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bacidipesca · 2 years ago

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my au headcanons

Essentially, this is the universe in my head whenever I write for Mareach. Some details may differ from story to story and I’ll probably forget quite a few, but largely this is how I imagine the world works/the backstory informing my characters’ decisions. Behind a cut because this got so, so long out of literally nowhere.

I want to just say first au takes some inspiration out of @elitadream ‘s ideas but hopefully with enough distinction to make it unique.

The specific details I’ve borrowed or plan to thus far from elitadream: Mario being Peach’s guard in an official capacity, the chain chomp incident*, and staying in the castle/Toad’s quarters/workshop. (I was also planning on using their art as partial inspiration for their first meeting for my own AU as well but if they don’t want me to, I will do my best to come up with an alternative.)

*kind of, I explain that later.

I have a timeline in my head of several (like 5+) different encounters with Bowser plus other enemies sprinkled in, a distinct cast of toad ocs I’ve been building, I have a backstory for why Mario has super strength (Luigi has his own distinct power also), I’m pulling inspiration from the new Mario movie for my backstories for Peach and Daisy, I’m planning on possibly involving time travel in the future. I’m hoping that the differences will make themselves clearer as I go on here. If there’s anything here that I haven’t correctly given credit on, or that needs to be removed because the person who inspired it isn’t comfortable, let me know.

If you see anything as a part of this au that you would like to use or borrow for your own fic or art or au, go for it! I would love to see the result, so feel free to tag me, but also feel free not to. While some of my ideas are unique I think a lot of them just ‘make sense’ for the sandbox we’re all playing in.

- Mario and Luigi were born in Brooklyn to a really insular Italian-American community (their grandparents were the ones who came over from Italy) where they spent most of their time in their own neighborhood speaking Italian with family members and friends, which is what gives them their slight but noticeable Italian accents when speaking English.

- If you got them around someone like Pauline or another Brooklyner, though, you might hear them start to pick up on some of those vocal tics because it’s also ingrained in them from growing up in that area.

- Also this is where my (possible, eventual) time travel nonsense comes in—Baby Mario and Baby Luigi go on an adventure that ends with them getting Firebrand and Thunderhand powers, but it’s because of Kamek and his interference after already having met the brothers as adults who fell into the Mushroom Kingdom. So, as of everything I’m currently writing, Mario and Luigi have no recollection of that adventure because it technically hasn’t happened for them yet.

- But because time is so very rarely linear, or even circular, the Firebrand and Thunderhand powers are kind of hardwired into them now. They just discover having them at the same time they would have gotten them (and eventually will get them, because time travel) as babies.

- Does that make sense? No? Okay good, we’re all on the same page then.

- This is why it’s eventually maybe a possibility and not a hard and fast thing. Just accept that Mario and Luigi were born in Brooklyn with mystical powers.

- Accept it.

- Anyway—

- Firebrand powers! This is why Mario has super strength. He also has extra endurability, can withstand and collect heat/fire in his body, or generate it at a cost of energy to himself. Mario’s fire can be controlled much, much more precisely than he lets on, allowing him to even write or draw with it (hence the brand part of it). Because his powers are linked to Luigi’s, Mario’s fire does not burn him. Mario is very warm to the touch and doesn’t get cold very easily, and can even get a little overheated if he layers up too much and doesn’t let off any additional heat.

- Thunderhand powers! Luigi has super speed and extra stamina, can withstand and collect electricity in his body same as Mario, and generate it the same way as well. He can also produce thunderclap-like screams, but usually under high stress rather than on command. Mario can’t be shocked by Luigi’s electricity. Luigi’s constant fidgeting and his jumpiness can be partially attributed to his need to let off excess energy, and he has a tendency to give people a little static shock when he touches them. He wears gloves to try to mitigate it but it doesn’t help much.

- Luigi can jump higher than Mario.

- They are fraternal twins, and where Mario is right-handed, Luigi is left-handed. Their powers are stronger coming from their dominant hands.

- Peach and Daisy are from the same place but not necessarily related. They were both displaced by a war that caused them to be, essentially, sent out as a last hope for survival into the unknown. They were discovered by the people in their kingdoms and raised by the people in authority.

- I haven’t decided yet if I want either of the princesses to have powers of their own. If I did, I would like to give a healing/soothing ability to Peach like I’ve seen some others ( @drones-of-innocence , @elitadream ) do.

- What brought Peach (and the others) to the Mushroom Kingdom is what is called a warp event. There are large, naturally occurring pipes in this universe that occasionally spit out things and people from other worlds. The Toads have studied them for centuries and eventually managed to reverse engineer all of their modern pipe technology from that knowledge. No one can say for sure what causes them but they can be predicted from the Mushroom Kingdom’s end, at least, as they’re usually heralded by thunderstorms gathering around the natural pipe in distinct formations.

- Peach was raised by Toadsworth (and a relative of Toadette called Toadanne, who eventually retired and was replaced by Toadette), at first just with the intent to look after her, but then with the intent to put her on the throne when she showed incredible intelligence and empathy from a young age. She has a constant drive to prove that her people made the right choice to make her their princess, and will do or sacrifice anything of herself to keep them safe and happy.

- Peach is capable of defending herself, but if she can avoid collateral damage she will always take the more peaceful option. Even if that means going quietly when she’d much rather be screaming.

- I’m borrowing heavily from the new movie with this, but I want Mario and Luigi to be small-time plumbers from Brooklyn who used to work for Spike’s wrecking crew. After Luigi hurt his knees in a work accident (don’t @ me over that one, it’s a popular headcanon), they split off to do their own thing, but in the end they stumbled into a pipe that took them to the Mushroom Kingdom

- It was the stormy season when they first came through so there wasn’t a team to greet them like there was when Peach arrived—instead they were discovered by Toad

- Now, the thing with Toad is I know that there’s like. So many ways to depict him, and there’s so many versions, and are they all the same guy or different guys or what

- But I loved the depiction of Toad in the movie as kind of a mix of Chef Toad and Captain Toad with a little dash of unhinged and undyingly supportive, so I’m adopting that into my personal headcanon and saying that the Toad that finds the brothers is also slightly unhinged but the best friend you’ll ever meet. He immediately pledges himself to helping the brothers out and helps them find their way through the mushroom forest to Toad Town.

- I think the Mushroom Kingdom kind of anticipates things like this to happen now and then, or at least they have systems in place to help people who have been displaced like this, so the boys are set up with a place to stay almost immediately and promised an audience with the princess so she can help with their dilemma—it’s not known to the average Mushroom Kingdom citizen that natural warp pipes are inactive outside of events and it’s impossible to predict when the next event will be or if the boys will have an opportunity to use it.

- They do end up having a really lovely permanent house in Toad Town with two bedrooms, one of which they share (FIGHT me it was so cute they still shared in the movie), and the other of which is a workspace/crash pad for Toad.

- Which means to me that Mario is invited to crash with Toad at the castle when he’s been given guest quarters there and he can’t sleep because his bed is too big.

- Mario doesn’t know what Toad actually does for work, or if he does work, except he has a space at the castle and he always seems to be tinkering with something when Mario comes to visit him there.

- (I don’t know what Toad does either.)

- Mario and Peach fall in love at first sight, but not at the same time.

- Peach is fascinated by seeing other humans (there are others in this world aside from Daisy, but they’re rare, usually nomadic/adventuring types, and Peach doesn’t get to leave the kingdom much) at first, but then quickly grows fond of the brothers once she gets to talk to them and even though she knows she shouldn’t, she takes a personal interest in helping them get established in the kingdom.

- Afterwards is not my own official canon, that’s more explicitly set in elitadream’s AU because of the Bowser portrayal (we’ll get to my Bowser don’t worry), tho to be fair I don’t know that it’s official to their canon either because the original art was also a what-if scenario

- I would love to call First Rescue canon to me but it borrows super heavily from the original fanart so we can just say Mario displayed his super strength in an effort to save the princess’s life. She had invited him up to the castle to check on him and his brother, to see what could be done about helping them find work or projects they might enjoy

- (In my head the Mushroom Kingdom is like kind of utopian and people dont always NEED to work and can be provided for by the community if they’re unable or they have Something Going On)

- But then he saved her and she was like ‘I need a way to make sure I see him as often as possible’ and asking him to be her guard was just the most natural thing

- Mario declines at first, mostly because he’s worried he won’t actually be qualified but also because he doesn’t want to be given special treatment over his brother, who he says is just as good as him

- (And he is!!!!!)

- Peach is more than happy to employ them both, especially when Mario explains that he and Luigi are plumbers in their own world. All of the castle’s defenses run on pipe technology, after all! Luigi heads hands-on teams that work around Toad Town to fix security issues, and Mario is made captain of the princess’s royal guard.

- Now here I want to pause and address the boys having the Firebrand and Thunderhand powers again, because it kind of affects their work, and also how power-ups work in this world.

- (Yes, I have plans for power-ups!! Get excited!!)

- The boys never revealed to anyone outside of one another that they had these powers. They discovered and developed them late enough that they managed to keep them hidden from their parents, though they surely always suspected something was different about their sons. The boys were savvy enough from growing up in Brooklyn to know not to tell about those gifts unless they had to, for their own good, because they were just too different from anything else on Earth.

- It was different when they got to the Mushroom Kingdom, though. They saw folks whizzing through pipes, turtles that talked, flowers that made people spit ice out of their hands. Though they were still wary, it was enough for Mario to let down his guard and save the princess.

- They still plan on holding some powers close to their chest, just for the sake of surprising potential threats

- I was planning on hopefully doing some training/research scenes with the toad guards, or at least doing some more in-depth headcanons at some point, because I believe power-ups work differently for the twins than they do for other people

- Power-ups are either naturally occurring, like mushrooms or flowers, or hand-made, like lucky bells. Different kingdoms in the land export different power-ups and they’re a big part of a kingdom’s trade.

