost loves , scattered baby’s breath and rosemary , and a shared smile between perfect strangers .

CHARACTER DISSERTATION.

nico was born on a brisk wintry morning in the fashion district of los angeles ( january 21st , 1997 ) to a family of six .

as the second youngest child , and the only male son to boot , nico grew up with his only inheritance being a generational kind of hunger , one that demanded for more than what his struggling parents could offer

the arts stole nico at an early age ... ushering him into a world of creation and freedom beyond the four bleak walls he daily occupied . from spending lonely summers tucked away in some forgotten corner in the library to practicing on a borrowed violin from dawn to dusk , nico knew that even with nothing at his disposal , there was always something to be made w/ the tools he’d been given

despite not having the money for private tutors to hone their son’s growing artistic talents , his parents did whatever they could to support his dreams , whether that meant working double shifts back to back or scrounging for loose change underneath the sofa cushions to pay for whatever materials nico needed .

it was in this strange way that nico grew up p spoiled . somehow having nothing while also having absolutely everything at the same time .

very much a family man , the first big purchase nico made once he broke out in hollywood was a house in beverly hills for his parents . now that he’s finally at a place where he can take care of his family , nico makes sure that his parents and sisters want for nothing

while he showers everyone else with generous gifts and obscene amounts of money , nico doesn’t particularly feel comfortable doing the same for himself . he’s a simple man through n through . one who’s content to spend his time walking his dog late at night , listening to a podcast on his airpods , instead of going out to a club w/ other well-known socialites .

a true artist at heart , nico refuses to conform to the current trends of hollywood , instead insisting on wearing thrifted clothes to important galas — ‏‏‎much to the frustration of his PR team and the chagrin of his stylists . but none of the choices nico makes seems to surprise anyone anymore . driving flashy cars and wearing designer clothes has never really been his style , after all . and it’s important to him that he remain authentically himself despite everything .

WANTED CONNECTS.

pr relationship ( open ) : someone that nico is contractually obligated to date ... i could totally see there being drama ‘n tension from having to pretend to actually like each other ... would b better if they rly did not like each other at all ...

fwb ( open ) : buddies who bump uglies sometimes ... they both agreed they’d never catch feelings for each other but we’ll see ...

frenemies ( open ) : someone that grinds nico’s gears but they’re a friend of his friend ... so they’re forced to keep it civil . i can see them exchanging hateful comments in the back of their friend’s car while simultaneously posting pics of each other on ig to keep up the rouse .

unrequited crush ( open ) : likely nico would not realize if yr muse had a crush on them ... but it’d be fun to play it out like a kdrama anyway heh heh

a close friend group ( open / any ) : i thought it’d b so cute if there was like a small group of friends , maybe 3-4 ppl , that do stupid shit like ditch going to celebrity after-parties to break into abandoned buildings , get real high , ask stupid ‘ would u rather ‘ questions , and do sum main character type shit ... yk what im puttin down ... ‘n nico is def the type to open up in the presence of extroverts so i think having a group of wild outsiders of diff bgs would b v inch resting ..

enemies / rivals ( open / any ) : tbh nico prob rubs ppl the wrong way since he has resting bitch face ‘n never wants to talk to anyone .. so im sure there r ppl who just do not like this mf ... and rest assured that the feeling is mutual ...

bad / good influence ( open / any ) : nico’s known to mount his high horse often ... mr morality over here ... so i just know he prob would butt heads w/ the residential troublemaker . tho nico’s artwork can be controversial and out of the box at times , his art style and his personality are at constant odds , and it’d b interesting to have that bad influence / good influence dynamic w/ someone .

family friend ( open ) : someone who grew up w/ nico in dtla ... couldve gone to the same public school as him ... or their families couldve gone to the same church ...

ok my intro post has become a fucking behemoth so im going to stop here ‘n just say i have so many more wcs in mind so if u wanna plot lets just talk hehe :>

#lavish.intro #okie gotta blast i have class in 5 min

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madfantasy · 5 years ago

Text

Dear blogging

Hello dears, hope your doing well and safe; in the middle of this worldy crisis, may you kept from all the forms of its harm.

It's been awhile I have taken the time to talk, it's a bit of messy rant and stuff I found useful..

I've been too busy with lately, I feel I'm not putting out the tons of idea of hp related stuff I crave to do, wish to take others away with it from the chaos of reality or hope to inspire even by the tiniest measures, and find inspiration and allow it to take me away soaring in its wings..

Art does takes time to make, more importantly, a right or convenient frame of mind to do it. And I haven't been in one of those, tbh.

In any case, I wanted to keep this place, this blog, a safe haven for me and who likes to accompany me, and to share art and thoughts about it. But it seems it gets harder to do so, with life constantly interfering..

It's not the first time I go without net connection for months, it happens all the time because of my unstable life conditions. And I merely used the internet as a way to store my stuff.

But since I found solace, fond company, precious concern, and— actual life, the thought to leave was murdering. I mean, I'm still in awe at the way people reacted when I came just to say goodbye, supported me to stay.. I never knew humanity till now..

Even tho I feel, I have doubts.. if I'm really worth it, keeping me online, I try to do art as fast as possible, but I can't go any faster than days.. and that I wanted to save up for a reliable pc to do much more, now it goes for another bill we can't afford.. not to mention the annoying part about using net for me is that I always have to try as hard as I could not to get anything too obvious leading back to me—so my family wouldn't know about it and get in trouble— but in the same time trying not to be too anonymous so it wouldn't be stolen from me.

It seems it's all pointless, cuz both happened, and I can't help but think that I only harmed myself by splitting my work so much that it keeps leaving me in the shadows without benefits.

Other than that my art was being reposted (not shared, but downloading my art than re-uploading it to another platform without permission); mother saw Older Lover drawing (kissing) and stormed into my room, with a look ready to fry me, and asked me to delete it..

I've been so depressed since then, wishing not to be, to a point I was close to shut down all accounts, as the thought that I can never be free and not able to do something to better myself was smothering me.

But I know things will be better.. I woke up feeling less dead, heh

Like, I found a simple way to stream my art, even tho it's not much:

To log into discord on pc, and go to activity and add your drawing program as a game thingy, it will always detect it as a streamable game afterwards, and show a little button above your icon telling you you're able to stream it. You can go stream it into a server, and up to 10 peeps can watch it.

I was doing everything to do a team thing on twitch, but no luck so far.

Also found a program that speed up long drawing videos, called Oliver. It's free and I love it so far! It enabled me to do mini sketching videos and put them on Tiktok (I like it there only for the easy edit and music) can't do longer vids cuz again, pc has tiny memory.

And if you want to record your art, and using windows:

Push windows +g and Xbox recoding games thingy will show. You make it capture your drawing program and there- got your self easy non crashing screen recording app. One down side to it— no pause. So you'll sit there for an hour or two, and you better know what you'll draw without hesitation, hehe.

I think that's all, it's a result of days of googling and going through lots of free crashing software, I hope it's helps.

And I've decided I'm not splitting my art, safe or suggestive any more. I'll post them all here, and anything not safe will go under the [Read More] underlining thing. Cuz it's a tiring confusing mess on top of everything.

Bless your days with goodness, health and fortune my dears. I hope you well, always.

Good day!

Sun, 6:30 pm, 15.3.2020

(I'm wearing it cuz I'm sick and you could also imagine I'm not allowed to share my face or comfortable yet, so that's what's available for now, heh)

#text #personal #drawing journey #love u all

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heart2jeno · 5 years ago

Text

the stars we saw that day

▸ 💌 : u:mi is writing … ✎♡

꒰ 26.02.27 ꒱— i tried posting this a few days ago but it literally ? just collected dust and a measly 2 notes so i’m guessing something went wrong when i switched from posting it on mobile to later editing it on desktop. be a peach and pretend this is the first time i’m posting this... heh, enjoy the fic <3 !

a sexc one-shot for my favourite scorpio on this website @jaenocide

. . . 🌙 ⭐️ 🚀 . . .

₊˚. one (1) new incoming rq┊📥 !!

┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

❑ band au …

❑ enemies to lovers …

❑ prompt 1 : “ are you sure this

is legal ? ”

❑ member : RENJUN of NCT

↷… 🌙ˀˀ | opening FILE . . . ꒱ - - - - ☆

“you’re late.”

you dropped your schoolbag onto one of the plastic chairs against the wall, with a thump, and rolled your eyes, “and you’re already getting on my nerves,” is what you would have retorted, if you had had the energy to do so.

there were so many other things that you’d rather be doing. it was obvious that you hadn’t been given the choice of who you were meeting in one of the school’s tiny secluded practice-rooms after classes because the guy currently scowling daggers at your back would definitely not have been one of your choices—for obvious reasons.

if you had been given your way, you would never even have to see his face at all. so, naturally, when you looked over your shoulder, you returned his icy glare with one of your own, “my bad. ‘didn’t realise you’d be here counting down the minutes.”

his laugh was humorless, “don’t flatter yourself.” as he moved to the wall-piano in the corner of the room, he continued, “i wouldn’t be crying over my keys if you hadn’t show up.”

huang renjun: the art department’s favourite student, pianist protégée, beloved by every teacher who had ever had the absolute delight of having him in their class, the biggest pain-in-your-ass—only to name a few of the names that he’s accumulated during his years at the school on the outskirts of seoul.

no one ever really knew why the two of you couldn’t stand eachother; it had always been that way, for as long as anyone could remember.

☄︎. *. ˖⋆࿐໋₊

if you thought back on it—which you hardly ever found yourself doing—the first memory you had of huang renjun was back in elementary, when you had just transferred.

he had looked at you strangely—as if you were out-of-place, like an alien or something like that—the moment he had sat opposite you at the same table during class. you remember how he had murmured something behind his hand to jeno who sat beside him. they had kept glancing across at you throughout the lesson, muttering under their breaths.

during recess that day, you had stood on tiptoe and peered into the reflection of one of the school building’s window, wondering if your mum had braided your hair unevenly or if there were remnants of the cupcake you had eaten earlier in the day around your mouth. neither had seemed to be the case—which had only left you even more confused.

what had made you certain that huang renjun hated you was when he landed you your first ever lunch-time detention, in your last year of elementary.

the two of you, as well as your best-friends: donghyuck ‘haechan,’ jeno and jaemin (who had been renjun’s best friends first and still were—although admitting that you shared anything with renjun left a foul taste in your mouth) had sat on the same table in maths.

you had walked into the classroom, after break, to see renjun already sat down. usually, during lessons you’d ignore his presence as best as you could. you would pretend not to hear his ‘help’ whenever you struggled with the worksheet, prefering to soldier on; it wasn’t as if you’d feel any joy giving renjun the satisfaction of knowing more than you do.

but you had been quick to notice the sketchbook—your sketchbook—held in his greasy little hands. you must have forgotten to put it back inside your bag, the lesson before. his eyes had risen from examining the open pages and they widened when he registered you standing in the doorway.

as you stormed towards him, renjun’s mouth had opened to say something; it was as fruitless as trying to calm a raging tempest.

