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birrdies · 7 months

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“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

#desert duo #desert duo fic #scarian #<- just in case #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #birdie writes #sometimes I forget I am a writer and forget to post the things I’ve been writing like a madman #blame fishbloc for making me post this one

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soov · 1 month

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TDWP　⌒ ✶　𝐎𝐎𝟏. capture the flag, sunghoon!　

warnings : wounds, blood, cursing.

Aphrodite’s favorite son panted heavily, the rustling sound coming from fallen, dry leaves playing with his messy senses. Blood oozed from the cut he got on his hand from fighting a monster moments ago. He felt his faux blond strands (that he took his sweet time to wash last night) stick to his forehead, mud and sweat covering them.

Park Sunghoon hated Fridays, and especially capture the flag games.

If only the camp director, Mr. Dawoon, was more considerate, then maybe Sunghoon’s life would be much easier.

Every Friday he would sit down at his cabin’s balcony, basking in the sunlight. His favorite pink mug with ‘Prada’s boy’ written in the middle would be filled with white chocolate peppermint tea. Not only that, but his pale skin would be covered by one of the glitter masks he stole from his friend, index pointing mockingly at the untidy demigod passersby. The blondie would be doing anything but falling on his butt in the middle of a forest.

“Jay was right. You really don’t put any of these muscles to use.”

After having his marvelous train of thought snapped in two, Sunghoon’s gaze quickly moved from his toned biceps to his two companions.

Jungwon, son of Iris, held what resembled a large sphere of light which reflected a rainbow, almost blinding Sunghoon. Standing proudly next to him was Apollo’s child, Sunoo, who aimed a golden bow at the older boy’s forehead.

“You’re absurd.” Sunoo snickered, not lowering the sonic arrow in a bit. “All of those workout routines and weird diets for you not to know how to fight.”

Rolling his eyes, the prince-like teen put up his arms to shield his vision from the glow. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you help me up already?”

The duo laughed while watching Sunghoon reach out his slathered hand for them to lift him up.

“We’re on opposite teams, Sunghoon.” Jungwon mischievously grinned, ears catching the monsters’ screeches and yelling from afar. “We can’t help the losing cabins.”

“I’ll heal your hand once the match is over.” Sunoo assured before his body swiftly twisted to the side, an arrow being launched to the source of the sound. When he turned back to Sunghoon, he took his sword out of the sheath. “Move.”

“Shit,” the blond let out a groan in despair at their bloodthirsty looks. He consoled himself for not knowing how to throw some punches, and pointed out Jungwon and Sunoo as the origin of his problems. If the gods were truly kind beings, then they would help him out, right?

Before the youngest two could take a step forward, a thick darkness materialized around them and canceled the light coming from the sphere and bow. The situation only confirmed that Park was the dearest of all the Olympus’ immortals.

Sunghoon heard grunts and bodies falling to the floor as if someone took them down. What felt like a chilly hand touched his upper arm, and the sensation of being sucked into a black void consumed him. He screamed in shock as his stomach turned upside down, similar to how you would feel in a roller coaster. He thought that his limbs were being squeezed and swapped around in an insane velocity, until the light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

Breathless pants left his lips whilst he came back to sanity, clean hand clutching his chest in horror. He slowly opened his eyes only to be met with a gray zip-up hoodie on top of a chest armor.

You — the owner of the hoodie in question — spun around to face Sunghoon, quietly observing his features.

“Are you okay? We just shadow traveled, if you didn’t know.” You spoke softly, focus set on his wide irises, and how his hurt palm rested on his knee, facing upwards. “Those two seemed ready to beat your guts up.”

He laughed at your weird choice of words while still lacking for air. “It’s because they were going to do that if you didn’t come to save me.”

Strangely enough, Sunghoon had never seen you around the camp, or if he did, he couldn’t recall it. However, something that he couldn’t pinpoint made him think that he had met you before.

You offered him a small grin, which he accepted instantly, reciprocating it. Seeing how beautiful you looked without any effort, he mused if he was actually pretty like how colleagues would compliment him.

Which facial products did you use? Did you eat anything specific for better skin? Was your face all good genetics or did his mother also bless you with unlimited beauty? And the most important question: why was there a shadow around your form, and why did you seem so intimidating, yet so gentle?

The teenager got up, dusting himself off. He felt gross, though he didn’t let it stop him from reaching out an amicable hand for the second time that day.

“I’m Park Sunghoon, son of Aphrodite.” He spoke as if you and all the camp didn’t know who he was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for saving my life.”

You had to bite back a snort at his dramatic introduction, limiting your actions to an eyebrow raise and a blank stare. “Yn Ln. The pleasure is all mine.”

A familiar voice yelled out your name and you tsked, sharply intaking your surroundings to leave in the right direction.

“I think it’s better if we go now.” Gloominess began to pool at your feet while you saluted him with two fingers. “That scream was my leave. Go to Cabin 7 to get some treatment after the game.”

“Oh! Um– Yeah, will do.” The demigod nodded in astonishment when you didn’t complete the handshake. He didn’t care when it was his stinky friends teasing him, but it was different when someone this gorgeous rejected him. It was all because of his messy appearance. It definitely was.

You disappeared, and Sunghoon stood back, staring at the trees to gather his thoughts. He was determined to win now, and he would do his best to kill every monster and capture the flag. After that, he would find you again — he still needed to know what was your skincare routine.

Maybe Fridays weren’t so bad, after all.

past 𓏸 archive 𓏸 future

GENRE opposites attract, percy jackson au, smau | PAiRiNG park sunghoon & f!reader

#꒰ 💌 ꒱ㅤׁㅤTDWP.#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #enha x reader #enha smau #enha social media au #enha socmed au #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon smau #sunghoon social media au #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon smau

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szynkaaa · 11 months

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My other rebind book trade has reached its destination, this time to @octobindery (instagram)

Howl's Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones! This book has been on my want-to-rebind list since I first picked it up, so I'm really really really happy that I'm able to rebind this for Lisa! Thank you so so so so much for doing this trade with me, and I cannot wait to do more with you in the future

About the bind: ✦ Duo bookcloth and frog vinyl htv gold metallic ✦ struggled with the htv gold at first, it did not want to stick but turns out I was impatient and did not wait for it to cool down ✦ Dust jacket illustration is drawn by me on Clip Studio Paint, I think this is also my first Howl's Moving Castle fanart ever ✦ endpapers are redraws of two scenes from the movie, foiled on silver ✦ Howl's heart on the cover glows on flash photos!

#book binding #bookbinding #howl's moving castle #studio ghibli #ghibli #diana wynne Jones #eggfriedpenguin

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northsoulss · 1 year

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1am - k. seungmin

fluff </33 (if i see another couple in public im sleeping on the highway)

the night was cold, your blanket was bunched up to your nose, leaving only your eyes exposed as you rewatched Brooklyn nine-nine for the third time on your phone. you were huddled in the comfort of your bedroom, the only light source being your phone screen and the small lamp next to you.

it was yet another day of you waiting on seungmin. it was like any other night, except you were missing him a little more than usual today.

as you watched rosa and captain holt continue to be the best possible duo in the show, you did not notice the apartment door opening and the jiggling of seungmin's keys, the pattering of his feet on the hardwood floors unnoticed.

just as he was about to announce that he was home with a contented smile on his face, he saw that you weren't in the living room. seeing that you were not at your usual spot on the couch had him puzzled and slightly worried. were you okay? did something happen to you? his mind continued to race as he opened the bedroom door, only to see you covered in a mountain of pillows and blankets. he felt his shoulders relax seeing you safe, a smile reappearing on his face seeing your head jolt towards his direction.

your eyes lit up when you saw him, nearly slipping as you ran towards him and engulfed him in a hug. he swore he felt his heart beat out of his chest from the way you nuzzled into him.

“hello to you too.” he coos, caressing the top of your head.

“hi.” the sound of your voice is muffled as you hide your face in his shirt, breathing in the smell of the perfume that you got him for his birthday. it made your heart flutter knowing that he wore it everyday, without failure.

“i missed you, so much.” you tilt your head up to see the soft smile he had adorned, a slight crinkle forming around his eyes. there was so much fondness in them your legs nearly buckled from the sight.