- The Mushroom Kingdom specializes in mushrooms, obviously, and shares a border with one of the kingdoms of Sarasaland that spills fire flowers into their territory.

- On the opposite side of Sarasaland (which is saying a lot, it’s a big empire) is the Ice Kingdom, which exports ice flowers.

- Lucky bells and tanuki leaves and other power-ups that provide a suit/costume change are either handmade or altered by the kingdom that exports them to provide that costume. They are rarer than other power ups for this reason. It is a kingdom of furries, you get to decide who lives there and who rules it, have fun.

- It bothered me that super mushrooms in the movie only gave Mario like 2 feet of height and then the minis made him almost microscopic so when Mario has a super mushroom he gets to be Big. No, I haven’t decided how big that is yet.

- This is just something for me personally, don’t @ me.

- Oh shit right I promised I would talk about Bowser, let’s talk about Bowser

- I want to say on a scale from like Heinz Doofenshmirtz at 0% to Thanos at 100%, my Bowser is probably at like a 39%?

- Which is to say: he is capable, he is strong, he is dastardly, and he’s motivated by wanting to expand and legitimize his territory rather than feelings for Peach; by the same token, he’s not the brightest villain, he relies a lot on brute strength, he heavily underestimates his opponents, and he’s also being manipulated by people around him.

- His people follow him out of genuine loyalty, not fear. He’s very much a king of misfit toys, but they take their righteous anger a step too far in many cases and that’s where the problems with the Koopa Kingdom lie.

- If he killed someone by accident he would be really messed up about it.

- Tbh if he killed someone on purpose he’d still be a bit messed up about it

- At first he was targeting the Mushroom Kingdom for land and power, but after a few encounters with Mario his beef became very, very personal and now he’s pretty much out to ‘destroy’ Mario—everyone assumes that means he wants to torture him, kill him, rip him to pieces, but to be honest even Bowser doesn’t know what he would actually do if he got his hands on him

- Possibly maybe there will be a bigger bad to fight someday and that’s why I don’t want to commit to Bowser fully wanting to murder this plumber in particular

- (Look maybe someday they can race gokarts together okay?)

- This is why I say, again, that Afterwards is not canon to this au, I was using a Bowser who’s a little harsher than mine for it.

I thiiiiiink that’s all I really planned to say here? I’m hoping I didn’t forget anything, but I guess I can always make another post later. If anyone has any questions, my ask box is always open. I’d always love love love to talk about my ideas or the Mario characters 🩷

I’m writing a fic right now about Peach being sick and Mario coming to take care of her (shock and awe, something not inspired by someone else’s fanart??), let’s see if I finish it or give in to the urge to post this to tumblr first. ✌️

Oh shit I did manage to finish the fic!! That’s cool, you should read it if you liked this post. :O

(I’m afraid to put links on this rn in case tumblr nixes it from showing up in tags lol, I’ll add some later 🩷)

#mareach #mario #mario x peach #princess peach #super mario brothers #super mario brothers headcanon #luigi

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nymphbnny · 3 years ago

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perfect strangers

MINORS DNI // 18+

part one; part two; part three

genre: nsfw

pairings: jean kirschtein x female reader

word count: 2.6k

tags/warnings: penetrative sex, dom jean, fingering, praising kink, slight body worship, dirty talk, sneaky.

synopsis: your recent discovery makes you certain that you won't be able to control yourself around him and neither will he, hence you decide that it was time to make an agreement that was rather spicy.

a.n: hey babies! so i finally decided to turn this into a short series since some of you were intrigued with the idea of having a continuation for the previous part i wrote. i hope you like it, enjoy <3

“How was I supposed to know?!” I yelled as soon as Jean exited our apartment. I had put on a random t-shirt to follow Connie to his room, trying to convince him that I had no idea that I fucked his best friend.

“Y/n he literally told you his name is Jean and he was attending my party. You’re acting as you’ve never seen him before!” he scolded taking off his shirt and throwing it across his room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Connie. The last time I saw Jean I was 16 and he didn’t look like that. He’s so fucking different now how was I supposed to know. And to be fair, he was studying abroad for I don’t know how many years, how was I supposed to know that he metamorphosed like that.” I motioned my arm out, my other hand resting on my hip.

He groaned, rubbing his temples before he looked back at me. “Look,” he spoke softly. “I don’t want to fight with you over this okay? You’re right, I should’ve told you that he was coming back. He graduated a year ago and was considering coming back to his hometown, here. Let’s just forget it all happened okay? It’s a simple misunderstanding.” I nodded, resting my head on his chest as he embraced me into a tight hug.

“Now go take a shower you reek of sex.” he snickered earning a punch on his arm. He winced rubbing his flesh, a proud smile setting on my face.

***

The week went by smoothly. I told Sasha and Hitch what happened and they both had different reactions. Hitch was gushing over the sex and Sasha on the other hand confessed that she forgot to mention that Jean was coming back to stay here. It’s okay though. We all passed it and I was working my ass off to finally graduate.

Connie was spending his days with Jean, which granted me a lot of peace and tranquility. At least, that’s what I thought.

I hadn’t spoken to Jean ever since we hooked up, figured that Connie already explained the whole situation and moved on.

Three knocks on my door broke my focus, a loud frustrated sigh leaving my lips. “What Connie!”

“Actually,” a voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. “It’s Kirschtein. Can I come in?” A knot formed in my throat.

“Sure.” he turned the knob, slowly coming in. “Connie knows I’m here by the way.” I nodded, adjusting my seat.

“What’s up?” the tension was awkward. The tension shouldn’t even be present in the first place. But how could I not get aroused when he was wearing a black tank top showing off the tattoos on his sleeves with a pair of sweats. He looked effortlessly attractive.

“- and like I said it will never happen again. Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Never happen again. I’m very sorry but I need to finish this assignment.” He chuckled and nodded leaving me alone with my thoughts. Did I just make him talk to himself because I was too busy checking him out?

I shook my head, assuming that whatever he said wasn’t worth my time. Time went by rather quickly and the assignment was done earlier than I expected. It was already ten pm, and I had promised the girls I was going to meet up with them for some drinks.

I picked my outfit and applied some makeup. Simple and effective. We were going to spend the night at Sasha’s so I didn’t make much effort to look hot.

The place was empty when I left and I assumed that Connie was helping Jean to rent an apartment for himself.

Sasha’s place wasn’t very far from mine. As a matter of fact, it only took me ten minutes to get there. Once I got there, the girls were already ordering pizza and picking out some movies to watch.

“Hey whores.” I greeted them, earning cheers from Hitch and Sasha. “Oh my god, Mikasa I missed you!” I rushed to the dark-haired girl who was sitting on the couch and engulfed her into a tight hug. I haven’t seen Mikasa since I moved with Connie. We used to live together, but after she and Eren got together, he wouldn’t leave her alone. So I figured it would be best if I left and lived with my brother.

“I missed you too! I looked for you everywhere at that party where were you?” she asked taking a sip of her soda. Hitch began coughing dramatically as Sasha giggled next to her. “Oh quit it.” I teased rolling my eyes.

I ended up telling her everything, her face displaying a plethora of expressions. “I mean, Jean did change I can’t argue with that. But didn’t he recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I changed too. Puberty hit me like a truck.”

“Cheers to that.” Hitch raised her cup. We laughed and talked for hours. I missed going out with them like that. Fortunately, college will be over soon and I’ll have some time for myself.

Movies were playing in the background but we paid them no mind. We ate our food and cleaned the living room, not wanting to bother Sasha with the cleaning since she was having Niccolo over tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock that was hanging above the door. I gathered my stuff and tucked them in my bag, drawing all of their eyes on me.

“Already? Come on stay longer!” Sasha whined. I smiled softly at her and shook my head.

“I can’t, I’ll see you guys soon.” I waved at them and walked out of the door.

***

“Connie! I’m ho- what are you still doing here?” I froze at the entrance, my keys still hanging from my index finger, my eyes fixated on him as he only stood in basketball shorts.

“What do you mean what am I still doing here. I moved in here remember?”

Silence. Nothing but intense and awkward silence. Moved in? Since when?

“I told you when I came into your room. Weren’t you listening to me?” I stared at him blankly, not able to explain how caught in thought I was when he came into my room. I was too busy checking him out to care about what he was trying to tell me.

“Why didn’t Connie tell me?” I closed the door and locked it slowly, my legs feeling weak, the idea of living with him and seeing him walking around like that making me weak. And extremely horny.

“He said he’d rather if I told you. You know, break the ice.” he shrugged and walked forward, his chest now a few inches apart from mine. “You changed a lot from what I remember.” he lowly said tucking my hair behind my ear.

“So did you,” I replied, staring at his lips. He licked his bottom lip and held my chin between his fingers, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

I was a sweating mess. I still couldn’t believe that this was Jean, the horse face. What kind of water did he drink, and how did he get so big? Look at those muscles-

A sudden feeling on my lips interrupted my chain of thoughts. I soon realized that he held my bottom lip between his brown ones. “Kiss me back y/n, I know you want to,” he whispered, his breath brushing up my face.

It didn’t take me long to pull him to me, crashing my lips on his. He was intoxicating in ways I couldn’t understand nor explain. I needed him close to me at the moment and I didn’t care why.

“Yo, Jean where did you my video game?!” Connie’s voice boomed from the hallway, forcing us apart. Realization slapped my face when I looked at him and saw his cocky smirk. I just kissed him, even though I promised myself I’d never do anything with him ever again.