“give me that,” you seethed, snatching the book from him; your face felt like it was burning. the things you drew weren’t stuff that would get you in trouble but they were rather—well, looking back on it—weird: pretty schoolgirls with brightly-coloured hair sitting on yellow grass beneath a purple-coloured sky, mermaids on rocks akin to the candy of the same name beneath a gatorade waterfall, forest elves with the ability to control different elements. they were fantasy or sci-fi drawings, taking inspiration from the stories you made up in your head during daydreams, or from the stories you’d read at night when you were supposed to be sleeping. none of which you planned to sit down and share with renjun.

he had tried to say something again, bristling at your tone, but you didn’t allow him an opening, “haven’t you ever heard of a thing called privacy?” you quickly placed your sketchbook safely in your bag, making sure it was secured, before glowering at him, “paws off, brace-face.”you remember the surge of satisfaction that had coursed through you, when you watched how quickly his face became red.

after renjun had gotten his braces, you had overheard donghyuck call him the name, playfully nudging him in the arm. you didn’t think it would be enough to rile him up but it wasn’t soon after that when he stuck his hand up in the air to tell the teacher about what you had called him. you had stubbornly refused to apologise which resulted in a lunch-time spent writing lines of ‘i shall not name-call’ until your hand ached.

before you had started playing the guitar for the band, you had taken private violin lessons; since they were at your highschool, your music instructor would pair you and the other violinists up with the pianists for the end of month evaluation, because there weren’t that many of you altogether in the department. you didn’t mind, when you were paired with the care-free jaemin who smiled whenever he watched you play and let you sit beside him on the bench as he practiced his new arrangement. you may have even confessed that he gave you butterflies whenever he laughed at your bad jokes.

but there were a few months where you would be partnered with none other than renjun—who you felt was the only one who hated you more than the universe seemed to.

the pair of you played well enough during performances; in the words of your instructor who would even go as far as pulling the two of you aside afterwards, “it could even secure a place in the annual competition held in the city.” every time, the two of you would thank him stiffly, as if doing anything more would give the other a sort of advantage in your long-standing dispute.

to you, the thought of performing on stage would be a wonderful step-up from playing in the school’s small practice room littered with broken instruments on the shelves and the ancient piano stuffed in one corner (all giving the room a foul timeworn odour that hung in the air, even with the door open)—was welcomed, even—but with renjun? not a chance.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

“whatever,” you muttered, turning your back on him again and putting your case on one of the other plastic chairs. as you crouched down to unclasp it, you registered the sound of a page turning behind you and you took out your violin and bow. although you’d never admit it out loud, it wasn’t an exaggeration that renjun was a talented pianist. maybe if he did ever compete in the national piano competition, he’d even make it to the finals. maybe. your grip tightens on the neck of your violin as you brace yourself for an hour of torture (practice) with huang renjun.

that was in highschool.

“hey.”

you had graduated three years ago. yet here you were.

you poked your tongue into the inside of your cheek, before letting it sweep over your teeth. not taking your gaze off the window and the scenery that rolled past as the car drove through the city, you muttered, “what.”

there’s a pause—which you knew meant that he’s taking a moment to study you. you’re past the point of caring what went on in renjun’s head when he saw you; if anything you wished he’d be less keen to voice them aloud.

“i thought you did well earlier.”

you tensed in your seat, despite knowing better than to rise to the bait he had once again cast out to sea. of course, he always managed to haul an abundance, by the end of the day. when you didn’t respond, he took it as a cue to continue—or he didn’t care and continued anyway (you assumed the latter.) “what you said almost made me blush,” you could practically see the mocking smirk on his face, imprinted on the inside of your eyelids, as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

you finally turned your head to glare daggers, which seemed to only harmlessly glance off him, as he continued, “almost. although, of course, we both know better,” your skin crawled when he patted your hand in mock-affection, “don’t we, baby?”

you would have assumed that the two of you would have grown out of your childish war by now, especially after your whole ‘rise-to-fame,’ but no, you still hated everything about huang renjun: how he always had to have the last word, always had a remark on the tip of his tongue with a glint in his eye, always laughed at you like there’s a joke you’re not aware of.

but, most of all—especially now—you hated the feeling you got in your stomach whenever he looked at you so... so lovingly: like a million butterflies laid dormant there until he started talking with that look on his face—like they only took flight at his beck and call. you hated it—you hated it all.

you couldn’t decide which one made you feel worse: the fact, you knew as well as him, that it’s all a fabricated lie or the fact that it still managed to affect you so deeply, despite that piece of knowledge.

you see: if someone had told you, during the days when you used to practice in one of your school’s cramped music-rooms, that, a few years down the line, your band would be signed to one of the biggest entertainment companies in korea, you would have called them crazy; if they had continued and said that you and renjun would quickly be known as the country’s beloved ‘star couple,’ you may have punched them square in the nose.

yet here you were, being driven home after the day’s schedule—which had included an interview for one of the biggest magazines in south korea.

you had felt like the interview had been less professional than it should have been; it focused more on your adored ‘relationship’ with renjun, rather than the promotion of your group’s new album. it included questions like ‘when did the two of you realise you loved eachother?’ and ‘what’s your favourite thing about the other person?’

there had been many instances where you had had to resist the overwhelming urge to throttle both renjun, when he watched you with more of a taunting smirk than a lover’s smile, and the interviewer who had clearly been far more keen on hearing his answer than yours.

does a person have to blink that much? you remember asking youself, as you watched the interviewer lean unnecessarily closer to renjun and bat her eyes, as he was answering one of the questions about how often you get into arguments (”rarely ever, we never disagree on things” bullshit, huang.) instead of letting your disgust slip through, you secure your mask and play the role of the meek girlfriend, giggling at your boyfriend’s answer.

you had dipped your head slightly and bit your lip, trying to stop yourself from smiling, as a thought came to mind; our fans won’t be too happy when they notice this, in the video. while they’re easily deceived by yours and renjun’s ‘romance,’ they could pick up on many other things: including smitten interviewers.

your supporters were dedicated, often even extreme—and it was both their upbringing and in some cases, their ultimate flaw. despite yourself, you couldn’t wait to read the comments about this interview, in a few days.

pinching the skin on your wrist wasn’t enough to distract you from renjun’s presence anymore; not when you had to always hold his hand or link arms whilst walking around in public, because of the cameras flashing wherever you went in order to capture and report every detail to this media and the other; there even had to be the occasional kiss, if they had been particularly quiet and needed something new to gush about, like a child being rewarded with a treat for being so well-behaved.

sickening, how so many people get a thrill from a deluded sense of control over celebrities’ personal lives and relationships; as if we’re nothing but dolls. even if your relationship was fake—it wasn’t as if these people knew that. you supposed it was your company’s fault, for making you and renjun parade around like two stupid lovebirds as well as your own fault for letting them. but, hey, business is business.

to the public, you were two enamoured young stars who couldn’t wait until they were behind closed doors to display their desire for eachother. in reality, his hand on your wrist, as you waited for your transport after finishing the day’s schedule, was actually to keep you from writhing away: as if his touch physically scalded. when you leaned in to ‘lovingly whisper’ into his ear during music awards, you were actually hissing warnings about what would happen once you get back to the dorms if he kept getting on your nerves.

💫༉‧₊˚✧

you seize the opportunity to slip away from the eyes of producers and camera crew, as they finally move on to bombard haechan with questions and commands for another new promotion video. he notices you just as you’re about to leave and jokingly mouths a dramatic, “save me.”

you laugh silently and give him the thumbs-up, before backing out of the room. you make your way down the corridor and up the flight of stairs, the sound of your echoing steps drastically different to the constant chatter and background noise that you had grown so accustomed to. making it to the top, you barely hesitate, as you open the door to the building’s rooftop.

when you step out into the night, you close your eyes and—for the first time in what feels like forever—take a deep breath. you savour the cool air entering your lungs, as your muscles relax—you didn’t even realise how tense you had been. this life was everything you and your group had dreamed of: money, fame, parties with a-listers almost every weekend… so why did you feel so worn out by it all?

you tilt your head up to the inky sky, feeling infinitely small beneath the sparse pinpricks of light that shone above—out of reach, yet impossible to miss. a reminder. a comfort. your worries momentarily drift away on the cool wind, as the night embraces you, like an old friend. if only for a few minutes, until someone is sent to find you. it’s only when you open your eyes again that you notice someone perched on the ledge, their legs dangling over.

renjun’s silhouette was framed by the bright lights of soul: the office towers, shopping district and apartment buildings that made up the inner-city in the distance. had he felt like he had to get away for a while, the way you had?

he jumps at the sound of the door that slams shut behind you, his upper-body whipping around to find the cause of the noise. when he realises that it’s only you and not one of the production members who probably wouldn’t stop irritating him, he visibly relaxes and turns back around. some part of you is relieved that he would gladly tolerate your company over the crew’s—but, then again, you’d prefer him over their constant commands and orders too. and that said alot... right?

a slim beam of light shoots out from where your ‘boyfriend’ sits and you watch it dart across the towering buildings a distance away, “is that a… laser?”

he hums.

“are you sure this is legal?” you ask as you sit beside him on the ledge, maintaining a respectful distance—more for your own comfort than his. you continue watching the dancing light, “i mean, you might distract a pilot… or something.”

he’s silent for several moments, the laser-pen falling slack in his hand, “hm… nah, ‘don’t think so,” he gives you a sidewards-glance, noting your furrowed brow. he runs his fingers through his hair which you notice is now peaking behind his ears and down the nape of his neck, into the collar of his shirt.

if things were different, you may have even reached out to play with a few strands or ask him if he was thinking of growing it out. but, instead, your fingers remain curled into fists on your lap and your mouth stays shut as he resumes pointing the laser at seoul’s inner-city. it was surprising that the crimson beam was able to project that far.

“cut it out,” you finally sigh, after a few moments of awkward silence, ignoring his noise of protest as you snatch the pen from his hand and pocket it.

“you’ve never been any fun,” he murmurs, running his hands over his face before rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

at a sidewards glance, you realise renjun is bare-faced, without the usual thin layer of makeup and styled hair. he looks as tired as you feel. so he’s just been up here, all this time. as you steal a few more glances at him, you wonder if, maybe, your hectic schedule was taking its toll on someone else as well.

you quickly catch yourself staring, longer than you really should be, when he meets your eye. you avert your gaze to the city ahead, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks.

“so you couldn’t stand it down there either, huh?” renjun says, if only to fill the silence stretching between the two of you. out of the corner of your peripheral vision, you can see him still watching you.

“just needed some air,” you say, shrugging.

he hums, clasping his hands in his lap. out of the corner of your eye, you can see him tapping a knuckle with his finger—a habit of his.

you both lapse into another stifling silence and, after a while, your eyes lift up to the sky; you strain to catch a glimpse of any stars.

renjun watches you, the corners of his mouth curving up into a small smile as he says, “it’s disappointing.” your eyes slide to meet his as he says, “you’ve heard of light pollution, right?”

“i was in your geo class, idiot.”

“well you wouldn’t blame me if i thought you didn’t pay a lot of attention,” after a beat, he quickly adds, “idiot.”

your eyes crinkle as you laugh, shaking your shoulders.

“i’m serious,” his intonation lilts off at the end, making it sound like he’s whining, “i swear you spent more time sleeping than actually taking notes.”

“i took tons of notes!” of course, you’re lying.

although you used to do your best to pay attention in class, you couldn’t help but fall asleep or stare out of the window or pay attention to anything else other than the lesson—it wasn’t your fault that the class was so boring.

what came as a surprise were the notes you discovered in your locker between classes which went over everything from the lesson before, delivered without fail. you didn’t know who left the neatly-organised notes, because you didn’t recognise the handwriting, whenever you compared it to your friends’.

the smile he flashes catches you off-guard.

it’s not like the ones that don’t reach his eyes—the ones you have forever been accustomed to—or the ones he gave you when there were thousands of cameras and eyes trained to capture every move that the pair of you made. those smiles were fake, dripping of unbearingly sweet honey which the oblivious public lapped up and simply couldn’t get enough of.

yet it isn’t the blatantly aggravating smirks he’d flash your way after delivering a biting remark about how well you sang his praises for an interview.

no, this smile is unlike the two masks he usually wears and discards. it seems… genuine? you can’t explain the feeling in your stomach at the sight.

“you mean, my notes?”

of course, they were his. your face burns as the realisation washes over you—or, more accurately, crashes into you like a tsunami wave. you mentally curse yourself for your stupidity as well as the irony of it all.

you had never tried to look at his writing, unless it was to quickly scrutinise the little notes he’d made on his music sheets which he begrudgingly shared with you during duet practices all those years ago. you had never really given it much thought. now you feel stupid for never doing so.

upon seeing your reaction, he takes your silence in stride—and laughs. the butterflies take flight in your stomach when you realise he’s not mocking you; you even smile weakly.

you’re not surprised at renjun’s reaction, before he muses aloud, “woah. ‘didn’t know you could do that.”

your smile falters. instinctively, your mouth works faster than your brain and you quickly retort, “well you don’t really give me many reasons to, do you?”

now it’s your turn to be surprised, as he simply tilts his head back, laughing up at the night sky. the sound is melodical and makes the fluttering in your stomach harder to ignore. you laugh weakly, the new situation catching you off-guard. are you seriously hiding on a rooftop and joking around with huang renjun? and were you… enjoying it?

