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skylarstark4826 · 10 months

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Spider sat in one corner of the Sully marui weaving a basket, his smaller hands making quick work of tying sturdy knots out of material new to him.

In the other sat Neytiri, skinning fish after fish and placing them on hooks, quick and efficient with her blade.

The hut stayed utterly silent aside from sounds of their labour, yet it barely felt awkward. After all, both inhabitants were focusing for a reason. The chores were a distraction.

A distraction from the horrid disaster they’ve been through.

Strangely enough, since loosing the oldest Sully and arranging a funeral, both of them avoided talking about him; even in passing. It caused too much pain, like rubbing salt into a bleeding gash, but while Neytiri knew such agony well, to Spider it was all new. He escaped any thoughts about Neteyam because he was afraid he’d break down again, like he did the night of the funeral, when the emotional whiplash fully caught up to him and he broke, emitting barely-human noises as Kiri wept, holding him. He’d never been this vulnerable, never cried to the point where there were no tears left, and hoped to Eywa that he wouldn’t have to repeat the process, although witnessing Ms.Sully break down twice this week didn’t give him much hope. But could he blame her?

No. Not in a million years. The utter shock of witnessing a loved one’s eyes loose light is a horror Spider wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

His work slowed.

Is this how Neytiri felt when she lost her father? Her sister? Half of her clan? His pain from loosing ‘Teyam felt gut-wrenching, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine how badly it burned Ms.Sully’s soul to have so much taken from her. Truth be told, he felt horrible for resenting her back in the forest. He only ever saw his own part of the story.

As he wandered deeper into his thoughts, so did the matriarch; except she had a bad habit of quickening her pace whenever she could not find focus on the present. She couldn’t let her children or husband know, but she was holding on by a thread. No amount of crying and screaming and throwing objects into the sand could quench her agony, despite Norm saying that it’d be healthy for her to let it out. No matter how much she let it out, there was too much still left, and it grew like a mold as soon as she’d stop screaming. Maybe she was well past the point of "letting it out" years ago, though she certainly tried many times.

She looked at Spider.

Yes, she tried hard to let it out indeed…and this boy became her accidental target. He came under the line of fire because through his veins coursed the blood of a demon, and she recalled herself justifying that behaviour more than once by telling her beloved that said boy walked on a slippery slope, bound to repeat the mistakes of his ancestors.

And yet, there he sat. After enduring months of captivity and torture, as he’d told them when Tonowari organised a council to hear our whatever information he had gathered, he was still loyal.

He witnessed villages burn, had to beg the demon, *cry* for him to spare the people, and it eluded Neytiri how or why the monster listened. She didn’t want to put the puzzle together just yet, trying to erase the incident on the ship out of her memory. Eywa knows, Kiri hasn’t looked at her the same since.

“Ack!” She hissed when the knife inevitably drove into her finger, causing a bleeding. She then sees Spider react on pure instinct, fetching a bandage-like cloth and sitting next to the woman as he treated her injury. He was good at it, that much she was aware of, as she saw him treat a deep wound once. A human ally pilot bled once, but Socorro never lost his cool and swiftly bandaged it.

She wondered how often he had to treat himself, to get this precise with his movements. She also wondered why she let him touch her, but the last seven days have been a complete mess, and neither of the two had strength to be passive-aggressively avoidant of each other. There were bigger sorrows to mope over.

***

The crowd of Metkayina, as well as Tau’nui, roared in frustration at the council. They wanted action, and they wanted it now. The death of many of their loved ones, including the tulkun, has angered them beyond belief, but the leaders had to quieten the crowd so Spider could share what he had gathered about their enemy. He knew he was looked at side-ways, because contrary to how he felt on the inside, blue stripes didn’t make him taller, no matter how much paint he applied to his skin.

Neytiri grew frustrated as well. The crowd’s fury had been understandable, but their restlessness only stalled them. She looked at the teenager to see if he’d be brave enough to do something about it, since not even Tonowari and Ronal could calm their storm. And he did.

Grabbing the tube filled with a yellow liquid from the mat in the centre, Spider stood in front of the big fire and raised it to the sky. The crowd went quiet, their attention now consumed by the strange device.

“Listen to me, reef people!” He exclaimed, mustering all the confidence he had. “This! This is why they’re killing your spirit siblings!” His voice shook when he remembered the death of a mother and her child.

“What is it!?” He heard the crowd demanding.

“It’s a liquid stored in the minds of every tulkun! They hunt for it because-” He couldn’t believe he was about to say it. “Because it grants sky people immortality!”

Reef Na’vi gasped in utter shock, and even Jake couldn’t keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

“What…what are you saying, child?” Ronal dared to ask, her eyes filled with horror.

“This…this fluid stops humans from ageing! It makes them live forever!” He locked eyes with her.

“But…that is impossible, all energy—”

“They found a way to break that rule. And they break it by killing the tulkun and pulling this out of their heads.” Socorro pointed to where his brain is, his own eyes watering.

The Metkayina and Tau’nui were silent now, processing this new information.

Neytiri felt even more furious than before, but by no means surprised. Sky people cruelty was new to the sea Na’vi, but not her. Not her clan.

Not new to Spider either, she thought, looking at him, and how bravely he held up in the face of a resentful mob.

Yes.

He was indeed quite brave.

***

Water, as beautifully as it sparkled, had never been Neytiri’s strong suit. She could swim just fine, could even fish to an extent, but riding an ilu was still quite difficult for her to grasp, even more when it came to the skimwing. Now that the war was upon them, she had no excuse to stall on learning, so Ronal took time out of her day to offer help. She guided the animal towards her, and ‘Tiri couldn’t help but feel warmth in her chest at its friendly clicks. About ten metres away, Spider sat on the woven pier and helped Jake carve wooden stakes for the nets. Socorro kept stealing glances, wondering how Ms.Sully would do.

Tsaheylu went smoothly but Neytiri shivered, as if cold water was dumped on her. She heard a familiar chuckle and whipped her head, seeing Spider quickly turn his down and pretending to work. She huffed, and listened to Tsahik’s instructions, slowly got on the creature’s back. However, the animal must’ve felt her lack of confidence, as it chirped and bolted away, dropping Neytiri into the water.

Spider tried, honest to the great mother, to hold it in, but the image of such a serious, graceful figure emerging from beneath the waves with the widest eyes was just too amusing. He let out a laugh, before biting his lip and hunching again. Jake looked at him like he just signed his death warrant, and Socorro couldn’t agree more.

He didn’t see the smirk Neytiri failed to suppress, or her slowly wagging tail as she approached the ilu again, and whispered something into their ear.

He did however, definitely feel the harsh tug on his loincloth, which sent him tumbling into the water with a high-pitched screech. Once under the surface, he locked eyes with the clicking ilu and playfully shoved its face, swimming back up when the most incredible sound graces his ears.

Neytiri laughed. It was short-lived, but she laughed, and laughed in his presence. Seeing a smile on her worn out face felt like a breath of fresh air and Socorro couldn’t help but chuckle in return, grinning.

Oh how good it felt, to have the weight of the world pulled off their shoulders, if just for a single moment.

***

Neytiri was at it again; overworking herself because she steadily lost focus on the current task while the eclipse had long since passed. She was expected home hours ago, and the family, deeply scared for their mother’s wellbeing, went looking for her around the village.

Jake and Spider split to search on the shoreline, going opposite directions and soon enough, Socorro witnessed a familiar silhouette resting against the rocks. It was none other than ‘Tiri, with a half-weaved net in her arms.

The blonde couldn’t help but appreciate that distinct, Omatikaya handiwork; he learned weaving from her after all, but his wonder turned to confusion when he caught the warrior twitching in her sleep. Looking up, Spider met her shut eyes and a forming scowl. It’d be better to wake Neytiri before she falls deeper into whatever nightmare she was seeing.

But as soon as Socorro’s hand touched hers, she pounced on him akin to a vengeful thanator. In a way, she was.

“Hey hey HEY!!” Spider yelled, as ‘Tiri felt for the blade strapped to her vest and unsheathed it. “Neytiri STOP!! IT’S ME!!”

In a fit of rage, Neytiri hissed at him, and on reflex, the blonde hissed right back. That seemed to do the trick, as it snapped the warrior out of her delusion, and she breathed heavily, looking him in the eyes.

After what felt like an eternally long moment, she leapt away, realising what she’d done. “What do you want!?”

“…It’s-it’s eclipse. Everyone has been looking for you…” Spider breathed.

Neytiri turned, eyeing the darkening sky, before giving the blonde a slow nod and collecting the net she’d weaved.

“Let us go.” She looked back at him, waiting for Spider to follow.

***

This night proceeded quietly, like so many others these past weeks, but Tshaka could not sleep. It has been roughly a month, but her scar bled still, as fresh as ever. Keeping her son out of her thoughts as to not breakdown completely has been an exhausting task.

She needed some air, and slowly, as to not disturb her family, slipped out of the warm hut, shivering at the chill. It was then she caught a distant sound of sobbing.

In said distance, on a pier, sat a familiar tiny figure, with knees up to his chin, and shaking shoulders. ‘Tiri couldn’t help her gasp as she approached, akin to a predator trying not to spook its prey. Was Spider really crying? He hadn’t done that since the funeral. She guessed that he’d been putting on a front, but never considered how heavy the burden of grief would weight on someone who experienced it for the first time.

Thinking of her child, she let out a tear.

It never got easier, but one’s very first loss always stings the most.

“Spider.”

She spoke barely above a whisper, but Socorro still lurched, as if burned, before quickly lifting his mask and wiping away the salt on his cheeks.

“W-what is it?” He croaked, his voice shaking.

It’s only then Neytiri realised that she didn’t actually think it through. Her deep-rooted maternal instinct pulled her towards a broken child, but knowing their history, she had no idea how to provide comfort to him specifically.

So instead, she sat next to him, looking at the glowing ocean.

“I cannot sleep.”

The Na’vi avoided making eye contact with Socorro as to not make him feel further embarrassed, but still noticed him nodding, while hiding most of his face.

“…Neither can I.”

‘Tiri nodded in acknowledgement, and they stayed silent for a little more. Listening to the waves swirl gently against pier’s columns, as well as watching peculiar creatures swim below.

“…How…how do-how do you do it?” The boy then asked, sheepishly turning to the woman next to him.

“Do what?”

“Keep going. After everything…” New tears gathered in his eyes. “I feel like a part of me has been ripped away. Is this how it felt when…?”

“…Yes. It feels like that all of the time.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, another tear escaping down his face. “Then how?”

Neytiri looked back at the ocean, trying to gather her thoughts and give him a hopeful response, but in truth, she had none. Every tragedy was a storm that destroyed her, and then, after a while, she just wouldn’t be crumbling as much.

“…I do not know. I guess…” She sighed. “All you can do is wait.”

“It’s torture.”

“Yes.”

“I want to see him again.”

Neytiri’s heart skipped a beat. “I know.”

“It feels like the world has ended, and everyone’s just pretending like nothing happened.”

That sentence brought new tears to Neytiri’s eyes. Socorro oddly hit the arrow on that one. It really did feel like a silent apocalypse at times; like everything after Neteyam’s death was an afterlife, a ghost remaining of the world that had once existed.

But she felt that way before. The world had died before, one too many times, and yet here she still was, pushing on. It is thanks to her family that she once more found happiness and saw how her life could yet be full of love and purpose.

“…The sun, Socorro. Look to the sun.”

“What..?..”

Neytiri clenched the weaved floorboards of the pier. “The pain is agonising, and the tragedy may seem endless, but the sun will always rise. No matter what happens here on Eywa’eveng, it’ll greet us the very next morning.”

Spider looked up at Polemius; a giant orb with swirly patterns, gracing Pandorian sky.

“The sun will always rise.” Neytiri said, carefully, ever so carefully, moving her hand towards his, wanting to take the pain she is so aware of away from a boy so young. “Nor is the night starless.” She spoke, their fingers barely touching.

***

Curiously, Neytiri slept like a newborn after the conversation they had. Waking up with the morning rays, she saw that the marui had been emptied of all her family members, but she’d been tucked into a blanket. She’ll have to cook something big tonight, to reward her children and husband for working so hard to help Awa’atlu prepare for the future battle with sky people.

However, next to her lay a holo-pad. A human techno device used by Jake to contact their friends at high camp, and sometimes bythe Sully siblings to take photos. Tiredly, she picked up her head and stared at the screen. One of the icons was glowing, and she knew it meant that someone left a message. She pressed on it, expecting barely-comprehensible science gibberish written by Norm or Max.

Instead, it was a message written directly on this device. Neytiri read into the letters, her mind still foggy.

Her heart sank into the ground.

Her face went pale.

She leapt to a stance immediately, running as fast as she could through the village, a hundred emotions fighting to be felt, and a single question screaming to be answered.

Why?

The eclipse was not yet fully over when the warrior reached rocky cliffs on the edge of the island. Spider stood there, on the tallest edge, as still as a statue.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE HIM!?” Neytiri screamed on top of her lungs, a human word escaping her in the state of panic.

Socorro turned to her, his face once more stained with tears, but his expression stone-serious. “I did it because….because he loves me, in his own horrible, fucked up way. He cared, and when push came to shove, he chose me over everything else!” He yelled to be heard over the crashing waves. “No one has ever done that for me before and, fuck!” He couldn’t keep up the front for long. “I love him too! I wish I didn’t! I swear I hate that I do! He’s a fucking monster and I regret my choices! But back there, I couldn’t stop myself!” He sobbed. “I was just…I didn’t want to be abandoned again.”

Neytiri glared at him, frantic, a small part of her wanting, truly wanting to understand, but getting overshadowed by anger and fear.

“Foolish boy! Do you understand what will happen?! He will come back for us! For your siblings!!”

Spider shook his head, breathing rapidly. “No, no, he doesn’t care for them. He only threatened you because he knew it would set off Jake. He wanted to bait him into a fight. It was his only goal all along.”

‘Tiri hissed, furious. “What is the meaning of all this? Why come here, to the outskirts, to say it!? Are you too much of a coward to face your sins head on!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Off-handedly, the woman noticed that Socorro wasn’t armed.

“After yesterday, I made up my mind. I can’t make things right, nothing will make it right…but this nightmare can end with me.”

It took a moment for Neytiri to process what the boy had meant, but when it hit her, she couldn’t help taking a step back.

Spider didn’t run out here because he’s a coward.

He ran out here to help Neytiri get rid of the evidence.

“You…you want me to kill you.”

“Don’t you?”

Did she?

Neytiri was angry, and grieving, and afraid, and broken what felt like way beyond repair after the tragedies she’d faced.

She hated Spider for whom he saved.

She hated what he represented so much.

She…

…

She didn’t want him to die, she realised, tearing up in frustration at herself. She recalled when he was a baby fitting into the palm of her hand, when he followed her like a little shadow and eager to prove himself, when he played with her children, when he gave Tuktirey one of her first necklaces, when he saved his siblings from the sky people who pursued them out of hell’s gate a year ago, when he went through torture at the hands of RDA, that cause him phantom pains, just to keep Omatikaya and their family safe.