“I’ll get it!” he yelled back, the same expression resting on his face, his back facing the hallway. “I’d apologize, but you pulled me back. Anyway, I’ll see around beautiful.” he winked and began walking towards Connie’s room, his back muscles flexing at his movements.

What am I doing with myself?

***

The atmosphere felt nice. I couldn’t sleep so instead I lied down on my bed and watched the stars from my window. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened hours ago and how I had to sit with them and pretend as nothing happened.

Jean was certainly not the little boy he was years ago. He got more confident and a lot more handsome. He was fucking with me and I thought, why shouldn’t I fuck with him too?

After all, I know for sure he didn’t tell Connie anything. He’s too protective of me and if he knew, well let’s just say Jean would be moving out by tomorrow. He trusts him blindly and I honestly just think he doesn’t want me to hook up with him again because he’s just like him.

He likes to mess around. Not the type to stay in the morning after. But neither was I. I sighed and dragged my legs out of bed, my body following.

“Shit now I gotta pee,” I whined stomping slightly on the wooden floor. I ruffled my hair with my hand and slipped on my slippers. I was wearing Connie’s t-shirt, so it was long enough to hide my thighs.

I walked to the bathroom when suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into the guest bedroom. My mouth was quick to be silenced by another hand as I was about to squeal.

My back collided with the wall, my hands pinned on each side of my head.

“Jean let me go.” I struggled to get out of his grasp but he kept grinning at me. “Sure.” He let go of his grasp.

I looked around to notice a towel on his bed. “I was going to take a shower but then I heard your footsteps, couldn’t let you get there before I did.” He walked away, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

“Is that all?” I cocked my eyebrow, crossing my arms. He looked me up and down before saying: “You tell me. Need anything else?”

I looked at him briefly, calculating my next move. “An agreement. Connie can’t know.”

“Fuck yeah.” he dropped his towel and stepped closer to me, holding my face with his hands as he crashed his lips on mine. I kissed him back instantly, my fingers finding their way through his hair.

His tongue slipped in, caressing mine. His hands went down my body to squeeze my ass, pulling me even closer to him. My hands traveled across his bare chest, going over his pecs and then gliding one hand down his abs, while the other sat on his shoulder.

We pulled apart, his arms going under my thighs to pull me up and sit me onto the mattress. He walked to the door, locking it before he looked back at me.

Jean crawled over my body, caging me between his arms. “Divine.” he smiled and sat up, his hands tugging at my top. I helped him take it off and threw it on his chair. I was nude underneath him. It wasn’t the first time, yet he still looked mesmerized.

He licked his lips, his fingers tracing my cunt before dipping into my entrance. I arched my back at the sudden intrusion, trying my best to remain quiet.

“I missed your little cunt.” he chuckled massaging my insides slowly. I gasped, my hand immediately covering my mouth.

He rubbed my bud with his thumb, his pace never changing. It was torturing and slow, but I knew we couldn’t make a lot of noise nor make lots of movements that could awake Connie. We had to go nice and easy.

My legs squirmed, the combination of playing my nipples and watching him touch like he does driving me to the edge. My eyes rolled to the back as he added a third finger, my walls clenching tightly around them as I felt myself orgasm around them. “Good girl.” he praised with a chuckle, removing his fingers from my opening.

“Suck your juices off come on.” he tapped my hand, motioning me to remove it and take his fingers in. I stuck my tongue out, his ling digits finding their way down my throat making me slightly gag. “I didn’t know you were such an obedient girl.” he cooed, as I sucked off my arousal.

Jean sat back up, removing his shorts along with his briefs, his erection slapping on my lower stomach. “As much as I’d love you to suck me,” he paused pumping his cock. “I have to say that I miss being inside you.” And with that, he slid all the way in, his mouth silencing my moans.

He stayed still for a while, his eyes staring into mine intensely, almost as if he was trying to tell me something. I nodded my head, his hips moving at my signal. His thrusts were slow and deep, going over every spot. I wrapped my arms around him, my forehead resting against his, as he breathed heavily.

“I want to fuck you dumb, but he’ll hear your moans.” he taunted rolling his hips, his tip almost hitting my cervix. “So good.” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around him, my heels digging into his lower back.

“Jean��” I was close and my legs were a shaking mess. “That’s right baby, say my name.” he breathed in my ear, slightly speeding up his thrusts. I bit onto his shoulder, my orgasm ripping through my body.

I tightened around him, his strokes getting sloppier. It came to my attention that he wasn’t wearing protection, and I wasn’t about to get adventurous like last time. “Jean… pull out…”

“Beg.” was his only reply to which I complied. “Please, anywhere, just not-“ He harshly pulled out, and instead of jerking himself on my stomach, he reached up to straddle my chest and stroked himself. “Open.”

I stuck my tongue out, his hand now replaced with mine as I jerked him off, ropes of cum shooting down my throat. “Such a good girl.” he chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face.

He got off me and pulled his hair back using both hands, his naked body walking around the bed to grab some tissues. He cleaned off my arousal and handed me some to clean the corners of my lips.

“If only you could see how messed up you look,” he smirked and threw me my t-shirt before grabbing his towel and sliding on his shorts.

I put on my top and got off his bed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and internally yelled at myself. I looked like a mess. My hair was tangled and my skin was all sweaty. Guess I have to take a shower too.

I looked over at Jean to see him staring at me with an amused look on his face. “What?” I cocked my eyebrow. He shrugged and smiled at me. “Connie and I are going out to get some lunch tomorrow. What’d you say?” he requested.

“I mean yeah sure. But Jean he can-“

“Can’t know alright.” he rolled his eyes. We stared at each other for a minute before I decided to leave his room.

As I made my way past him, his hand flew to cup my swollen cunt. “This belongs to me.”

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean x reader smut #jean x you #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot requests #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #aot fandom #aot smut #snk smut #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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kafkaoftherubble · 1 year ago

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Pros:

scientist

doll rescuer

doll friend

judging from how she notices an abandoned doll and a somewhat abandoned person, observant

afford said abandoned people with her companionship

evolved from a long line of complicated people originating from a messed up individual and her complicated pet-tumor

has a name that means "mud". No grand and gorgeous and even "crystal clear water"-esque name. Just "mud."

Cons:

Don't know the full scope of her personality yet

I should not be showing favoritism yet I shall nat I SHALL NAT NOPE NOPE INVEST IN 32 DORO STOCKS!

-----

More Thoughts on the Mud Naming (i.e. why I love that she's called Doro):

Though not as grand or sweet or beautiful a name as, say, "Mizuha" and other water-related names in the Hayase bloodline, "Doro" is a name that, to me, is the most implicative of growth.

Of course, it's because I'm once again seeing this in a Buddhist view (Look, it's usually either this or The Scientist's view, man. You know what you signed up for when you read a ramble by KafkaoftheRubble, brutha.).

It's got to do with the lotus flower.

Lotuses are cherished in Indian religions and philosophy; Buddhism is one of them. It persists even after spreading to East Asia and other parts of the world.

The simplest reasoning is captured in an 11th-century (Song Dynasty) Chinese writer's text:

[...] 予独爱莲之出淤泥而不染——"I, however, especially love the lotus; for it grows from the mud untainted." (translation mine)

In Buddhism, the lotus symbolizes nibbana/nirvana/liberation (though also commonly translated as "enlightenment" in English). The mud symbolizes samsara—the cycle of suffering.

Buddhism stresses a lot on causal determinism. Everything is caused by something prior... not a chain of cause and effects, but a web. Nothing exists in a vacuum—not even something as "transcendent" as Nibbana. Hence, the mud is very important: the lotus flower, so "enlightened" as it were, cannot have arisen without the mud that sustained it.

In other words, enlightenment is caused by one who knows intimately what suffering is. One who is embedded in it. Suffering allows one to be awake and strive toward enlightenment and liberation.

There's a reason why in Buddhist thought, the human path [1] is the likeliest path to nibbana compared even to the Deva path. The Devas live in nice-ass places (comparable to heavens in other religions/myths), enjoy long-ass, nigh-immortal lives, and experience almost zero suffering. And yet it is precisely because of this minimal-to-no suffering that the Devas cannot become enlightened—they live in such comfort that they either mistakenly believe this is what life is all about, or that they experience zero impetus to strive for better.

[1] The human path, in comparison, has both shares of suffering and moments of comfort and pleasure. The latter is important because if one is constantly suffering, they cannot focus on anything beyond their pain... nor can they perform salutary actions (think how limited the moral choices would be for a person who's desperate and in pain). And yet, since the existence of suffering is also important if one hopes to be awake, the human path is the Middle Path among all Six Paths of Rebirth.

This is why I like Doro's name. Though a clone of Mizuha, strictly speaking, she can be considered as a rebirth of Hayase still. To me, her name hints at a humility and awareness the previous rebirths' names didn't imply. It's as if after so many rebirths and the cumulative growth contributed by each, "Hayase" is finally cognizant of "the mud" they are in.

And from the mud, a lotus may grow, liberated at last.

Thank you for reading my semi-ramble that I did not plan but came out of me anyway! Sidethoughts in tags!

i've only known her for one chapter and i'd die for her 🥺

#Doro should therefore be an even bigger step-up from Mizuha #I never said this out loud but I think if someone knows I actually resonate most with Left Hand Nokker out of all TYE characters #then they could guess that I actually adore Hayase's rebirths as one of the cyclic constants in these arcs #In Buddhism rebirths are akin to phases of one's life. Hence rebirths are themselves cumulative growths #Given the rock bottom Hayase and Left Hand started out this actually makes their growths-in-rebirths very poignant #as it illustrates the idea that yes; even the worst kind of people may attain Nibbana. They must first learn and #they will experience much suffering... as we all do. We call 'em the “human condition”#but if they strive for salutary actions—however small and however deluded it may be starting out—#these actions become meritorious causes toward better and better effects in each rebirth.#Better effects become better causes and less deluded origins of salutary actions. Then eventually they will lead to nibbana #fumetsu no anata e #小泥子 doro #fnae spoilers #fnae manga spoilers #fnae manga #another manga that deals heavily with cycle of samsara is JJK and that shit dives even deeper into it

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mantra4ia · 4 years ago

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Debris: speculation and what we know so far about...