“missed you too.” he squeezes your body towards his, giving you a near bone crushing hug. you did not mind it of course, only squeezing back with the same force.

he chuckles, an amused expression forming on his face as you tried to lift him off the ground. alas, to no avail. to your surprise, he turned you around and lifted you off the ground with ease, arms wrapped tightly around your middle so that your back was pressed against his chest. he waddles to the bed and crashes onto it, still holding you against him.

you two lay there on the bed like two teenagers doing something that they weren't supposed to do, giggling and smiling at each other like idiots in love. you faced him, his arm propping his head up to look down at you. he was breathtaking, and he knew it. he grins, sticking out his tongue at you and you've never wanted more than to just kiss that smug look off his face. so, you decide to pull his arm close to you, so that he was inches away from you.

he laughs as you peck his face repeatedly, the sound loud and unfiltered. you pull back and rest your chin on your palm, staring at him, staring back at you. there was a twinkle in his eyes, a light flush on his cheeks, the warm hue from the lamp on your nightstand made his face glow in the most ethereal way.

he was gorgeous. so, so gorgeous. the way his lips were upturned, the way he smiled so that all his teeth showed. you wondered how he looked so endearing despite coming back at such an ungodly hour.

“you wanna know something?” seungmin says out of the blue, catching you off guard. you tilt you head in confusion, and he swears he falls in love all over again.

“what?” you question, anticipation clear in your voice.

“i love you so much,” he takes a big inhale, “and i genuinely think you outshine the sun even on your darkest days." oh wow. you were not expecting his confession, especially one on that level of grandeur.

“well, it is like 1am so there is no sun to compare with,” you say with a teasing grin, watching the love sick expression on seungmin’s face be replaced with a “i am so done with you" look.

“i’m never being sappy with you ever again.” he huffs and turns to the other side, his arms crossed and letting out fake cries.

this man.

“love you too, baby.” you lean over to peck his exposed shoulder, smiling when you feel goosebumps rise on his skin.

#seungmin fluff #seungmin #skz fluff #stray kids #skz #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #seungmin skz #stray kids seungmin #seungmin imagines #skz timestamps #seungmin timestamp #SCREAMING #i want my own seungmin ok #this isnt funny anymore #northsoulss

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somehow-a-human · 6 months

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Whose POV is it Anyway?

Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

I'm back! I took a few days off of doing internet thingsss so I took a break from writing this series of posts but I'm back and continuing with episode 3 in its entirety!

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

Lens Filters

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

Shall we get cracking?

Episode 3 gifts us the arrival of Muriel! Sweet adorable Muriel! We see them arrive to the bookshop, with the Bronze Glimmer Glass filter in full effect. Aziraphale is the only one there so it makes sense we'll have Aziraphale's POV to start. Cupperteas ensue, and Crowley arrives to be grumpy but fully accepting that Aziraphale is taking their car, I mean, he's already brought the plants inside. His sideburns are long here as well.

When the duo head into the backroom to discuss what's going on, the filter changes, the lighting is much cooler toned, and we're now looking through the Black Diffusion FX filter in Crowley's POV. Crowley's sideburns are also short now, and if my theory that POV is also correlating with his hair length, it's standing here.

As Aziraphale drives off, we see Crowley watch him from the window and sigh, sideburns still short, still his POV.

I'm going to stick to the present day storyline and switch to the bodysnatchers minisode at the end!

The time Aziraphale and Crowley spend apart in this episode is interesting to say the least. If we're trying to look at the lighting and possible lens filters used to determine the narrator or POV for these scenes... I think they're switched!

When we see Aziraphale driving the Bentley, the scene isn't awash with glowy warm lighting which we know isn't reserved just to the bookshop since we've seen it used in the record shop, coffee shop, and in the Job flashback.

It's rather cool toned lighting for a yellow bentley. Aziraphale's whole trip to Edinburgh is cool toned. The time he spends in The Resurrectionist, the graveyard, everything. I would have expected Aziraphale's magical little newspaperman cosplaying extravaganza to be dripping in his golden glow through the gorgeous Edinburgh when I started thinking about the scenes and these lense filters and these metas.

But then you look at the opposite, Crowley alone in the bookshop with Jim. Something he would hate right? Sounds like worst case scenario for him. He loves the bookshop but he's there alone with Gabriel who tried to kill the person he loves more than anything and didn't have an ounce of compassion, while Aziraphale has taken himself and his car very far away.

But what is Crowley's experience like? He and Gabriel are chummy as ever, they talk about rainstorms, vavooming, gravity. Crowley dresses down and is wearing sleeve garters? A bit old fashioned for Crowley but not for Aziraphale no? He's playing bookseller, carrying books around, albeit not quite correctly, chucking them at the end. Every scene is drenched in warm golden haze and Crowley's sideburns are long the entire time.

They aren't together, but they've always probably got one thing on their mind...

I think we're seeing these scenes through each other's eyes, or the POV is swapped if you will. Maybe that's why Crowley is wearing sleeve garters and cosplaying bookseller and being very kind to Jim? And Aziraphale is being the worlds cutest little investigator to ever exist. I think maybe they're imagining each other, or it just points to the idea that they're apart but still the only thing they're always thinking about.

Okay, cute lovebomb, now let's talk digging up dead bodies!

There isn't a lot to go off of for lighting in this minisode, but there is one detail I wanted to point out that has to do with Crowley's hair length. In all locations BUT the crypt his mutton chops are longer. When they enter the crypt both times, they are shorter.

You can see they are a distinct "J" shape in most scenes but in the crypt scenes (for example when he drinks laudanum and busts through the roof) they have been trimmed back). So if I'm going just on hair length, all scenes except the crypt are Aziraphale's POV.

If you can look past my terrible image quality, you can see on the right image his chops are notched where on the left they're doing the opposite.

POV 1941

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cherry-blossom-20 · 6 months

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hey! i have a request for rafe x reader! i was thinking of enemies to lovers with rafe but with john b’s sister. like rafe isn’t that bad like in the show but he still has some problems, but then he’ll grow a soft spot for the reader. ofc only if you’re willing to write this.

I have always heard the rumors about Rafe Cameron – the bad boy from Outer Banks with the reputation that preceded him. Fighting, drinking, drugs, you name it. My brother John B, and my other friends, JJ, Pope, Kiara, and Rafes very own sister Sarah, all seem to have a history with him, one filled with tension, and animosity. I have never had a bad interaction with Rafe, but I chose my brother's side in the feud, listening to the rumors and avoiding Rafe at all costs.

JJ's mischievous grin lit up his face. "Hey, guys, have you heard about the boneyard party happening tonight? It's gonna be epic!"

Pope raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “I dont know guys, I have to work in the morning with my dad and if I dont show up again, I think he might actually kill me. “

Kiara, up for an adventure, leaned in eagerly. "Come on, Pope, where's your sense of fun? It's just a party! Count me in."

Sarah, usually the voice of reason in the group, bit her lip, torn between caution and curiosity. "I don't know, guys. What if something goes wrong? I know Rafe and the rest of the Kook possy are going."

John B, the leader, chimed in with a grin. "Aw, don't be such a buzzkill, Sarah. We can handle anything that comes our way. Let's make tonight legendary!"

feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension, I hesitated before finally nodding. "Okay, let's go. But we stick together, no matter what, deal?"

The group exchanged determined nods, a sense of camaraderie and adventure binding them together. And as we made our way out of the chateu, the promise of the boneyard party looming ahead.

The night air was cool and salty as we made out way through the darkened beach towards the party. The distant sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to our journey, adding an ambiance to the scene full of Pogues, Kooks and Tourons.

As we approached the flickering bonfire at the heart of the party, shadows danced around the sandy clearing, casting strange shapes on the worn-out boats and debris scattered around. The glow of the fire illuminated the faces of the partygoers, their laughter mingling with the crackle of flames.

I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as we stepped into the heart of the boneyard party, the air thick with anticipation and mystery. Sarah clutched her arm, a silent gesture of support, while Kiara and Pope exchanged curious glances, taking in the scene with a mix of awe and wariness.

JJ, always the first to dive into the unknown, let out a low whistle. "This place is wild, I love it!" His voice carried over the sounds of the party, drawing the attention of a few revelers who nodded in agreement.