For so long, when meeting eyes with the child before her, she only saw Quaritch. A creature that would inevitablt morph into his exact copy.

But now, when it felt like she had gotten all the proof of it in the world, she looked at him…

And only saw Spider.

Spider, the human Omatikaya from the forest, and no one else. Miles’s shadow was gone, no longer veiling the blonde away from her.

Neytiri wanted to pluck her eyes out in anger. Why, out of all moments, did she have to see him now? Why did the great mother tortue her so?

She sighed shakily. “I do not what a child’s blood in my hands. I am not him.”

Spider’s eyes widened, as he stared at her in shock, before eventually frowning and nodding. “Right. I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t…fuck, I don’t know why I thought you would.”

Why did he?

Neytiri hated him, he knew that. They even had an argument once, a short but dramatic one, when the RDA had just returned to Pandora. He’d been so frustrated at the way she saw him, that he’d exploded on her in return that night, saying that Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were all the family he had because of her war.

He regretted those words every day.

It was another reason to get rid of him. Truthfully, Neytiri had every justification to go through with his murder. Spider wasn’t even a creature of Eywa, so could it really that big of a deal?

But, of course it was.

Neytiri is not a monster out to get him, though it seems like Socorro had come to believe it at some point because of her sheer resentment.

And then Neteyam died, and everything made sense. Honestly, Socorro had been surprised she didn’t actually attempt anything herself. Truly, Tsahaka was a warrior stronger than any other he’d ever met. An ideal Na’vi.

He only wished he could have understood her sooner.

But now he did.

“I get it. I…”

And he still needed to make up for his sins.

“It’s time I act like one of the people for once.”

And with those words, Spider’s exopack flew down the cliff, disappearing into the foam below.

Neytiri’s heart stilled as she watched the blonde choke in slow-motion, before her instincts took over and she leapt into action.

Spider’s limp form in her arms, she ran back to Awa’atlu, counting down the seconds with her every stride.

Sky people only had four minutes to live after loosing air.

Awa’atlu resided way further.

She wouldn’t make it.

But Socorro was not any other human, was he?

Neytiri held onto that thought like a life-line as she pushed Metkayina out of her way. Had Spider always been so small? So fragile?

She almost missed the entrance when reaching her home, slipping on the weavings, but regained her footing quickly and dropped Spider off on her pallet, rummaging through technical equipment Spellman had brought two weeks ago for the blonde specifically.

Somewhere here, it had to be here!

There.

She pulled out a brand new mask, setting a charged battery into the slot before picking up her child and fixing the visor over his face, pressing a button that would start filtrating air.

For a gruelling moment, there had been nothing but silence, and Neytiri’s heart kept sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

It’s been six minutes.

But then, there was a deep, loud inhale, punctuated by frantic coughing and shaking. Neytiri held the blonde as he gulped for air like a fish out of water.

A moment or two, Spider had been completely disoriented, frantically looking around him, when his eyes paused, staring into Neytiri’s bright yellow ones, almost glowing in the light of the sun.

Socorro looked heartbroken, on the verge of tears the longer the warrior held him. “Why…why did you do it!?”

In response to his panic, Neytiri snapped out of her initial stupor. “I saved your life you ungrateful boy!” She snapped back, yet holding him only tighter.

“Wha-no! You were supposed-I should have-” He stumbled over his words, distressed. “I should have died!” He sobbed, trying wearily to push Neytiri away, but his strength was no match for hers. “Let GO!” He cried. “…please.”

“True warriors do not go out like this.” She hissed.

“I’m not a warrior. Never passed the iknimaya remember!?” He blabbered, still pushing against Neytiri’s shoulders. “Ending it all was the most honorable thing I could do!”

“No!” She grabbed him by the bicep, forcing him to look up at her. “The honourable thing would be to own up to one’s mistake!”

“It was not a mistake! Don’t you get it?! I CHOSE him in that ocean. I s…” He whimpered, loosing his will to fight back. “He saw me. And I saw him. You can’t own up to that kind of shit.”

Neytiri’s hold on Spider’s bicep tightened, as she searched for something to say; something that would discourage him from trying that kind of blasphemy again, when a crucial memory surfaced in her mind.

“My mother. The Tsahik…” She began. “She saved a spy once. A spy of the sky people. A spy that helped your father destroy our hometree. That man chose to help our enemy…but he owned up to his choices, and eventually redeemed himself.”

“…but I can’t become rider of the last shadow.”

“No, you cannot, but it isn’t why I chose him. He made a commitment of loyalty, and showed us all that he was ready to fight, whether forgiven or not. You’ve made a commitment of loyalty a long time ago. I should have seen it sooner…should have seen you.” She spoke, and it felt like a puzzle piece missing from her damaged soul had finally been put into place.

Spider gasped, his heart skipping a beat.

“Maybe if I did…the demon wouldn’t be alive.”

“What!? No! That-it wasn’t your responsibility!”

“It had to be someone’s, and I was the closest thing you ever gotten to a mother. That fact alone should have…cleared my mind.”

Socorro wanted to protest, wanted to take the guilt off Neytiri’s shoulders…but had no idea what to say to make it better. Perhaps a small, dark part of him didn’t want to, revelling in the newfound validation he’d never felt before.

“I apologise if I made you feel like death was your best chance at redemption.”

It was Spider’s turn to ho into Neytiri’s shoulder. “No! No it wasn’t you! I just-I brought so much pain already, I thought it’d be best if I stop being a burden.” Spider croaked.

“You’re no burden. Never were.” ‘Tiri responded without missing a beat.

Socorro met eyes with Neytiri once more.

She looked back, not a shred of malice behind her gaze. Hate still raged in her heart.…but the love for this strange child, whom she knew practically since he was born, who put his life on the line for the people, was stronger.

He fit perfectly into her embrace.

“…Never?”

“Never.”

And the world, as these two knew it, shattered. This time however, it felt perfectly fine.

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jinko-hellhound · 3 months

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a pinch — bungou stray dogs — atsushi & dazai (platonic!)

atsushi is having an awful night, and his mentor comes to bother him. a short, definitely non-comprehensive exploration of atsushi and dazai’s dynamic, platonic touch, and emotional vulnerability. originally written for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 (and being archived here on my new fic blog)!

words: 2,170

first published: 6/16/24

relationships: dazai osamu & nakajima atsushi

tags: fluff and angst, platonic relationships, implied/referenced child abuse, dazai osamu is a mess, nakajima atsushi needs a hug, post-traumatic stress disorder, childhood trauma, no romance, beast beneath the moonlight, no longer human

crossposted on ao3

The Agency dorm’s walls are paper-thin, so when Dazai comes lumbering up the steps, Atsushi hears it. Hears Yosano, too, yelling out her window for Dazai to Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep!, and Dazai’s cheerfully slurring response. Somewhere further down, Kunikida’s door slams open. Dazai’s voice erupts into pure glee.

Atsushi groans into his couch cushion. This is not the night for this. It’s — not been a good day. Nothing bad happened. It’s just that he woke up wrong. He woke up scared, with the Headmaster’s breath chilling the back of his neck. He was… off, at work. No cases today, but there was always busywork to slog through, piles of it. And even on a good day paperwork was awful, but today he’d felt there was an irremovable film over his eyes, hazing his vision. It took him far too long to process anything said to him, enough that Kunikida had started speaking slowly and carefully in a way that made Atsushi want to crawl into a hole.

And then Atsushi had trudged home. Kyouka went off to spend the night with Naomi, which was — nice. Good. Atsushi wanted Kyouka to make more friends, to hang out like a normal teenage girl… but now Atsushi was alone in this cold dorm. The dorm was always quiet, but never this silent, absent of the soft patter of Kyouka’s feet, or the way she hums just to make her presence known and avoid scaring Atsushi out of his skin. And any other day, that would have been fine. Atsushi is eighteen. He can spend a night in his own home alone. But tonight… Tonight, he curls around a throw pillow on his couch, face shoved into the cushion, and shakes.

Why is he crying? He isn’t sure. It could be any number of things. It could be phantom static electricity ghosting up his spine; it could that awkward spot on his foot, which he always avoids as though it still has a nail hammered through it; it could be the phantom pains of his own limbs that had been lost-regrown-lost-regrown again in the last year; or maybe any number of deaths, be they cold corpses he’d stumbled across or bullets he’d watched land. And those last two are the worst, maybe, because those things are his job. And if he couldn’t even handle doing his own job—

Dazai’s giggling floats towards his door. Atsushi tenses. Not tonight, please God. He can’t deal with the drunken antics tonight.

The giggling floats on past and Atsushi relaxes. But he should have known better. It’s only a few seconds before Dazai backtracks — so quick, it sounds like, that he trips and catches Atsushi’s doorknob to stay up.

Rattling the doorknob, Dazai calls, “Atsushiiii!”

“I’m asleep!” Atsushi calls back, not even bothering to pretend. Chances were Dazai had done something insane, like perfectly memorizing Atsushi’s sleep habits or catching how one particular particle of light fell under the door, and figured out that Atsushi was wide awake. “Go away, Dazai!”

“Noooooo,” Dazai whines. There is the distinctive clicking sound of a lock being picked. Dazai doesn’t even need to pick it — he’s the only other member of the Agency who has his own key to Atsushi’s dorm. Dazai hums a jaunty tune while he works. Atsushi considers hiding, but Dazai is quick, and by the time Atsushi’s foggy brain thinks of a hiding spot, the door is already creaking open. Atsushi decides to just keep his red, snotty face firm in the cushions and ignore Dazai until he gets bored.

“Hellooooooo,” Dazai croons, flicking Atsushi’s lights on. Without looking at him, Atsushi can imagine the way he twirls around the dorm, all those dramatic movements he likes to distract with. Dazai must be stumbling, though. There’s a thud somewhere near the kitchen counter, and a pained grunt. “Why’re you sleeping on the couch?”

“It’s my couch.” The sharp clinking of glass, something pouring. Atsushi groans again. “I can sleep on my couch.”

Dazai’s footsteps, clumsy in a way Atsushi can’t place (is it an act? accidental? something Dazai simply isn’t trying to hide?), round the couch. He taps at Atsushi’s leg and Atsushi, begrudging and reluctant as he is, has a child in his soul. So he pulls his legs up, knees nearing his chest. The couch protests the way Dazai falls into it. “Don’t break my couch,” Atsushi grumbles, with no heat. Dazai hums.

Even with his knees drawn up, Atsushi’s feet push against Dazai’s thigh, and suddenly Atsushi feels too big. Like he’s become twice as heavy as he is. The couch creaks underneath him, the floor creaks under the couch. He imagines his body expanding, ripping through his clothes. He imagines his veins bulging, his arms taking on that awful, sinuous look they always do in between human and not, a phase which is usually too short for anyone to see but him. But instead of transforming into Byakko, his imaginary limbs stay stuck there in that in-between – unnatural, painful. Awkward and lumbering.

This, of course, doesn’t happen. He is 5’7, 59 kilograms. His knees are knobbly and his wrist bones pop out too much, although he’s gotten a bit stockier than he used to be. He’s not abnormally heavy, hardly monstrous. And he’s firmly Atsushi, now. (Firmly Atsushi, except for that bit of Byakko that’s always in the back of his head, her worries and wants. Right now, she’s thinking: Dazai. She’s never very specific with her thoughts – it could be a cheer. It could be a warning.) And anyway, Byakko couldn’t come out, because Dazai’s cold hand is resting on Atsushi’s ankle.

…Dazai’s cold hand is resting on Atsushi’s ankle, Atsushi processes belatedly. Which is – fine. Dazai is touchy. Maybe not so much with Atsushi, because – well. Atsushi doesn’t always like it. Sometimes it scares him. But Atsushi is used to Dazai ruffling his hair, throwing an arm around his shoulder, knocking his knuckles against his forehead. Fleeting touches, that is. Contact that leaves as soon as it arrives. And Atsushi is fine with it. He doesn’t feel any particular sort of way about it.

(Liar. Cut back to the very first month Atsushi knew Dazai. The way Dazai, at some point a couple weeks in, jokingly reached over to ruffle Atsushi’s hair, coo-ed about him like he was a child. Atsushi, much more nervous back then, had blustered and stammered and flushed and – critically – pushed his head up into Dazai’s hand like the idiot he was. Dazai, for once sparing Atsushi’s feelings, said nothing aloud. But the repeats of that particular gesture came often. And Atsushi found himself, stupidly, awaiting them. Craving them.)

The point is that this is uncommon. Dazai’s touch never lasts, not unless he’s joking with someone – draping himself over Kunikida to annoy him, pushing into Ranpo’s space to banter. This isn’t a joke. This is Dazai, sat quietly on Atsushi’s couch, listening to nothing but breathing, his hand settled on Atsushi’s ankle.

They are silent for so long that Atsushi almost thinks he is hallucinating again. What other reason would there be for Dazai to be here, sitting in gentle silence? It’s unusual for him not to talk. Babbling or nagging or deadly serious, but always something. Dazai talked so much, so incessantly, that he’d practically become Atsushi’s inner monologue. Yes, Dazai was acting so out of character now that Atsushi really did, for a moment, think he was hallucinating. It would be a nice change of pace, for his imagination to give him something like this.

But his hallucinations would never be so kind as to linger. To comfort so softly. To let him sit here with that calming touch and peaceful silence and nothing else. This is real. And it’s this understanding that has Atsushi lulling into – not sleep. Some kind of reverie. The sobbing-induced migraine fades from behind his eyes and nose, ever so slightly. He drifts, between Byakko’s corner of his mind (Dazai, she is rumbling, echoing about his brain) and that ice-cold touch on his ankle. Back and forth, temple to ankle, like a hammock on a warm day. Dazai’s touch always grounds Atsushi. It doesn’t make Byakko go away – no, that would be terrifying, even more terrifying than losing control of her, running a rampage. But Dazai…quiets her, in a way. Soothes her.

Dazai’s glass clinking against the table snaps Atsushi back into reality. He suddenly becomes aware again of the slightly dusty smell of the cushion he’s crammed his face against, and the way his arms are shoved awkwardly up, half-underneath himself.

“Atsushi,” Dazai says in a sharp, breathy way. His freezing fingers pinch at Atsushi’s ankle, pulling the skin in a way that makes Atsushi yelp, his foot jackrabbiting into Dazai’s thigh. “Why so sad, Atsushi?” He pinches again, but this time Atsushi is expecting it and does nothing.

“I’m just trying to sleep, Dazai.” Atsushi says it as blandly as possible. “What do you want?”

Dazai’s knuckles rap against Atsushi’s ankle, but not with any force. “So mean to your mentor.” Atsushi can imagine the pout. He rolls his eyes. Then he stays quiet, and lets the question sit, because if he says anything else Dazai will just find a rabbit hole to take them down so Atsushi forgets he ever asked anything.

“I got you a drink, too,” Dazai says. “It’s up here.”