Bryan

The character is from Texas, has no siblings, and his parents are both alive.

He served in MARSOC (Marine Special Forces) in Afghanistan, where he was in a military prison in some capacity (officer or detainee unclear, but an alternate reality he's called a war criminal, so he's likely detained).

FWIW, I'm a little surprised that in an alternative reality Bryan wasn't a part of Influx. He shares a similar kind of backstory with Anson Ash.

He carries a baseball on the plane like a momento stress ball (1x03).

He eats...a lot, literally thinks with his stomach, seemingly indiscriminately (#you could just pull up a chair to the buffet). Stale Peeps, weeks old sandwiches, rewarmed burritos, anything from the minibar, etc. Maybe he was a smoker in the time before and it killed his sense of taste. Or he just has an iron stomach from his time on active duty. In any case, food seems to be his unconditional OTP. I request a GIF supercut.

He seems to know a bunch of field operatives (Lester, Sharon, John the ME, Muntz, Beck from containment) from various Orbital teams, perhaps even worked cases with a few, along with everyone in Maddox's office. He's very cordial so presumably he likes them, but in stark contrast at least half seem to decidedly dislike him with baiting antagonism, some openly hostile. Sharon: "why are you smirking at me Bryan?" Muntz, the Laghari lab tech: "I've come across plenty like you...men who play by their own rules." Beck: "They only send in the A-team when they want the agents to survive...easy for you to say, I'm the one who had to tell his wife". No wonder he feels a bit ostracized. Perhaps his reputation (impulsive?) proceeds him or perhaps he's been labeled an "unlucky" partner that misfortune follows so he gets kept at a distance?

The exception to the above seems to be Gary Garcia, the former scientist that helps hide George. May be former partners if the audio during credit rolls is any indication, and knows about Bryan's health / injections. They appear close. Perhaps because they share a mentality: both presumably injured in their line of work at Orbital, and they know what it means to have to rely on yourself.

When we meet Finola and Bryan, it seems like they've been working together for a few weeks, stateside at least (Finola's quote 1x02: Been here 3 weeks, feels like 3 years) and that he's had at least two Orbital partners prior, one (Julian / Jules) that died on duty, and the other creepy Dutch guy still living, Niels. How many more partners has he been through? Is it protocol that they get reassigned/shuffled so often to follow the debris, or so as not to form attachments "This job is about being alone, it's supposed to be...we're a blip in other people's lives", or does his personality not play well with others, like from the pilot when he tells Finola "it's been a long time since I've worked with somebody who's looked at me like another human being."

Also in 1x01 when Bryan says, "So are we now saying the debris pulled [Kieran] from the ground and added meat to his bones" and Finola says no, he was cremated, Bryan looks almost disappointed like he was momentarily more hopeful than pragmatic. At first I thought this was just a lead up to introducing the fact that George Jones was alive, but maybe another plot point is that Bryan has lost someone in duty he wants back.

He carries a picture in his front pocket of a woman with some Persian/ Farsi(?) or Urdu(?) written on the back. It's hard to tell by the script, it could be neither. When confronted by that, his clone says "I can't let it go." Old flame that was lost? Or a partner of a fallen service member killed in action —I've lost brothers— that he couldn't save (is that part of Bryan's dark guilt / grief)? Civilian casualty of a Marine mission? In the pilot when he tells Isla "you have to tell her how much you need her, I know from experience...You will not be able to forgive yourself if you don't" is Bryan thinking of this woman?

EDIT: considering the next episode is called "Asalah," which could be a woman's name, maybe that's part of the text on the back of the photo. Pure speculation.

He counts on himself to be level and composed when it comes to his emotions and apologizes when he isn't. He loses that composure in the pilot when Isla talks about family therapy and fighting with her mother after Kieran's death: "I knew someone like her once." Was Bryan referring to himself, has he been through post-service therapy? Perhaps he developed a rift with his family or left home at an early age like she did?

Bryan would be great at pub trivia night. He always seems to have an odd fact ready about NASA tech, native legends, an article about a historical building that he read, Fleetwood PA, etc. He doesn't seem the type to keep facts on standby to impress, so perhaps he's a secret bibliophile even though Finola hassles him for not reading case files.

"Fin: Maybe we should run some more tests before we continue/ Bryan: I will cut bait if you want to / Fin; let's just look out for each other" 1x02 Bryan seems more cautious than impulsive, he does a good job of listening to Finola's concerns. Is that from experience? Did he get overconfident, mishandle debris, and get permanently injured, hence the frequent blood work and injections?

"This man saved my life." Why does Bryan trust Maddox implicitly? And when Maddox says in 1x07 "Investigate quietly. I want to keep the lights off. I don't want to lose anymore lives, Bryan, okay?" is that a word of warning specially for him? Does he have a body count? (see afforementioned question of frequent work partners turnover and having an unlucky reputation)

Bryan in protective of Finola when the CIA taps her apartment. It's the straw that turns his allegiance from his agency to his partner.

I still can't place why Bryan carries a baseball — it seems like it could be a red herring, but I can't get over the visual of Maddox playing catch with Dario and reading into it as some sort of surrogate bond — or why he has a chain around his neck (1x05). It's not service tags and probably not a ring, it's some kind of pendant: a large loop encircling a dull, perhaps tarnished, gray metallic disc. A patron saint? A piece of shrapnel? A piece of debris? Unclear, but it definitely has texture or an etching.

Top Bryan Quotes

"That's the job. Impossible." 1x01 Pilot

"We are supposed to be blips in these people's lives, not memories." 1x04 In Universe

"It's been a long time since I've worked with somebody who's looked at me like another human being." 1x01

"Zippo lighters, Pyrex glassware, Crayola crayons, and of course Peeps. Insane for peeps, cracklike...we owe the people of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania a great deal of gratitude and I am not afraid to say it." 1x02 You Are Not Alone

"I've been thinking, [about] Finola.. if MI6 knew her father was still alive they would take her out of here. We need to get home before this becomes an issue...this is going to affect her." 1x03 Solar Winds, when he's not sure how her father will affect her empathetic-based decision-making

Craig: "You hated the creepy Dutch guy." / Bryan: "He was adorable."

"Well, one of my tips for survival, Muntz, is always let the other guy touch the debris first." 1x03 So is that what happened to Garcia?

To Finola "I realize I tend to forget that there's still magic to discover in the world. But not you." 1x03

"There are things that you understand about life that I don't, and I respect that. But there are things that I know that you will not find very palatable...I am going to focus on the people that we're saving and not the ones that we can't." 1x04

"If we don't act, we might not be able to stop the terraforming. There's no way we're going to be able to win all these, and I know that every cell in your body right now is screaming for you to do what you think is right. I need you to go against that. I need you to trust me." 1x04

"Finola's capable. I trust her instincts." 1x08 Spaceman

"I'm running on sugar and coffee for the rest of the day" 1x07 You Can Call Her Caroline, but really isn't that Bryan everyday?

"When I tell you that I understand, it's not empty...I lost brothers. It destroys families. There are people who can help you with what you're going through right now...There is a way to get back from this pain. I was where you were, and the darkness almost ended me. And somebody put out his hand... I want to be there for you." 1x07

"I'm trying to get back to someone. It's very important to me." 1x09 Do You Know Icarus?

#nbc debris #bryan beneventi #character study #finola jones #craig maddox #sci fi #also shout-out to his Jay Kulina Elvis glasses in 1x04 #can somebody read that photo?#renew Debris

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uncanny-tranny · 4 years ago

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I saw this gender tag and thought it looked fun, so I'm doing it!

1. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that definition mean to you?

I'm a trans man and nonbinary. So while I identify as a man, I recognize that there is a part of me which doesn't conform to that, hence my nonbinary identity.

2. What pronouns honor you?

He/him and they/them, but I do prefer he/him over they/them.

3. Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear.

My style can be all over the place. I usually throw on whatever I have the energy for, but when I actually have the desire, I love wearing two-toned pants, chains, chokers, weird earrings, and fishnet shirts. I recently got these chunky boots that make me two inches taller and it really makes me feel confident (though I twisted my ankle super bad in them recently). I also like the idea of wearing suits,,, but mostly like the suit vests if that makes sense. I think it looks so good on other men and I kind of want to partake in it as well.

If I could, I would probably get much more into cross-dressing. It seems fun and something I might do if my dysphoria simmers down about it. I do have some wigs, and they’re fun to wear when I’m by myself.

4. Talk about your choices with body hair. How do you style your hair? Do you have facial hair? What do you choose to shave, or choose not to shave?

I usually wear my hair down or in a man ponytail. I don't really have what you'd call "facial hair" but what I have is the result of using minoxidil. Sensory-wise, I usually let my hair grow out.

5. Talk about cosmetics. Do you choose to wear makeup? Do you paint your nails? What types of soaps and perfumes do you use if any?