John B, the protector, threw his arm over my shoulder while scanning the crowd with a watchful eye, ensuring that they stayed close together amidst the throng of people. "Let's stick together, guys. I dont want anything happening to anyone" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of the party.

As we weaved through the crowd at the boneyard party, my eyes scanning the faces illuminated by the flickering bonfire, a familiar figure caught my attention. Rafe Cameron stood at the edge of the firelight, his posture relaxed yet commanding, a hint of mystery in his gaze as he surveyed the party.

Kiara nudged me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Look who decided to show up," she whispered, nodding towards Rafe. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in my chest.

As we continued to move through the party, another familiar face came into view. Kielce, Rafe's best friend, stood nearby, his easy smile contrasting with Rafe's more enigmatic presence. The dynamic duo seemed to exude an aura of confidence and danger that drew the attention of the partygoers around them.

Pope's jaw clenched at the sight of Rafe, a hint of tension in his stance as he exchanged a wary glance with JJ. "Those Kooks are always up to no good," Pope muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with unease.

And just as we were about to turn away and walk in a different direction, a voice cut through the chatter of the party. "Well, well, well, looks like some Pogues decided to crash our little shindig." Topper, Rafe's friend, swaggered towards them with a smirk, his presence casting a shadow over the group.

My heart raced as the tension in the air thickened, the unexpected reunion with Rafe, Kielce, and Topper adding a new layer of complexity to the already charged atmosphere of the boneyard party.

I met Rafe's gaze, his piercing blue eyes looking right into mine. My voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. "We're just here to have a good time, same as everyone else."

John B stepped forward pushing me behind him, his protective instincts kicking in. "We don't want any trouble. Just let us enjoy the party."

Rafe's expression softened slightly as he glanced at me. "I'm not here to cause problems either. Just trying to have a good time with my friends."

JJ eyed the Kooks warily, while blowing out a puff of smoke from the blunt he just lit, his voice cautious. "You guys have a habit of stirring up trouble wherever you go. We'd rather avoid any drama tonight."

Kiara, always one to diffuse tension with humor, flashed a grin at Topper. "Come on, Topper, can't we all just get along for one night? It's a party, after all."

Sarah, sensing the underlying tension, spoke up softly. "Let's just enjoy the night and try to stay out of each other's way. No need for things to escalate."

As we walked away from the conversation with Rafe, Kelce, and Topper, the air crackled with unspoken tension. We found a spot closer to the beach and settled down, the sound of waves a comforting backdrop.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling Rafe's intense gaze on her. The rest of the group noticed, their expressions darkening. John B, clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Rafe needs to back off," Kiara muttered, her voice low but firm.

"Yeah, whats his problem now?l," Jj added, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

Sarah sighed. "Let's just enjoy our time here. Ignore him. We won't let him ruin it for us."

We huddled closer, our laughter mingling with the sound of the ocean, a shield against the unwelcome presence of Rafe.

We lounged along the beach, the sound of crashing waves mingling with our laughter and banter. Empty cups that were full of beer on the ground and the blunt JJ lit up is passed around as we enjoyed the salty breeze and the warmth of the setting sun.

As the evening settled in, I felt a sudden thirst creeping up, I looked in my cup noticing it was empty. Standing up, brushing sand off my shorts, "I'm gonna grab a drink. I'll be right back."

John B, Kiara, Jj, Pope, and Sarah all looked up, concern flickering in their eyes.

John B offered, "I'll come with you." starting to stand up from his place in the sand.

Kiara chimed in, "Yeah, we can all go together."

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. "It's okay, guys. I'll just be quick. Stay here, ill be right back."

With a chorus of "Be careful" and "Don't take too long," the group watched as I made my way towards the Keg, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow around me. They settled back into their circle, keeping an eye on my retreating figure as I disappeared into the crowd.

As I waited at the keg, a drunk guy approached me, his slurred words and wandering hands making my skin crawl.

"Hey, beautiful, why are you alone?" one of them slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol.

My discomfort grew as I tried to push him away. "I'm not interested. Please leave me alone."

But the guy persisted, his grip tightening on my arm. Panic rising, I looked over to friends, but they were engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to my distress.

Just when I felt trapped, Rafe appeared beside me, his presence commanding. Without a word, he pushed the guy away, his expression fierce. The drunk guy stumbled back, surprised by the sudden intervention.

"Back off, man," Rafe growled, his voice low and menacing.

I felt a surge of relief as Rafe stood protectively by her side, his actions speaking louder than words.

Drunk Man: "Hey, dude, what's your problem? She was just having some fun."

Rafe: "Fun? Putting your hands on someone without their consent is not fun. Leave her alone."

Drunk Man: *laughs* "Who do you think you are, man? She's fair game at a place like this."

Rafe: *steps closer, his jaw clenched* "No one is 'fair game.' You need to learn some respect."

Drunk Man: *backs off slightly, sensing Rafe's intensity* "Fine, man, whatever. She's not worth the trouble."

Rafe: *fixes him with a steely gaze* "Remember this. No means no. Don't let me catch you bothering anyone else tonight, or Ill escourt you off the beach myself. Youre lucky I havent done it already."

The drunk man mumbles something unintelligible and stumbles away, leaving me alone with Rafe, grateful for Rafe's intervention. As the tension dissipates, I turn to him with a mix of relief and gratitude.

Y/N: "Thank you, Rafe. I really appreciate it."

Rafe: *offers a reassuring smile* "No problem. Just looking out for you."

Y/N: “Well im gonna head back before John B starts to worry, thanks again.”

As I started to make my way back from the Keg, a familiar figure fell into step beside her. Rafe's presence was unexpected but not unwelcome, his protective aura a comforting shield against the bustling crowd.

"I can walk you back to your friends," Rafe offered, his tone gentle yet firm.

I nodded gratefully, appreciating the gesture. As we approached the Pogues, I sensed the tension radiating from John B, Kiara, Jj, Pope, and Sarah. Their expressions hardened as they watched Rafe by my side.

John B's voice was sharp with concern as he demanded, "What's going on here?"

Rafe stepped forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "There was a situation at the keg. I just wanted to make sure she got back safely."

I quickly explained, "He helped me when a drunk guy wouldn't leave me alone. Rafe intervened, and I'm okay."

John B's anger softened into gratitude as he turned to Rafe, his voice sincere. "Thanks for looking out for her. We appreciate it."

The tension ebbed away as they realized Rafe's intentions were genuine. I felt a sense of relief as the Pogues thanked Rafe, without any issues. Rafe bid his goodbyes and walked back over to his group.

As the night drew to a close, we started to gather our belongings, heading toward the twinkie ready to head home. As I was getting in the van, Rafe approached, a nervous look in his eyes.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" Rafe asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Curious, I nodded and followed Rafe a few steps away from the group. The others exchanged knowing glances, a spark of anticipation in the air.

Rafe took a deep breath before blurting out, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out on a date with me sometime?"

My surprise melted into a warm smile as I met Rafe's gaze. The night had been filled with unexpected twists, but this invitation felt like the perfect ending.

"I'd love to," I replied, my voice soft but filled with genuine interest.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed it! this is my first time writing anything like this.

and to the lovely person who requested this, I hope I meet your expectations!

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey imagine

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moofy117 · 8 months

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Dory Verse - “New Chewtoy”

Feral JD belongs to @draco-after-dark

Grey JD belongs to @ijjstlostthegame

Brotherhood JD belongs to @0ketlyn-s and @tea0w0stache

Royal Council JD belongs to me

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls oc #royal council trolls #brotherhood au #Grey John Dory #feral john dory au #RC made a new friend…? enemy…? Frienemy.#the glow stick duo

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stardustgates · 9 months

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Author’s Notes: Possibly OOC behaviour? I’ve done my best to stick by Canon as much as I can, but given I’m a newer player, I don’t know the relationship between Kafka and Silver Wolf or the characters individually as well I’d like to. Though I did do my best, please be aware that I may have taken some creative liberties in their characterisation and inner thoughts regarding each other. Also I am aware that this may just be 5.5k words of nonsensical BS but I haven’t written proper fanfiction in a hot minute so take it with a grain of salt. Not so much of a reader/canon thing and more like a reader AND canon thing currently. Perhaps that will change in future works, who’s to say? Oh yeah this is a SAGAU.