Atsushi shakes his head into the couch cushion. Absolutely not. His face is probably all red and puffy and tear-streaked, snot running from his nose, and he doesn’t need Dazai to see that lest he wither up in shame.

Dazai humphs. “Well,” he says, like he’s going to say more. Atsushi’s (Byakko’s) ears perk. Then he says nothing for a long while. In the renewed silence, Atsushi can imagine his face, the face he makes when he’s thinking hard about something, or trying to figure out how to hide something — blank, a little slack-jawed, glassy eyes trained on the wall, or a cobweb, or the sky. Then: “Well, maybe I just wanted to say goodnight. Is that so bad, Atsushi?”

It should be a teasing question. From Dazai, it should be completely rhetorical, accompanied with a lilting tone and a silly, sly smile. Instead, he says it softly, genuinely. As genuine as Dazai can be anyway. His hand is still on Atsushi’s ankle. It should be warm, by now, with this prolonged contact. Inexplicably, it’s still an ice cube against skin.

Atsushi wants to say: No, and please will you stay here? No, and thank you for this home and this company and for not putting a nail through my foot. No, and I know my standards are horrifically low, but you’re really the best guidance I’ve ever had. No, and please can we just stay right here on this couch forever? It’s okay if it’s only my ankle that ever gets physical touch again — just never let go, please?

Instead, he says: “Dazai, you’re drunk.”

“Hmph,” Dazai says, and then it’s like a static shock, the way the serenity of the night seems to blink out of the air. A startled laugh chokes out of Atsushi as Dazai ragdolls down, dropping his whole upper weight onto Atsushi’s, the top of his head knocking into Atsushi’s jaw. “Such a mean student!” Dazai reiterates, the hand that was on Atsushi’s ankle poking into Atsushi’s side repeatedly. The weight of him has Atsushi working a little harder to pull in breaths, but he finds he doesn’t mind.

Dazai is too heavy for Atsushi to get his arm out from under both of them and swat him away, but Atsushi certainly tries. “Stop it!” Atsushi shouts, but there’s still laughter bubbling up his throat. Byakko is as quiet as she can be, with Dazai so in contact, but he gets the sense she is not on board with Atsushi saying: “Get off me!” Rather, Byakko urges Atsushi to turn and tuck his head into Dazai’s shoulder. This would be mortifying, so Atsushi absolutely does not do that.

“Fine,” Dazai sighs overdramatically, then rolls, ragdolling once more onto the floor. Despite being unable to see him, Atsushi imagines the way he instantly pops back up and brushes off the front of his vest. “Well, Atsushi, I guess I’ll leave you to it! I’m taking my drink, though.”

Dazai hums as he gathers up his glass, a bottle, his shoes. Atsushi blinks into the couch cushion, considers the pleasant flush of joy that’s already receding, the coldness that’s spreading up from his ankles, down from his temples. Byakko is loud again.

“Good night,” Atsushi says. The door clicks. Sudden entrance, sudden exit. Typical Dazai, he grumbles internally.

The dorm is quiet again, except for Dazai’s voice back outside, slurring once more (part act, then). He’s singing a lullaby, loud and offkey. And then there’s Kunikida and Yosano, yelling. Very slowly, Atsushi peels himself off the couch, and goes to brush his teeth.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fic #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #divider by cafekitsune #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #nakajima atsushi #atsushi nakajima #aryll.fic #aryll.bsd

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ozwuv · 8 months

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How did you learn to draw hands?

HANDS I'm a freak who loves drawing hands... This is going to sound odd, but it's another thing that ties into being autistic for me kfdsjkfsd I have poor facial recognition skills and generally avoid eye contact, so I tend to identify people by their hands. I couldn't reliably visualize my own mother's face if my life depended on it, but I sure do know exactly what the back of her hands look like. As a result, I have hands burnt into my memory lol. But more importantly, I love to draw character interaction, and hands are sooo integral to that. If I force myself to enjoy something or at least hold a lot of interest in it, it'll be easier to learn long term and I think that's something a lot of people can relate to.

More under the cut bc I'm longwinded

The other thing is something nobody wants to hear, but tbh just studying them lol. Short gesture drawings are best for this (think 60 seconds max), but tbh Mochijun's way of drawing hands really inspired me when PH was still running in the last quarter of the manga. I wouldn't suggest studying purely from one person's illustrations, but it helps to pick out a few artist who draws hands in a way you love. Nowadays Hoshino's (DGM's mangaka) way of drawing hands inspires the heeeell out of me.

Like are you seeing this shit? The way she draws hands fucking rules lol

I wouldn't stick to 100% studying irl hands or 100% studying drawn hands -- a mix of both is great, bc you can have all the knowledge in the world of how to realistically emulate hands, but studying how others stylize hands can be helpful for actually drawing them. This goes for anything in general because not having an idea of how to incorporate something you're studying into your art can be really frustrating. For example, the thing I enjoy most about how Hoshino draws hands is how the fingers are not just straight lines -- they have dips and jut out to indicate knuckles/joints and such. I find the way she draws hands to be so expressive, unique, and beautiful.

Another thing to keep in mind: don't focus on the details. Just get the general silhouette down for a bunch of different poses -- details can come later. This is why gesture drawing is so useful, it forces you to get the key points down so you don't over-detail something you don't fully understand yet and wind up making things look awkward/stiff.

Also, never forget you (most likely) have two hands right in front of you that you can reference any time! Take pics of your own hands from various angles if you must. Really useful!

Btw: Quickposes a really useful resource for gesture and figure drawing. It has options specifically for hands (!), humans, animals, landscapes, etc, with time intervals as short as 30 seconds, and an option for custom intervals. Line of Action is also great, but it's limited to just human options.

I haven't used either of the above in a while since I'm too lazy to draw anything but anime lol but if they're still as good as I remember, I would highly recommend them.

OH ALSO SONIC FANART you have to git gud at drawing hands if you want to draw sonic characters they got bigass hands. Sonic also taught me how to draw shoes kfjDOIWGJI

ALSO PT 2 just trace shit. Literally. People act like tracing is evil but it's a great way to learn. You can even trace other artist's work, just don't post it and claim it as yours lol

#THANK YOU for asking about this i really adore drawing hands. AND YOU CAN TOO!!!#yip yap

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bingodotorg · 2 months

Text

Waffle House Parking Lot

Ship: Alive!Ruby/Leon

Description: It’s a hot summer night. Leon comes to pick-up his girlfriend after her shift, hoping that it’s his last time doing so. Instead, he’s forced to break up a fight in the parking lot and it just keeps going downhill from there.

Tags: RE2!Leon to RE4!Leon development. Canon/OC. Cop/Criminal. Doomed relationship. Planning a break-up. Manic Pixie Nightmare. Angst. Hurt with no Comfort. Savior Complex meets Self-Destructive Behavior (guess who wins). Possible OOC Leon because I never wrote this man before.

TW: Drug Addiction Mentioned. Suicidal thoughts but not in a traditional sense. Manhandling. Leon driving.

My friend once told me that I “don’t know Leon” so I’m writing him purely out of spite. My first time posting "proper" writing on tumblr so sorry in advance.

WC: 1300

Leon expected to just pick her up, like normal, but instead was met with a different image.

He didn’t even walk into the building yet, as he heard angry screams and an obvious sound of a tussle right in the parking lot. It’s closing time, so the place is completely empty with only a couple cars present, probably the ones that belong to workers.

It was really easy to notice two silhouettes beating the absolute shit out of each other. He decided to interfere just to see the exact person he was trying to pick up, turning someone else’s face into red mush.

- Ruby…

Once Leon noticed that the guy underneath her didn't respond anymore, he rushed in, grabbing Ruby and pulling her away. Ruby fights back for a couple of minutes, until she loses so much energy that her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. He gently sat her on the ground and went to check on the man who was still unconscious.

God, it was hard to look at his face. Both of his eyes are drowning in dark blue skin, covered in stretch marks as if she was trying to pull his face right off, there’s a bite mark on his cheek and not a pretty one.

Leon comes closer and checks his pulse, hoping that the guy doesn’t wake up suddenly.

He’s alive…thank god.

After making sure that he was alright, or, at least, as alright as he can be, Leon came back to Ruby. He grabs her face, trying to look into the whites of her eyes but she pushes him away with nearly a grawl. From what he was able to see in a split second, it seems like she’s sober.

- Ruby, what the fuck?!

The second she got enough strength, she was up again, already beelining for the man on the ground, to finish the job. Leon grabbed her arm right away, stopping her so suddenly she nearly fell over.

- Where do you think you’re going?

She tried to get out of his grasp, turning her own arm red from the force, but he pulled her in closer, holding on harder, to let her know that he’s NOT letting go.

- Stop!

Ruby stays in place for once but she’s not too happy about it. Leon didn’t want to hold her like this, but he felt like there were no more options. Her actions, the thoughts inside her head, felt as if they were outside of human morals. Words just go over her head…as if she’s doing it on purpose to annoy him or just avoid responsibilities.

He can’t judge, he really can’t. He will never understand what she went through. He had seen his own share of monstrosities but they will never be the same, because he’s not her.

He shouldn’t judge but god does he want to.

- Car. Now.

He slightly pushed her in the right direction as he let go. Leon’s eyes fall onto the man’s body again, as he takes out his phone to call for an ambulance. ***

Ruby herself wasn’t completely unscathed. He did put up quite a fight before passing out, leaving her with a black-eye, messed up nose and blood dripping from her forehead. The drive to the hospital was…awkward. Ruby didn’t even try to break the silence, explain what happened and Leon had no idea how to start. The plan was to pick her up and tell her how he feels once they’re at the spot but now they’re not even driving to her house.

- Do you want…to talk about it?

He finally asks. She stays silent, rubs her nose, staining her fingers red.

- What did he do?

- I made an order wrong…he yelled at me.

She sniffles but no tears come out.

- Said I don’t deserve you, that you’re probably out there, fucking someone else.

- I’m not.

- I know. You probably would’ve been happier, if you did.

Her eyes were completely empty as she said that, as if it was something she thought about so often she grew to accept that fact. Leon’s eyes darted to look at her.

- Maybe.

He answered in nearly a whisper.

Leon seemingly only looked at her for a second but as she suddenly glanced at the road and screamed, he realized that the car had moved to the opposite lane of the highway. He reacts fast, swerves to the side and the car stops at the border.

As Leon catches his breath, he turns on the emergency lights with a shaky hand and pushes his back into the seat with a sigh. He closes his eyes, for a moment, as he hears Ruby begin to laugh. The thought of them dying makes her so ecstatic, she nearly chokes…but he doesn’t laugh with her. ***

Ruby holds his arm like she’s trying to pick a slice of steak. When she’s high she can do this for hours, outline muscles under his skin, call each by name. It was like a lullaby…like counting sheep. The fact that she can see under his skin always gave him a strange feeling of paranoia. She knows where each muscle is, how they’re deformed, it was a strange type of intimacy between them. He never realized how personal the things underneath your skin can be. It’s not something he felt like he had to “open up” about but now that someone has such a deep understanding of what is going on inside his body, it made him feel vulnerable.

As she started to outline pieces of muscle, Leon pulled her hand away and started holding it in his own, gently drawing circles on her palm with his finger. She didn’t fight it, just sighed and placed her head on his shoulder. When she fell asleep like this, it felt like taming a wild animal.

Once this is over, he will miss moments like these, despite everything.

- Miss Bates?

Leon raised his arm for her, as the nurse called out the name. ***

Once she was looked at and deemed to be fine, It didn’t take a while for her to fall asleep in the passenger seat. Ruby looked awful, she needed a shower. He couldn’t bring her back to her own “house”...she didn’t even have running water in that dump.

It was funny. Even though they stopped living together, it still felt the same. She would spend most of her nights at his place just because leaving her in that apartment felt…wrong. Technically, Ruby’s homeless, but she doesn’t consider it as such. An abandoned apartment that doesn’t even have functioning doors, is considered a home, in her eyes.

Blond, strawy hair, ruined by the dye job. She never went to a hairdresser, it’s not like she has money for one. No, she colors her own hair, which is pretty obvious. The uneven patches of pink and light blue show her attempts at making it look like cotton candy, but it’s more like someone dumped watercolor paint on her.

He undressed her but somehow, didn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t even register it as a body of someone who’s alive. Everytime Leon sees her it’s like she’s getting closer to death…he probably won’t even notice when she crosses that line.He checks her pulse again, just to make sure. Her blood still responds to the pressure of his fingers, surprisingly.

He waited for the right temperature to start pouring, checking it with his fingers. Leon wasn’t planning on washing her thoroughly, just letting the water flow clean whatever it can.

Complete silence, only the sound of water and his sobs, echoed through the bathroom. Seemingly, that was enough to wake her up, as he hears the water in the tub shifting. Cold, wet hands touch his face.

- You’re so pretty…

She whispers, watching the pain in his eyes.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #oc: ruby bates #alive!ruby #oc/canon #angst #one shot #leon/oc #my writing

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the-owl-tree · 1 year

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I know you haven't posted a profile leader of the isekai girls' clan yet, and if you don't have all the details for them ironed out yet (besides Honeypaw and Frostblaze both being the leaders kits) that's all good. But while looking at your latest post about the au, it got me thinking: how do you think the leader feels about 'Honeypaw''s sudden personality change, unnatural (because they're human moves) new fighting style, and tendency to walk on her hind legs? Because I'd imagine even if they weren't particularly close before Honey replaced her, it'd definitely be eyebrow raising to someone who knew her beforehand.

i'll definitely be putting the parents on my to-do list since I have thought of them, mainly because my inspiration is a mix of things that made go oooh yes or pissed me off so badly i stole them JUST to tear them apart in this lol

Honeypaw's relationship with her father, Owlstar, is strained. His relationship with her mother is purely political: he wants an heir, she wanted to join their Clan. In the books (from Frostblaze's perspective), he's written as an aloof but noble cat who can be stern but only because he cares. In the "real" world of the book...he's a standoffish, absent father who cares little about Honeypaw (due to her lack of resemblance to him) and often speaks of his disappointment (despite him having little presence in her life to guide her).

When the real Honeypaw is killed, he is sad and he does grieve...but doesn't stay for the ceremony. When she does come, he's happy! He welcomes her, nuzzles her in greeting, and visits her in the medic's den as she recovers...but it's also stilted, awkward, and suffocating for them both. He says very little and sometimes scolds her for her recklessness (and while in the book this is passed off as him "caring but struggling show it", in practice...it just comes off as apathy to Honey & Honeypaw).

I'd imagine her first few moons of weirdness is him passing it off as a cry for attention until it continues...and not only does she no longer seek his approval, she actively avoids him. Honey would realize his and Honeypaw's relationship is strained pretty early on and, to keep Honeypaw from being in a bad mood and also to avoid having her own father scold her (her body more than her soul), basically stays out of his way.

I can't imagine he'd investigate too much, he's more preoccupied with his successful heir (even if he can't reveal her yet). It's only when Honeypaw continues to poke around, find out more secrets than she's supposed to that he begins to really question what's going on.