“i bet i’m gonna wake up soon,” he says, as if reading your mind, after the laughter dies down. it’s a lot less awkward than it had been only moments before. “we’ll be at eachother’s throats again by tomorrow,” he quirks a brow at you for confirmation, “right?”

you hum, scratching your cheek with the knuckle of a finger, “maybe.”

“i mean,” he glances at you before staring down at his laced figers, “…why are we like this?”

you don’t have to ask him to be more specific, “i… i dunno,” you laugh dryly, fiddling with the laser-pen in your pocket, “you’ve hated me since day one.”

“what?” you would have thought he was goading you, if you hadn’t seen the shock that immediately crosses his features. he shoots you a puzzled look.

“you did,” you insist, trying hard to convince yourself that you were being logical, especially after his unexpected reaction, “remember? elementary school. miss kim’s class.” he tilts his head, like a confused puppy, brows furrowed as you continue to jog his memory, “you sat next to jeno and kept looking at me like—like i was something gross that you stepped in!”

“what?” renjun repeats, laughing breathily as he shakes his head, “no, that’s not true.” he looks at you, running his hand through his hair again. he searches your expression, “oh come on, y/n” hearing him say your name so casually makes your heart skip a beat. what is happening to you? “you were a new girl and…” his gaze falls to his hands again, as he mutters, “and… you were... cute…” he seems to be surprised by his own words, as he scratches the nape of his neck, his eyes suddenly avoiding your direction.

he did not just say that. he couldn’t have; out of all the things you were expecting, that was not one of them, “you’re joking.”

he gives you a pointed glance; as if the answer has been obvious, “if you asked jeno, he’d humiliate me,” quickly, he adds, “if he still remembers… which i doubt. i made him swear not to say anything.”

a supressed memory resurfaces, of jeno back in elementary: he had told you once that renjun had a crush on you. because of how unbelievable it seemed, you had iced him out for a solid week—similar to how you ignored renjun—for telling you such an unfunny joke, until he admitted that he had lied and apologised. maybe he hadn’t been lying afterall.

“oh,” you say quietly, before it fully sinks in and you put your face in your hands, “oh.”

renjun had never hated you. he had never insulted you first; if anything, he only ever lashed back in self-defence. it had been your fault for misunderstanding on that first day. while you were sat there feeling self-conscious, renjun had been talking to jeno throughout that lesson because he had thought you were cute.

renjun can’t help but smile at the way your voice came out muffled. “so you get it now?”

you reach out, weakly slapping his arm in embarrassment; he makes an equally weak attempt to dodge it, laughing again.

“god…” you rub your face, feeling like it was burning up again; this had to be the third time you’ve embarrassed yourself tonight. the crushing realisation of how different things could have been, if you hadn’t been so stupid, had you hiding your face in your hands again and shaking your head, “i’m…” your laugh is muffled, “i’m so sorry for…” you waved a hand between the two of you, “all of this.”

for the second time tonight, you’re pleasantly suprised when renjun only smiles up at the stars and shakes his head, looking lax, “well, better late than never,” he shoots you a playful grin, “ten years late than never.”

you slap his arm again, laughing, “stop that.”

in the end, or the beginning—whichever way you want to look at it—the thing that resolved your ten-year cat-and-dog relationship built over a misunderstanding was a fateful encounter on a rooftop and, under a light-polluted sky, you realised that you love everything about huang renjun.

you love how he talks so passionately about his different theories, especially the one about other universes existing at the same time as ours (“like. y/n. imagine that, in some other universe, we’re not even sitting on this rooftop. or that this rooftop never even existed. crazy, huh?”) as well as the possibility of alien life (“we haven’t even fully explored the ocean. who’s to say that aliens aren’t out there? or… already living amongst us?”)

you love how interested he had been, when you told him about the stories behind the drawings he had remembered from your sketchbook; he even described some of his own childhood drawings which were just as (and maybe even more) eccentric.

he has the sharp wit and humour to make you laugh until your sides hurt, especially on that memorable night which had been the first of many: you had had to hold his arm to stop yourself from accidentally falling off, as you writhed around; it proved to be almost useless, because renjun had been hysterical as well. both of your laughter rang in the night—and neither of you even had enough awareness to feel the cold.

but, most of all, you love the feeling you get in your stomach whenever he looks at you; those butterflies that take flight whenever he says your name. everything you had thought you knew about him was wrong—and your heart melts whenever you remember how he had been waiting for you to realise. maybe it had to take ten years, for the two of you to get to where you are now.

jeno gives you a wide-eyed look when he catches you cuddled up to renjun at the dorm, one night. passing the two of you on the sofa, he asks, “is this a hidden camera prank?” his eyes dart around, searching the corners of the room and even jokingly lifting up the bowl of cereal that he was carrying to inspect the bottom of it.

renjun grabs the cushion you had been hugging and you make a small sound of protest, before simply reaching to the side to grab another one. you laugh as you catch sight of jeno dodging the one thrown at him by the older boy and his free hand which moved to protect his cereal from spilling, “hey! you don’t have to hurt the lucky charms!”

as he saunters off to his room, he calls out, “i did try to tell you that he liked you, y/n!”

you reach out to the laser-pen on the coffee-table in front of the sofa and flash the light into jeno’s eyes, when he looks over his shoulder at the two of you. you laugh along with renjun as he yells in surprise and quickly shuts his door with a snap before any more harm can be done to him or his lucky charms.

huang renjun and y/n l/n: the nation’s beloved it-couple or, in your eyes, two people with a lot of time to make up for.

you believe that the two of you will get there, eventually—and hopefully it takes less than another ten years.

#renjun #huang renjun #nct renjun #nct huang renjun #nct #nct dream #nct 00 line #renjun x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 00 line fluff #kpop fluff #kpop

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memcaked · 4 years ago

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send him home in a limejuice tub!

Source: Subarashiki kono Sekai | The World Ends With You

Relationships: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Sakuraba Neku, Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Hanekoma Sanae, Sakuraba Neku & Honjo Sota

Characters: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Sakuraba Neku, Hanekoma Sanae, Honjo Sota

Additional tags: Alternate viewpoint, Mostly canon dialogue, Week 2 Day 6, Introspective, Character study, Gift fic, TWEWY Secret Valentine, Not beta read

Summary: Joshua looks down at his hands for the first time. Almighty, almost a month and he forgot what it was like to be physical. Instincts, skin, nails - unchipped, rounded, inch-long keratin buried into the heels of his palms, threatening to break his skin.

Beginning notes: This was made for ShibuyaPharmacy as part of the TWEWY Secret Valentine event. She asked for art or writing with Joshua, Minamimoto, or Fret, so obviously it meant I had to enact one of my TWEWY ideas rolling around in my brain for this. Inspired by a tumblr post which I can sadly not find written by @/shadnoise analysing Joshua's body language in this scene, and pushed out today for my headcanon birthday for Joshua. Happy birthday to this anime game guy who hasn't left my brain for years I think its because we share a star sign

Body:

No matter how Joshua’s beams of light should be vaporising the Taboo noise the sound of them being Erased is always the same: screeching, scraping, like the coalescing of Shibuya soul and the something Minamimoto put into the refinery sigil roiling in its soul code. It's the same discordant chords striking their way across Shibuya this week. They’re awful, through and through - Joshua hacks on their smoke-and-oil stench, whether it's a horn or a kick or quills they leave his skin stinging and red. Taboo noise were nothing, a mystery untold until this week and it doesn’t do anything to convince him that this place can be saved when it's able to foster the frenzied supernoise brainchild of some young Officer with a usurper fantasy. Sanae would tell him J, you always think everyone’s out to get you, and he didn’t believe Joshua when he cited his evidence. As he feels himself falling out of the Noise plane he argues with Strawnae that his attempted murderer has learnt how to breed the dark arts and if he’ll even let him go he’s meant to be doing it thinking he shouldn’t be so negative and everyone he meets is an angel.

They drop back into the UG, or only Neku as he floats in the air. Down on the ground he’s planted to his feet, looking expectantly on wounded, Erased-to-be Sota. He should’ve put the unpartnered timers on their hands before he gave up his powers and his clairvoyance, has to count it by himself with one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four, without any ticking clock that he can see or divine when it’ll happen. “You OK?”

“Yeah... you saved my ass,” Sota cracks a half-smile, the muscles on the left side of his face going limp. His chuckle is half-hearted, a little pained. He knows his erasure is inevitable to be genuine about it, Joshua thinks along with eleven mississippi. “Heh, for now, anyway. I lost Nao... I don't have much longer.” He groans, body shaking as his voice cracks and a second of static courses through him.

Neku droops, his hair falling under his eyes, head buried in collar, spine slumped. “If... if we'd gotten here sooner--” Twenty two mississippi, twenty three mississippi.

“Ain't your fault, dawg. I wasn't strong enough. End of story,” He wheezes, gags a little trying to get the air back. The static flashes repeat, repeat, the pauses closing in. “Neku and Joshua, right?” Joshua lifts his head up, makes eye contact with Sota.

“Yeah.”

“You two survive,” The right side of his face falls. thirty nine mississippi, forty mississippi, “Get your old partner back,” He painfully clings to the last happy face he has, static almost falling out of his screwed-up eyes. “I hope all three of ya get back safe.”

He’s Erased with a buzzed heave, gone in a flash and a crackle. Sota Honjo, small-time criminal, Nao’s partner(-in-crime), joins her in Shibuya’s soul. Sixty mississippi. Neku runs into his spot, the crest of a building’s tall shadow, squinting towards the silver-lined rooftops. He shakes his fist, voice crashing up an octave, “Fucking reapers!”

“Angry, I see,” Joshua lowers himself down, huffing when he scuffs his sneakers on the pavement. When Neku whips his mink-lithe body around Joshua almost hears cracking bones.

“Hell yes, I’m angry!” The vessels in his eyes look swollen red, like if he has to feel for any moment longer they’ll burst into blood and tears.

“So what?” Joshua isn’t particularly interested in making eye contact with Neku - he runs the stopwatch in his head again. “At least you’re still in the game.”

Neku lunges two steps forward, the same shaking fist maybe two inches from Joshua’s nose. “Yeah, and what about those who didn’t? Screw the game!” He stomps his feet on the pavement and makes Joshua forget what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “They’re people, not toys!”

Neku Sakuraba himself, grandstanding about people? People? The ones he was bemoaning a few days ago, the ones he hated so much Joshua chose him. He was such a rugged survivalist - knew how little time Beat and Rhyme had and only caved when they thought it was a good idea - and suddenly when he echoes Neku, Joshua walking away from this with a bruised bloody nose seems to rest in the balance of his outburst. The adrenaline of his thoughts distill into a slow cool-tongued mumble. “Why the sudden interest? I didn’t think you cared about other people.”

“No…” The taut muscles in Neku’s knuckle strain, his voice run ragged by his screaming? His crying? His energy?

The trail-off’s a chance for Joshua to load bullets into his barrel. “No what?”

Neku clears his throat and backs away, opens the sore fist into a palm. “Sure, other Players are strangers. Not just Players. Everyone,” Joshua looks down at his hands for the first time. “I don't know who they are, where they're from, what they care about,” Almighty, almost a month and he forgot what it was like to be physical. “But... since I came to the UG, I... I've talked with them a little.” instincts, skin, nails - “Got to know them a little. Felt them a little…” - unchipped, rounded, inch-long keratin, “Felt my world grow. Just a tiny, tiny bit,” buried into the heels of his palms, “It's different now. They're not just some strangers. I can't shut them out like that.” threatening to break his skin.

“My my,” He’ll understand, Joshua keeps assuring himself. Neku wouldn’t exactly be joyful but he’ll agree Shibuya needs to be shut down, die off with him. He’s - and a lump forms in Joshua’s throat - sounding like now, he won’t back down. “This isn’t like you at all.” He doesn’t even want to make eye contact. How does he get through to Neku? “Well, don’t get your hopes up. You’ll never really understand the people around you.”