I have no idea where it is, but I have eyeliner somewhere (though I'd likely not wear make-up in public). I sometimes paint my nails black because I'm a stereotype. As far as scents go, I'm a fan of Old Spice and specifically their Fuji scent. It's nice

6. Have you experienced being misgendered? If so, how often?

Every moment I'm not asleep

7. Do you experience dysphoria? How does that affect you?

I experience a ton of dysphoria. While this doesn't make me more trans, it does present a lot of obstacles in my well-being as well as what I'm comfortable with. It's hard to talk about, but I have experienced so much dysphoria that it has overtaken my life at certain times (not for a very long time, though).

8. Talk about children. Are you interested in having children? Would you want to carry a child if that were an option for you? Do you want to be the primary caretaker for any children you may have?

I think I'd like to adopt and if I couldn't, then I would simply never have children. To me, it's the only way I could become a father without putting myself at huge risk. I think I wouldn't want to be the only one for my child(ren) though, but I'm still young enough that my preferences could change.

9. Talk about money. Is it important to you to provide for a family financially if you choose to have one? Is it important to you that you earn more than any partner you may have? Do you prefer to pay for things like dates? Are you uncomfortable when others pay for you or offer to pay for you?

I'm only uncomfortable when people pay for things because I feel like a burden. Otherwise, I enjoy providing for others because it's how I express love. I adore giving the people I love gifts or experiencing things with them. It's my love language toward other people.

10. Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?

Gender weird

Below the cut is a blank copy for anybody who wants to do this!

1, How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that mean to you?

2. What pronouns honor you?

3. Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear.

4. Talk about your choices with body hair. How do you style your hair? Do you have facial hair? What do you choose to shave, or choose to not shave?

5. Talk about cosmetics. Do you choose to wear makeup? Do you paint your nails? What types of soaps and perfumes do you use if any?

6. Have you experienced being misgendered? If so, how often?

7. Do you experience dysphoria? How does that affect you?

8. Talk about children. Are you interested in having children? Would you want to carry a child if that were an option for you? Do you want to be the primary caretaker for any children you may have?

10. Anything else you want to share about your experiences with gender?

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #dysphoria tw #gender tag #long post

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

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we’re professional. (2/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter two: concealed series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. chapter warnings: heavy angst, implied masturbation, alcohol word count: 10,141 also on AO3

originally posted: 21 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Two nights: one containing a lie, the other containing a truth. Both end up changing Changbin's life, but is it for the better?

There were two nights that changed Seo Changbin’s life forever, both involving his best friend, Seungmin. The first night that changed his life was the night of his sophomore showcase.

It was the night where Seungmin lied.

“‘arranged: in black’ is a stupid name for this set, isn’t it?” Changbin stood in front of the bright white wall, his posture slightly askew. He stared at four small square canvases with a silhouette painted in varying shades of black and white oils, trying to convey the varying degrees of grey he felt his life was consumed in. The canvases tilted to the left, he tilted to the right.

Something didn’t fit: was it the art, or the artist?

A young, neon pink-haired man behind him loudly snapped his gum right in Changbin’s ear and hummed loudly as he stared at the paintings. “Sounds pretentious.”

“Oh,” Changbin raised his eyebrows and gave the man a cocky look. “Yeah, and a self portrait painted in watered down red wine with the name ‘Dead Energy’ isn’t pretentious? Come on, Seungmin.”

Seungmin shrugged, turning back around to adjust the aforementioned painting on the wall behind him. “You asked for my opinion, dude.”

Changbin took a step towards his paintings, making the most minute adjustments to how they were situated against the wall. “No, I asked you if it was a stupid name. Not for you to give me your terrible opinion.”

“Okay,” Seungmin drawled out, as if he were about to prove a point, “then, fine, it’s a horrible name and I think you should change it.” To anyone that didn’t know the dynamic between Seungmin and Changbin, the banter may have come off harsh, but this was what worked best for them.

“Well,” Changbin rolled his eyes at his friend as he laughed. “I think your opinion sucks and I’m in too deep to go and fix my placards.”

In all honesty, Changbin had been looking for an excuse to change the name of his set. Seungmin’s reassurance, while masqueraded as an insult, helped give him the small amount of encouragement he needed to believe in the project, name and all.

Later that night, Changbin was aimlessly chatting with Seungmin when two well-dressed men walked past them. One was a blond that dressed in a simple black suit set, similar to the art professors: stylistically flat, but professional. Deliberately plain, so as not to distract from the art on display.

The other, however, caught Changbin’s eye. His aura was distracting Changbin from his conversation. The man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, had dressed like he was a piece on display: everything placed on him was deliberate and purposeful. He was wearing a graphite turtleneck, a single earring that had a shiny silver safety pin and chain dangling from his earlobe, and a rose gold necklace adorned with a skirt-shaped onyx that nestled into the middle of his clavicle. He even wore fake, half-rimmed black glasses. Everything about him screamed out-of-place, yet oddly intriguing and untouchable.

“Wait a sec, Chan,” the intricately decorated man paused, taking a step back as he found himself unable to tear his eyes off of Changbin’s paintings. The strange man approached the canvases, and it made Changbin start to sweat. The way that the brunette pored over his work was different than the way his classmates or professors looked at it.

This strange man was analyzing his work, not just staring beyond it.

“Oh no,” Seungmin muttered, his expression dropping as he watched the two strange men hover in Changbin’s area.

“What?” Changbin nervously rubbed his thumbs into his palms and tried to stay composed. “Why did you say ‘oh no’? Seungmin, dude, what?”

The pink haired man stood in awe and shook his head. “You’re fucked, man,” he turned away, trying to get Changbin to stop staring. “Dude, I think that’s The Heartless.”

The black-haired man squinted in confusion. “‘The Heartless’? What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with me?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. He leaned in, trying to make it less obvious that they were staring. “He’s brutal, that’s all I know. He’s a famous artist that’s got a lot of power in every gallery in Vancouver, owns all of the galleries in Victoria, helps manage several in Montréal and Toronto…” His voice tapered off as the both watched the two strange men observe Changbin’s paintings. “He’s really harsh on artists, even those that have work in his galleries. You’re fucked.”

“Shut up,” Changbin grumbled under his breath, digging his elbow into Seungmin’s rib cage. If it were anyone less intriguing, Changbin would never have let his body move on its own, drawn to the stranger like a magnet. Once he had gotten back into his own area, he lost all confidence he had somehow mustered up, the fancy brunette turning around at the sound of footsteps.

“Can I help you?” The brunette’s voice was cold, arrogant. Fitting, based on his appearance.

Changbin froze, trying to stutter out some sort of introduction. He could practically feel Seungmin cringing from a few metres away.

“Oh,” the mysterious man pointed over his shoulder, “you created these, didn’t you?”

It felt like all of the air in the gallery had been sucked through a vacuum. Everything was dreadfully silent. Changbin could only meekly nod twice, swallowing hard as he tried not to show panic on his face.

“Figures. The aura just kind of… fits.” The man turned back around, bringing his index finger between his teeth as he pondered.

The blond man next to the stranger smirked, eyeing the paintings, then the brunette. “You’re not really going to—“

A hand came in between the brunette and the blond, as the well-dressed man haphazardly drew his fingers out towards his compatriot. “Hush.” His gaze on the paintings remained unbroken as his eyes fluttered around each of the four small canvases. “Tell me,” he cleared his throat, looking at the placard stuck up next to the bottom right canvas, “Changbin, why did you pick the name ‘arranged: in black’ for this set?”

Changbin had a habit of being a bit too brash when he was nervous, almost as if it were a coping strategy for stressful situations. “Do you want the fake answer or the real one?”

The blond sucked some air in through his teeth, deliberately looking away from the situation, biting back a smirk.

The brunette with the fake glasses raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned his head to make eye contact with the student, his gaze intimidating and strong, like a criminal investigator. “So, you have two reasons. Interesting.” He licked his bottom lip, then folded his arms across his chest. “I want the boring answer first, then the fun answer. If I can guess the true answer, then I’ll surprise you.”

Despite the fact that Changbin was terrified, he managed to shake his nerves out as he folded his arms, mirroring the strange man in front of him. “The boring answer is that I liked the way it looked on the placards.” The stranger cocked his head to the side, clearly unimpressed with that response.

“The interesting answer is,” Changbin looked past the brunette as he casually walked over to his canvases, adjusting them to be neat and orderly again. “It’s how I arrange myself to best fit the way I blend in during any situation at hand.” He turns his torso a bit towards the brunette, but does not move closer, afraid that the stranger would smell his vulnerability and tear into him like a vulture. “How much white do I need to make my black match the graphite shade of your turtleneck, how much black I need to blend together with white to make the sterling silver shade of your safety pin earring. How much I need to arrange myself to conform. Hence, 'arranged: in black'.”

There is a very long, drawn out pause. The stranger chews on his index finger as he studies Changbin’s face, pondering something, but hiding his true expression. Seungmin takes a step forward, but quickly rescinds it as Changbin looks up at him and squints.

“Cat eyes.” The brunette says with a devious grin.

Changbin makes contact with the stranger again, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Cat eyes?” He repeats, slowly and carefully.

The stranger takes a step forward and offers his hand out. “My name is Minho, from the Lee Family. I run a few galleries across Canada, but Vancouver and its eclectic artists refuse to relinquish me from its talons.” His face falls for a moment, then he offers a soft, albeit somewhat fake smile. “I want to buy these paintings from you. The character, the brutal honesty behind them is something I don’t see in many people, much less undergraduate artists.”

“Holy shit.” Changbin can hear Seungmin’s quiet interjection from afar. He looks down to Minho’s thin, bony hand, then accepts it without thinking.

Minho’s hand is cold. “Changbin. Seo Changbin, as I’m sure you’ve gathered.” He firmly shakes Minho’s icy hand, then shakes his head. “You seriously want to buy my paintings?”