Honeypaw's mother, Beesnap, is also different than in her story form. In the book, she's written as a volatile, self-absorbed mother who defends Honeypaw with her fierce temper no matter what her daughter does. When Honey actually meets her? Beesnap is a rogue-born she-cat and her status as truly a member of the Clan is always being questioned. As a result of being isolated and demeaned, she put on a facade of confidence and snootiness, intent on not letting them get to her. When Honeykit was born, her only daughter, she vowed to make sure her child had a better life in the Clan than she'd be given - resulting in her fierce outbursts to defend her child. Owlstar is absent in Honeypaw's life and that only made Beesnap more focused on protecting her.

Beesnap knows something's going on with her kid but doesn't confront her for some reason. She becomes a cat that Honey goes to advice to often when Splashpaw is busy. Eventually I think Honey does try to reveal the truth...but Beesnap probably doesn't take the fact that her beloved daughter's been body snatched very well.

Her unnatural behavior does freak them both out, Beesnap keeps having to whisper for her daughter to stOP WALKING LIKE THAT EVERYONE IS STARING AT YOU-

ty for asking!! i kind of went off topic but your question got me thinking so i ended up rambling lol both of these guys are mainly inspired from how wc and these specific webcomics treat parents and i think that shows

#honey's horrible time #warrior cats #wc isekai au #deer rambles #see worst trope ever is the absent dad who actually cares #because these stories LOOOVVEEE that trope #and it's almost always framed as tho “the previous body was so awful even her dad couldnt love her”#<- like stfu if he wanted to be disappointed in her he COULD'VE TRIED TO BE A DAD FIRST AND FOREMOST #and the mothers almost always get the short end #so many portray them as abusive gold diggers like holy shiiiitt #it's a side effect of having noble blood = super special rare powers #which is always shitty and bad and awful and i hope that trope diieeesss #like even when the villainess comics do this #they always end up looking to the “oh the villainness actually does have super special powers because she's got the ~special blood~”#like i'll maim you i'll maim you i hate it

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magicalgirlagency · 8 months

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While rewatching the old Sailor Moon anime, I find the in-universe rumors about Ami and Makoto really interesting. Ami was seen as a snob because of her shyness and Makoto a delinquent because she punches bullies. Both were friendless before Usagi befriended them despite those rumors. Then I thought: "hey, this (the rumor - friendless part) could work very well as concept for a standalone magical story"

So I've read Severance, a dark Tokyo Mew Mew fanfic focusing on a team of ocs. The main idea for this fic is that putting a bunch of random different girls together and then ask them to save the world would in no way mean that they're going to be good friends with each other. While I prefer lighthearted Maho Shojo series, both this fic idea and the rumor-friendless stuff above can make some good Angst in a Magical Girl team. Like, the good character-development kind of Angst, not those shitty shock values and "humans are naturally bad" craps.

My idea is that a mascot searches for 4 different girls with pure hearts and gives them power to become magical warriors to defeat the bad guys, protect Earth and all that jazz like in a normal Maho Shojo show. All of the girls happen to live close to each other - and may or may not be studying in the same school. Pretty standard so far, right? Well, at their school/neighborhood/Im-not-sure-what, there are rumors about each of them already running around. They aren't too horrible (this is a lighthearted story), but still bad rumors nonetheless. The girls believe in these rumors about each other, and there isn't anyone that's brave enough to try and understand their teammates despite those rumors (lack of a genki protagonist). So they're kinda in this awkward situation where they, because of trusting the mean rumors, just assume the other teammates are not nice people. And none of them is really trying to learn about each other outside what they think they know. There might also be fights among certain members of the group, most of them remain rather chill but some are hot-headed. They don't try to hurt each other badly though, and still try to work well as a team to beat up the BBEGs. Their team overall atmosphere is slightly tense, awkward and weird, but not downright hostile and still leave plenty of space for improvement.

Since this idea comes from rewatching Sailor Moon, I think the Smart-but-Snob and the violent-delinquent rumor should be used here as well.

So one of the girls is extremely smart, and maybe infamous for her intelligence, but she doesn't speak much and often doesn't answer when people talk to her. The rumor about her is rather similar to that of Ami, people think she's bitchy due to how she interacts with other students. But in reality, she's not only just shy, but also it's very hard for her to actually talk to strangers (maybe she has Selective mutism) and she's rarely able to actually hold a long conversation. She’s much more into art and poetry instead of science because she found a lots of comfort in expressing herself using words and colors.

The second girl is the “violent delinquent” one. She’s not actively seeking out random fights, but has a clear set of rules on who deserved to be punched and have their chin stick to their nose. She actually chooses to actively avoid people who try to pick a fight with her due to her “delinquent” reputation. She breaks school rules many times to help some students who are mistreated. She also doesn’t care much about herself (often forgetting to feed herself), like if she got in a dangerous situation, she’d literally be the personification of that “ this is fine '' dog meme while shits happen to her. She’d go out of her way to defend her weaker teammates before they even consider each other friends.

The other two members could include:

- a rich girl who doesn’t know how to talk very well, having been friendless for a long time. So when she speaks to someone she could accidentally say some weird shits that offends people without knowing it. But they are scared of pointing put her “rudeness” since her family is incredibly rich and people are scared of getting on her bad side (which is non existence because she is more of a pushover than a bully) So her peers spread a rumor about how she’s this rude rich girl who’ll murder you if you do something wrong. Meanwhile she’s so confused about what is happening, she’s somewhat aware she’s probably doing something wrong, but can’t pinpoint exactly what it is since no one really told her. She and the Smart girl actually were the first two to learn more about each other than what their rumors said about them

*btw, halfway through typing this my brain start to ship the Rich girl and Smart girl together and they are so gay the fluff is giving me a sugar overload. Whoever would write a story with a similar concept in the far future please keep this ship it’s so fluffy

-a girl who hides her face and is really close to one of her teachers. The rumors include one about how she is hiding an ugly, scarred face beneath her face mask and the other one is that she’s bribing that teacher to give her good grades. The scarred parts aren’t as bad as the rumor describes, but she does have some face scars. The mentioned teacher is her aunt, which is why they’re close.

The story follows how the girls grow closer through their fights with the evil forces and eventually learn that the rumors they heard about one another aren’t truthful at all. Later in the story they’re much like a traditional MG team, but the BBEGs have seen them in their early days, so they use the misunderstanding and doubts from those days to try and separate the team.

It obviously didn’t work. However, it did end up creating some angst between the girls because of how they used to treat/think of the others. They help each other out of this guilty mindset and their bond only came out stronger than before - much to the BBEG dismay.

Ah, a story about how we shouldn't judge a book by just looking at its cover. Simple, but effective!

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demonslayedher · 2 years

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Things that ran through my head while watching this episode: --Rui recovering his memories and buried feelings of guilt is such a journey. It's so stark that he first has such a vivid memory of wanting to play in the snow with other children and then collapsing, and recalling his mother's concern for his weak health but not remembering her face.

--Muzan pays personal visits to Rui's family home (where he allows him to continue to dwell in the pretty much the same life he had before, as Rui couldn't go outside and play in daytime anyway), and offers him validation once Rui slaughters his own parents in self-defense. The first thing he says is how pitiful Rui is and that he'll save him. Favoritism? Affection? it's so hard to see that from Muzan in how he really does function out of pure self-interest and fools around with Daki by faking her out and cuts off Gyokko head as he feels like it, but we never see him take anything out against Rui, or even have expectations out of him. Rui didn't have ambition, which was why he stayed at Lower Moon 5 even though he had the potential to advance. He had special permission to share his blood--to spread his own personal influence as opposed to every demon being directly Muzan's--and was therefore almost encouraged to just hang out on his mountain to do as he liked. No pressure to go looking for blue spider lilies, no pressure to go out and eat humans to actively become stronger, Muzan just made him a strong demon from the get-go. HOW CAN I NOT READ THIS AS AFFECTION, EVEN THOUGH MUZAN IS SO UNLIKELY TO DISPLAY IT??

--My sense from Tamayo's comment that she wanted to live so as to see her children grow up is that she was also deathly ill when Muzan came to "save" her. He really has a passionate dislike for the sickly having to waste away, his disgust at his own illness continues to intensely bother him all these years later.

--Also, Muzan with straight hair feels so bizarre.

--Rui is making leaps and bounds in these memories, from filling the details, and then his disappointment at how his parents failed to live up to his expectations of what role he felt parents were supposed to fulfill. For as much as it bothers Muzan, Rui really doesn't seem to have any self-pity about how he was plagued with illness.

--And then disappointment and blindly groping through the air is so poignant as he realizes the answer to the question Mother Spider asked him, in what was it he wanted--bonds, yes. But what he wanted most was to apologize for the bonds he had, and which he broke. The way he slowly goes from the hurt of his father trying to kill him and his mother letting it happen to realizing their intention to bear his sins with him all along, and knowing he understood too late makes it all the more satisfying when he regains his humanity and memory of their faces, and the recovering of that bond he was so certain had been cut. Gotouge and Ufotable win a masterful sob story, and Tanjiro wins his playground argument!

--Tanjiro & Giyuu have such a good moment too, with Tanjiro declaring his determination to exterminate demons whilst also recognizing their humanity, and it forces Giyuu to confront his own convictions about demons--convictions which, given a good enough reason, he has always been willing to let be challenged.

--And then he's like, "oh yeah, I did let a demon go once, and there she is right now--OH, THIS IS THE BOY I SENT OFF TO BECOME THE WATER PILLAR, RIGHT"

--And then Shinobu comes in, and I love the flow of this scene and how Giyuu deflects that shot, and how Shinobu recovers her footing, as well as her composure. She truly has the upper hand in every part of this conversation, as she's completely in the right in everything she's saying, but mannnnnnn, Giyuu is making it hard for her to keep the Kanae facade going and it is so much fun to see her breaking.

--They are so much fun to watch together and yes, this whole awkward situation could had been avoided if Giyuu was more conversant. This!! Could had gone!!! So much better!!!!! If any single one point at which Shinobu flippantly says humans and demons should get along and be friends (which she totally doesn't mean) Giyuu had responded, "well, actually--" then she could had gotten this explanation at any point already in the past two years (like in the Gaiden right after Giyuu gets arrested for slaughtering the Kamado family, for instance). I mean, not that she'd be willing to let that slide, but still!! It wouldn't have put them in this situation that almost made Giyuu lose an eye!

--Also, they have chemistry and it hurts a little that they were both so wrapped up in their own problems that it couldn't go anywhere.

--Anyway, Tanjiro being so ready to have to give up on the Corp and his years of effort to enter it says so much about his priorities being straight. At this point, the Corp is still just a means to an end for him, especially since his personal convictions aren't quite in line with the "destroy all evil demons" mindset of the Corp.

--Did it hurt, Tanjiro? Did it hurt when she fell from heaven?

--Marriage is so very, very, very, very far from both Tanjiro's and Kanao's minds in this moment, and it's kind of hilarious that the injury which kept him in recovery longest, his broken chin, does not appear to be an injury he got from fighting a Lower Moon.

--Nezuko's run has become the staple silly run for the current generation of Japanese children, replacing the former Naruto and Arale runs.

--The light pink of Kanao's Nichirin-to is so pretty <3

--I low-key ship Gotou with the Kakushi with the big pretty brown eyes. Gotou canonically wants and girlfriend, and with Kakushi having little to go off of to feel attracted to each other than looking into each others' eyes and bonding through the trials of work, I'd like to think he's always had a crush on her but it never went anywhere because she wants to stay focused on work. That being said, maybe something blossomed on that last fateful battle, when she saw him jump in that car and ram it into Muzan, and she fell for him and his bravery. And then, once they could retire from being Kakushi, they finally started going on. However, it's probably a slow courtship, as she's only ever seen his eyes and the sight of his full face makes her too flustered to be able to look at him. This leads to a date on which Gotou sighs, covers the lower half of his face and asks, "is this better?" and she says yes and bashfully thanks him. It's still going to be a while before they can start kissing at this rate. Hang in there, Gotou-san!

--Speaking of headcanons, I wondered during the previous post what happened to all those other spider siblings. I hereby feel that Kanao has been off-screen cleaning up this whole mountain like her Nichirin-to is a vacuum cleaner.

--Wrapped-up Zenitsu is such a look. I love that there was merch of wrapped-Zenitsu. I kind of regret not buying the pajamas that looked like this.

--The Kakushi discovering Inosuke was great.

--And then we got our first glance of The Pillars. On my first watch, I thought, "Oh no." Not because I was worried for Tanjiro, but because I was certain I was going to hate them all.

--Except Shinobu. I already loved her.

#KnY Rewatch #my art #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #tsuyuri kanao #tomioka giyu #tomioka giyuu #kocho shinobu #kochou shinobu

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voraciousvore · 9 months

Text

The Half-Blood Giant (33/51)

***Contains soft, safe, willing vore***

Chapter 33: Unrequited Love

Hunter dreamed about Hannah during the night. He was floating in the night sky, amongst stars and cosmic dust, with sweet little Hannah cradled against his chest. He brought her up to his face and gave her a small kiss. His heart sang when she reciprocated, her tiny lips contacting his own upper lip. He nuzzled and nibbled her until he found himself caressing her with his tongue. She tasted as lovely as she smelled, almost like a wild blueberry. He licked her all over like a lollipop until he couldn’t resist pulling her entirely into his mouth. He rolled her around on his tongue, feeling every curve of her body and savoring her flavor as she soaked in his saliva. She was perfectly willing as she rubbed herself against his tongue and ran her petite hands along his teeth, gums, and palate, exploring every inch of his mouth from the inside. His senses—taste, smell, feel—were highly stimulated, overflowing with luxurious pleasure. When she was ready, and his stomach begged for relief, he finally swallowed her whole. He dissolved into sensual bliss as her tiny body slid down his throat and settled into his stomach. For once, he didn’t feel so unwanted, so empty inside. He was wonderfully full, in both body and soul.

Alas, the lovely feeling was not destined to last. Hunter woke up famished and sore. The juxtaposition between his self-indulgent, voluptuous fantasy of a dream and abhorrent reality left him cranky and bitter. He stretched out the kinks in his muscles and went to put on his uniform. He had grown again, several more feet. His ankles and wrists stuck out from cuffs too short to cover them properly, and the green fabric was stretched taut across his chest, belly, and waist. He adjusted the uncomfortable outfit as best he could and prepared for his day.

He could barely tolerate his hunger as he trudged to the cafeteria. His dream was still fresh in his mind. He observed the tiny humans riding their bikes with obsessive focus. With some disquiet, he recalled his father engaging in the same exact behavior when he visited the school. He understood now, all too well. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold himself back indefinitely without cracking under the pressure. It was unnatural for him to deny himself his rightful prey.

The giants of this realm really were quite different from him, in appearance and behavior. They didn’t seem to suffer from the same intense cravings that he did, as far as he could tell. He felt too large and awkward, with everyone so much shorter and less brawny than him, as he piled up his tray with breakfast foods, particularly meat. More and more, the other students avoided him.