“Enjoy the moment.” It’s what imprinting does to people but he only realises how wrapped Neku was around Sanae’s middle finger to Joshua’s crisis of function. Neku’s eyes shine, he mourns the Erased, he thought they’d walk together hand in hand but Joshua feels more and more like he’s reaching an arm out for someone crossing a threshold he can’t.

“Hmm?” Joshua imagines Sanae sitting on Neku’s shoulder, adjusting his halo and sitting in the white flowy robes he hates. Frustration shoots up his fingers and digs harder into his hands.

“Enjoying your world means making it bigger,” Joshua remembers how Neku told him of a girl who’s grip floated up and away from him. “I finally get that.” Joshua remembers that erased couple, arms linked in life, death, erasure, the erased couple who would hold Neku, Joshua, Shiki, everyone in their hands if they didn’t only have two. “The world as one person sees it is tiny.” Joshua remembers Neku, every day in his solitude admiring the mural, rubbing and caressing the wall of paint. “You've gotta... gotta reach out to other people.” Joshua glances back at Neku’s shoulder. He can’t see anything. His hands unfurl, hang free and limp at his side.

“...... Hee hee.” He doesn’t feel anything in his throat. “Maybe so. Only by allowing strangers in can we find new ways to be ourselves.” He wrings his body, one he needs to get used to. “It's possible. This mission looks like it’s up to us.”

Neku silently starts moving towards Q-Heads before stopping, staring over his shoulder while his partner stares at splayed hands. “Joshua?”

"Hold on,” he picks at his fingers, “I’ve broken a nail.”

Ending notes: Not exactly sastified with this but its been a busy lead-up to Valentine's offline and online, I'm glad this is done, and I'm happy if at least one person enjoys what I've wrote. Happy valentine's day, Jordan!

#twewy #the world ends with you #neku sakuraba #joshua kiryu #yoshiya kiryu #sanae hanekoma #fanworks #writing

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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SOS Drabbles: Part 2

Note: Three more short drabbles for our boys! Our funny, sweet, spicy boys who are so much in love. I hope y’all enjoy them!

Part of the ‘By Any Other Name’ series

Read the first three here

~~*~~

For Part 2:

Starting here on AO3

Read them here!

~~*~~

Chapter 4: Science!

Ebay could be an incredible thing when it worked as it should.

Edge didn’t generally have much difficulty in dealing with it. After all, he’d spend the first part of his life learning how to handle cheapskates and swindlers, and that was only dealing with his brother. Underfell was a fine teacher in the art of brutal negotiation, a skill Edge brought with him to the Embassy and put to good use.

Today, however, Ebay brought him something on the more relaxing end of the spectrum. A package filled with old, broken action figures, ready to be cleaned up and repaired, returned to their former glory. A different kind of puzzle to be solved and he was sincerely looking forward to it.

Not even the fact that he needed to set up on the coffee table dampened his mood, although he did need to take an extra moment to find a way to situate his injured leg comfortably. Some judicious use of pillows solved that, along with one under him to cushion his coccyx from the hard floor, ah, he truly was getting soft. Once he was able spend hours sitting on the hard ground, even sleeping on it when necessary. It seemed those days were past and Red might have a few venom-laced words about it, but frankly, that wasn’t a skill Edge was interest in cultivating any longer.

There was room in life for being prepared for any eventuality and for keeping from having a sore ass.

The coffee table wasn’t quite a large enough space and Edge was forced to spread his tools next to him on the floor. He laid out a lint-free cloth across the coffee table and carefully set the action figure he was working on upon it, readying it for plastic surgery.

Heh. He’d need to remember that one for Stretch.

The arrangement worked, though it would have been easier if his tools were on the table. One of these days, he needed to set up a workbench, perhaps in the basement alongside Stretch’s laboratory tables, that was where he was right now and—

As if summoned by his thoughts, the basement door suddenly burst open and through it came Stretch along with an alarmingly acrid smell. He was wearing a pair of oversize goggles, a protective apron, and a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves that went all the way up to his elbows, giving him the appearance of a deranged mortician or perhaps Doctor Frankenstein in his post ‘building a creature’ phase.

“absolutely nothing to worry about, no problems here, i’ve got it all under control!” Stretch said brightly, even as he heaved the fire extinguisher out of the closet, trundling back to the basement door with it. “it’s just a precaution, no need to panic! the overheads got it all, vents at a hundred percent, babe, promise!”

He disappeared back through the door and into the faint wisp of smoke that was starting to gather at the top step, before Edge could even say that worry and panic were both looking like very viable options and under control not nearly as much. The door slammed behind Stretch and left Edge sitting alone.

The entire exchange took perhaps thirty seconds.

Edge stared at the closed door. He looked back down at the much-abused action figure spread out on the towel, awaiting his care, his much safer form of mad science that only required a few small screwdrivers and a paintbrush.

Then he sighed and struggled to his feet, limping to the kitchen to fetch a fire extinguisher of his own.

As Stretch often said, science waited for no one. In Edge’s experience, neither did flames, but the coffee table would.

And when he did end up getting his own workbench, smart money was on keeping it upstairs.

-finis

Chapter 5: Ridiculous

It was ridiculous for Edge to be restless whenever Stretch went into Ebott these days and he knew it. Absolutely ridiculous. His husband went into town often, several times a week in fact, and had for years now.

To the Beanery to spend some time with two of his favorite kind of companions, disgustingly sugary coffee and friendly baristas. To the bookstore, where Jeff no longer worked but Thomas still did, and the old Human still had Edge’s email address from the first time Edge contacted him as a representative of the Embassy to verify his business was Monster-friendly and to inquire if he would be willing to display an official logo stating it as such. That was before he and Stretch were involved; Edge learned some time later that Stretch frequented the place and if he called for a more extensive background check after he did, not a single member of the Security team question him about it, although his brother did radiated a sort of smug approval that Edge refused to acknowledge. Thomas still emailed him occasionally, mostly around holidays with gift suggestions and once with information about a former employee of his that showed worrying tendencies towards prejudice against Monsters. He was an ally of the kind Edge preferred, friendly and useful.

Stretch also went to thrift stores in search of revolting finds to sneak into their home and to the small store by the University that sold laboratory supplies, ventured everywhere, anywhere, by way of the bus route, and aside from one attack incident, Stretch always returned home to him.

Absolutely ridiculous to be fretting about him now simply because Edge was at home rather than at work, with nothing to think about except that his husband was out there in the world where unfriendly Humans existed and Edge wouldn’t even be able to go to him if Stretch needed help, nevermind that he could call an entire Security team to him if necessary or that fact that most Humans were not only friendly but often fond of Stretch and easy laughter, along with his social media accounts. The lingering ache in Edge's leg was a reminder than most was not all and every week he was sent accounting of any incidents within the city involving Monsters. He knew all too well what could happen and the what if's and could be's were buzzing around his skull like angry bees.

Edge was reading a page in his book for perhaps the third time without the faintest idea what it said when the front door opened and Stretch walked in. All six feet plus of him, wearing one of the sweatshirts Edge gave him for Gyftmas last year, the one with an orange body and black arms, discreetly chosen to be slightly more fitted than he normally wore. There were two large cups from the Beanery in his hands, one half drunk, and a collection of bags hanging from his arm.

He managed to drop the bags in a messy pile by the front door without spilling either, toeing off his shoes and making a beeline to Edge to offer him the filled cup. Edge took it wordlessly, the cold sides damp with condensation and the ice dwindled from the long bus ride.

“hey, babe,” Stretch leaned down to give him a light kiss. “miss me?”

Then he let out a startled squeak as Edge pulled him down into his lap. A small wave of iced coffee splashed over his fingers as Stretch struggled not to spill it, dripping down on Edge’s trousers and he didn’t care, didn’t care that his husband was sitting on the book he’d been reading, crinkling the pages, didn’t care about anything but pulling his love closer to take a better kiss. When he finally drew away, Stretch looked dazedly pleased if a little confused.

“Yes,” Edge admitted quietly. “I did.”

That confusion softened, a smile lighting his pretty face and Stretch snuggled in closer, both their coffee cups carelessly set on the side table as Edge chose holding his husband close over the temptation of caffeine for the moment.

Perhaps it was Stretch’s understanding of physics coupled with his ability to teleport that made it easier for him to fold his tall, slender form so comfortably into Edge’s lap. He sighed contentedly and squirmed briefly, somehow finding a way to get even closer. “don’t need to miss me anymore, baby, i’m right here.”

“You are,” Edge murmured. Right here, safe in his arms, and those lingering, ridiculous worries evaporated under the warmth of his husband’s embrace.

They could stay like this, he thought, for a little while yet.

-fin

Chapter 6: Chores

Note: This one gets a little spicy, but nothing too adult!

Stretch generally kept up with most of the daily chores over the course of the week when Edge was at work. Not that Edge ever specifically asked for Stretch to do so; his assumption when he first asked Stretch to move in with him was honestly that it would be similar circumstances as living with his brother, taking on extra laundry and various trash removal. Even then he’d loved Stretch enough to willingly take on that burden and it was with no little shame that Edge learned very quickly that his assumptions were not only wrong but completely the opposite.

There was no question that Stretch’s housework wasn’t up to Edge’s exacting standards, but then, few would be. That he did it at all was welcome and humbling as he made the bed each morning, washing the breakfast dishes by hand, even taking care of what laundry he could, leaving aside anything that needed dry cleaning.

Once, Stretch admitted sheepishly that he’d learned very quickly to check labels when he accidentally put one of Blue’s wool sweaters in the dryer.

“should’ve kept it,” Stretch had said philosophically. “by the time i took it out, it would have fit one of the chickens.”

On Saturdays, Edge still did his own cleaning, following a mental list of things that needed done. for his own peace of mind. Part of him always wanted to apologize, to explain that it wasn’t that he didn’t think Stretch did a good job, but the one time he’d tried, Stretch only kissed him quiet.

“babe, you don’t need to explain,” Stretch told him, gently. “i get it. do what you need to do, okay?”

There were times that the word love was inadequate to describe his feelings for Stretch.

Like today. Edge finished scrubbing the shower stall and was heading back downstairs when he heard Stretch moving around in the bedroom. He looked in, absently thinking of asking what he was thinking about for dinner but he was barely inside the door when he froze.

What Stretch was doing was folding towels, but it wasn’t the chore that had Edge’s attention.

Stretch was wearing a set of oversized headphones and Edge distantly made a mental note to double check that he was not wearing that particular set on the bus, because the noise dampening effect seemed entirely too effective. That thought couldn’t hold his attention for long, not when his eye lights were firmly resting on Stretch’s hips.

For someone who had a unique ability to trip over his feet at any given time, Stretch could certainly dance when he wanted to. Edge leaned against the doorjamb, watching the sway of his husband’s pelvis with hooded sockets as Stretch gyrated to whatever song he was listening to, towels folded along with the beat.

He was humming along almost absently, Stretch had a lovely singing voice, but that didn’t catch Edge’s interest, not with the glimpses of pale, smooth bone winking out from beneath the hem of his sweatshirt every time he moved. That was, until Edge heard the lyrics.

“…sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me…” All sung throatily in Stretch’s deep, smoky voice and the sudden surge of heat that quickly gathered at Edge’s pelvis might have embarrassed him if Stretch hadn’t turned at just that moment and caught sight of him, startling so badly the towels in his hands were flung into the air, falling to the floor in drifts of terrycloth.

“holy shit!” Stretch blurted out, slumping back to sit on the bed. He yanked off the headset and tossed it on the nightstand, wheezing, “you scared the blue fuck out of me!”

“Did I?” Edge asked silkily. He stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. “Well, we can’t have that.”

There was only time for Stretch’s sockets to widen before Edge caught hold of his soul with a gentle grip of blue magic, pushing him backwards and mussing the rest of the towels. Stretch didn’t seem to care about the loss of the fruits of his labors, wriggling around in the nest of cotton until he was comfortable.

Edge prowled over to stand over him, drinking in the sight. Halfway on the bed, his long legs braced against the floor with his bare toes already digging into the carpet. His sweatshirt was riding up, revealing tantalizing glimpses of the upper crests of his pelvis and the beginning of the line of his spine. Whatever greedy expression was surely on his face, Stretch only smirked, wriggling again and that sinuous movement was a temptation all its own. His voice was a low, husky purr as he asked, “and what do you think you’re doing?”