A wide smile spreads on Minho’s face. “Absolutely.” He pulls out a thin wallet from his back pocket, rifling his fingers around it as he nods at the blond. “Chan, you’ve got a pen, right?”

“Yeah,” the other man reaches inside of his jacket, pulling out a weighty-looking pen. He presents it to the brunette, who accepts it with haste. Minho takes a step towards the wall, pulling a card from his hand, then proceeds to write something on the back of it.

As he turns around, he holds his hand out towards Changbin, card tucked neatly between his index and middle fingers. The younger man takes it, shoving it into his back pocket a bit haphazardly without looking it over. As Changbin fumbles with the card and his pocket, Minho takes a few steps closer, lightly grabbing on to Changbin’s upper arm as he leans into his ear. “Text me in a half hour. We can talk more later.”

As quickly as Changbin registers the words Minho says, the mysterious brunette and blond duo disappear, off beyond a white partition holding up a classmate’s draped canvas. “What the fuck was that?” Seungmin whispers in shock as he approaches Changbin.

“That was Lee Minho,” the black-haired man breathed, a relieved, yet nervous, grin curling up on his face. “He actually wants my paintings. I don’t know why, but I’ll take it as a win.”

As requested, Changbin sends off a text to the number written on the back of Minho’s business card. The young man bites his lip as he moves to tuck his phone into his back pocket, but it vibrates in his hand. “That was fast,” he sighs as he unlocks his phone.

20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’ll be there soon. Alone. 20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’d prefer it if you were alone, too.

Changbin’s heart skipped at the possible intention of Minho’s text message. Should he have shooed Seungmin away, against the younger man’s protests? Probably not, but he figured that it was a public area, and Minho likely wouldn’t do something shady.

Probably.

He aimlessly nibbled at his bottom lip as he stared at some of the mistakes on his paintings, likely imperfections that his mind was hallucinating to keep him busy. Why exactly was such a well-renowned artist interested in such simple paintings, anyways?

“They’re quite lovely,” Minho’s voice crept up, startling Changbin. The brunette didn’t react to Changbin’s visceral response, instead engrossing himself further in the brushstrokes that blended black and white into shades of muted grey.

“You startled me,” Changbin mumbled, regaining his composure. He stared at the same spot that he assumed Minho was looking at, noticing that there was an extra stroke of thin black in a sea of deep grey, somewhere it shouldn’t have been. His brow furrowed in irritation as Minho turned to meet his gaze.

The older man bit back a smile. “You’re looking for every imperfection, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” Minho turns away from Changbin, folding his arms as he lets his eyes slowly scan every individual canvas. “I just know from personal experience.” He gingerly reaches his lean fingers out to the corner of one of the canvases, causing Changbin to tense in anticipation. “Pouring your soul into something for hours, days — hell, even weeks, for some projects — only to find everything possibly imperfect with it as soon as it’s presented to the public.” Minho delicately nudges the corner up a bit, evening out the canvas so all four looked even.

Changbin unclenches his fists, feeling sweat bead at his brow as he looks at Minho. The older man turns his head slightly, looking down at the black-haired man, scanning his appearance.

“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t ramen or something frozen? You’re as grey as your silhouettes.”

The question was jarring. Did Changbin really look that unwell? “I mean,” he awkwardly moved to scratch the back of his head. “I usually have leftovers from the kitchen at work every night, so, last night, probably?”

Minho frowned in response. “Here I thought the ‘starving artist’ trope was just an aesthetic you were going for, match the grungy brushstrokes of your painting.” He dug into his pocket and spun on his heel. “Come on, we can discuss this somewhere a little bit more appropriate.”

Changbin knew all of the things he risked following a stranger — a well-known stranger that likely had many connections — away from the UBC campus, away from the same area of town he had been so familiar with for two years. He threw caution to the wind as he stepped into Minho’s black Tesla.

There was an air of relief that washed over Changbin as he watched Minho input directions towards downtown Vancouver. However, that relief turned into nervousness as he really took in the interior of the car. Everything about it screamed everything that Minho was, and Changbin was not: confident, financially stable, mature.

“What about your friend?” Changbin questioned, just to ease a bit of the awkward silence as they left UBC.

The brunette rolled his neck a bit, adjusting his seatbelt. “Chan? He drove here himself. Nearly subzero temperatures and he still wants to ride his stupid fucking motorcycle.” Minho laughed once, then the awkward silence came back with a vengeance.

Something wasn’t adding up, and it caused an uneasy ball of tension to form in Changbin’s stomach. “Why didn’t you tear into my paintings?” The younger man nervously blurted out as they drove down Fourth Avenue, not thinking before he spoke yet again.

Minho smirked as he looked over his shoulder, merging into a different lane. “So,” he chuckled as he turned back around, “I take it you’ve heard the rumours, then?”

“‘Minho, the Heartless”, yeah.” Changbin intertwined his fingers together, staring down at the way he was rubbing his thumb against his hand. “My friend Seungmin told me a bit about you before I approached you. That you’re brutal towards new artists, and even those that have their works on display in your galleries.”

“Figures,” the brunette tutted, rapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not…” he pauses, squinting a bit as he takes in a breath, “that’s not the real reason I’m labelled as ‘the heartless’, but it plays a key factor into it all.”

Changbin looks up, taking in the side profile of the man, watching the way passing streetlights would highlight his face in a warm shade of orange, contrasting with the harsh blue lights of the car’s displays.

“Rumour has it,” Minho brought his arm up to the door, then rested his head against his fist, “that I’m too cold to everyone. I’m rude to my clients, to my patrons, hell, that I had to have been brutal to my exes, because they never stuck around.” He tries to stifle s scoff into his fist. “Look, Changbin, I’m going to be honest.”

As they neared Granville Island, the warm yellow street lights turned into cold, blueish white LEDs that matched the lights in the car. The ball of tension in Changbin’s stomach expanded, constricting his lungs and causing his chest to tighten.

Minho tilted his head to the side, just enough to peer at Changbin over his false lenses, then back to the road. “I’m not interested in dating. I don’t do…” he pauses, spinning his fingers into an awkward circle to help him find the right word, “relationships in general: professional, personal, I try to avoid it all. Honestly, I just don’t like people.”

Somehow, Changbin was partially relieved, but that somehow left him with more questions.

“I’ve been burned by too many artists in the past, so don’t take it personally. But,” Minho paused and shrugged his shoulders, “your paintings pulled me in, made me want to get to know you just a little more. Maybe have you as a model for a sketch or two, buy that set of yours, help you out financially a bit. Student and mentor.”

“I couldn’t…” Changbin frantically interrupted, but lost his confidence quickly. Taking on too many shifts at the restaurant was killing him. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than three or four hours a night. There was no way he had it in him to turn down such an opportunity, even if it hurt his pride a bit.

Minho smiled as Changbin went silent. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for anything weird or sexual. I just have this itching feeling like I’m not giving back to the community that propped me up when I was low. You don’t have to give me an answer tonight or even tomorrow. Let’s just celebrate your talent and get you something that will give you more than just salt and simple carbohydrates.”

They spent their first unofficial date getting to know each other. Minho was 29, had lived in Vancouver for his whole life. He did his first two years of his Bachelor’s of Fine Arts at the University of Toronto, then came back to Vancouver when the vibes of Toronto stopped meshing with him. “It’s a hellhole, really,” Minho kept the prongs of his fork between his teeth as he reminisced. “Clearly, so is Vancouver, but at least Vancouver feels like home.”

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, still a bit tense. He felt like he didn’t fit in at this high-end restaurant. The large plates with small amounts of food distracted him too much, like it was a mockery of how the wealthy always had to over-embellish even the smallest things in their possession.

“You’ve lived here your whole life, right, Changbin?” Minho set his fork down on the tablecloth, then clasped his hands together and rested his chin on the bridge his fingers made. The overhead spotlight illuminated his brown hair, highlighting the undertones of orange and black in certain spots. If Changbin was ever going to be interested in dating again, he would have considered Minho as a potential suitor.

Dating, however, was something Changbin wasn’t sure he’d ever be interested in again. Everyone thought that he and Felix would stay together forever, since that’s what high school sweethearts should do, and Changbin agreed for the longest time. He agreed with the sentiment, until he found one of their classmates in the bed he shared with Felix.

Love was dead, and Changbin believed it should stay that way.

“Vancouver?” He perked up, taking a sip of water from his glass, awkwardly looking away from Minho’s gaze. “Yeah, mostly. Lived in Nanaimo for a couple years until my parents split and my dad moved back here. I missed it too much to stay away.” It was mostly the truth, but that wasn’t relevant. Why bother spilling any more information on someone he barely knew?

“Interesting.” The way that Minho squinted at him, staring him up and down, stayed in Changbin’s mind for too long. There was a methodical, yet mindless way that Minho grazed his teeth against his bottom lip when he listened to Changbin ramble something off. If it really enraptured his attention, he would bring his index finger between his teeth and nod his head a couple of times.

Minho was attractive, not because of his physical features, but because of the way that he drank in the way that Changbin interacted with him. It was one-sided and a bit foolish, but that was the fun of it. He could toy with the idea of it in his head, flirt with the idea of what ifs, with none of the repercussions or demands of an actual relationship.

At the end of the night, when Minho dropped Changbin off at his dorm nearly two hours later, the younger man agreed to see him again the next weekend, where they’d discuss the more technical agreements of their arrangement.

Tonight, however, Changbin would let ideas run through his head, ideas of how Minho’s voice would sound in his ear, how his breath would brush up on his neck, and how his fingers would dance over his body. The black-haired man sighed as he nestled himself in between his sheets, allowing his mind to creatively extrapolate on some details as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband.

Nothing else mattered tonight.