Hunter caught a glimpse of Hannah and Hector in the human section. He considered, briefly, coming over to say hi, but discarded the idea immediately. He would terrify the other humans, and he had a hunch that Hannah would not be too happy to see him, based on her behavior the prior day. As he watched Hector wrap his arm around her waist and pull her in close, a new emotion bled into his heart, dark and brutal. He was jealous. He wanted to be the one to hold Hannah, not Hector.

He couldn’t ignore his budding feelings any longer. He was forced to acknowledge the unsavory truth: He was falling for a human. He supposed it made sense, since he was part human, that these emotions would arise in him, but he was still disgusted with himself. He was just as bad as his father, but Chester had no excuse as a pure-blooded giant. Hunter, yet again, found himself cursing his tainted bloodline. To have feelings for a human was despicable and unforgivable.

He attempted to crush those feelings into dust as he angrily munched on his chicken and waffles, and then went to class, but he couldn’t get Hannah out of his mind. She was his first crush, and his fresh new infatuation burned bright as a star for her. Hunter had never experienced romantic love before, in his social isolation, nor the pain of unrequited love. He had not yet learned how to temper or restrain his newfound passion. He was underdeveloped in the department of emotional control, and Hannah was going to destroy him in his weakness, through no fault of her own. The developmental delay made his love all the more poignant, enhancing the inevitable suffering that would follow.

Hunter groaned internally when he saw Principal Henderson enter the class and make his way toward him. “Hunter, I need to see you in my office again,” he informed the unruly giant teenager. With a huff, Hunter got up to follow him to his office. Both giants remained silent the whole way. Milton noted that Hunter was now at least five feet taller than him, and it had only been a day. He wondered, with significant concern, how much more the boy would grow, when he was already having so many behavioral issues. Having an oversized troubled kid at a mixed school was a recipe for disaster.

Hunter sat down in Milton’s office, hunching over in his chair. The principal settled in on the other side of the desk and rubbed his temples with a sigh. “I’m sure you know why you’re here.” Hunter crossed his arms defensively and averted his eyes, but didn’t reply. Despite his dramatic increase in size, he felt small and shameful before the principal.

“I’ll relate to you what I was told, but I want to hear your side of the story,” Milton continued. “The PE teacher and your fellow students claim that you refused to participate, injured another student, and then ditched class.” As Milton related these accusations, Hunter sank lower in his chair but kept his mouth stubbornly sealed, refusing to talk or meet his eyes. Milton sighed at his silence and gave him a mildly exasperated look.

“Hunter. I want to know what you were thinking. What really happened? What was your reasoning?” His tone was gentle and sympathetic. Hunter finally glanced up.

“I didn’t know how to play,” he mumbled. “It wasn’t like I was trying to cause trouble. But… I’ve never played any sports before. Where I’m from… I couldn’t.”

Milton raised his eyebrows, then slowly nodded with understanding. “I see.”

“And… the coach yelled at me, accused me of lying. And then all the students were berating me. I got upset. So I lost my temper and threw the ball at one of the students. When I realized that I had hurt him… I didn’t know what to do. I was overwhelmed. So I ran away.” Hunter hung his head.

Milton processed this information, rubbing his chin. “I think I understand.” He sighed. “Now, Hunter. I still have to discipline you, so you’re going to have detention after school today.” Hunter didn’t react much to the news; he expected as much. “I know you were distressed in the moment. I can see how that was a difficult situation for you to be in. Yet, you can’t respond with violence. You need to learn to control your temper. Do you agree?”

There was a pause. “Yeah, I guess,” Hunter conceded begrudgingly. He had to admit that the principal had a point and was being fair to him.

“I’ll talk with the PE teacher and explain the situation to him. I don’t think he realized your… unique situation. Perhaps that will help.” Hunter shrugged dismissively.

“As for you, Hunter… you have a responsibility to control yourself. If you find yourself in a situation where you are distressed or angry, or you want to hurt someone and you’re struggling to contain yourself, I want you to physically remove yourself from that situation. Come straight to me, or another adult if you don’t feel comfortable. My door is always open for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Hunter parroted back. He looked down and picked at his sleeve, trying and failing to pull it down over his wrist. “I need new uniforms,” he remarked absently.

“I’ll order you more,” Milton promised. “Today is Friday, so you probably won’t get them until Monday. Do you have any other concerns for me?”

Hunter couldn’t think of anything else in the moment, so Milton dismissed him. By the time he returned to class, the period was almost over. The bell summoned him to his next class. He felt hollow inside as he walked the halls, trying to ignore the usual stares and glares and whispers. Already, his capacious belly had torn through his breakfast, and that all-too-familiar gnawing hunger was back, nipping at his innards. His mood decayed rapidly and he entered his next class with a scowl.

He hardly made it through to lunch, since he struggled to focus when he was so hungry. He ate as much as he possibly could during the break, yet the nutrients still didn’t feel like enough. His body was like a sponge that soaked up every last drop of nourishment it came in contact with. As he demolished his plate, his sensitive nose picked up Hannah’s distinctive blueberry scent from the other side of the cafeteria, along with Hector’s more hardy scent, almost like a rich gravy. He spied the couple sitting at one of the tiny tables with their friends. He imagined grabbing the entire table and shaking it over his open mouth, dropping all the humans inside and gulping them down with a single satisfying flex of his throat. He’d save Hannah for last, perhaps. He’d eat up all her friends first, then drop her in his pocket and keep her until he was hungry again. Maybe play with her a little bit first, tease her, just for fun before he gobbled her up.

Hunter absently rubbed his hand over his belly as he thought about what it would feel like to have living humans squirming around inside him. The gesture reminded him of his father, when he had his mother in his stomach. He was always caressing his belly so tenderly with her within, lovingly, as if the act of eating her was a form of physical intimacy. Hunter had not considered consuming humans in that way, but now he wondered, with his preoccupation with Hannah, if he could somehow make her a willing participant. With his magic, he could probably find a way to keep her alive inside him. The thought excited him, awakened his flesh far more than he anticipated. He wanted her more than anything.

Hunter left the lunchroom to go to class. “Hey! Hunter! Over here!” a little male voice squeaked. He turned around to see a teeny speck waving at him from the floor. Hunter forgot that he shared his last class of today’s rotation with Hector.

“Oh, it’s you.” He reached down and picked up the human teen, bike and backpack and all, and carried him in his hand.

“Sorry I didn’t come over to say hi during breakfast or lunch,” Hector apologized. “But, uh… Hannah is deathly afraid of you. I’m not sure what’s gotten into her, considering she was willing to have lunch with you yesterday.” He shrugged.

Hunter ruminated over his statement. Clearly, Hannah hadn’t told Hector about their meeting behind the dorm. Was she embarrassed about it? He could only speculate on the matter. “Do you think she’ll ever warm up to me?”

“I’m working on it,” Hector answered with a friendly smile. “I think there’s hope! She just needs to become acclimated.” Hunter nodded in agreement. He regarded Hector, sitting fearlessly in his hand, oblivious to the dark rage flowing through him. The poison of jealousy still pumped through his veins when he imagined Hector hugging Hannah, holding her, kissing her, loving her… he hated every second of it. Almost enough to want to close his hand around the boy and squeeze the life out of him.

Perhaps he could use Hector to get closer to her. Maybe, once she got to know his more gentle side, she’d grow more comfortable around him, to where she might even reciprocate his feelings. There was a chance. He just needed to play nice with Hector. With that goal in mind, he stuck his free hand in his pocket and fished out Hector’s baseball cap.

“I forgot, I’ve had your hat since, ya know, that whole thing with the fountain,” Hunter said, handing it to Hector.

“Aw, thanks buddy! I was wondering what happened to that!” Hector replied as he slapped the hat back on his head, pushing down his curly locks. He glowed with a genuine smile, and Hunter felt the smallest drop of regret for his manipulative thoughts. He entered the classroom and dropped off Hector on the human platform, then sat down at an adjacent giant desk. As the lesson began, he kept surreptitiously glancing down at Hector. A strange cocktail of emotions was swirling around inside him: jealousy, rage, anxiety, mixed with fondness and hope. Hunter was inclined to negative feelings, however, and before long his rage at the world was boiling over as usual. He’d find a way to win Hannah over—even if he had to steamroll everything and everyone to get there.

Chapter 34

Chapter 1

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flowerflamestars · 11 hours

Note

the rolling in the graves reread thoughts/ favorite lines/moments:

Chapter 1

"He thought, some nights, of walking into it." "Himself, Autumn-gutted and war-torn: the trees might as well swallow him whole." -- AAAAHHHH my poor forest baby T-T

Lucien contemplating starting a forest fire.

Eris contemplating if Rhysand has a domesticity kink.

"He didn’t want to be alone, in this strange body of his." *cue more screaming* "Blending where he didn’t belong had been Lucien’s whole life, of course he was subtle." T-T

Lucien, sun drunk, losing his shit. Nesta walks in while he's naked and absolutely nothing sexy happens and I love it.

Lucien's longing for home including the sound of Eris's real laugh and his dogs.

The last summit. The image of Feyre in the most obscenely eye catching dress possible insisting that she didn't want attention. And the fact that people were probably still gossiping about the fact the Nesta and Elain hadn't been there.

“Feyre was busy stealing me.” Someone please rescue my fox baby

The Night Court is afraid of Jurian.

"Nesta Archeron lived, and no on in this court wanted her living."

"That Lucien wanted, horrifically, to be touched. To reach out, to all that fearsome strength, and touch."

Chapter 2

Rhysand trying to call in Eris and Eris being like "Ha, ha. no We're doing this my way." A way which includes every diplomatic formality he can muster and the IC having a whole ass dinner/meeting just to bitch about it. (Azriel keeping his mouth full of alcohol to avoid having to talk to anybody.) Elain making off with the whole cake.

The Laugh That Changed The World.

Cassian scowling at the sight of Nesta being genuinely happy in someone else's presence how dare.

I'm suddenly having thoughts about the fact that what changed everything between them was Nesta's genuine unbridled laughter and one of the things Lucien misses when he thinks of 'home' is Eris's genuine laughter. (not meaning to imply Lucien's having any sexy thoughts about his brother. Maybe a representation of Lucien wishing the people he cared about were safe to feel and express such laughter. Words hard. Thoughts not wording good. I think I remember "Lucien missed his terrible, awful brother" from a snipit)

"She was so fucking gorgeous, and utterly unable to ask for what she wanted. It seemed possible she’d never had the chance." *screaming again*

"Nesta opened her eyes and showed Lucien pure, molten silver fire."

“Absolute authority and eternity should mean something.”

“He pulled away?” Lucien just sounds so, so offended that Cassian pulled away. Like, this dude, this asshole, could have all the Nesta bites in the world and he pulled away. Lucien just trying to reassure Nesta that the biting thing is natural and being like "You can bite me when ever you want" and also being like "Please bite me. please please pretty please."

"Nesta Archeron was not easy, but Lucien thought Andras would have liked her too." T-T

Feyre and Rhysand insisting that humans were under their authority and then proceeding to not really give a shit when Lucien tries to tell them about them.

Feyre only caring about Lucien going to see Elain.

"There was no question as to whether Elain would be present- she did not seem to use her magic for anything but to avoid him, and Lucien couldn’t blame her. There were only so many awkward conversations one could have with someone magic and tradition insisted you want, where absolutely no spark lived- and it remained easier to just go, than fight Feyre."

“If you smell like blood, it’s usually mine and you’re much, much happier.”

Feyre buying Elain a house and painting it completely in nursery colors. Elain and Nesta repainting the rooms Elain actually uses.

“Someday,” Lucien said, leaning down to kiss beneath her ear, “I want you to fuck me.” I think I speak for the whole Lucien fandom when I say that we all want to see Lucien get pegged.

“Do you think,” Lucien asked, “Elain will ever tell Feyre?” “What? That she’s about as romantically inclined toward you as she might be” “A chair? A hunk of stone?”

“For three people obsessed with fucking each other, It is staggering they’ve never managed it, in half a millennia.”

Lucien finding Cassian's fixation/obsession with Nesta uncomfortably familiar. What other man might we know of that's over-controlling and possessive of his powerful wife. gee I wonder. (not)

"You hate it.” “What I like doesn’t matter.” *rage*

"Choking on pollen, stupid Spring cravats, cutting out pieces of himself until there was nothing left. He didn’t need to like Ceylon velvet. Itchy lace. Stag hunts with dogs and horses and arrows, when Lucien had fought wyvern with his bare hands as a boy. He didn’t need to like Tam’s rules or the courtiers jokes, the endless pale fucking roses- Until Lucien had talked himself into walking after Ianthe in that cave, let Tamlin flay him to the bone for disloyalty-" *more rage*

“It matters. Your husband should care to know.”

"But Feyre just laughed, wine glass jaunty in her grip, and admittedly blithely to bumping up against all their shields- Rhysand hadn’t even taught her to keep her magic to herself. Just that power, power, was hers. For the having, and taking." *rage again*

"The North had enough men who used emotion as an excuse- enough faeries in this whole fucking world, who’d made anger a haunting."

"Nesta folded her cheek on top of his head, one of those not quite right, even for High Fae, motions that snuck into her mannerisms when no one was watching, like she didn’t have joints. That Lucien got to see." *That Lucien got to see. That Lucien got to see. THAT LUCIEN GOT TO SEE*

"The sword of a Queen if he’d ever seen one, blade imbued with screaming, forest-fire wild wrath and beautiful for it."

"Lucien had done worse things than say yes, for the hope of belonging." have we rescued our fox baby yet? I think we need to rescue our fox baby.

"One of the things about Feyre that both charmed and wore, as time went on, was that she saw love in an utterly human way. Childlike. Rhysand was her soulmate- her only interest, her sole desire, the best she’d ever have. Lucien had wondered, more than once, if they were even friends."

To Feyre, love was an ending, happy. To an immortal- to perhaps, Nesta Archeron, smiling at him sidelong, it was an open door."

"She would have burnt the sky. If they hadn’t sought out to humiliate her from the start, hated Nesta human before she ever found a power than could cleave forever- she’d set fire to the world, for those she loved. But not for herself. None of them deserved her."

“Earlier. I am usually happier. You make me happy.” *excuse me while I sob*

"All fire wanted, was to be free. To burn."

“You owe me.” Lucien Vanserra said, burnt bright and alive for it, beloved of this place where he’d never been, “So help me.” It would take a High Lord you said? Pardon me, I'll be right back. I'm gonna go traumatize my dad/give him a heart attack.

ANYWAY, lovely story is lovely. I deeply, dearly love all the non-sexual intimacy. The cuddling! The "That Lucien got to see". The *flailing gestures to whole fic* EVERYTHING.

so, anyway, reread hearts <3 <3 <3

(I really need to figure out how to do emojis on my laptop keyboard)

this has filled me with delight and joy!! and fully reminded me how much I love this story <3

thoughts thoughts thoughts: you're poking at one my favorite through-lines, which is that it is an AFFAIR, a sexy sexy affair and they're going at it like crazy, a thing they are both pretending is The Only Thing Happening, when in reality it is...maybe the least important aspect to their relationship from either of their perspectives?