Warnings: Canonical In-game violence, references and descriptions of dissociation via player-induced body possession, references to drug use (one sentence), yandere tones if you squint really hard (shes a slowburner ya’ll), and a single swear word :3

Beyond the mind, within your body.

Description: Unaware that your presence has been made apparent to the eccentric duo during your first run through of Honkai Star Rail, you happily indulge yourself in the immersive (tutorial) world before your eyes. Kafka and Silver Wolf attempt to adjust to the feeling it brings, which leaves their minds constantly switching between distrust and euphoria, and all the things in between.

Word Count: 5.5k

Hoyoverse’s newest game hadn’t seemed much to your liking when you’d first heard the announcement. For one thing, you weren’t particularly pleased with the constant stream of ‘HONKAI STAR RAIL - PLAY NOW’ interrupting your YouTube doom-scrolling every other ad; Not to mention, you weren’t very keen on the gacha aspect.

Within your small circle of friends, you’d been known to cave easily when attractive anime characters were involved and you weren’t planning on another hyperfiction to solidify your position as the group’s resident simp. That being said, with such a title swaying above your head like a shiny silver dagger, you’d held a metaphorical death grip on your wallet, solemnly swearing that you’d keep your distance from the game for as long you were able.

Ultimately that so-called iron will of yours didn’t last so much as a year, as just seven months after its release a simple character trailer was enough to break your steadfast resilience. Well, it wasn’t ‘simple’, if you were being honest with yourself- It was a brilliantly unique masterpiece, tailored to the exact essence and spirit of his character. You were sure Argenti wouldn’t be released for a good while, so you decided to pick up the game and grind what you could before his arrival.

That was your plan at least. Your friend had warned you a few months prior (Though admittedly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.) that the download and installation would take an exhaustingly long time. Well, it was better than Genshin Impact had been- but still, you were getting bored and subsequently decided to fetch yourself something to drink in the meantime.

With your back turned to the loading screen, you waltzed out of your bedroom with little care in the world- oblivious to the ominous glowing cracks slowly sprawling across the screen of your device.

As you returned a few moments later, you found that it had finally finished installing! You’d certainly waited long enough. Sure, it wasn’t as soul-sucking as Genshin had been but your patience wasn't that of a saint’s either. With a renewed sense of anticipation, you hit start and breezed through the usual terms and conditions without reading anything and let out a sigh at the beautiful change in scenery.

It perhaps wasn't the smartest idea to skip it completely- but you had spent so long waiting already that you weren’t going to bother wasting time reading a document filled with dolled-up words you could barely pronounce.

✄————————————————

Herta’s Space Station’s defences hadn't been particularly difficult to slip past surprisingly, though Kafka didn’t recall any mention of difficulty regarding entry in Elio’s script, so she supposed the lack of security wasn’t of any particular importance.

Despite the calm confidence that usually accompanied her on these little operations, Kafka couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched. It wasn’t the usual sort of lingering gaze or sharpened stare, but a vague pulsating heartbeat that faded in and out, as though blinking through blurry vision.

Needless to say, she kept her guard up. Playing none the wiser and bowing mid-air to the tempo of a rather graceful tune. She forced her shoulders to relax and gently swayed her body, controlling her every little move with practised ease- even as that strange pulsating presence slowly sped up and stroked the fires of an oncoming headache- as the elevator descended to the station’s ‘ground’ floor.

(You remained none the wiser to her sudden awareness, the rapidly changing scenes flashing past your eyes far too quickly to pick up on a single, brief second of stillness in her body.)

A sudden explosion reverberates across the station's cold, metallic body and brings Kafka’s impromptu air-violin session to a screeching halt. Simultaneously, that presence settles over her body like a thick blanket of fog. That ‘gaze’ she had felt becoming so vivid she could feel its weight pressing down on her tongue.

She has little time to process the feeling before the usual blueish glow of Silver Wolf’s communications screen flickers into existence before her very eyes.

“... Seems I came at a bad time.”

“No, No – I think you couldn’t’ve timed it better. Twenty-three-fourty-seven-fifteen system time. Very punctual, Kafka.” Silver Wolf almost sounds impressed, though Kafka suspects she’s only trying to butter her up so she’ll let the girl go off task again. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she would have been kind enough to allow it, but with the nature of their current mission and this inexplicable presence, Kafka doesn't find herself in a very generous mood.

Kafka merely hums in response and ignores the empty praise.

“Elio always tells the exact future. So What’s with the explosion just now? Was that part of his script?” Silver Wolf picks up on her cue to focus without any fuss.

“Twenty-three-four-four-fifty-nine system time: The pulses from the explosion cause a massive breakdown from the master control system.”

Pulses. Perhaps it’s linked to the feeling curling itself around her senses?

“You did that?” Kafka doubts that Silver Wolf would waste effort on something so minor.

“No, the antimatter legion did it. They completely invaded the space station two system hours ago.” She whistles in response and glances down the glass panelling to the approaching ground floor. A small group… annoying, but manageable.

“Alright, so do we need to fight the legion?”

“Dunno, Elio didn’t say anything about it, so it doesn’t matter.” Hmm. Silver Wolf made a good point.

“Got it. So from now on, I'll be in charge of this operation.” She feels that tingle of a smirk reach the corner of her mouth, and smiles a little wider in anticipation.

“Copy. Can you let me have some fun this time? Our last few operations turned out to be pretty dull.” Kafka lets out a playful hum as she ponders over her colleague’s request with faux consideration. She can practically hear Silver Wolf’s stifled groan in the second of silence that passes.

“...Sorry~ I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you- our task this time is just to ‘place’ the target properly.”

Her choice of words is careful, though not enough to cause any alert in potential eavesdroppers. The feeling still hasn’t left.

“But if you wanna go look for some fun yourself, I won’t stop you.”

“I mean… after all…” she chuckles lightly as the blue hologram blips out of her vision, and reaches for the holsters tucked into her lower back. “After all…” Kafka readjusts her footing just in time to watch the elevator’s doors slide open, the sound of metal dragging against metal pinching at her ears.

“Elio didn’t put it in the script… Why would it matter?”

Just as the impact from her gunshots flitters across her skin, Kafka feels her mind being pulled back to the edge of her skull.

The group of voidrangers in front of her feel distant and smudged, the sockets of her eyes creating a blurred tunnel of vision that refuse adjust no matter how much she tries to blink it away. Their dark forms bleed into black speckles that crowd her already limited vision until she’s staring directly into the singed edges of the universe.

Kafka’s body… is no longer hers to command.

✄————————————————

She returns to her mind with startling swiftness. Her memories of the brief battle suddenly bubbling up as though pushing themselves through a thick soup of aether. She feels disconnected from the memory but can at least recall that she’d lost control of her body before blacking out.

She attempts to think back on that burnt, golden memory but is stopped by a sudden wave of nausea. She opts to set that aside for another time and refocus on the operation. Elio had not mentioned this happening anywhere in the script- so either this had no significance or…

Still, those Voidrangers hadn’t proved to be much trouble- in fact, they’d been less of an annoyance than she had prepared for. Either she’d been far more ruthless than intended or the antimatter legion had lost its touch.

“When did the anti-matter legion become so weak?” She asks out loud.

“I could only attract this much. Did you really want the entire legion to come here?” Silver Wolf speaks in feigned annoyance, her usual behaviour.

She hadn’t even realised. Kafka chooses not to mention anything for the moment, instead opting to subtly gauge the extent of control this presence… or rather... Entity, seems to have over her.

“This lot won’t be able to slow down the Astral Express crew.” Silver Wolf sighs in response on the other end of the device.

“Relax, a doomsday beast is also here.”

As she approaches one of the station’s automatic doors, Kafka feels it slip back into her body as if wearing her like a coat. Its influence feels… less heavy than it previously had been a few moments ago. At the very least she remains conscious this time; A strange lightness in her feet as she feels herself stealth towards a lone voidranger lounging about the area.

Her movements come to her now like instinct, striking down enemies with admittedly far more efficiency than she was naturally capable of. If it weren’t for her body being strung along like a puppet against her will, she’d almost be grateful for the power and resiliency it granted her.