A demonstration seemed to be in order and Edge settled between Stretch’s spread legs, catching most of his weight on his elbows as he nestled their pelvises together. “You said I scared the fuck out of you. It’s only fair that I put it back where it belongs.”

Stretch’s laughter caught on a curse as Edge deliberately rolled their hips together, that low swearing breaking into a gasp as his hands scrabbled against the sheets.

A clean house was well and good, but as Edge leaned in to take his husband’s mouth in an eager kiss, his last coherent thought was that chores could wait.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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romeoryu · 5 years ago

Text

me waiting until the last minute to write my intro post, forcing myself to rush through it all as quickly as possible despite having had days and days to write something detailed and thoughtful? it is more likely than you think. but anyways helo it me!!!! ur local admin aka kayla aka romeo’s mother and somehow also his worst enemy. heh. like i said, i’m gonna rush through this & try to make it cohesive as possible but forgive me if nothing makes sense adshjfdfh. like this to plot, or just hmu on my discord which is currently JAELENTINE’S DAY#8258 ( hbd yoonoh ilu )

— ( 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 & 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞. ) oh my god look, it’s romeo ryu! he is a 23 year old actor from newark, new jersey. they were first associated with the met cartel 2 years ago, and the tabloids are always saying he is so audacious & evasive, but their stans on twitter say that he is actually really rougish & debonair.

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐩𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧.

— 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅.

tw: drug abuse, death/overdose

— part i.

from the very beginning of his life, romeo ryu has struggled with trying to figure out where his place in the world is. he doesn’t remember much of his earliest years, time spent in a home with parents he can only remember in far away, hazy dreams.

his parents were young, and in lust. he was never planned, or, in the end, wanted & ended up in the foster care system by the time he was two. for most of his life he bounced around from foster home to foster home, some good and some terrible, but none of them great. he held on to and undying hope that one day he’d stumble upon the family that wanted him, the parents that loved him and the childhood he dreamed of. but year in and year out it never came, and that hope began to burn out around his 13th birthday.

stuck in the system, he had to grow a thick skin. there was no one at his back or there to defend him, and most of his foster families only cared about the monthly check they received in return for letting him sleep under their roofs. and in the end, that’s all it really was. a place to sleep and a couple free meals. aside from that he was on his own.

college was never an option – there was no way in hell he could afford it, and by the time he was 16, he was sick of sleeping under strangers’ roofs. he dropped out of high school in order to pick up a handful of odd jobs and by the time he aged out of the system he’d saved up enough money to leave jersey and shove the little bit of shit he owned into a one bedroom apartment in the bronx with two other guys he’d found on craigslist. it was never ideal, but it was the only place he’d ever felt he could call his own.

from bussing in shabby live music bars to over night shifts at the bodega and early morning opening hours at the public library, romeo kept himself busy. but no matter how many hours he worked or how tired he got, it didn’t keep him from falling into the wrong crowd. it started out as just a bit of fun, just a way to get out of his own head in the few hours of free time he managed to carve out in a week, the alcohol and the drugs were just a way to pass the time, a way to make his shitty, boring life a little less shitty.

but then it got worse. then instead of saving money he was spending it all on whatever he could afford. instead of looking to move out he was struggling to keep up with rent. his days between 19 and 20 passed in a blur, until he was hit with a reality check one night in a friend’s basement unit, so high he still doesn’t really remember what happened. but he remembers the shaking body on the floor and the cold fear in his belly and the hand on his arm pulling him away and telling him they have to go. they don’t tell anyone, and they don’t talk about. still, romeo doesn’t know who found the body or how long it took for it all to be over.

it’s not enough of a reality check to pull him out of the dark though, and his head really only surfaces enough to get his act together long enough to get the fuck out of his shoebox apartment and away from his annoying ass roommates. he packs up, fits all his things in a backpack and duffle bag and leaves the rest, and gets on a plane across the country.

— part ii.

he wasn’t expecting much from LA, just a change of pace and better weather mostly, but he manages to strike gold when a stranger approaches him while he’s bartending and asks him if he’s a model. romeo tells him no and then the guys asks him if he’s an actor. and when romeo says no to that he asks what the hell he’s doing in LA, and if he wants to give any of it a try. romeo isn’t exactly keen, but he asks the guy how much he’s paying, and that’s the only convincing he needs.

acting comes easy. it’s natural to him, finally letting out all those emotions he’s been choking on for years. and his face doesn’t hurt either. he shoots his first indie film when he’s 21, and walks his first red carpet ten months later. to say he catapulted into fame would be an understatement. he blinked and he had management agencies practically kicking his door down, had gained hundreds of thousands of followers in mere weeks, and was signed onto his first major hollywood film before he’d even bought a couch for his apartment.

it was like whiplash, the way he tossed into the grasp of hollywood. but fuck, was it fun. and confusing, suddenly having fans and people that loved him and supported him. he had the face and the talent, but he didn’t have a celebrity personality. he stayed away from interviews and side projects and award shows (as much as he could at least), but he found it hard to stay away from the after parties and the one night stands and drugs. god, the drugs were good.

fast forward to 22 and he’s made his first handful of friends, and has officially been associated with the met cartel. which brings us to today, or a few months ago. when he was fired off the set of his most recent film and his largest project to date for drug related issues. it’s his first huge scandal, and his second wake up call. this time though, he’s got a management team to clean it up & they shove him into rehab in an attempt to clean up both his image and his act.

as of today, he is 0 days clean, but that’s no ones business but his own. he was released from his rehab program three weeks ago, and has since been trying to get find his footing again to no avail. he doesn’t really know what else there is for him to do outside of partying and sleeping with anything that has a pulse, especially now that he isn’t working 70 hours a week. but he’s figuring it out. kind of. not really. but again, that’s no one’s business but his own.

— part iii.

personality wise, he’s a bit of an asshole. but it’s all just surface, typical defensive behavior. he doesn’t know how to be close to people or how have real feelings in a place that isn’t a movie set. which is why the drugs are his choice of hobby. he doesn’t know he’s supposed to be when he’s sober or how he’s supposed to move throughout the world.

but beneath all that, if you manage to get past the exterior, romeo is a sensitive being. real Sad Boy hours. he takes a lot of things to heart (though he’ll never admit it) and he’s terrified of being alone or abandoned, which gets complicated. he likes to spend most of his time with people to avoid being lonely, but he doesn’t like to get very close to them in order to avoid being abandoned. so, that causes issues.

outside of acting he’s into music and art. he spent a lot of time working in live music bars and went through a big emo phase when was a teen so he’s really into rock / screamo / punk / etc. and working in a library he read a lot and has an interest in history, particularly art history, and poetry. very artsy, very into the idea of artistic expression as a therapeutic practice mostly bc that’s what acting is for him. it’s the only way he can allow himself to feel entirely and unapologetically, which is why he’s so damn good at it.

and uhhh this is sooo long so i’ll stop here but alsjkdfh yeah give me all the plots okay like co-stars, EXES, hook ups, bad influences!!, good influences, flirtationships, enemies, all of it. i’ll probably make an in depth list soon buuut this is hm for now!!! if you read this whole thing you are the mvp mwah.

#met:intro #╰ ⊰ 𝒔 𝒊 𝒙 . ⊶ ooc. ⊱#i did NOT mean to write a novel oops #also i didn't proof read i am so sorry kdsjhfakjdhf #i know it's a mess

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creativetrashcans · 5 years ago

Text

Simmer - Get To Know

By @cupcakegnome

Tagged: @ talemagne

CHIWAWA

Your name: Lonely Chiwawa (she/her)

Languages you speak: Catalan, Spanish and kinda English

Are you a mermaid: No not really... can barely swim tbh

Your play style: mmmh i like most things, creating sims, builidng is so much fun too, also challenges mmh stories no tho i cant write em LOL rip

Your Selfsim picture:

Stories or gameplay, builds, lookbooks, edits or cc: Challenges, builds and some other things coming heh

Your favorite age state: Teen or young adult

Your favorite season: Winter!!! i feel it has a lot to do and the snow is soooo pretty

Your favorite holiday: Only played harvest fest so far... in sims BUT irl i like Christmas

How was your day: It was chill and nice, even went outside wew

Your favorite career: Painter...........................maybe?

Your favorite aspiration: Soulmate

Your favorite EP, SP or GP: Seasons

How old is your simblr: Less than a year i think

Have you woohooed: Yes, many times

Your favorite skill: Cooking, parenting and painting

The size of your Mods folder: 37,7 GB

Your 3 favorite mods: uhhhh hahaha impossible to choose

Your interests (other than sims): Drawing, make up and nails, mmh minecraft old anime and series too

Your favorite sim (picture if possible): Maybe not my favourite Sim of all time because we got so many! But this is our version of Franky form One Piece. Before starting any project just for fun we made him and I always felt so proud of how he turned out. Not only he looks very attractive, i also feel its a good representation of how a human him would look like.

Which Sims games you have played (including mobile games): Sims 2, 3 and 4

Propose a crazy scheme: People being nice always and world being in peace and not dying in gud old climate change

Best part of simblr: seeing how other people enjoy the sims and how they play also them aesthetic

Worst part of simblr: mmhhhhhhhh lack of comunication between players i don’t feel much sense of community here at least now... i actually suck at comunicating so..... dunno

What other games you play: Minecarft recently but not much into games actually

Other websites or accounts (origin, twitter etc..):

Twitter --> https://twitter.com/creativetrashc1

Intagram --> https://www.instagram.com/creativetrashcans/

Personal Instagram --> https://www.instagram.com/elia_clco/

My side tumblr --> https://generationtrashcan.tumblr.com/

Are you single: Nuuuupe

WORM

Your name: Lively Worm (she/her)

Languages you speak: Catalan, Spanish and some English.

Are you a mermaid: Nope, I’m a worm.

Your play style: I love building houses and decorating them, dressing sims and doing their makeup.

Your Selfsim picture:

Stories or gameplay, builds, lookbooks, edits or cc: I do gameplays, challenges and buildings.

Your favorite age state: I think it’s young adult because I can explore more.

Your favorite season: Autumn, because of the beautiful colors.

Your favorite holiday: I don’t know yet, I haven’t explored all of them.

How was your day: It’s 15:40h and I’m hungry, I want to eat soon.

Your favorite career: Musician.

Your favorite aspiration: Musical genius, unsurprisingly.

Your favorite EP, SP or GP: Pets and vampires.

How old is your simblr: Less than a year.

Have you woohooed: ¬_¬

Your favorite skill: I don’t know, maybe the singing skill?

The size of your Mods folder: 29,9 GB.

Your 3 favorite mods: I can’t choose. There are so many so good!

Your interests (other than sims): Singing, drawing, anime, manga and kpop.

Your favorite sim (picture if possible): Why?? I can’t choooooseeee, I love most of them! Okey, after a lot of thought I’ve chosen Una, Usopp’s daughter from our 100 Baby Challenge, because the three of us love her and I love drawing her!! She’s really charming and she’s grown up really well. I relate to her because she also loves drawing and vampires.

We posted some drawings of her on twitter and insta!

Which Sims games you have played (including mobile games): Sims 2, 3 and 4. And some PS game I don’t remember.

Propose a crazy scheme: Making people learn expectatives are bad and judging others hurts everyone involved.

Best part of simblr: I can share our art and tell many stories with interesting sims.

Worst part of simblr: The lack of comunication.

What other games you play: Kingdom Hearts, Hollow Knight, The Last of Us... mostly play station games.

Other websites or accounts (origin, twitter etc..):

Common Twitter: https://twitter.com/creativetrashc1

Common Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/creativetrashcans/

Personal Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/makaru_walker/

Are you single: No, I’m Turtle’s.

TURTLE

Your name: Lazy Turtle (she/her)

Languages you speak: Catalan, Spanish, English and some basic French.

Are you a mermaid: Pretty sure I’m not.

Your play style: Starting projects and never getting past the building process is a playstyle? I usually like to have some objective though, instead of just playing aimlessly.