(despite the desperate horniness)

Eris actually shows up next chapter, and continues to be pure comedy.

No, but the laugh thing IS something- Lucien hasn't felt safe in. forever, really. A very, very long time. He's not at a point where he dreams about that for himself. He wants the people he loves to be safe. He's so, so, so deeply sad but he lets himself actually be mad beyond belief over other people. Fox babe IS burning it all to the ground on his way out.

And he just. god, he loves SO HARD.

Enough to reveal that he does know about his secret birthright and just completely shatter Helion's heart in the process, along with committing himself to a full-scale Autumn rebellion, if it gets Nesta out. With the hope that maybe, MAYBE, she'll want to help him...with all that.

#equal parts a sexy story #and a story about two people climbing out of depression #NEXT UP #having probably inadvisable sex at a royal wedding #thank yooou

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whumpshaped · 1 year

Note

whumpee (female) with a caretaker (male) but they are friends and just take care of each other. Whumpee can't sleep alone and caretaker offers to stay. Whumpee and caretaker fall asleep cuddling. just pure comfort and support but it's familial/platonic

niche whump tropes

tw lady whumpee, past trauma

Whumpee reached out without thinking, grabbing onto Caretaker's shirt. She didn't want to be alone. Not after everything. She didn't feel safe, she never did, it felt like she would never ever feel safe again; not unless Caretaker was there with her. Protecting her.

"Whumpee?"

She didn't want to say it out loud and sound pathetic. She kept her gaze fixed on her hand, avoiding looking at him, hoping he'd understand and just go along with it. He wasn't going to make her "use her words", was he? No. No. That was Whumper. Caretaker would never humiliate her on purpose.

Sure enough, he placed a gentle hand on top of hers. He didn't pry it off, instead tracing soothing circles into her skin. "It's okay. Do you want me to stay?"

Whumpee nodded jerkily, so quick and so embarrassed that she was afraid Caretaker would pretend not to have seen it out of common courtesy.

"Okay. Just let me know if you change your mind at any point." He sat back down on the bed, but Whumpee kept tugging on his shirt anyway. She glanced up at his face to see a confused expression, and she wished he would just get it. "You, uh... do you want me to..." He trailed off, just as awkward about the situation as her. "I mean, it's not an issue, I just... thought that'd be... I thought you didn't like... cuddles and the sort."

There it was. Caretaker was judging her, wasn't he? Because she had foolishly crafted this image of herself, one of a tough, unapproachable, emotionless leader, one that never had problems, never even liked any of this sentimentality. At one point, maybe she had actually been like that. But she had changed a lot since her time with Whumper, hadn't she?

Either way, she wanted nothing more than to be held by someone she trusted. Caretaker was on the very top of the list, having been her biggest help, best friend, and rescuer all in one. And now he was going to realise just how pitiful she'd become and leave. Whoever needed a weak leader? He must've been so uncomfortable already, god, he must've felt pressured, disgusted-

"I just want to make sure I understand," Caretaker said softly, interrupting the spiral. "So please, can you just nod if you want me to, um... hold you?"

Whumpee hesitated. She could still say no, and preserve some of her dignity. Pretend it was a misunderstanding. But Caretaker was looking at her with eyes devoid of any malice or judgement, and she was inclined to believe that he wouldn't make fun of her. Maybe that was a ridiculous amount of false hope. But she nodded, finally letting go of his shirt to allow him to properly climb into bed with her.

His embrace was cautious and unsure, with small stops, just in case she wanted to tell him off. She didn't. Instead, she nestled into his arms, enjoying the warmth of another human body pressed against her own.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Whumpee was baffled. She should've been the one thanking him. She wanted to ask, 'For what?' but all that made out was a small, questioning sound. It proved to be enough to prompt an explanation.

"For, um... putting so much trust in me. I just... always had this, this horrible feeling, that you bottled everything up... that you pulled away from everyone because... I don't know. Maybe you thought asking for a hug would make us see you differently." His hold tightened for a moment, gently squeezing her now fragile body. "All any of us ever wanted was to protect you, you know. Just as much as you wanted to protect us. As a team, it was... hard to see you so guarded all the time. We always comforted each other, and you always comforted us, but... I don't know. We were all worried."

Silence fell upon the bedroom, only broken by their soft breaths. Neither of them moved. Both of their thoughts were racing. Did he say too much? Had she been a recluse of a leader? Did he offend her? Did she offend them all?

"All I- all I want to say is... thank you for giving me permission to help. Or at least try to. You're not alone, you know. We're all here for you. Whatever you need."

She squeezed back after a small pause, in silent acknowledgement. Caretaker let out a relieved sigh.

"Try to sleep now. It's been a long day."

#asks #rosewriteswhump #niche requests #comfort #recovery #past trauma #lady whumpee

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smallraindrops-blog · 9 months

Text

I Know A Place

(just for you and me)

WMFTD: Drabbles

WMFTD!Y/N X Hypnos

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, AUs out of the wazoo, no beta.

Notes:

More vibes that wouldn’t leave me alone. Something to hold over while I work on the poly fic that is quickly growing out of my control. Pyrrhus fic should be out soonish.

Enjoy the randomness.

Part one

Model (Sapphic AU)

The first time you saw her, it was on the cover of a glossy magazine in the grocery store.

She didn’t look like a real person. The girl was all soft, tousled curls, so white they looked like clouds and a teasing glimpse of an elegant collarbone. Her expression was thoughtful, almost pouty with those full lips.

In a moment of pure teenage fantasy, you wondered how her mouth would feel against yours. She was far too pretty for some awkward high school jock in basketball shorts who felt far too bulky and too tall in her own body.

But you could pretend.

With a flush clawing up your neck, you allowed yourself to look again. She was a dream girl, one that not even your imagination could have created.

The only obvious photoshopped part was her eyes. They looked like sun warmed honey.

Surely, no human had eyes that golden.

Under her beautiful face, the words caught your attention.

‘Hypnos, daughter of the famous model Nyx, follows her mother’s footsteps!’

Without a single thought to stop yourself,you grabbed the magazine and held it close to your chest like a prize. One that you didn’t want to share.

Carefully avoiding looking anyone in the eyes, you hurried to find your dad.

Achilles was murmuring to himself as he tried to remember which low-fat girl scout cookie that Patroclus had told him to get. You placed the magazine in the cart, trying to look completely normal.

Your dad blinked at you behind his glasses and he glanced down at the cart. There was a single beat of silence then he lifted an eyebrow at you.

“There is good skincare advice in there.” You murmured, staring far too hard at the store brand cookies. Your cheeks flushed hotly as you shoved your hands into your pockets.

“Skincare, huh?” Achilles said but didn’t tell you to put the magazine back.

(Years later)

As a bodyguard for the rich and stupid, you had seen plenty of shit.

From a drugged up housewife that tried her damndest to kill off her husband’s affairs to a washed up movie star who tried to steal his dad’s private plane as he yelled about flying it into the sun, you had gotten truly skilled with keeping a cool head and putting out fires.

Zagreus - a former pop-star client and a sort of friend- had informed you of the fact that you were the world's best babysitter as you helped him clean up the puke off his Father’s prized Tesla.

This might be too much for you however.

Hypnos was almost completely bare, saved for a single red blanket pooled over her breasts and lap, her slender legs pressed together to give a false sense of modesty. She was utterly gorgeous.

It was both the worst and best thing to ever happen to you.

“Tilt your head up, really give me that pouty look.” The photographer ordered Hypnos, who obeyed, her infamous white curls brushing against her chin.

“I wish she didn’t cut her hair into a damn bob.” Her agent bitched at you. “I told her that we were trying to get a contract for Aphrodite’s maidens and she required her models to have a specific look.”

You ignored him, eyes locked on the photographer and Hypnos.

The blunt cut of the bob suited Hypnos’ messy curls and willowy figure far as you were concerned. Aphrodite’s models all looked like clones of Aphrodite with long, flowing hair and the exact lush build and the same plastic smile, and it kinda freaked you out a little.

The idea of the unique beauty of Hypnos getting diluted into something boring and repetitive made your stomach hurt.

Crossing your arms, you kept a careful eye toward the door. It was a well kept secret but Hypnos had a stalker. Not an uncommon occurrence with famous people but this one had managed to break into her house before you were hired on.

If Thanatos hadn’t been there to scare them off…

It had only gotten worse since then. The stalker had managed to get every place that Hypnos ever been. Her childhood home, Thanatos’ high rise loft even into Nyx’s gated mansion in the mountains. Her agent’s office, her friends’ home or place of work.

Nowhere was safe. Hypnos always had adorable, sleepy eyes but there were deep shadows in them now.

That stalker was in for a world of hurt if you ever get your hands on him.

Later, you went through the safe house, checking each room and windows. The address was unlisted, no one would find it. The cameras were connected to your phone, ready to alert you the moment something moved outside.

“You don’t have to do this every time.” Hypnos told you, bare face and wearing an old shirt that went almost to her knees. One side slipped down as she came in, revealing a bare shoulder. Her socks were a ridiculous print of dogs riding French fries. It was adorable.

You had seen her in little black dresses, formal wear that cost more that you made in a year with perfect hair and makeup but somehow like this, she was far more lovelier now than she was all dolled up.

It was far too easy to imagine taking her to bed and lifting that too big shirt off her delicate body.

You killed the thought like a bug and after double checking the window’s lock, you turned to face her.

Honey warm eyes met yours.

For the longest time, you had thought her eyes were photoshopped or that she wore contact lenses. Only you have seen how the morning rays hit it, you have seen the way her eyes lit up when she gets home to her beloved dog or how they dulled when on a phone call with her mother.

Pure and golden like the sun and undeniable real.

“Better safe than sorry, Ms. Hypnos.” You told her, keeping your tone cool.

Hypnos tucked her hair behind her ear, blinking at you slowly. There was a moment of silence and you resisted the urge to shift on your feet like a guilty child.

Then finally, she gave you a shy smile, her slim fingers resting on her collarbone and nodded toward the living room.

“I can’t sleep. Wanna watch a movie with me?”

You should say no. You always kept a professional wall between yourself and clients. It was easy. Hypnos had been able to slip past those walls with an unnerving ease

Just say no.

“Sure.” You replied. “Popcorn?”

Illness (modern au)

At first, Hypnos just thought he was exhausted from running around for all the holidays and the last days of work. By the time he got home, he had collapsed into bed, asleep before he could kiss you goodnight.

The next morning, he woke up to a stuffy nose. His whole face felt like it was burning up, the back of his throat hot and itchy. He moaned quietly, closing his somehow dry eyes. Everything hurts.

“Hypnos?” You croaked. It wasn’t the usual rough voice you woke up with, it was too reedy. Hypnos tried to respond but all that came out was a nasty cough. He covered his mouth as his fit continued.

He heard you murmuring a low swear, then your hands brushed against his too sensitive skin. You helped him sit up, rubbing his back until his fit stopped.

“I think we caught something, love.” You told him, your voice fading the more you spoke.

“Yay.” Hypnos muttered bitterly, leaning against you. He was lazy, sure but he hated being sick. It wasn’t a nice restful day but a horrible one.

At some point, you had managed to get him and you up enough to take some disgusting medicine then Hypnos collapsed into the pile of blankets on the pullout sofa.

He listened to you moving around, somehow you also had just enough energy to make warm herbal tea for both you and him

Hypno blinked awake when you joined him, accepting the tea with a muttered ‘thanks’.

“Gonna order some groceries and more medicine.” You told him in a faded voice. Hypnos nodded, sipping on his tea. He didn’t know if Patroclus taught you but somehow you always made tea taste just perfect.

The day passed slowly in a haze of soup, coughing, more gross medicine - for real, do none of those people who make the medicine have any taste buns?- trashy tv shows, balled up tissues and delicious tea.

Hypnos mocked the people and everything about the shows. his voice cracked and pathetic sounding. You would chuckle along, smiling faintly. Your large hand rested on his back, rubbing in gentle, smoothing circles as he ranted.

At some point, you dozed off, snoring quietly. Hypnos reached over, and tucked the blanket up higher to your chin. He snuggled in close, his head on your shoulder and took one of your hands in his.

With a contented sigh, Hypnos closed his tired eyes. If he had to be sick, he would want it to be with you.

Kidnapped (Viking AU, dark tw for slavery)

The hearth casted a warm glow in the home, chasing away the nip of the chilly air. Snow will be arriving before the next sunrise.

The day had been long, filled with duties that must be tended to along with plans for the future sails. Typically, you would mull over everything with a pint of ale and some dried meat before going to your bed alone, lingering awake for hours sometimes.

But that had changed. Now you lay awake for an entirely new reason.

Your thrall paused over the pot, his slender fingers tightened on the wooden ladle.

His golden eyes locked onto your form, his mouth tight with distrust. Then as if realized his disrespectful attitude, his eyes darted away as he bowed his head.

Then he spoke. His voice was sweet as bells even if you couldn’t understand a single word of it. He hesitated then clumsily, “Welcome home, Master.”

You winced at the title.

It wasn’t planned. You had never taken any slaves before and never wanted to. You meant to take a wife. One that wouldn’t mind a loveless and sexless marriage.

But in some little settlement in a place of eternal summer, you found him during a night time raid. He had been alone and terrified yet you were captivated by him.

High cheekbones and a graceful build with hair so fair it looked like fresh snow. His eyes reminded you of the rare summer days, golden and filled with life. A child of winter and summer brought to form.

Far too lovely for a mere moral. The goddess, Glorious Freyja, must have blessed him at birth.

He was so beautiful that you broke your own code. And you felt like a worthless bastard for it.

“You are improving.” You told him, each word enunciated. His brow furrowed until you offered up a slight smile. A moment later, he returned it before he returned to stirring the stew.

Your thrall had already placed most of the dinner on the table, warm bread and cheese awaited for you. There were even colorful berries but you didn’t touch any of the food as you sat down.

He placed a full bowl in front of you but none for himself.

“Thrall.” You waited until he looked at you. Then you pointed at another bowl then at him. “You eat as well. This winter won’t be a kind one.”

He obeyed.

You didn’t want to admit it, used to being alone in your own home but there was something peaceful about sharing a meal with him. There was the great hall but often you needed time away from everyone. And their questions.

Once dinner was finished, your thrall cleaned up between loud yawns, moving with a slow ease. You began tending to your blades with an eye toward your bow and arrows.

You had already hunted enough but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to make sure there was more meat available. Especially for your thrall. He wasn’t built for the harsh land like you were.

You glanced at him, watching the fine line of his back. He reminded you of wildflowers, pretty but easily crushed if not picked correctly. Before you could stop yourself, you called to him.

He blinked at you, placing the lid on the stew.