Kafka has barely had her fill before a euphoric sense of power seems to swell up all at once; Killer instinct pumping through her veins like a well-oiled machine.

Ahh. Now this… this particular feeling wasn’t so bad.

Truthfully she’d liked to have toyed with this one a bit longer, but she knew all too well that it wouldn't manage to survive her next attack. She chatters to no one in particular, the ecstasy in her mind clouding whatever decorum she would have usually displayed.

“Good times never last… time to say bye.”

“Ah- She’s so cool…”

Kafka tenses up at the stranger’s voice, just as the swirling dark mass in front of her collapses into itself.

She sheathes her sword and adjusts her gloves, ignoring the voidranger approaching her from behind. Just before its darkened claws reach her, Silver Wolf’s ability activates no more than a hands-width from her shoulder blades.

“Cleaning up other people’s mess isn’t in my job description… y’know Kafka?” Silver Wolf huffs out, but her voice has no real bite in it. Was it her? She wasn’t usually one to doubt herself, but that fog of exhilaration certainly could have played with her mind.

“Yeah, yeah. Where did you send it Silver Wolf?”

Kafka turns in time to hear the gooey pop of the silver-haired girl’s bubblegum as she hops to her feet. She isn’t sure if it's Strawberry or Grape, but the artificial sweetness and scent of no-fruit-in-particular is so strong it actually grounds her mind for a moment.

She sighs for no real reason, but it brings her relief regardless.

Oh.

She hadn’t realised how bad her headache was.

“Some random Co-ordinates, not important.” She avoids Kafka’s gaze for a reason she couldn’t care to name before taking on an adorably defiant stance, her hands placed at her hips as though it would help her short stature in any way.

“You care about where that voidranger ended up?” She doesn’t. But she’d rather think about that than, well… She didn’t know what to call it at this point. But it was distracting and she needed to focus on literally anything else for the sake of what sanity she had left.

Though some could argue that she wasn’t sane at all- which was only half true because most people’s definition of sanity varied greatly from her own.

Oh, Silver Wolf was still blinking up at her expectantly.

“Of course not- I’m just amazed at this fancy technique of yours, as usual.” she smiles down at her colleague, who only rolls her eyes in response. To the girl’s credit, she’d been dealing with Kafka’s empty flattery for quite a long time.

“Just a little trick of tampering with the data of reality, I wouldn't call it fancy.” Kafka smiles a little wider, following behind as Silver Wolf strolls down the hallway. Her tells were always so obvious.

“What were you looking at just now? Let me see.” Silver Wolf huffs a bit as she settles herself onto a desk and faces her.

“Herta’s toys,” she begins in an almost mocking tone

“A catalogue featuring the space station’s collection of rare items.” Her fingers briefly tug on the white fluff of her jacket as she speaks “They’ve got quite a looot of interesting gadgets~”

Kafka’s previous interest (however feigned it may have been) dies down a little at the prospect of these ‘gadgets’ but nonetheless she indulges Silver Wolf’s unspoken desire to share what information she’d dug up.

“Like what?”

“There’s this gun, it can rate any creature within its crosshair as a score from 0 to 100.”

“... Doesn't sound very interesting.” Her brows pinch together and her mouth stretches into a thin line of clear disappointment. Not one to be disheartened so easily, Silver Wolf continues on

“Aren’t you curious how much you would score? I kinda wanna know mine.”

So this is what she’d been hinting at since earlier. Kafka crosses her arms and takes on the tone of an exasperated mother having finally given up after being nagged at for far, far longer than the reality of it.

“Fine. I guess we can swing by and play with it, if it’s not too far. What’s our destination?” She redirects Silver Wolf’s distractable attention onto their current objective with practised ease.

Hmm.

She feels a little cold for some reason… and those watchful eyes haven't left during the entirety of their conversation. Kafka’s guard raises a little further than before.

Her colleague’s eyes flit down to a small blue hologram, her fingers swiping past various screens until arriving at what Kafka could only presume was a list of directions given to her by Elio.

“Go down the corridor, behind the door… ooon the left. There’s a room where some kind of rare item is stored.”

Kafka feels the entity strongly now, she stares just beyond Silver Wolf’s shoulders where it feels most concentrated. The feeling she is met with is a dense smouldering hotness. It’s like melting iron dripping down her throat and burning it in the process. It feels almost itchy.

She redirects her gaze back to Silver Wolf far quicker than she’d intended to and resists the urge to scratch at her throat.

“So that’s where the Stellaron is?” Kafka is somewhat relieved when the feeling seems to simmer down. She once again debates speaking on the sensation during the slightest lull in their conversation but when Silverwolf turns her head back to face her, she finds the girl’s gaze to be much sharper than before.

“That's where we can find out where the Stellaron is.”

Kafka immediately knows that Silverwolf has finally caught on to this feeling and says nothing as she readies herself for the next half of their mission. Almost instantly, she feels the presence shift and roll over her shoulders, like a cat stretching out its limbs.

It's languid and smooth and she feels her tense- She had been tense this whole time?- muscles slowly relax until she finally feels that usual calm focus she’s so intimately familiar with. She hadn’t realised the extent of how cold she’d felt when it had stepped- strange, it feels like a person?- away.

Kafka decides that her feelings towards this... Being- She isn’t totally sure if it feels sapient, but it certainly has some form of will… That much she can tell- are mixed, to say the least. She wonders one more why Elio hadn’t mentioned anything about something so foreign and strange but sets the thought aside and refocuses on the task at hand.

She locks eyes with Silverwolf briefly, and just as she thought, Silverwolf is most definitely aware of it at this point.

“The central area of the space station is up ahead. There’ll be loads of Legion Void rangers there.” Silver Wolf hops to her feet and saunters toward the door’s control panel. A bit too casual to be natural, but it doesn't cause the feeling to stir, so she says nothing.

“Okay.” Kafka breathes out.

Then that feeling of puppeteering seems to stitch itself into her mind once more, albeit in a much more faded sense- it feels more like muscle memory than it does being pulled from her own body. She allows it to pull her along and lead her toward whatever it wants. As her fingers glide over the room’s control panels and her heels click against the cold steel of the station, she feels that fog of exhilaration settle over her again- that almost euphoric surge of strength from earlier suddenly vivid and fresh in her mind.

Silverwolf seems to feel the building strength in her own body too, as she quickens her pace when they turn the corner to find themselves at the back of a particularly strong-looking voidranger. She huffs out in bemusement and half-heartedly mutters out some encouragement to her colleague.

“May as well kill them all.”

Not needing much more encouragement than that, Silverwolf leaps forward with as much grace as her short form can allow her and drags her digitally enhanced blade across the muscles and sinew of its chest. She leaps back beside Kafka as it staggers on its feet and tries to regain its footing. Kafka’s arm pulls itself up, gun in hand, and fires out a cascade of bullets that each burrow and pierce into its flesh.

“This… seems a lot easier than it should be.” Silverwolf comments under her breath quietly.

“Well, let’s count our blessings–” Kafka is cut off as her arm is singed by the blast of the voidranger’s fire canon.

“Tch. Didn’t hurt.”

Silverwolf pulls out her holographic system at such speed that Kafka feels the static waft across her skin.

“Hmph, still. This combat needs optimising.” Just as the creature aims its weapon once more, it’s hit with a blast pulled from the loosened strands of reality itself.

“At that speed? Too slow!”

Kafka almost feels sorry for it, as she watches its body disintegrate while collapsing into itself.

Unfortunately, the girls are not left with time to bask in their victory- Silver Wolf lets out a small yelp- the entity has left its place on Kafka’s shoulders and draped itself over her companion it would seem. Her short colleague adjusts to the sensation of its guiding hand far better than she had, if her losing conscious was anything to go by.

Kafka follows behind silently, eyes trained intently on the girl in front of her for any indication of danger.

“Hold it. Someone.. Or something is up ahead.” she warns quietly, arm extended out to her side like a makeshift barrier. They both come to a sudden halt as the entity violently rips itself from their bodies and settles just beyond their skin.

Goosebumps this time.

The cold seems to get worse and worse each time it separates from them… well, her. Silver Wolf grits her teeth. Kafka notes the tiny pearl of sweat rolling down the side of her face. Still a shock to the system then.