The second night that changed Changbin’s life was the Sunday night after the fake engagement story went live.

It was the night where Seungmin told the truth.

“Look, dude,” Seungmin frowned as he sat on the opposite side of Changbin’s couch. “I wanted to say something a while ago, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I just… I knew. It was obvious. Changbin,” he paused, trying to duck into the bluenette’s line of vision, “you’re in love with Minho. It’s kinda gross, not gonna lie. I haven’t seen you this infatuated over anyone in years. Genuinely thought you were gonna die alone with me or something.”

Changbin brought his knees up to his chest, staring aimlessly at his fingernails, like he could get lost in the sunsets hidden away in his cuticles, anything to avoid actually addressing how he was starting to feel over Minho. He could ignore it, hope that everything would go away, hope that Seungmin was just wrong and overanalyzing.

“Come on, Binnie, it was going to happen eventually,” Seungmin’s voice is quiet, like he was afraid of how Changbin would react. He leaned in, resting a hand on the bluenette’s arm. “Changbin.” The older man sucked his cheek in between his teeth as he pensively looked up at his friend. “This is gonna go one of two ways, probably. You’re either going to keep going through with all of this, say nothing, then end up heartbroken years down the line when he wants nothing to do with you out of the blue. Or…”

“Or?” Changbin tipped his head down, wincing as he looked at the younger man.

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “You can risk it. Tell Minho you care about him, more than you agreed upon initially. See what his reaction is, probably suppress some of the inevitable heartbreak.”

The bluenette stared down at his hands, gaze getting caught in the pinkish groove between two of the diamonds in his new ring. How much distance was there between the gap of ‘friendship’ and ‘lovers’, between ‘casual’ and ‘professional’? “You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” He doesn’t look away as he timidly questions Seungmin. The question felt rhetorical as the words left his lips.

Seungmin runs a hand through his auburn hair, then grabs Changbin’s wrist as he softly smiles. “I want you to be happy.”

“So, you definitely think it’s a bad idea,” Changbin laughs as he sinks into the couch.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seungmin laughed, playfully slapping Changbin’s arm. “I think it’d be a bad idea if you didn’t tell him. I don’t know him very well, but Minho does seem to genuinely care about you, from the little I’ve seen, especially over the last year.”

Changbin’s lips flutter as he sighs in frustration. “That’s the worst part. I know he cares, but I don’t have any hard evidence of it. It’s all a gut feeling, and the uncertainty of that just makes me queasy.”

“The ring, though,” the younger man grabs the hand Changbin won’t stop staring at. “You really think that someone that didn’t care about you would have put in that much effort and money for something like this? For it to all be a fluke?”

Seungmin had a point. He always did: he knew people well, especially Changbin and people that interacted with him. He was the first to suggest that his ex wasn’t as innocent as he came off as, and he was the first to offer a shoulder to cry on when Changbin eventually got burned.

“Look, you should tell him. Maybe tell him after the engagement party, since that’s already all planned out and, hey, free publicity if it fails, I guess.” Seungmin suggested, then pulled Changbin into an awkward, but much needed, hug. “If he rejects you, I’ll help you get a crab pot and we can throw him overboard somewhere far past Vancouver Island.”

They both laughed hard enough to cause tears to roll down their faces.

“This is why you’re my best friend, Seung. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders and scoffed. “You’d be bored, but I would be too.”

Neither Changbin nor Minho sent inane texts to the other throughout the day like they used to. There were a few messages here and there, but an obvious rift had developed between the two of them since the last time they spoke.

It was stupid, really. Changbin shouldn’t have gotten upset over how much Minho had dropped on a real engagement ring for a fake relationship.

“That’s almost as much as my tuition!” The bluenette shrieked when he heard how much the ring was worth. “Five and a half thousand dollars? Minho, what the fuck?”

This was the first time that Minho was upset in front of Changbin, the first time where it felt realistic, like there was a passionate drive behind his anger. “Why are you so obsessed with the cost of this? Aren’t you in this for the money, anyways?”

Changbin shook his head a couple of times, physically taken aback by Minho’s wording. The older man stumbled on his words as he tried to form an apology, but the bluenette pulled away, storming off of the bed. He slipped his button-up shirt on from the day prior and continued shaking his head.

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it, right?” Changbin scoffed, gathering his things as he made his way to the door. “You didn’t mean to indirectly accuse me of just being a whore, right?”

To some extent, though, it was true. He knew it as the realization sank to the bottom of his heart. There was nothing physical going on between the two of them, just a professional mentorship and financial transactions. There were no budding feelings, especially not when Changbin would wake up to Minho’s soft hands on his shoulders. There were no burning feelings, definitely not when Minho would pull Changbin into a soft, tight embrace as he bid him farewell, lingering a moment too long every time they parted.

Strictly professional, Changbin. He had to keep repeating it in his head.

If he repeated it enough, that meant it was true, right?

He consistently reminded himself over the two weeks that had passed, and it felt like it was working, even with the engagement party coming up on Saturday.

“Strictly professional,” the young man sighed under his breath as he stared at his phone, staring down at the reminder that popped up. Tomorrow was the day where they were going to formally announce their engagement at a party downtown in a high-end restaurant that one of Minho’s friends owned.

11:30 | Minho: I’m sending over one of my drivers tonight for your final fitting. He should be there not long after you’re out of class, around 16:20.

Concise. Very professional, just like Changbin would expect from Minho.

11:32 | sent: I assume you’re going to be busy with another arrangement so I’m not going to see you tonight either, am I?

It was a bit bitchy, Changbin had to admit, but at least it felt somewhat cathartic to send off. A few bubbles popped up on screen as Minho typed a response, but they suddenly cut out and he didn’t respond. The bluenette shrugged, sighing heavily as he locked his phone and shoved it in the droopy front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Strictly professional.

He didn’t get another text message until he was halfway through one of his open studio blocks. Black paint had dripped down from the brush in his hand, splattering down on the floor and onto his Converse as he stared at his phone, somehow narrowly avoiding dropping it to the floor as his jaw dropped.

15:02 | Minho: I just rearranged my schedule to make sure I’d go along with you. Might as well make sure that all of the money I’ll drop on a custom fitting for you highlights all of your features in the ways that they deserve. 15:03 | Minho: I want everyone’s eyes on you. It’s as much your night as mine, and you should feel as handsome as you look. 15:04 | Minho: That’s what they say in the movies, right?

Changbin’s eyelids felt heavy and sticky as he blinked rapidly, fully processing Minho’s texts, running them over in his mind, practically hearing his voice whisper in his ear. All of the anger he had harboured over Minho in the past few days dissipated as he set his paintbrush on the side table next to his wooden frame and canvas. He felt like all of the colour faded from his face as he stared at his phone.

The last text was to ease the tension, a bit of an extinguisher to the fire Minho caused in Changbin’s stomach. He had to know what he was saying and what kind of effect it would have on the younger man, right?

15:08 | sent: All of my features? 15:08 | sent: In what ways do they deserve to be highlighted? You’re the master artist, here after all, so I’d love to hear your opinion.

There was a knot in Changbin’s stomach as he sent off the texts. His pulse was elevated, breaths a bit shallower than normal, and he had to lean up against the metal stool that sat behind him. He stared ahead to the painting he was working on, but he wasn’t looking at it as he brought his thumbnail up to his teeth. Yes, he needed to apologize for how he acted the last time they spoke in person, but that seemed so minute right now.

His phone shook in his hand, vibrating twice. With haste, Changbin brought his phone back up, breaking his line of vision to his canvas. His eyes went wide and he slowly sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he read over the words several times.

15:11 | Minho: Love, you know I’m more of a tactile feedback person and not a wordsmith, right? 15:12 | Minho: All the time you’ve been spending working out — it shows. I notice it when you’re laying next to me, snoring away into your pillow. It’s very… distracting. 15:14 | Minho: It’s only fair that I, the very well-respected and influential artist, make sure that all of your hard work is accented well. Hidden, but merely enough shown off to get people to wonder: who is Seo Changbin? How did Lee Minho manage to get such a talented, attractive person to carry on his arm? To call him his own forever?

This was breaking the boundaries of their relationship dynamic they came up with initially, but Changbin didn’t care. His toe was in the water, and the promise of its warm embrace was too much to turn away, even if it meant he was potentially selling his soul to the devil, ruining his life for a moment of warmth he hadn’t experienced in years.

15:16 | sent: Oh, so it’s just about arm candy, huh? 15:16 | sent: I’m more interested in why you consider me sleeping as distracting, though. Sounding like a bit of a serial killer. 15:17 | sent: Especially when you say that I’ll be yours forever.

Changbin didn’t bother locking his phone, watching the little text bubbles pop up and disappear several times over, groaning a bit each time that they weren’t followed by an actual message. Less than an hour to go until he was done with this block, and he would see Minho. He would be in his car, able to get close and push the limits of their agreement. A hand on the thigh, which was normal, could slowly creep up and in towards the sensitive skin of Minho’s upper thigh.

He didn’t mean to get distracted, but he couldn’t help letting his mind wander. Minho seemed like the type that would feel his partner up in the back of his car, leave bite marks and imprints from their shoulder, all the way up to the back of their ear. Changbin could practically feel the hairs on the side of his neck stand up in response to what Minho’s warm breath would feel like.

A buzz.

Changbin looked side to side in embarrassment, realizing he was practically having a wet dream out in the middle of his studio. Nervously, he cleared his throat and looked down to his phone as he felt his face warm.

15:20 | Minho: You’re always more than eye candy, I hope you know that. 15:21 | Minho: I can assure you, I am not a serial killer. Sure, that’s what all serial killers say, but when would I have the time for that? Seems like too much labour.