You gestured to him to come to you as you stood up. Quietly, he did. His amber eyes narrowed at you like a distrustful cat. Truely, he must belong to Glorious Freyja.

You grabbed his chin, making him meet your stare. He swallowed but didn’t pull away. His lips were full, stained red by the berries, like he had been kissed over and over by a lover. He was temptation itself.

Heat pooled low in your stomach, the same dark need to conquer, to claim returned like fire in your blood before battle. It was the feeling you had the night you stole him away.

“Will you tell me your name tonight?” You asked him, low and rough. It was the same question you asked every night. “You already know mine.”

You tapped on your chest with a free hand and repeated your name. Just like you had every night before. You knew he understood from the sharp glint in his eyes.

There was a moment of silence from him then he shook his head. With a quiet huff, you pressed your thumb on his lips.

It would be easy. By law, he belonged to you. No one would stop you, hell most of them already thought you had already used him to warm your bed.

He was yours to use as you pleased.

But you weren’t a complete monster. Not yet.

You let him go. He stumbled back, as if he was surprised you did.

“Finish your duties.” You ordered, your tone harsh. You turned your back to him, dismissing him.

You listened to his footsteps as he crossed the room to return to his work. You glanced down at your hands.

There was a slight tremble in your fingers, but you tightened it into a fist.

Not yet.

Spectrum (reincarnation au)

You choose the loukomades - or at least it was close enough, it was in a ball shape but heavy with honey coated layers inside. - without hesitation. The honey shone on the fried dough in the ship’s artificial sunlight. Somehow you knew Hypnos would like it.

The corgi-like alien with five eyes nodded up at you, their gloved hands wrapping up the pastries with neat and quick movements. The other one behind them worked on the coffee orders, rushing between stations with their stubby legs.

Out of everything humans had to offer, it was coffee, alcohol, grains, cane sugar along with honey and other sweeteners that blew up in popularity among the other races. It was always in high demand and good for trading.

It was so popular that many aliens had trained for years just to make humans’ cuisine, running their own shops with unique twists on the food.

Many humans were still unused to aliens, but you had gotten used to it. They all were another creature trying to make a living. And you never minded anyone who could make a mean cup of joe.

You bent down to accept your order, dropping a heavy tip in the jar.

Hypnos beamed at you when you joined him at the park bench. His wings fluttered, causing his curls to bounce, when he saw the food and coffee in your hands. You hated that your heart swelled just a bit at the sight.

“Here.” You told him gruffly, sitting down next to him. Hypnos ignored your tone, digging to the pastry bag with glee.

“My favorite!” Hypnos gasped, popping a ball into his mouth with a joyful hum. His eyes closed in bliss.

You took a sip of your coffee, heavy and smooth with extra caffeine, as Hypnos devoured the sweets. And firmly ignored the soft, pleased moans as he ate.

Then a loukoumade appeared before your eyes, caught between Hypnos’ slender fingers. He waved it at you.

“Here, go on and have one, it is delicious. I think those guys added something else in there.” Hypnos remarked, narrowing his eyes at the innocent looking pastry. You scoffed.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Hypnos, get that thing away-“ your warning was cut short as Hypnos shoved the food in your mouth. Thick, heavenly honey and warm bread exploded in your mouth but that wasn’t caught made you stilled.

Hypnos’ fingers were pressed against your lips. The touch was light, impossibly so but you swore that it carried the weight of Venus stardust. Hypnos shifted, closer to you now.

Gorgeous sunlit eyes watched you.

“Tell me you remember this.” It was shaped like a question but something about his tone changed it into a statement.

You swallowed.

For a moment you were no longer an overworked captain on a spaceship built from your parents’ dreams.

The sea and skies were everblue twins, summer was a warm breeze with cries of seagulls and there was a beautiful Greek boy with pale curls and a big smile leading you through the endless backstreets. There was a real possibility of getting mugged but as he took your hand, you knew you would follow him off a cliff.

You didn’t even know his name.

Eventually, he stopped in front of a bakery, his fingers locked with yours as he brought you in.

Then…

Other memories came in a blur. One with golden armor and a heavy spear in your hand. The smell of the sea, a worn map in your hand. Burning cities and screams. Another life with charcoal stained nails, a smoke dangling between your lips. Another place and time, you were hiding the mud in a green uniform and a hard helmet as warplanes flew overhead.

Hypnos were in all of them.

You jerked back, grabbing his wrist. Panting like you ran a marathon, you glared down at him.

Hypnos didn’t flinch as you tightened your hold, almost bruising his delicate flesh. You were torn between pushing him off the bench or yanking him closer, to know the feel of his honeyed lips against yours.

Because everytime he touched you, it felt like coming home. And that terrified you.

“Explain yourself.” You snarled in a whisper, shaking his wrist. “I brought you the goods. I saved your life. Now explain.”

Hypnos sighed, like he was disappointed but a fond smile grew anyway.

“Fine. Always so stubborn.” He teased, like you and him were some old married couple. “Let's start at the beginning once more.”

#wake me from this dreaming

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letsbenditlikebennett · 1 year

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TIMING: September 1st PARTIES: @realmackross & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: After the full moon, Alex is avoiding Kaden and stays over Mack's for a few nights. CONTENT: Gun use (mentioned)

When Kaden told Mackenzie that Alex had been shot, it was like what little bit of air that filled her lungs had left in that moment. She had felt a mix of emotions run through her body all at once, including an immense anger that had started to bring out something in her that pure emotion never had before. So much so, that she felt her eyes glazing over and her brain starting to falter, which meant she needed to eat. But also made her realize that whatever this virus was keeping her corpse animated, had started to take a hold on her in ways she had never assumed possible.

That had been over a week ago, though, and it was something that she figured would be better left untalked about, just like the other 3495495632495 things she had been keeping underwraps. This was going to be a fun little escape for the two friends. With Alex coming over, Mack had filled the fridge full of regular food and made sure the house was tidy and cozy for the few days the girls were going to be hanging out. She had needed a brief escape and she knew her friend needed one too, despite the fact that the last time Alex had been here, Mackenzie had come crashing down to the ground from upstairs and came back with a fierce attempt to eat Alex and her friend’s brains.

—

Despite the fact it was still strange to Alex that she had friends, especially ones that she could crash with at the drop of a hat, she felt considerably more at ease as she made her way to the manor. The run-in with the hunter who had shot her already had her cousin watching her closely, even if the hunter was dead, and it had been impossible to hide she’d been hurt during the full moon. She wasn’t quite sure that was the correct way to describe it considering all her wounds had been self-inflicted to some extent, but either way, she needed space between her and Kaden. She couldn’t keep allowing hunters to care for when it put them in such a compromising moral position. At least with her friends, they were all mostly not human. When it came to the metaphorical line in the sand, they were all already forced onto one side of it.

She knocked on the door to the manor and already felt a bit more relaxed than she had at home. While Mack knew more about the whole situation with the hunter than Alex had initially wanted, she decided it wasn’t a bad thing. Had the two of them not talked about being more open with each other despite the fact trust wasn’t something that came easy to either of them? Even if she was still annoyed with Kaden for telling so many people, she was glad that Mack at least knew what was up. When the door opened, she played up an awkward smile, “Honey, I’m home?”

—

Alerted by her camera system that there had been movement outside, Mackenzie saw a mass of familiar red hair standing at her door. With a quick glance to make sure everything looked good, the young zombie made her way to the door. To say that there hadn’t been a tinge of fear running through her cold, dead veins would have been a lie. In fact, when any of the sleepover crew had come for a visit now, Mack often wondered if it was going to result in something horrific or worse. But out of everyone who had been there, she knew Alex would be the one who could handle herself. And as long as Mackenzie had food, they were good.

With an exaggerated breath, Mackenzie unlocked the door and pulled it back to find Alex looking up at her with an awkward smile, “How was work, dear?” She stepped back out of the way to let her wolfie friend inside, “Not too bad I hope. Dinner’s not ready and I’m not taking your shoes off and rubbing your feet, but you can go throw your shit down and prepare for two days of fun.” She hadn’t known the extent of Alex’s injuries, but she was pretty sure the girls would manage as long as no one went toppling over a balcony railing.

—

Even if both girls had more than their fair share of trust issues, Alex appreciated that it was fairly easy to be at ease around Mack. It was easy to forget that her friend was a famous actress when she was so down to earth. Well, at least when they weren’t out in public with people staring at them. Maybe the manor should have been some sort of indication that Mack was a celebrity, but despite the disastrous Barbie party, she felt comfortable at the manor and with Mack. Moreso since learning what the actress was.

“Another day, another dollar,” Alex laughed, “Or whatever it is the finance bros say. I don’t know, I usually tune them out.” She feigned disbelief that there wasn’t dinner and a foot massage in her future. “Wow,” she joked, “What’s the deal here? None of that 1950’s shit? How am I supposed to be in a lavender haze under these conditions?”

The bag on her shoulder was rubbing against one of the many scrapes that littered her body, so Alex immediately dropped her shit the moment the phrase was said. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she grimaced despite herself because of course the strap definitely hit all the wrong spots on her arm on the way down. Hopefully, Mack didn’t notice as much, but she remembered the way her friend said she hadn’t wanted to find out about the gunshot wound three months later in passing. She chewed at her lower lip as she walked toward the couch. “Two days of fun and girlie nonsense,” she nodded, “And I guess a disclaimer that I’m covered in random cuts and stuff now… Kinda went a little werewolf on myself last full moon.”

—

It had been a strange sensation not hanging out with her old friends anymore. The people she had grown up with. The ones who knew everything about her life…well her old life. She had reunited with Winter, and that had given her a little taste of home, but Jacob and Bailee and the most important one of all, Brody, weren’t in Mackenzie’s life anymore. Yet, somehow this strange little town had started to give her new friends. Even people she could trust with knowing her secret. And one of them currently stood in her house wanting to spend two whole days with her despite all the bullshit that had happened previously, and she knew that was something worth holding onto.

“Stickin’ it to the man. Just the way I like it.” Mackenzie winked at Alex, “And yeah, you’d think I’d know more about what the fiance bros say, but I have one that keeps up with all that shit for me.” Shrugging her shoulders, she shut the door behind Alex and locked it back. “That’s not my problem. I was born in 1998. Talk to Taylor about that one.”

Mack had caught sight of the expression on Alex’s face, but had opted not to say anything. Maybe it was the gunshot wound, maybe it wasn’t. But she knew that if her friend wanted to tell her, she would. Instead, she scooped up Alex’s bag, ready to take it to one of the spare bedrooms upstairs, “Are you prepared for all of this fun? Because I’ve got snacks, blankets, Squishmallows, games, you name it…I stocked up.” And there it was, “And first aid supplies, but not solely just for sharing. I might’ve had a little run with some things of my own.” She had preferred not to remember the giant flies that had given her an acid bath, and while most of the wounds had healed, there were still a few stubborn areas that revealed a little more than she had liked to see of herself. Thankfully she had clothes to cover those up.

—

Whenever they were together, it was easy for Alex to remember why she got along so well with Mack. They led wildly different lives, there was no denying as much, but they were still similar enough that conversation seemed to come with a natural ebb and flow. Their sense of humor was something they shared, too, and it brought a certain ease with it. Banter came naturally and made it hard for any tension to settle in the air, which was quite a feat when they were apparently both injured.

“If I could personally take it up with Taylor,” she laughed, “You already know I would.” Mostly because Alex would talk about literally any and everything with her favorite songwriter given the chance. Not that it was likely that would ever happen, but a girl could dream. Hell, she was now going to the Eras tour courtesy of the friend who was now carting the green duffle bag away. She smiled thankfully, grateful she didn’t have to keep hitting the various small wounds across her body with the bag.

“I was born ready for fun,” she joked. The funniest part of the joke was Alex wasn’t sure she had ever really known fun until she was living on the road with her sister, but that was more sad funny than haha funny. The mention of Mack getting hurt made her frown slightly. Shouldn’t the zombie just heal? She wasn’t all that sure how undead stuff actually worked so she nodded. “Looks like we’re both on a roll,” she shrugged as she plopped down on the couch, “The first aid supplies sales in this town must be through the roof.”

That much seemed true. Alex cozied up with one of the many blankets on the couch and looked over Mack. “I know my more recent ouchies are me not needing to lock myself up in a bunker on full moons, but how’d you get hurt? I didn’t think… well, I know you can get hurt obviously, but like, I thought it healed when you like got some food in you? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to…”

—

Mackenzie had found comfort and familiarity in Alex. Though they had only known each other for a few months, it felt as if those few months had really been a lifetime. The pair had led two entirely different lives taking paths that neither could probably fathom. Mack still didn’t know a whole lot about Alex’s family, but she did know that her sister and cousin seemed like good people. People who genuinely cared for the girl’s wellbeing. It was something that Mackenzie had missed greatly. She missed getting hugs from her parents when she was sad or hurting. But Winter had given her an unexpected one after the sleepover, and for now, that feeling is what she held onto when she was sad. That and being able to laugh with new friends like Alex.

As Mack made her way upstairs with the duffle bag, she put it in the room down the hall from her own, before returning to the conversation, “So you’re saying, if you met her at the Eras tour, this would be what you’d talk about?” Her voice carried from the balcony upstairs as she made her way back down. “I mean, I’m not saying you’ll get to meet her, but…you know?” She shrugged her shoulders as she went to find a spot on the couch and pulled her favorite fuzzy blanket over her. Not that she could really enjoy the fuzziness of it anymore, but still the memories had been there.

“Good, because I’ve got plenty of fun at the ready. Plus, I’m not sure if you spotted the other rooms downstairs when you were on the brain hunt for me, but there is more fun to be had down there.” Sometimes, when Taylor, her assistant, would come to visit, she would surprise Mack with the latest movie screeners and the most recent in her possession had been Barbie. “And if you can look past everything that happened over a month ago, I might actually have the Barbie movie in my possession…But you didn’t hear that from me.” She grinned, her still pearly white veneers sparkling like something out of a movie. “Which, by the way, if it wasn’t for Mateo…I don’t know if you know him, I never would’ve had first aid supplies in my possession. Don’t ask. But just know I am well stocked, if we do need them.” The 4th of July had still been a memory that lived fresh in her mind.

It was nice knowing that a hunter hadn’t supplied Alex with more injuries. But it still wasn’t satisfying knowing she had done it to herself. She couldn’t imagine what it was like being a werewolf. She had seen Hollywood magic make the change happen, but if it was anything like what she had watched in the movies, Mackenzie knew it had to be a very painful process, “The werewolf stuff…does it hurt? And are you okay?” She looked down for a moment, reliving her night of shame, but she had recalled that she had made the promise to be honest with Alex, “Um, I sorta…decided to test my limits just a little bit the other night. Went for a late night visit to the Codfather and might have climbed into their dumpster…” It sounded ridiculous. So much so that if Mack could blush, she would have, “But apparently there were some other things there…Parker said they’re called Eurynomos and they feed on the flesh of the dead aka me. Really they just look like big fucking flies, but they shoot acid out and lets just say I’ve never seen my own bones before.” An uneasy and pitiful laugh escaped her lips, before she could stop it. “Lesson learned.” She couldn’t look at Alex, partly for being embarrassed and partly for the way she had slowly begun losing herself a day at a time after the sleepover.