“Looks like we’re the ones getting ambushed.”

“...But they’re the ones getting besieged.”

✄————————————————

The game has felt pretty cool so far, and you quite like this Kafka woman. You don’t recall her being part of the main cast your friend had rambled about however many months ago it was, but you hoped you’d get to see a lot more of her.

Her design was really nice- though strangely familiar?- and her voice was pretty too! Silver Wolf was alright, but she hadn’t really caught your interest so far, so you werent sure what to make of her yet.

They did seem to be close though, but less like friends and more like tired workmates who’d been stuck in the same dead end job for a decade- that is to say, it definitely felt like they were used to dealing with each other’s nonsense.

Were they a ship? You could see it. Ah, another battle, sweet!

The combat system Star Rail used wasnt particularly innovative or anything, but it’s playstyle was strangely addictive- especially the Ult animations! Kafka’s especially had you nearly squealing with how badass it was. Did the MC have a cool one too? You could hardly wait to see.

✄————————————————

The mood is light despite the circumstances, they both feel a sense of safety and confidence while the presence pulls them along, as though leading them in a dance. The Voidranger’s movements stand out like a pindrop in an empty room. Predictable, and delectably so.

Silver Wolf barks out a short, quick laugh- a taunting thing that aggravates the musclehead stomping around in front of her- before decapitating the creature in a single, swift move.

“You took the bait, just like that?” Her jubilance is cut short by an attack from her blindspot, it isnt fatal- hell it barely counts as a battle wound- but its enough to flip her mood in the opposite direction. “Tch.”

Kafka laughs lightly at her, amused with her momentary lapse in spacial awareness. Silver Wolf scoffs and scowls lightly at her. Really, like she hadn’t gotten hit before?

Just as she opens her mouth to hurl a barely-an-insult-but-im-still-annoyed-with-you comment towards the magenta haired woman next to her, Kafka’s aura shifts somewhat. Time seems to slow down for a second as Silver Wolf watches the woman’s pupils dilate in slow motion.

Had she appeared like this? When that wave of energy had swelled within her?

She receives no answer to her unvoiced question, and instead hears Kafka’s voice ring through out her ears.

“That breathing sensation. Remember it.” Silver Wolf gulps in a breath of blood-scented air and breathes out a sickly, golden-sweet taste. As Kafka’s bullets rain down upon the bodies of their would-be-ambushers she can't help but feel pure ecstasy in the moment. Truly…if this was a drug she’d be hooked like a fish to water.

Even just being near it is enough to cloud her mind.

“Alright, now that that’s over with…” Silver Wolf’s body relaxes significantly as Kafka speaks, the strength of whatever had possessed them slowing dripping out from their bodies like tree sap. She feels like she just got a massage.

“I could get used to that.” She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, but it feels appropriate to voice. Kafka ignores her and spins her around to face the door, and Silver Wolf seems to go into auto pilot as she unlocks the control panel blocking their path, stepping lightly as her taller colleague gently pushes her forward without a word.

The monitoring room is completley empty. Nothing but the quiet beeping of a few monitors and the rustling of swaying leaves, courtesy of the air conditioning unit humming softly above them.

“Huh. not a single soul here. Impressive evacuation work. Did herta organise it herself?” Kafka seems mildly impressed- and entirely unaffected by the sensation Silver Wolf is still trying to shake from her skin.

“According to the access history, she hasnt logged in her for over six months. The evacuation was directed by the acting lead researcher - a girl named Asta.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, right. Elio said we wouldn’t run into herta. It seems she really isnt here.” Though something else definitely was, but Silver Wolf supposed they weren’t going to be making any conversation on that topic.

She sighs, and scrolls through her holograms nonchalantly.

“Elio’s Script doesnt include any info about the location of the stellaron. Which means in the future he foresees…”

“... we would find the stellaron in a non-physical way?” Kafka crosses her arms, easily having picked up on her train of thought and already dipping her metaphorical toes into several different plans of action. She was always efficient like that. Silver Wolf strolls over to the water cooler and pours herself a cold cup. She gestures to Kafka who only shakes her head in response.

“This space station is packed with extraordinary objects, I wouldnt be surprised if theres one that can make it happen.” She takes a long sip, the cooling sensation bringing relief to her sweltering body. The combat efficiency was nice, but she was left feeling like an overheating graphics disk everytime it took control of her. She idles on a page in her hologram briefly before continuing on her scroll-fest.

“Hiding something extraordinary with something extraordinary… this is pretty Herta. I assume you know what to do? I mean, You’ve been reading that cataogue for a while?” Ah. Perseptive as ever, Kafka never changes. She ignores the heat building in her ears at the prospect of being caught slacking-off, and bins the styrofoam cup as she turns to the older woman.

“Hmph. I’ve got all the clues we need. The only piece missing is a simple trick- maybe this entity thats been stringing us along could lend a hand? After all, it doesnt have a physical form.”

(You didn’t expect them to involve the player like this! What an awesome storytelling device, and it would hopefully grant a lot more player agency too! Hoyoverse had truly out done themselves this time. Feeling a surge of excitement at being learning you’ll be able to lend a helping hand ‘directly’, you decide that Silver Wolf is also really cool.)

Kafka says nothing in response, only staring down at Silver Wolf in consideration.

“Why dont we have it help us investigate the terminals around here, that item we’re looking for may be inside.” The magenta haired woman only sighs, internally cursing the girl’s lack of caution. Though… she couldnt deny that it had only been helping them so far.

“Alright, lets give it the spotlight.”

“Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck this up…” Kafka stills. The same voice from before. So it can speak? She tucks the information away in her mind for later.

She watches it guide her along the messily arranged desks and flickering monitors. Stopping at a memory storage cart- which is, of course, missing its memory. Not useful for her current objective, but it at least told her that whatever it was could see the same things she could.

“...I cant see the memory storage for this terminal.” Her body shifts slightly.

“This is the monitoring room, the must have deleted the records and made a run for it. Classic.” Silver Wolf is still scrolling through the holographic catalogue, idling against a desk in the middle of the room. She doesn’t look up, even as Kafka is strung along past her towards a monitor on the other side of the room.

“You don’t seem to be very affected by it? Its control over you, I mean.”

“And you? You seemed a little weary earlier.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just new, thats all.”

Kafka’s hand reaches out to flick through various active surveillance cameras, interesting but ultimately fruitless.

“Hmmm… I can see the whole space station on the surveillance screen. But not the Stellaron.” Silver Wolf scoffs indignantly behind her, she almost sounds offended.

“Even if you could it’d be a trap. Herta doesn’t display her collections.” She turns to her hologram once more.

“This thing isnt very good with investigating, is it?”

Kafka expects some form of insulted rage to squeak in her mind’s ear, but she hears nothing. Though faintly she imagines a rather adorable ‘Hey! I’m trying my best!’ echoing in her skull.

Kafka staves off the sudden urge to get defensive in response and clamps her mouth shut.

Silver Wolf sighs at her lack of response and shifts onto her feet.

“Make your way over here then. There’s no point in trying to search like this.”

“So? Got a master plan? I’m all ears.”

Kafka’s tone takes on a slightly irritated edge, for a reason she herself doesn’t quite understand. If Silver Wolf picked up on it, she chooses not to say anything and instead gestures to the warping static of the holographic screens lining the walls of the office.

“Its a matter of hacking the surveillance system directly.” She says matter-of-factly, smirking playfully as her iconic vandalism plasters itself onto every screen in sight.

“Aha, I see. Herta’s collections aren’t in the system so anything unaffected should be our target.”

Their heads are guided to turn and face the back of a lone monitor by the main desk. Ah. that one then. As they both stroll over to investigate, Kafka feels a strange sense of pride bubble in the back of her mind. Not for Silver Wolf’s accomplishment- that much would be expected from the shorter girl- but for the entity curling along the edge of her mind. What exactly she was supposed to be proud of she couldnt tell, but the feeling was pleasant regardless.

Silver Wolf slips into a chair and slides forward to the desk, cracking her knuckles and wiggling her fingers as she readies herself for some data mining.