Your Selfsim picture:

Stories or gameplay, builds, lookbooks, edits or cc: I find stories pretty awkward to portray on Sims, and fashion and decoration were never my strong point. So I stick to challenges, both found and created.

Your favorite age state: Depends on what for. Young adults are the easiest to manage and have more options, but toddlers are the most challenging on a Baby Challenge.

Your favorite season: Autumn, always. Its colors are just beautiful.

Your favorite holiday: Haven’t played them all yet, so I can’t say.

How was your day: (Tumblr erased all my hard work on this thing, but the day I first wrote it I had my blood taken so not great). Today, I discovered the extent of human stupidity in mass hysteria situations. Never seen a supermarket so empty of food before.

Your favorite career: Hypotetically, writer. But I haven’t played as one yet so I can’t confirm.

Your favorite aspiration: Big Happy Family’s been pretty fun for our matriarch, but I still have many more to explore. (I can say it’s not the kid’s mobility one. Stupid mecanography.)

Your favorite EP, SP or GP: Probably Seasons so far.

How old is your simblr: Less than a year.

Have you woohooed: Uh.

Your favorite skill: Uhhh... No idea.

The size of your Mods folder: 29,9 GB. Worm and I share a game and a mods folder, but Chiwawa dumps her messily organized mods on us from time to time.

Your 3 favorite mods: Wow nope.

Your interests (other than sims): Mostly writing and reading (I’m the main writer of this tumblr, btw), but also videogames, anime and k-pop.

Your favorite sim (picture if possible): I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite sim of all time, I have far too many sims I love for different reasons, but this one was specially hard to get right so we feel particularly proud.

His name is Carles Serra, and he’s a parental figure for two of the MCs of the story we’re working on. He’s a math and ethics teacher on a very exclusive highschool, and he needed to have both a very refined and snobbish air and this inevitable awkwardness all math teachers seem to have. Plus, he has to deal with teenage drama all through the story, so I feel like he needs a lot of love. And maybe some vacation.

Which Sims games you have played (including mobile games): Sims 2, 3 and 4. And I think I once tried to make a sim on a terrible PS2 version or something.

Propose a crazy scheme: Mandatory therapy for teens so everyone learns empathy and management of one’s emotions would be pretty neat.

Best part of simblr: Sharing our common passion with others in a free and creative way, probably.

Worst part of simblr: The lack of interaction, I guess. I had only ever been in a very small fandom here on tumblr before, and compared to the closeness of that comunity, I feel like simblr is... very scattered.

What other games you play: Play Station ones, mostly. Whatever gives me a compelling story.

Other websites or accounts (origin, twitter etc..):

Common Twitter: https://twitter.com/creativetrashc1

Common Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/creativetrashcans/

Personal Twitter: https://twitter.com/ALazyTurtle1

Are you single: I’ve been dating Worm for years now.

We will tag: @hellobreadsims

#sims #sims 4 #new simblr #franky #op franky #one piece #one piece franky #oc #original character #100 baby challenge #selfsim #sims tag #get to know tag

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leelee10898 · 5 years ago

Text

Chikara: Ojike (3/?)

Summary: Ellie finally moves forward with her life, and something goes horribly wrong. Ojike translates to Fear.

Warning! This chapter contains violence, pain and sexual violence. Read at your own risk.

Series Raiting: Mature. Angst, character death and violence, Nsfw content.

Catch up HERE

** I apologize in advance. Line break is not working

"Again." He ordered. Ellie got into position as Colt charged her, she quickly ducked under his punch and jabbed him in the side. Colt turned around and faced her, this time his leg swept out and Ellie quickly jumped out of the way, taking out his other leg. Colt fell to the ground, but not before he grabbed hold of her ankles taking her down with him. He pinned her down on the ground, his face inches from hers. "Damnit Ellie. Remember always watch your opponent's movements. It could be a matter of life or death." She rolled her eyes "Is this really necessary?"

Colt let go of his hold on her, Ellie used her body strength to flip Colt over. She straddled him pinning his arms above his head. "Always watch your opponent's movements." She smirked at him. "Cute." He chuckled. She pressed her lips to his, as he wriggled his arms free, his hands stroking her sides.

"Ok, let's work on another sequence."

Colt jolted up from a dead sleep. It was just a dream, but damn if it didn't feel real. Shortly before Ellie went to Riyas, Colt taught Ellie some self defense. Every member of the Kaneko family was made to take different forms of martial arts. Teppei may not have wanted Colt to take the helm of the MPC, but he damn sure insisted he have the same training. He looked at his phone, 8 pm which mean it was 11pm Eastern time. He crept from the couch, and walked out the back door taking a seat on the steps. He punched in his passcode and opened his photos,opening the one album that got him by, Ellie.

There weren't many, mostly of prom. A few from their time together at the garage, the times they spent sneaking around with each other. He missed her so much it hurt, the days were ok he kept himself busy, but the nights wore the worst. He told himself not to do it, but his needs got the best of him. He punched in the number he memorized by heart, blocking the number of course. He held it to his ear as it rang on the other end, 3 times before he heard it

Hello?

He felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. Such a sweet sound, a sound that could bring him to his knees.

Hello? She said again.

He couldn't speak, but god did he want to. He wanted to tell her that he loved her and missed her so much. He wanted to tell her that he was coming there, to be with her, to protect her, but he just couldn't. He shouldn't have even called.

Colt? Colt is it you? He could hear the desperation in her voice.

He panicked, quickly hanging up the phone.

"Hey, there you are? How's that side feeling?" A voice came up behind him. He quickly wiped the tears that had been pooling in his eyes "Hey x, yeah im feeling a little better. I'll be heading back home tomorrow. " he stood averting her gaze so she wouldn't see the sadness he couldn't shake. He stepped into the house, ximena following behind. After he was attacked he went to the only place he thought he could get help, ximena. He filled her in on what happened, And how the assailant told him that Wallace sent him. Colt was planning on going after them, hunting them down and taking care of them once and for all.

"I know you miss her Colt. But you're going to burn yourself down before you can even make it to her. Get out of LA, got be a normal guy." Ximena ruffled his hair with her fingers. "I don't know how to be a normal guy X. And if the brotherhood is out there still, it's not safe for me to be around her, not yet." He flopped down on the couch, wincing in pain as he forgot about the fresh gash on his side. "I just hope you know what your doing kid."

******

East Coast.........

"Colt. Colt is that you?" Ellie panicked, desperate to hear his voice, but she was met by the end of the call.

"Hey, whats up Ellie? Ingrid came to find her as she had stepped away once she noticed the blocked call flashing on her screen. It had to be him, he would be the only one to call her blocked, but why wouldn't he say anything?

"I think Colt called me blocked." Ingrid gave her a stern look. "Did he say anything?" Ellie shook her head no. "Well how do you know it was really him? I think you need to put your phone in your purse." She took the phone from Ellies hand, and slipped it into her purse. "And enjoy the movie with us. Nick seems to really like you." Ingrid grinned looping her arm in Ellies. "Yeah, You're right. Ok I can do this." Ellie took a deep breath and rejoined the two men for the movie.

Over the next couple of weeks Ellie spent most of her free time with Ingrid, Kyle and Nick. She knew Nick liked her it wasn't much of a secret, Ingrid made sure to tell her every chance she got. She also broadened her horizons by taking a few dance classes, and not the classical training ones her father forced her into, since she enjoyed learning from Logan. It was two days before Christmas break kicked off. Ellie had just finished her last paper and pressed send, closing her laptop when ingrid busted into the room. "Get up, were going out."

She demanded, throwing open Ellie's closet. "Ah. Ok where are we going?" She came up beside Ingrid, who was frantically searching through Ellies clothes. "Nothing. You have nothing here. Guess you'll have to wear something of mine then." Ingrid sighed. "Ingrid, slow the hell down, where are we going?" Ingrid stiffened rolling her eyes as she turned towards Ellie. "Ellie. It's the sigma beta sigma holiday mixer. The most important of all holiday parties on campus, and we scored an invite." Ellie knew a few of the sigma brothers, she helped a few of them writing reports for them.

"Yes. Yes this will work beautifully." Ingrid held up a bright red short flare dress, with a squared neck and spaghetti straps.she handed the dress to Ellie, and motioned to change. It fit like a glove, she paired it with a pair of black tights and booties, colts leather jacket the finishing touch. She scrunched her hair, giving the illusion of perfect beach waves. Ellie looked at herself in the mirror, it had been a while since she got dolled up, but she felt good. "Ok, time to take a selfie." Ingrid grinned as she slid up next to her, both posing for the picture. "

She posted the photo to Instagram, tagging Ellie and they headed for the party.

Once there Ellie enjoyed herself dancing and chatting with some people she met in a study group. She broke into a smile when she spotted Nick approaching with two red solo cups. "Hey you." Nick handed her a cup. "You look stunning Ellie." She held the cup in her hand, staring down at the contents. "You're not going to end up drunk off one drink. Its holiday punch." Nick teased as Ellie lifted the cup to her ruby lips taking a modest sip. She immediately grimaced at potent concoction she ingested. Nick snorted at her expression. "Ok, that was downright disgusting." She gagged.

She shared a few dances with Nick, before she knew it it was almost 12. She went in search of Ingrid to let her know she was leaving, she had a ton of packing to do and her flight left at 10 am. She looked everywhere she possibly could before giving up her search. "Can you tell Ingrid I had to leave. I can't find her anywhere." She asked Nick who was nursing a beer in the corner of the room. "Yeah, sure. Do you want me to walk you home?" He searched her eyes for any kind of sign "No, I'll be alright. Thanks though. You're such a good friend Nick." She stood on her tiptoes placing a kiss on his cheek. "Yeah, good friend." He half chuckled. "Merry Christmas Nick." She smiled as she headed for the door.

It was a couple block walk back to the dorm. She pulled colts jacket tightly against her body, to shield herself from the bitter wind that slashed against the sheer fabric of her legs. It had just snowed a few days prior, so she had to be careful walking not to slip in ice with the slight heal on her boots. She made it a block from the frat house before she noticed a shadow trailing behind her. A chill rippled through her body, but not from the cold. She picked up the pace, trying to put some distance between her and the uneasy feeling of the stranger behind her. She crossed the the other side of the street in hopes the other person would stay on the opposite side, and when they followed she felt her heart drop and pulse race.

Just 2 more blocks to go, but the uneasy feeling grew as the person picked up their pace. Ellie broke into a sprint as they headed for the dimly lit alley that separated her from the town and the campus. If she could just make it onto school property she would be ok. She walked into the alley, a dead end. Her nerves getting the better of her, she took a wrong turn, there was only one way out and the person following her, a man, was now right in front of her, blocking her only exit.

"Man, you're a hard one to get alone." He spoke, as he gave her a crooked smirk. "St- stay back. You. You don't know who you're messing with." Her voice betrayed her. "Heh," he laughed. "I know exactly who you are Ellie wheeler. Man, Jason said to take care of you." He began to move forward, Ellie cowering away backing into a wall. "You're a lot cuter than I expected. I think I'll have myself a little fun before I kill you."

"Jason? No. He's in jail." Ellie whimpered in disbelief. "Oh. You didn't hear? He escaped. And he wants retribution for your betrayal." The man lunged for her, somehow she remembered the training she got from Colt, her father and Logan. She stepped to the side slightly, bringing her knee up and slamming it into his groin hard. He crumpled to the ground with a loud grunt as Ellie ran towards the opening of the alley. "No you fucking dont." He reached out grabbing her leg, pulling her down to the cold, unforgiving pavement. She picked herself up quickly, shaking off the stinging pain of her hands.

Her assailant gripped her by the hair spinning her around and slamming her into the brick wall, hitting her head. A small trickle of blood ran down her face, As she screamed out. His hand gripped tight in her hair he spun her around to face him. "My. My father is a detective, he will see you in jail. And my. My friends, the MPC. they'll kill you." She sobbed out the man looked at her with a wildness in his eyes. "I'll be long gone by the time they find you sweet thing. The brotherhood stays hidden." He began to push her dress up. Panic set in, she flailed wildly as he cupped her mouth drowning out her screams. She moved her head biting down on his hand hard, eliciting a scream from the man. He lifted his hand and back handed her, sending her to the ground again. "You little bitch. I'm going to enjoy this." He spoke as he grabbed her legs, pulling her towards him. Ellie thrashed her legs frantically, freeing one and kicking him into the stomach. She stood, adrenaline pumping, anger coursing through her veins. She kneed the in his jaw as he doubled over in pain from the kick to his abdomen. She should have ran, she should have screamed for help but the only thing on her mind was hurting the man who attacked her.