—

“I was maybe just a little bit distracted while I was on the hunt for brains,” Alex laughed. It was nice that they were joking about it now. Usually it was her who was making jokes about something traumatizing far too soon, but it wasn’t her first this time, so she’d happily follow the lead the zombie was putting down on that front. Humor was her favorite load-bearing coping mechanism, after all. She wasn’t sure why it was helpful, but if Mack was into it too, there had to be something to it, right? “But if I was lucky enough to meet Taylor on tour… a) I’d probably black out,” she laughed, “And b) that is not what I’d be asking. I have no idea what I’d be asking. There’d probably be a whole lot of staring in awe.”

“Oh, I’m so down to watch the movie,” Alex answered, “I did see it in theaters with Cass… but admittedly I got distracted watching Cass… which is as gay as it sounds. So definitely down to watch and maybe pay a bit more attention this time.” She remembered how great that night had been at the time, how electric she had felt leaving the theater and stealing a bunch of pink dye to make Alan’s pool pink. The memory still held some of that feeling, but it was tinted with guilt too as she was reminded of Alan.

The name Mack mentioned didn’t sound familiar though she vaguely remembered Mack having mentioned the guy before. Alex wanted to ask questions about why she had a first aid kit because of him, but she figured she could listen to the part where Mack said not to ask considering she was crashing at the zombie’s manor. “Don’t know him, no.”

When the zombie mentioned testing her limits, Alex felt like her stomach was doing cartwheels. It didn’t sound like a great idea, especially if she didn’t have a more experienced zombie guiding her, but was it really Alex’s place to tell her what she should and shouldn’t do? It wasn’t like she really knew much about how stuff with the undead worked and she was sure this was part of Mack getting a handle on the whole zombie thing. Knowing one’s limits was important, right? “You know, I think you can afford to actually eat at the Codfather,” she nudged playfully, “But guess the dumpster might have more in the way of brains. And Eurynomos? I think a lot of those hang around the abnormality, too.

Then the name of the person clicked. “Wait, Parker,” she asked, “And a bug… that checks out.” She chewed on her lower lip as she remembered the panic attack she’d had in front of him before running out of his exhibit at the museum. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to bring up. “Glad he was there to help you… he did help, right?”

—

Sometimes Mackenzie had to pinch herself really, really hard to make sense of the life she was living now. This time a year ago, she had been filming a movie and excitedly waiting to go back home to Los Angeles to be with her fiance and start planning their wedding. It had been her dream since the day they had first started dating. And her life with kids. She had started having that discussion. What would their name be? How many would they have? But here she was now, sitting in a huge, normally empty house next to a real life werewolf discussing life as such and how it was to be a zombie. It just didn’t track most days. And it usually left her wanting to crawl up under the covers in her bedroom and further decay. But then she remembered she wasn’t completely alone. She had someone who cared about her currently discussing Taylor Swift and Barbie with her. Someone who wanted to spend time with her and watch movies and laugh with her, and seemed to make all the nightmarish parts of her life just a little easier.

“Yeah, Barbie is definitely the right movie for you with all the pink and the beach offs…” Mackenzie had skipped past the rest of the Taylor Swift conversation for a reason, and would circle back around to it. Taylor Swift was the epitome of happiness in her book, and it would be a lot better than talking about flesh consuming flies and all the other hard subjects she was sure would be brought up during the night. “But we’re not gonna talk about Cass the whole time are we?” She knew how much Alex loved the girl. The entirety of Wicked’s Rest knew, but she just wanted to spend time with her friend and not hear about love and relationships for the hurt it brought to her heart. “I just…relationships aren’t really my thing at the moment. Not romantic ones anyways. I mean, I love that you guys are happy and you’re cute and all…” She felt like she was sticking her foot in her mouth, so she quickly changed the subject to something else.

“Yeah, I definitely can afford it. Probably should’ve just stuck with Old Faithful - lobster mac, but somebody suggested dumpster diving, and I don’t know. It was stupid and not going to happen again. But it was Parker. We’re actually becoming kind of close. I call him Dad. He helped me, and he does know about me…” Mack wasn’t sure if she should have divulged that information, but she trusted Parker. He had been a good friend to her so far and though he could be a bit blunt, she still appreciated him for it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but I think you’re better off knowing ahead of time.” Mackenzie had melded Taylor back into the conversation as more so a way to hopefully divert from all the heartache and for feeling like an ass towards the discussion of Alex and Cass’s relationship. “Meeting Taylor Swift is like a once in a lifetime thing, and I don’t think I can swing it twice, so no passing out or dying. Capiche?” She probably could, but Alex didn’t need to know that. She looked at her friend’s face waiting for her reaction.

—

Between the butterflies that came with a new relationship and all the friends she had made recently, it had been easy to forget that she wasn’t inherently likable. If anything, Alex knew she was anything but lovable. The broken record of her parents’ voices that played on loop in her mind had been quieter as of late, like someone had turned the volume down on it to almost a mute. It gave her the crazy idea that she could just speak what was on her mind without putting her words through a filter and it was foolish. Talking about Cass only highlighted everything that was soft about and, if her parents were to be believed, wrong with her. Of course Mack didn’t want to hear her go on and on about Cass. She wished she could sink into the couch cushion and disappear. Had she really been talking about Cass the whole time? She couldn’t remember mentioning the oread before that moment and that was only because the memories of dying Alan’s pool pink were kinda better than the one of Mack falling from her balcony.

“Definitely not,” Alex answered with a smile even though she felt unnerved about her own faux-pas, “Just dying a pool pink is noteworthy on the subject of Barbie. Turning Wicked’s Rest into Barbie World by turning every mojo dojo casa house into a dreamhouse and all.” Her laugh was a bit flat, but then it clicked when Mack spoke again. While she hadn’t known what Mack’s love life looked like prior to moving here, she could gather it was a touchy subject from the way the zombie spoke. Her features softened. “I got ya,” she murmured, “If you ever do wanna talk about that stuff… I’ve kind of made a point of not reading anything about you on the internet. I don’t want to know anything about you that you didn’t choose to tell me yourself.”

The quick subject change was somewhat welcome. Alex preferred to not sit in the uncomfortable feeling that had been starting to settle. Though the mention of Parker made her wonder if she was talking about the museum guy who snapped in front of her. Yet another moment on her never-ending list of embarrassing moments. She shrugged, “I mean, I’m not above dumpster diving, but I grew up poor. It can be fun… But not when weird flies attack you.”

It was nice Mack had found a father figure though. The knot in her stomach turned as she thought of her own soured relationship with someone who could have been that to her. Alex wasn’t sure why, but there had been almost a fatherly feeling to Alan. Maybe more so than her own father, but even the faintest whisper of that thought was enough to make another wave of guilt crash through her. Her father couldn’t be replaced and even if he could, it wasn’t like Alan would want anything to do with her after all the trouble she caused. It was that faint feeling of being sad for herself, but happy for Mack. Her friend was newer to all this supernatural stuff. She needed guidance and someone to count on. And Mack was good and bright— she deserved someone who could help her with all the crap that came with being turned into a monster.

“I’m glad he found you,” she said softly, “And that he’s been there for you since. I think you deserve that. A sorta found family in the midst of all the supernatural crap you got thrown into.” Thoughts of Alan still swirled around in her head and she wished she knew some way to make what happened to them ok. The hunter was dead, but Alex wasn’t even sure that was ok. It didn’t change that she had lied to him or had assumed the worst of him despite him giving her every reason to trust him. She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth and admitted, “I think… I may have ruined things with someone who could have been a dad figure. But kinda used to dads hating me anyway. Kinda my brand.”

The joke fell flat, but it was funny damn it. Even if it was more a sad kind of funny, Alex found the humor made it easier to talk about. The fact it was peppered between otherwise normal tangents also helped. “I’ll manage,” she grinned, “I promise. I have so many questions about her songwriting process, can’t waste the opportunity and all.”

—

Mackenzie could tell that Alex’s mood had dropped. She knew how much the werewolf was falling for Cass. It was apparent by all the conversations she had seen online. The way they had reacted around each other at the few parties she had been to with them, even at the sleepover. It was great that Alex had that in her life. She couldn’t fault her for it, but there was also that tinge of jealousy when she saw couples in love. But more so, it was the heartbreak of it all. She had taken away one of the best things in her life via her own hands. Her everything. And in turn it had led to a world of loneliness. Mackenzie had always known actions had consequences. It was a part of life, but the way she saw herself when she looked in the mirror now was that of pure hate. She hated every part of herself, but she had just been so good at putting on a show for everyone that it was easy to appear okay on the outside.

“Oh yeah, you would definitely make Barbie proud. Every house around here deserves to be a mojo dojo casa house. We’re not gonna turn pink though if we go swimming right?” She paused and looked at Alex with narrowed eyes. Would it be funny? Yes. But Mackenzie wasn’t sure she wanted to be pink. It was the confession that Alex made, though, that made the zombie look away, “I appreciate it.” It felt like their fun times were falling flat, and she had hated that. They had both been through enough within the past month. They needed happiness in their lives, and Mackenzie was already feeling like she had ruined it, “Any weird things like that for werewolves?” That was not happy. That was more curiosity, but she was faltering. “Parker, yeah. Thanks. I didn’t really expect it, but it’s nice having someone like that out here.” Parker was unexpected. But she was grateful for him. Plus, she figured her dad would get along with him if they ever actually met, which was probably never going to happen.

All-in-all this was not going the way she had hoped, and while she knew Alex was trying to lighten the mood with her joke about fathers, it just wasn’t working. But it was the grin, and not the extreme excitement about meeting Taylor Swift, that confirmed everything for Mackenzie, “Okay, I don’t think this is going the way either of us want it to. I feel like I’ve made you upset with the whole Cass thing…” She sighed and, in turn, took a deep breath letting it out slowly, before turning her body to face Alex, “With you not knowing anything about me, in regards to what’s on the internet, I think is what’s making this hard.”

She hated talking about Brody like this. In fact, he had been a sore subject even when she tried to reminisce about the good times with him, except for the day she had spent laying in the fields with her llama friends. That had been a great day. “There was this guy, and his name was Brody. We pretty much knew each other from childhood, because we had worked on a movie together when we were both kids. We ended up going our separate ways for several years, until a mutual friend set us up together on a date. Long story short, we were supposed to get married, but before we could, he…he died.” The word hitched in her throat. Mackenzie closed her eyes for a moment gathering herself, before opening them, and resuming what she was saying, “So it’s not that I don’t want you to be happy or to relive the moments you have with Cass over and over again, because that’s a beautiful thing. It’s just all of the stuff with my fiance is still really fresh, and it’s hard to hear about other relationships. I’m so sorry if that upset you or offended you in any way. But hold onto her, Alex. Hold onto her tightly, and don’t let her go, because losing them and not having that chance to ever be with them again is one of the hardest things that can ever happen.”

Mackenzie let out a quivering breath. It was the most she had talked about the love of her life in such a long time, and she needed some air, “I’m just gonna step outside for a moment. Get some air. Do you need anything while I’m up?” She looked down at Alex with a small smile.

—

Perhaps that was a downside to spending a lot of time with someone. It was apparent that despite her best efforts to keep the mood light by donning a smile, Alex had failed to cover up that the request Mack had made struck a chord. It wasn’t the zombie’s fault. It was a fairly innocuous request. Some part of Alex knew that not everything could be her fault, but it was hard to feel like she wasn’t letting her friend down in some way, because wasn’t that what she did? She let people down. Her parents had made as much clear from the day she was able to grip a knife in her tiny little hands. Even then, she was too clumsy— too prone to knicking herself with the blade. Every person that thought she could be a friend or lover along their travels. Hell, even now she was letting Andy down. Instead of accepting the love and protection her sister so readily offered, she was pushing it away. How could she not think it was any different with Mack? How could she not assume it was something she had done?

Even the joke about mojo dojo casa houses felt flat, which was frankly an insult to the Barbie franchise, but Alex guessed that her and Mack were more like Margot Robbie’s Barbie in the midst of an existential crisis. They could be depressed and still sparkle, which hey, was a pretty useful life skill, but it still sucked. The chortle that escaped her lips was forced and she shook her head. “Did leave a slight tint, but washed right off,” she shrugged, “And of course.”

Mack did deserve that sort of guidance and she meant it even if part of her was a little bit jealous. The question caught Alex off guard and she couldn’t readily pull forth from her breadth of monster knowledge to think of something that targeted werewolves specifically. “I don’t think so,” she answered honestly, “There’s like a peak in the woods that has an effect on shifters though… makes us really aggressive. Hard to keep control and all that jazz.”

No amount of trying to change the subject made a difference. They seemed to be stuck in loop where that awkward feeling never truly went away. Alex wrapped one of the many ridiculously soft blankets tighter around her and still wished she could disappear into the couch cushions. With the array of squishmellows and pillows, she might actually be able to do that, but then Mack was offering an explanation and she felt the color leave her own face as the zombie spoke.

Her fiancé had died and here Alex was casually mentioning her girlfriend. She was essentially throwing salt and spitting on an open wound. When they had first become friends, not googling Mack had seemed like the respectful thing to do. The fact her whole life was online while Alex’s wasn’t made it feel invasive to look more into her friend’s life. In this instance, it would have been better to know and while she of course couldn’t have realized that, she felt terrible.

“Mack,” she spoke as she reached a hand out hesitantly to grab her friend’s, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She squeezed her friend's hand and wished there was anything she could do to take the pain away. Hell, she’d even be okay with a jump back in time to ten minutes ago so that she could avoid bringing up her own girlfriend in front of someone who was grieving. Her heart was racing in her chest despite the comforts she was surrounded by. No part of her could even imagine losing Cass that way and she’d only known the oread for a few months. “You don’t have to explain or tell me anything else unless you ever want to. But I will, ok? And like, consider my lips sealed in the simping department.”

When Mack stood up, all she could do was simply nod as she answered, “I’m fine. I’ll just be here deciding which squishmellow is my favorite.” And thinking about what an ass she made of herself, but Mack didn’t need to know that. She hugged onto one of the stuffed animals that looked like a wolf in a strawberry as the zombie left the room and sat with the weight of what she’d just learned. Some part of her wondered if she should Google what happened to avoid potentially bringing up any other touchy subjects, but some other part of her couldn’t help that Mack had lived out one of her worst fears— losing control and hurting someone she loved. If that was the case, she doubted the tabloids had anything close to the real story and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find confirmation of that. It felt too personal. While she wasn’t sure of the best way to proceed, the werewolf promised herself she’d be a better friend to Mack and do her best to make things easier instead of harder like she had done today. It was unspoken, but she could only hope time proved to Mack that she had someone she could trust in her.

#wr mack #gun use tw #threads; with mack #threads; with mack; barbie sleepover take 2 #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

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