“Crude, simple, but effective. Look, found it.” The computer’s cursor circles a line of code tauntingly. Kafka doesn’t understand what any of the values mean.

“Item number two-eleven, ‘Blind Spot’ : a simple light-deflecting field. It allows an object in its field to pass unnoticed, but if a different item ceases to be obvious, the object gets revealed.”

She isn’t sure which set of numbers.. Or letters? That item is supposed be, but it does seem like a very… uncomplicated form of security for someone like Herta.

“So, Herta the genius… hides her collection with something as simple as this?”

“the simplest method is the hardest to spot, isnt that our motto?”

“Huh? How is that simple?” Kafka nearly chokes on her saliva while trying to hold back a bark of laughter and wonders why she’d kept her guard up for this thing. She follows Silver Wolf towards the glitching hole in the wall and sighs bemusedly.

“The data suggests its just an ordinary hologram. But it has an added layer… “ Silver Wolf eyes the frayed edges of the hologram cautiously, despite the confidence in her voice.

“Lets take a look. Dont worry, this place wont be our grave.” The girl only puffs her cheeks and steps forward, ignoring Kafka’s words of comfort completely. Well, she’d expected that much at least.

As she follows behind, her vision melts into a stark change of scenery.

The bright, ethereal glow of the Stellaron coating the walls of the closed off room in a golden-blue light. A strange combination, but one that was all too familiar; the everchanging strands of reality warping and stretching around itself, as the Stellaron sat patiently- sealed away- in the center of the room. Such an otherworldly treasure was exactly what all Stellaron hunters across the universe strove for. Though admittedly it was a mere front for their true purpose, a fact that Kafka was intimately aware of.

Their true goal would see this stellaron- sealed away, courtesy of Herta- to another use. Once said seal was removed by Silver Wolf, all Kafka would need to do was take hold of it and place it inside that vessel.

It had been laying in wait for this exact occasion…Kafka smiles fondly at the memory of it. Silver Wolf makes a small noise of surprise, catching her attention. She steps over towards the girl and the control panel, asking a question without speaking.

“It has its own security system… I guess even for herta, a Stellaron is no ordinary rarity.” Silver Wolf sounds genuinely surprised at this fact, though Kafka feels this was a rather likely outcome.

“Can you get it?”

“Of course, even the genius Herta cant compete with me when it comes to hacking.”

“Good. Then I’ll also count on you for the preparation of the receptacle.” Not to mention, she was quite sure this being wouldn’t be able to provide much help if Silver Wolf couldn’t figure it out herself. Speak of the devil, she feels the entity waft away like smoke in the wind and settle in the air around them as she lifts the Stellaron from its prison. She turns to her Silver haired companion and unspoken words flicker between their eyes.

This is Kafka’s decision.

Or perhaps it isn’t, she corrects herself over the distant sound of Silver Wolf’s voice.

When it enters her body, it no longer feels like being puppeteered or controlled.

She recalls that first feeling of possession, and the bleeding darkness making way for glowing golden edges of a burnt milky way. Her mind is dipped like an apple into the thick syruppy taste of synethesia. The amber eyes of the vessel- piercing into her soul and leaving her tongue sizzling in an almost addictive sort of pain- briefly flash open before collapsing to the floor in Kafka’s arms.

The Stellaron has found its place. And something else entirely has made its home there too.

(What an amazing tutorial and intro! You get the feeling you’ll be playing this game for a very long while!)

#not super happy with how this turned out honestly but I can’t be bothered looking at it anymore #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #(sort of?)#hsr kafka #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #hsr silver wolf #kafka honkai star rail #silver wolf honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #yandere hsr #my writing

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eganeyes · 6 months

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thinking of vampires and werewolves integraded in the military clegan au im sighing in agony

werewolf!bucky vampire!buck ofc lets fall to the expected norms mainly because i am a dog coded bucky enthusiast and also as much as i think of buck as a doberman he's very much vampire coded

werewolf vampire feud being an actual and expected thing, the 100th being gunned from the beginning of the war as a trial unit to see how humans, vampires, and werewolves are able to work together. most units kind of failing at it because everyones too territorial, too much blood history, too blood-proud, and humans too cautious.

enter the 100th, always the outlier, ever the undisciplined.

officer training begins far before their assignment to the 100th, so the buckies meet each other first. born-werewolf currently lone-wolfing john bucky egan's proverbial but also quiet literal fur bristling when he firsts scents the air of his new base and zeroing on buck cleven, the vampire who's going to sleep on the bunk right next to him. millennia-old ice-cold buck cleven smelling the wet dog fur and hearing the low growls first before looking up from folding his handful of monogrammed kerchiefs to a werewolf standing by the bunk next to him, presumably assigned that bed.

buck promptly ignores the guy, which bucky doesn't take at all very kindly. john still gives the guy his name though, a week down the line, because, well, he's very pretty and very smart and very capable of putting bucky on his back.

werewolves being high in the sky is unheard of. bucky suffers through the 'trying to get closer to the moon?' jokes easily enough. no sun smiting vampires here btw, should i say they glitter like the cullens or nah. just the slightest glitter then, lets say that there's a glow when the sun hits their skin, vampires being the suns favorite child or something and when they die they return as ashes to the sun to give those vampire pilots some fear of flying too close to the sun.

complicated-relationship-with-the-moon werewolf bucky vs complicated-relationship-with-the-sun vampire buck oh the ache

but like more on the other guys because fuck clegan theyve caused me enough grief

werewolf dougie vs human blakely. sooo attached to dougley you don't understand. dougie imprinting on ev like a baby chick, scenting his clothes and his jacket and his pillows etc. blakely being sooo flustered the first time dougie actually greets him like pack—as in dougie touches his nose to the side of ev's nose, runs it to the side just before his ear, and down to his neck—face cherry red and spluttering while dougie just has the most satisfied cat-who-got-the-cream look in his face. maybe after their first successful bomb-drop practice mission? idk just obsessed with the image.

vampire duo crubbles, centuries of being together reflected on the way they're never apart on the ground. croz's diet has to be like incredibly precise and certain blood sits weirdly in his stomach so up in the air paired with the anxiety of being so close to the sun he's puking out anything that's left in his stomach. ms. jean crosby known keeper of both harry crosby and bubbles payne, only woman to keep those two in line, but nobody actually knows what she is.

another werewolf and vampire pair: hammy and brady. hammy being a werewolf disaster duo with dougie, squabbling and rucking up the base like pups, bucky having to snap at them to cut it out when he's also wagging his out-of-sight tail wanting to cause mayhem too but maybe not when some very important general is by the base yeah. brady just brings that vibes of being incredibly old and incredibly stuffy and incredibly stick-in-the-mud at first you know?? hammy first meeting his vampire pilot and scoffing because that's literally the stereotypical vampire he's shit upon pre-army. until he sees brady pilot. until his pilot manages to execute a move so beautiful he doesn't end up as a pile of burnt fur within minutes of a trial flight. until he sees john fucking brady crack a smile at him with the slight glitter of the dying sun caressing his skin. dougie, smelling this shit from literally 4 miles away groans because brother, really?

vampire!kenny stuck in the body of a 19 year old never to grow old, waiting for his passing from the sun whenever that is. very human very warm very kind rosie rosenthal easily grasping at kenny's ice-cold-yet-sun-blessed skin and sparks fly from the flat of the palm meeting rosie's and to the tips of his bronze burnt curls.

fiery human chick harding able to go toe-to-toe with wolves and vampires, mouth stretched wide the first time he has bucky egan sitting on his visitor's chair whose metabolism is working overtime trying to burn the devils piss of a hooch out of his system. meeting born-werewolf jack the next hour who's bucky's only equal in their eclectic werewolf pack—whose fur is clearly bristling from bucky grounding him but he clocks instantly that this were will be the one who will actually snap on his new boys' heels if they ever step out of line.

currently kind of obsessed with this aaaa might come back with other ships (demacon i Will love you into existence) when it hits (hopefully) probably when the bi!buck euphoria melts a bit

#mota #mota hcs #clegan #dougley #rosielemmons #hambrady #i don't actually know their shipname :((#mota vampwere au

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sweatyracoon · 7 days

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Skz With A Goth Friend/Partner! Reactions!