As she landed blow after blow she felt herself being torn apart, the shy sweet nerd she once was falling away, leaving something behind she didn't quite recognize. The man collapsed on the ground, face bleeding badly from where Ellie punched repeatedly. With some strength he grabbed hold of her ankle yanking her to the ground. He hovered above her grabbing her head on either side and slamming it back into the pavement with a sickening thud. Her eyes flickering shut she seen a figure ran into the alleyway pulling the man off of her. The last thing she heard was her name being called repeatedly as she slipped into blackness.

Permatag

@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101 @hazah @desiree-0816

ROD

@daniv2278 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @going-down-downtown @mercyparkcrew @emichelle @annekebbphotography @walkerismychoice @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @zaira-oh-zaira @sweetest-marbear

@simsvetements @zaffrenotes @professorortegasstudent

@akrenich @ifyouseekheart @client-327 @choicelogansbitch @choicesarehard @paisleylovergirl @itskismetbb @itsmarleen

@rhischoicesfanfics @distinguishedsaladoperawinner @iplaydrake @coffeebeandragon @jasidu2 @charliezchan

@umiumichan @sarwin85 @skdskdskdskdskdsk @liamzigmichael4ever

@littlemissimaginativerhi

@sumbarbietingz

#chikara rod fan fic #leelee10898 fan fic #choices ride or die #choices ride or die: a bad boy romance #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #rod colt #colt x mc #ellie wheeler #ingrid rod #jason shaw #the brotherhood rod

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early-sxnsets · 6 years ago

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tag game(s)

anï (i’m too exhausted to do three separate posts but i was tagged in three tag games over the past few days and i’d forgotten to do the last few games i was tagged in and i feel super guilty so here they are in one go)

i don’t know who to tag to do these rn because my brain is dead i am emotionally exhausted and i’m writing a fic that’s about halfway done so i’m gonna say tag anyone who wants to be tagged for any of these. i’m so sorry that i’m dead, i will be back alive again after may 10th, which is my AP exam day

six questions challenge

tagged by @simon--speaks

rules: answer the questions, then tag 9 people you want to get to know better!

Q1: Relationship status?

single bby

Q2: Favorite color?

maroon !

Q3: Top 3 ships?

snowbaz (wow) and uh. wow. idk who else. i wanna say my own ocs matchstick and summer (is that allowed? i’m making it allowed)

Q4: Lipstick or chapstick?

whenever i get to this question in any ask i freeze up because i use a tinted chapstick so i don’t look dead but like. it can also be seen as a lipstick because it has pigment. but. chapstick.

Q5: Last song I listened to?

Run by Hozier

Q6: Last movie I watched?

uhhh i watched like. 5 minutes of the emperor’s new groove a few days ago, and watched a documentary about obscure houses like 10 minutes before that. so. i’m gonna say the house documentary.

21 questions

i was tagged by @simon--speaks, @angelsfalling16, @wo2ash, @alixanderthequeer, @sharkmartini and @bazypitchandsimonsnow

rules: answer 21 questions then tag 21 people

nickname: anï, munchkin, menina, and my hebrew name is elisheva

height: the doctor says i’m 5′3.5″, but they can’t put fractions on IDs so according to the state i’m 5′4″ and i cling to that

last movie i saw: see above (so like. funky houses)

last thing i googled: (next town over) movie tavern. i’m not saying where it is exactly bc hah i don’t wanna be stalked but. i was looking at movie times because they have $5 movies every tuesday

favorite musician: frank iero. love that funky rat man and his funky music too (i’m gonna see him for the second time next month because i made the executive adult decision to say fuck it to my seizures and go see him anyway)

song stuck in my head: i don’t have one rn but usually it’s a song by the killers (when you were young is a usual one)

other blogs: none, actually! i didn’t delete my old tumblr purely bc i’m a nostalgic dumbass, but it’s a completely different login and it’s inactive so i don’t count it.

followers: 1,666 (originally i wasn’t gonna share the number but it hit this last night and i was like heh. nice)

following: 231

amount of sleep: 8ish hours! (spring break bby)

lucky numbers: 7, multiples of 3 (only in cases of knocking), and multiples of 2 (only in cases like volume)

dream job: writing and illustrating books! i have a variety of dream jobs within art, and even within the subcategory of books, but my top dream job is creating inclusive/diverse children’s books that represent a variety different ethnicities/races, religions, abilities, and identities so that children can see themselves represented in media

what i’m wearing: a black turtleneck, a bra, and marvel boxers. that’s it.

favorite food: soup in general. i make a kick ass matzo ball soup

language: english, conversational portuguese, i know a small small bit of japanese (i should know more given i was raised being taught it but i always struggled with it), and i know some spanish. i also plan on teaching myself ASL.

can i play an instrument: yes! i’ve been playing violin since i was 2. i wanna play guitar and i know some chords but i have small hands so it’s hard to find one that’s the right size that isn’t a shitty children’s guitar, and i sing! i’m an alto

favorite song: hnnghg please don’t make me pick................ i’d have to say choke on one another by death spells

random fact: so like. if you didn’t know already, i’m an LGBTQ+ youth activist on a national scale. i disappear on occasion because i’m doing something or another, and sometimes i post about it on my blog (speaking of i have exciting news that i heard, but at the same time, i’m pretty much booked every weekend from middle of next month until middle of july), but........ i hate networking. i loathe it. if i never had to network again, i’d be thrilled. networking is my absolute least favorite thing because i struggle at everyday conversation, much less networking with people at least 10-20 years my senior. sure it’s usually free publicity and i get great connections, but god. at what cost? and like.... it’s always after a really emotionally taxing event, so i’m already drained and then wow here’s a room full of adults who want my 18 year old input. please. just let me steal a cupcake then leave.

describe yourself in aesthetic things: dye stained fingernails and necks. cranked open windows during a spring shower. dried tears and breaking laughs. coffee stains and milky tea splashes. trembling fingers, writing instead of speaking because you’re too afraid, and finally breaking free--running through the rain. scabbing blood, fresh piercings. knowing you’re loved and not saying it because it doesn’t need to be spoken. the smell of a new canvas, paint splattered jeans, and art school sweaters. black skirts with docs, then fairy lights and soft blankets hidden behind sharp profanities and harsh disgust. the unexpected. the unknown. the ever-changing, unstoppable force of the shifting tides.

carry on questions

tagged by @goodbyedandelion, @isthisisagoodkiss @wo2ash,

1- favorite type of scone?

cranberry orange! one of the farms a county over has a market and they sell them there and they’re to die for (altho, i found a sour cherry scone recipe that i’ve perfected and my family loves them so they’re a close second now)

2- london or la?

i’ve never been to london, but i’m gonna have to go with london. i went to la last october to present in an awards show for my organization and i lowkey was underwhelmed. i’m very much a gloom and rain kinda person, and it was too dry and sunny there. although, i did think the huge succulents were sick as fuck. but yeah definitely london. i’m planning to spend a semester abroad there in a few years for an illustration program

3- kissing in a forest or holding hands under the stars?

i’m afraid of forests because we have a lot of wildlife and i don’t want to get mauled by a bear don’t mind me holding hands under the stars :)

4- jeans or suit?

suit suit suIT SUIT suit. i love wearing suits. my chest doesn’t cooperate and my hips always hate them but god i do love suits.

5- loose hair or pulled back hair?

mine looks better loose, and my sides/back are shaved but the top reaches my ears, so it gets annoying sometimes and i pull it up to keep it out of my face

6- vampires or dragons?

i wanna say both. i used to say “yknow a dragon but in human form would be hot” then i got called dragon fucker for like two years so out of pure spite i’m going with vampires.

7- what saying do you wish could be a spell?

(this one’s a very specific reference so hear me out) “i’ve got to go pee on her” used to disorient and confuse the speech of the person casted upon. it’s one of my favorite quotes from scott pilgrim vs. the world (my favorite movie ngl) when scott’s brain can’t figure out two different sentences and he just says that. it’s so good and just fuckin weird that i love it.

8- which carry on character would you go on a coffee date with if you could?

depends tbh! if we’re talking date date, then penny because i would wife penny in 0.5 seconds, but if we’re talking friends getting coffee then 10000000% baz because i’d talk activism and identities with him

9- favorite carry on quote?

“he told me we would be stars” (i don’t have my book on me so i could be getting the line wrong), but it hit so hard for me. like it’s clear how davy manipulated lucy so much that she fell into it and couldn’t crawl out. it’s such a powerful message of control from those who are charismatic enough to hold it, and how sometimes we aren’t weak enough to let go.

10- how excited are you for wayward son?

lemme paint this picture: i started hyperventilating in the hallway when i found out, and then cried an hour or two later when my friend texted me that he preordered me a signed copy. like. i’ve been pre-planning how to get home from college to come and pick it up (okok the 24th is also my dad’s birthday so i’m. um. “coming home to visit him”, of course) because i’m just SO EXCITED to read them again in a canon way :’)

#anï rambles #tag game

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ysear-wyvern-blog · 5 years ago

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A Simple Introduction

Hello everyone, my name is Ysear. I've been otherkin for over 2 years now (technically my whole life, heh, but 2 years awakened). In this introduction, I will talk a bit about my awakenings for my kintypes, as well as outlining the point of this Tumblr (blog?).

For starters, I awakened as a wyvern in August of 2017, after learning that my "unexplainable obsession with dragons" could be caused by otherkinnity, which was followed by memories once I accepted it. As I learned more about this past life, I began to find evidence of being owned as a slave, which I doubted until a memory came to me from the day I was bought. After that, I met someone in an otherkin Discord server who had a "method" for finding memories, and believed him. This caused false memories, which I struggled with for a while. In the meantime, however, my focus was elsewhere. I awakened as a husky after reading about Siberian huskies to find out that I was not a wolf as I thought I was at the time. A friend asked me, "You're a husky then?" This caused a very short but strong mental shift, in which everything sort of connected and clicked all at once. I've never felt anything like it apart from that one time. My western dragon past life is a more difficult one to explain. I got a memory that didn't fit in any of my known past lives in December of 2018. In this memory, a red dragon who I felt was my mate at the time, was falling. She seemed hurt. The being from which I percieved yelled "Rashima, don't..." There was more to it, but the rest faded upon opening my eyes. I thought for a while that maybe I was Rashima, and that memory was, for some reason, in the perspective of my mate. This was not true, however. Once I accepted that I was Rashima's mate, I could feel the past love towards her. I drew my western self the following day. This drawing session turned out to work as a form of meditation though, as I started to hear the dragon in his past life memories in the back of my head. He was talking about his fear of a king who wanted to hunt him for his scales. I still don't know what about his scales was so special, apart from their size. But I will find that in time, I'm sure. The most recent past life I was awakened to is my Nothosaurus kintype. This one was difficult for me, as I didn't have any memories or strange happenings to go off of. Just a hunch, and a few "soul twinges" telling me that it was right. I fought with it for a while, and wrote an awakening guide in the process. But eventually, I decided to make an honest list comparing why I should and shouldn't believe I'm a Nothosaurus. I ended up with more on the side of things to believe, so I trusted it, and accepted it. Whether or not this will stay as it is... we will see. I'm open to finding out I was wrong. It's simply what I currently know and believe.