A/n: As a goth person, I really like this trope, but it’s extremely rare. Hope I don’t disappoint!

Summary: How they treat you as a person during their time with you.

Warnings: Language. I think that’s it. Enjoy! <3

Bangchan:

He treated you no different than he did anyone else. Underneath all of the makeup and accessories, you were human, too. He barely noticed it, honestly. He just saw you. He had that charm, making you fall for him. He bought you snacks and coffee, always being sure to also get you small goth keychains or charms for your bracelets. He didn’t mind it as much as strangers did.

When you first met him, it was by accident. You were auditioning at JYP, only to be turned down because you refused to abandon your style. Leaving, you ran into him, waiting to be judged with his gaze. Instead, you found a worried, warm gaze looking down at you, offering you a hand.

“Hey? You alright?”

Ever since then, you have been attached to his side. He became your support, and he was happy to claim that title. (#gothprotectorchan)

The first time he saw you without the makeup, he didn’t know who you were. And you let him reintroduced himself, and you finally told him, making him blush.

“Why would you do that, y/n!” He was so embarrassed. You reassured him that it didn’t bother you before you hugged him, getting ready to watch a movie.

Lee know:

He found it extremely attractive. He was all for people being real, and the way you presented yourself was screaming, ‘I am me, fuckers’.

He loved that he has never seen your bare face, because he knows that that isn’t your strongest version of you. If you could, he knew that you would tattoo your makeup permanently. He always stood by you, knowing the looks that you get. Fans even dared to ask him if you were his girlfriend, their faces disapproving, which upset him.

“What’s it matter if she Is? She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” He’d say before gazing at you with heart eyes.

He’d always stick up for you, and loved that you let him.

He also loved how feline your features were, the makeup only highlighting them more. You even had the attitude of one, making him smirk whenever you’d start chewing out one of his members for no reason.

He also loved the dramatic outfits. It made him feel the need to match you, making sure to look his best for you as you do for yourself.

Changbin:

He thought the look looked perfect on you, but preferred seeing your face without the makeup. He thought that the natural glow of your skin was gorgeous, but you assured him that with the makeup was when you were your true self.

He was your best friend because he was so supportive. He always made sure to get you things that reminded him of you, and your collection grew perhaps a bit too large.

Nearly everything reminded him of you.

You even tried battling him with rap and lost. A lot. But you didn’t mind. It was fun.

Whenever you walked past him, you made sure to point out how your healed boots made you taller than him, making him respond by stepping on the toe of your shoes, both of you laughing as Hyunjin watched the interaction with a confused expression.

You both had matching rings, black (of course), that you wore on your pinkies. He had never taken his off, even during performances. You took your off before bed, but putting it on was the first thing you did when you woke up.

Hyunjin:

When he first saw you, it was when he first debuted, not fully grown, and slightly awkward. The first thing he thought was, ‘fashion icon’. He saw how comfortable you were in your own skin, how your gaze pushed past the judgmental eyes glaring at you. He needed to befriend you immediately. Now, him being the king at Versace, he became a model alongside you after some convincing, and did duo shoots together.

He was known for being clingy when it came to you, and you both did everything together. He learned a lot fashion wise from you, and loved that you were still the same goth girl he met (hotter, now). Now, any picture he takes has you in it, whether it’s in the background, in the front, or not in the picture at least and he just tagged you.

You were his everything, and he even wants to be you. You were iconic. Your attitude towards the world was so different from his, and he loved that.

He would paint anything you asked for, no matter how disturbing, his mind not questioning it once. He loved and adored you, and would do anything to make you happy.

He even bought you a black rose bouquet, thinking of you when he saw them. Naturally, you loved them.

Han:

He would put a lot of focus on it, and even make jokes about it.

“Going to go brood at the edge of a swamp or something?”

“Jo Jo Siwa? Is that you?”

“Presenting…Emona Lisa!”

It didn’t bother you, though. You found it cute. He put a lot of focus on who you were, making sure people never forgot. He even went as far as to write a song about you, and the color of your soul. It touched your heart.

He would play with the fringe at some of your outfits when you sat next to each other, and loved to talk to you about your jewelry. You would even share at some points. He wore your cherry earrings for a performance, wanting you to see that he could be goth too (hA!). He wanted to show you that you and him were meant to be besties.

During sleepovers, he would see your bare face and call you beautiful, but commented that he liked you with the makeup, making your heart melt. You would paint each other’s nails, him asking you to paint his black. You even do goth makeup on him during those nights, both falling for the look on him.

“I’d fuck myself,” he said, making you choke on air before laughing your lungs out.

“Oh yeah? You into the goth scene, Han?”

“Yeah… I’m also into you,”

Felix:

He watched as danced alongside Minho. He challenged you to dance some difficult dances while wearing your dramatic outfit that had lots of tufts and fluff, but it didn’t stop you from accepting. You were the main dancer o your own group, so it was just natural to you, much to everyone’s surprise.

Felix over when you visited. You were a part of a pastel k-pop group, so you were an obvious contrast to your members. But it never seemed to bother you, which attracted him. He loved how confident you were, and how proud you seemed to be when explaining your style.

He jumped in next to you, dancing with you and Minho. You were all now just having a good time, forgetting about the stupid bet. You proved that it wasn’t difficult. When Minho asked how, all you said was,

“How can I struggle when I’m most comfortable?”

Felix fell in love with the snap of a finger, and in that moment, he was invested.

You both often got coffee together before head in to your respective dance rooms, often talking about childhood and how you got there. One of the things he asked about often was your style and other things related to it. He loved seeing you talking animatedly about something you loved, because it made him love it too.

One day he got shocked by his accidental confidence. You grabbed his hand, asking about one of his rings. He told you about it, and as you went to pull your hand back, he, instead, pulled it closer to his, interlocking his fingers with yours. You didn’t pull away. You walked together hand in hand until you finally had to split.

“Hey,” Felix said, gaining your attention. “Wanna hang later?”

Your eyes lit up.

“Always, Felix!”

Seungmin:

When you asked him to cover hard rock song, he halted his movements, looking at you. You had told him once that his voice would sound amazing in the rock genre, and he accepted the compliment. He didn’t expect you to request something.

So that night he stayed up recording his version of the song. Two days later it was ready, and he sent it to you through bubble.

He was right next to you. Instead of talking, he texted, embarrassed. He watched your expressions, and, unsurprisingly, there wasn’t any. He guessed it had to do with being goth, how you never expressed emotions on the outside. After it was finally done, you pulled the ear buds from your ears, turning to your best friend.

“That was fucking sick, Seungmin,” you told him, smiling. “Sure you don’t want to go solo? I’ll be your manager,” you joked, elbowing him.

His ears were hot, a clear sigh they were red. He looked away from your beautiful pale face, trying to compose himself before speaking. His voice cracked despite his attempt.

“Never going solo., but thanks. It was actually really fun. I’ve never done that with my voice,” he explained, rubbing his nape nervously.

“You did great, love. And thank you…you didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Before he could respond, you kissed him on the cheek, making him freeze.

“Would you be opposed to another request?”

Jeonjin:

You had known each other since childhood, so when your style started changing rapidly, he became confused. But it didn’t shock him. Your personality proved to match your new style well, and it was like he was seeing you for the first time. The true you.

He accepted it quickly, never questioning you once about it. He knew that this was who you were, and who you were meant to be.

He even used some of your fashion advice, just throwing in different colors. You two were so close that when he debuted, they offered you a staff position so you two would still be together. You accepted after hearing the proposal, Jeonjin ecstatic and happy. He couldn’t imagine being without you.

As the years went on, your style became more dramatic and seductive, heavier makeup that highlighted your features, and skintight clothes showing a bit of skin rather than baggy dark clothes. The same thing happened with Jeonjin. No longer the teenage baby bread, now muscular, sexy toast.

You two were the visual duo. He even made sure that some of your outfits matched, even if the colors were too dark for his personal taste, making your heart flutter. He was so thoughtful to you.

He even let you do his makeup for some of the performances, because he knew you knew how to do more than goth styles. You pointed his nails, and did a nightly skin routine too.

#Spotify #skz reactions #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #2min smut #kim seungmin #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #lee felix #lee know #stray kids minho #changbin #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #jeongin #skz scenarios

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