A bit about myself, in this life. I go by Ysear and not one of my past names because I don't want to be too stuck on one side. I have to find balance between them, so even though my primary kintype is technically my wyvern, Kligth, I don't tend to go by it. I don't mind being called Kligth, I just won't call myself Kligth. As stated before, I awakened to my first kintype over 2 years ago. I didn't really get into the community until almost a year later, due to my shy nature from back then. In fact, I was so nervous when I joined my first dragonkin Discord server that I was twitching, heh. There were two things I noticed upon entering: one, I had to learn to be less shy; and two, I had to get art of my wyvern self. The profile pic I used at the time wasn't very accurate. I didn't trust anyone else to do it - as nobody knows what Kligth looked like as well as I do - so I decided to try learning how to draw. I never thought I'd get decent at it, let alone having server members asking to commission me. Let that be a lesson in the power of practice, heh. I do not take commissions as of right now though, due to my busy schedule not giving enough time for art. I used to be a "gamer," though not much anymore. That time away still hasn't made me any less of a pro at Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, however. Heh. I am also an owner of the Kin Connect Discord server, and use it as a medium to help others find their kintypes and explore being otherkin in a healthy manner. I am also a moderator on the Dragon's Valley Discord server, and have previously been a moderator on the Draconic Nexus Discord server. This blog is my first venture out into the otherkin community outside of Discord, so I'm not sure what to expect. Hopefully all will go well.

Now then, the point of this blog. Through this blog, I would like to share with fellow otherkin - as well as questioning otherkin and anyone else interested - how to go about otherkinnity in a healthy way, based on my own experiences and experiences I have heard from others. I will likely post art and images occasionally as well, and perhaps the rare vent post if I feel it's absolutely required. There will likely be questions as well, so feel free to reply with your answers to them. I always love to hear other viewpoints, to further refine my own.

I am looking forward to starting on this next step, and helping anyone who has questions. Feel free to ask!

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lost-in-transition · 6 years ago

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short story: deathclocked

CN: This is something new for the blog, a piece of actual fiction. I was inspired. I am not actually a blonde ex-Polish trans hitwoman.

I strike at his throat with knuckled fist. I move the arm up to block, programming the motion before even it has a chance to happen. I'll also step aside and put my knee between his legs. Then either head butt him or bring my elbow down in his face. I don't know yet. As a child, I never ever fought. The thought of striking back was worse. It would have made me like them, and even then I knew I feared that. Better to run away, or else to let them. They wanted me to strike back, I know that now. If I had, they would have known I was like them, and we would have been friends. And I would have been something worse than being the nothing that I was. In a sense, they were so persistent because they were concerned for me, and perhaps scared as well - my existence as an oddity raised the potential things could have been different for them, too. We all fear the thought we might not be who and what we need to be, and it drives hatred of the strange all too often.

Ironic then that now I fight so effortlessly. It does not feel like aggression. It feels like stretching out. It feels like singing out loud. I miss that very much, but as time went by, it became less and less comfortable to hear myself, especially resonating in skull. Practicing martial arts, any kind, feels freeing. I feel present and moving and unbound by everything else. I decide my movement beforehand and execute it. If I am struck, I will be hurt, and accepting that makes it something I am not afraid of. In the training ring I don't feel or express anger, and my training mates accept that. When I fight for real, like now, they don't expect me to strike. In some ways, that is the point. It is because they don't expect it that I feel at peace being the one initiating. And ending it.

The man in front of me, I think of him as Boss Man, he wears sports gear slick enough for clubbing and laid back enough no-one will think he is gay or anything. God forbid. Sweatpants showing boxers. Tattoos, expensive wrist watch. He didn't have to queue to get into this club, which already sets him apart from 999 of 1000 people anywhere. There are several ways in which each of us stand out so. He and I share some, including, for me in recent years at least, spending significant time in the company of organized criminals. Boss Man is a criminal organizer, and I can only imagine this is why he passed the doorman directly whereas I stood in line. This place started as a gay club and in many ways still is, men give each other blow jobs among the smoky labyrinths that are the chill out area, the beat of a DJ I don't recognize but do like there in the background like a storm. Boss Man is the type of the leather bear doorman no more than I am in my skimpy sundress, but either he has the money or the fear capital from being a known gang leader that he gets in anyway. Even so, he still passes through the coat check, which means he has no weapon tonight and no body armour. Otherwise typically he does, and this is why I planned to take him down in here tonight. I too am unarmed, but as I now set out to demonstrate, this need not mean much.

I got close enough in the otherwise empty passage, so that first strike goes fine. He staggers, but he's been boxing; now he goes back and into something like stance. He'll strike next. Or will he? He backs up and stares at me. I followed him in here, when he was going to snort or inject I assume, or make a phone call. But when I did, he leered at me, smiling as I approached. Maybe he had not expected to, but he was fine with it, up until the point where I struck. There's enough of a code that he saw my following him as safe. It's what a girl would do if she was aware of his status and wanted him to share something of his - drugs, kisses, cock, recognition in some circles, though I don't know exactly which one. This city has several separate gang environments and they are not all hanging out. "My" criminals are part of other networks than his are. More to the point, "my" criminals live in little circles of salt surrounding a few people who also post on TOR-accessible truly anonymous forums.

Boss Man is an awful person. I know this because I read some of the police reports on things that happened with some girls who spent some time with him. None went to trial, and a few years back they stopped coming because none of them would risk filing one. This isn't why I'm here seeking him out. I'm not a vigilante, I just checked that before I decided to pursue the contract on him. Back in the old days, there were brokers who could connect clients and contract killers anonymously, for a cut. Apparently. They still exist, now they too are on the dark net. It works like a betting service, using crypto currencies and everything. Someone puts out a contract on a mark by anonymously depositing the prize with the broker. The broker verifies the money is legit and makes a bet on when the mark will die. Whoever comes closest wins the money, also anonymously. In theory someone could "kill steal" if they witness a contract killing, but the system works well enough. I was spending a lot of time on the dark web.

This also means that in principle a mark can know there's a contract on them. But in reality, most people where some shadowy figure want them dead will be just like Boss Man, a career criminal who is not all that computer savvy but rather very invested in his offline social network. I have no idea who wants him dead, I just looked into him enough to see if it was at all possible, and also on whether he has any redeeming traits that would make me feel guilty for it. I've cashed in contracts on people who were not gangsters too, some domestic abusers mostly. Still no idea on the client. Boss Man is just always paranoid, when on the streets he has a gun. His driver keeps that for him now I guess. If I guess closest for when he's dead, that's about 40K worth of bitcoins. The call was out for six months already. So either there aren't so many assassins around who'd take it, or some did and failed for whatever reason. I've tried and given up with several marks, sometimes others got them later. No idea on which other, either. I don't think I know any other contract killers, but then again, would I even know?

The thought strikes me that I should make a smartwatch app that bets on my time of death should my pulse stop, in case I find anyone contracting me. That way at least my death can be my own kill. But honestly, if my actual identity ended up there, something already is wrong. No one should know who I am. Heh. They'd have to use my deadname, since the road to a legal name change in my country of citizenship is... long. How fucking appropriate. Ha ha. Like cancer, fun for the whole family. I literally would have to sue my parents, which means I'd have to meet them again. It's been seven years now. They're still around in Krakow, I know, and my little brother hasn't moved out yet. He and I still talk every now and then. I wonder how he's going to make it.

Boss Man isn't going to shout, is he? Not that it makes all that much difference in this loud environment. No. He needs to do this himself or he'll lose face. He stares at me incredulously, already pretty coked up I guess, and leaps at me, all 95 kilo of muscle and bone and Axe bodyspray. I'm in the motion, I sidestep and rotate. Detachedly, I wonder again what precisely is wrong with me. I don't think I'm a sociopath. Is that even possible for me? If I were then surely I wouldn't have all these social anxieties, or feelings of inadequacy, and I wouldn't end up crying over youtube clips where little ugly fruits find other little ugly fruit friends. I do have empathy, for all that everyone tried to grind it out of me, growing up. I couldn't cry for years and years, it took me doubling the recommended dosage to get there finally. Now, it's not so much a matter on if something will make me cry, but when. I used to simply be unable. Now I cannot decide the "if", but I can delay it if I have to. There has to be something that I'm processing here though, it can't be just for the money. Maybe I'm processing my feelings of being an outsider by ensuring I must always be, that there is (yet another?) thing in my life that no-one ever will understand? Some sort of reaction formation? Or am I an adrenaline junkie?

"What the... fucking bitch! Fucking cunt!" he exclaims, slamming against the wall. I swing my fist at the back of Boss Man's head but he's already turned back and lifted a meaty arm for blocking. He has a tattoo of an eagle. He's in stance now. No more surprises.

He stares at me. With a sickening dread my guts recognize that look before my brain does. I shiver. He blinks. "What the fuck? You're a fucking man in a dress? A fucking tranny faggot?" Boss Man laughs. "That's why you fight like that. No fucking real girl could land a hit like that on me! Fuck! I can see it now, look at you, full of makeup and shit. But you've got balls, right? Show me you've got balls, man!" He takes fighting stance again, like he's challenging me. He smiles like a maniac. I'm staggering. It's like I'm split in two pictures like with those old 3D images, floating in different directions, none of them me. I can't sense my body, but it's like I see it from the outside. Tall, flat-chested. Tuck isn't perfect, is it? And I'm blonde, so plenty of electrolysis left before any kind of smoothness. Would any cis woman do contract killings like this? He's implying that, isn't he? That only someone incurably steeped in toxic masculinity would be a... a... hitman.

This is so dangerous, I know it. It feels like those times after meeting that support group when I couldn't stop idly thinking as the train approached the platform that it would be so easy to solve everything by just stepping in front. One part of me is deep in, one is detached. Neither really cares how this goes, right now. Am I angry with him? No way to tell. The important thing is, how dangerous to my beliefs about my identity are these implications? And are those just beliefs? He clocked me in a dark club corridor without me even speaking, so that horrible voice I have isn't it. What's wrong with me? I feel like I'm already dead. A waterlogged corpse having rotted, the bones move through soft flesh-mud. I freeze.

Boss man knocks me over and I feel a sharp pain as I hit the floor. Only luck it was not head first. Then again, if that damn head with it's fucking brow ridge and big nose cracked like a melon, then it would be over. He's on top of me. "What the fuck is this about, you little faggot? Huh? Did you really think you could fool me, you fucking ugly little cocksucker bitch?" I know it's over. I won't have to worry again on whether I'm actually just a sad, misandrist failure of a man, someone who still ticks off all the boxes of male stereotype and socialization. It'll be like with the train. Eventually it will all be over. Pain for a while. But only one outcome. It will be over.

He puts his hand on my left breast and there's another look of surprise on his face. Then his mouth is at the side of my neck. I feel rough, raspy stubble and smell the sour musk of his sweat and breath. He bites my neck hard and grunts. I feel his cock quickly growing hard against my thigh. Another rough hand moves up my thigh. He has to make sure now. The smell, I can't let it go. I remember my old training clothes. Four years ago? Before HRT. I used to smell like this. There is sausage on his breath, and beer. The stubble. When my hands had eczemas because I didn't moisturize, and they itched, I would scratch them against the stubble of the cheek of the body that I was in. The skin would eventually blister and bleed and get sticky, and it would hurt more and longer.

That's not me anymore.

That's who he is. I'm different. I always was. That never was me. That surface was no-one. I'm the will to motion. I'm the choice I made. I am me.

Boss Man isn't holding my hands in place because he's too busy groping at my tuck. So I press them against the veins at the side of the neck, holding and twisting as if I was opening a jar of pickles. I hear his neck snap, and slowly he goes limp on top of me. My head is spinning and for a moment I forget who I am, where I am, what I am. There is only the naked tube lights of the ceiling high above and the graffiti on the concrete walls. My back hurts.

I turn to get him off me. I squeeze his neck again to be sure, check the pupils. I kick Boss Man in the side of the head, first gingerly, carefully. Then again, harder. Again. A dozen times, with the hard toes of my pumps. I take out the phone, choose the camera settings to ensure there is a time stamp watermark as well as a GPS watermark. Then I remember. I have to remove the little coloured sticker they put over the camera lenses on your phone in this club. Check. Filter settings. Check. I upload an image of Boss Man's vacant gaze as he lies there to the server, through the TOR client app. It's done.

I hurry down to the bathroom, one floor down. I shy away from the mirror image because I can already guess what it would show, and I go in to hide in a stall. I lock the door carefully. Then I let the tears come.

#fiction #short story #slice_of_other_life #unedited #creative_writing #write_what_you_almost_know

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