A disgruntled sigh came up from Changbin’s lungs. Naturally, he was looking too far into Minho’s texts, inserting inappropriate context between the words. Perhaps nearly three years without physical attention from another person was having an effect on his body. He thought about responding, but he didn’t have it in him to craft a witty, yet appropriate, response.

As Changbin stood up and awkwardly shuffled his legs around a bit to adjust the distracting erection building between his legs, he checked his phone one last time before reaching out for his paintbrush, but found himself nearly doubled over as he leaned over the side table with a gasp.

15:26 | Minho: Judging by your lack of response, I hope this means you’re being smart and focusing on your studio time, so you’ll ignore this message. 15:27 | Minho: You’re treading water that’s dangerous. I don’t know if you want to dive in and see how deep the water is. Could be cold.

Changbin responded without thinking.

15:28 | sent: I know how to swim. I’m not scared.

His hands were shaking with anticipation as he waited for Minho’s response. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on painting, so he gradually started rinsing off his brushes and sorting through his supplies. Every ten seconds or so, Changbin would stare at his phone, waiting for it to light up with another message.

Ten minutes had passed, and he was worried he had fucked up. He had stopped looking at his phone and was, again, staring at his painting. He was just going to leave it up over the weekend, since he would probably just come back to it in the middle of the night on Sunday night, when he normally had a random bout of inspiration hit him.

Unless, of course, the plan of confessing to Minho on Saturday would cause his regular Sunday plans to be pushed back. That would be a worthy sacrifice for his art.

Changbin was about to turn away from his painting when he felt a hand on the small of his back, and a familiar voice creep up into his ear. “I see black is a common theme in your paintings again.”

Minho.

The crafty bastard really showed up early and had the nerve to sneak up on Changbin. Instead of reacting in fright, the younger man leaned into the touch, tilting his head slightly back. “If I recall correctly, you like seeing black in paintings. Greyscale pieces have a history of winning you over.”

“Ah,” Minho sighs, letting his hand slowly move closer and closer to Changbin’s side. “So it’s for me?”

“Engagement present, I think,” Changbin shrugged. “That’s what most couples do, right?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispered, then slowly pulled away from Changbin, “but I don’t think we’re like most couples, hmm?”

Changbin let his eyes flutter shut in frustration. Every two steps forward felt like it was accompanied by one to three steps backward. If he were alone, he would scream into a pillow, but he would just shove it down for now. He turned toward Minho with a fake smile on his face. “So,” he tried to bite back his frustrations, knowing he was coming off as irritated. “Any special reason you showed up early?”

His words sounded innocent enough, but the look on his face fell more along the lines of, ‘perhaps my texts sparked some curiosity?’

Minho’s eyes darted to the side, his lower eyelids squinting up for a split second. “I really didn’t want to be late.” That’s a lie. “Traffic about now can be unpredictable.” Another lie. Inbound downtown traffic was busy on Fridays, but not until after 16:30.

“But you didn’t stay in the car.” Admit you wanted to see me.

“I’ve come up to say hi before.” Minho leaned onto Changbin’s side table, arrogantly running a free hand through his hair. He was posturing, testing Changbin on something, but what?

Changbin took a cautious step forward, seemingly towards his set of paintbrushes on the table, but ready to pivot to Minho at the first sign he was given. He desperately wanted to be bold with his words, but he couldn’t quite get them to come out right. “You left a meeting early to come see me on a day you hadn’t planned to.” He paused, rolling his eyes up to stare down Minho. “It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen me. I think you left and came here because you miss me.”

This would be the part of the movie where they would run off to the grungy public washroom and haphazardly make out with each other, crying over how ignorant and stupid they had been with each other’s feelings. Perhaps Changbin was projecting a bit of his desires into the idea of their movie life, but, regardless, nothing was happening.

“That’s not inaccurate,” Minho shoves away from the counter, his face warming with a reddish tint as he steps away, towards the canvas. He feigns interest as he stares in between the strokes of paint that were slowly coming together to form an image. “I suppose I do miss you. I don’t like waking up without you on a Sunday morning.”

There’s an easy solution to that problem.

“I miss your cups of blonde roast Starbucks on Sunday mornings,” Changbin counters, still too afraid of the words he really wants to say. “You’ve gotten me hooked onto it. I can’t seem to make it the same way you do, and it just doesn’t taste right.”

Minho clears his throat and checks his wristwatch. He sighs, then turns to look at Changbin with a smile. “Are you almost done packing up?” The smile is fake, like he’s hiding something. Again, Minho is hard to read. “I’d like to leave a bit early, beat any traffic into town, yeah?”

They don’t say much as Changbin finishes packing up his supplies. The walk from the studio to the car is without any commentary at all. The driver opens the side door, offering his hand out towards Changbin for his bag of supplies, which he hands off with a bit of a scowl. Minho walks over to the other side of the car, opening the door to his side while the driver is preoccupied helping Changbin.

Within a couple of minutes, they’re going down the usual route down Fourth Avenue again, and Changbin’s scowl grows until he can’t handle the ballooning irritation. He snaps his head over to stare at Minho, shocked to find that the man is already staring at him, albeit a bit distant.

Minho walks his fingers over the empty space between them, then gingerly reaches out to touch Changbin’s arm, softly gripping his forearm. “I’m sorry I’ve been distracted these past two weeks.” His apology feels sincere, albeit stunted. Minho slides his hand down to interlace his fingers in the space between Changbin’s, where everything comes together and feels right. “This whole engagement announcement has been stressful, which I know isn’t an excuse. I should have done better to give you some more attention.”

Changbin leans in a bit closer, perhaps subconsciously being pulled into Minho like a magnet. “It’s alright, Minho, you don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do, love.” Just when Changbin thinks Minho will drop his guard, he turns his head to the side, staring out of the windshield far in front of them. “I just don’t want to fuck this up. Sure, this is a business arrangement, but I value our friendship.”

To anyone else, the word ‘friendship’ probably wouldn’t feel like the way it sounded when a cat scurried across the keys of a piano. It felt discordant, off-key, and wrong. Still, Changbin was tired of trying. He put on a fake smile, then rested his head on Minho’s shoulder, like he always did on their drives into the city. “Our friendship is nice, Minho. There’s nothing else like it.”

“Right,” Minho calmly breathed as he turned his head away, gazing out of the window.

“Well,” the tailor stood upright and smiled up at Changbin, “luckily, I don’t need to make any major alterations. I’ll take in a couple of small things just to accentuate the fit on you, make it look nicer.”

Minho sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to hide a coy smile. “Thank you.” His gratitude for the tailor was there, but it clearly was not Minho's top priority. Changbin watched Minho take in the sight of him, languidly gliding his gaze up from the floor to the top of Changbin’s blue hair.

The tailor excused himself, humming to himself as he left the room, poring over the notes on his notepad. Changbin arrogantly stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking out one of his legs as he bit his lip. “You look like you wanna eat me, serial killer.”

"Maybe I do," Minho teases as he playfully clacks his teeth together. His expression softened as he stood up, slowly making his way around the small podium that the bluenette stood on top of. “You remind me of an intricately designed wedding cake. So sturdy, but embellished just enough to be draped in delicateness.” He stopped in front of Changbin, looking up to him with a soft smile and offering his hand to help him down the steps. “Most importantly, you look handsome. Everyone’s going to be caught up in you, love.” He may not have been a wordsmith, but Minho had to have had an idea of the effects his words had.

The younger man smiled, then purposefully stumbled a bit on the steps so he could collide his way into an embrace. “Oh,” Changbin sighed, “guess I lost my footing.”

“Guess you did,” Minho smirks, helping reorient the younger man upright. “You should be more careful. I’d hate to see you slip and fall where I’m not around to catch you.”

“Well,” Changbin winks at the older man before he turns around, back to the dressing room, “guess I’m lucky you’re my fiancé and you’ll catch me when I fall, huh?”

The party is a lot more nerve wracking than Changbin expected. Eyes were following him around everywhere, and he was constantly cornered by strangers that didn’t actually care about the questions they were asking him. Several people asked him questions that were clearly digs at just getting to know more intimate details about Minho and his personal life.

Eventually, he finds Seungmin over by the bar. He quickly makes his way over, grabbing a half-empty bottle of champagne off of the counter with one hand, then Seungmin’s arm with the other hand. “Need you.”

Seungmin interjects with a yelp, turning around quickly and following Changbin without spilling his drink. They made their way through the kitchen, through the back of the building, out to where the line cooks and other staff would run and hide for their smoke breaks.

“Why are you freaking out, Bin?” Seungmin knew that something was wrong without even asking. He took a sip of his drink, quietly cursing the cold under his breath.

Changbin took a swig of champagne directly from the bottle, wincing at the carbonation and the sting of the alcohol. He coughed twice, then leaned up against the exterior of the building in exasperation. “This is too fucking much,” he sighed, looking up at the way his breath clouded up, then faded off into the night sky. “He knows a lot of people, and they’re all so goddamn nosy.”

Seungmin scoffs, taking another sip of his drink as he walks over to Changbin, leaning up on the building next to him. “Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Kind of a shitty price to pay, if you ask me.”

The older man scoffs, taking another drink from the bottle in his hand. “Yeah, but like, it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t like him.”

“Love him,” Seungmin arrogantly corrected him.

“Shut up,” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Okay, yeah, so I do love him. Maybe I’ll just keep it hidden.”

He didn’t need to turn his head to know that Seungmin was glaring at him.

“You know that's—”

“—a dumb idea, yeah.” They stared up at the sky for a few more minutes, sipping on their drinks of choice until they started shivering from the cold. Seungmin pushed off of the wall, about to say something, but Changbin couldn’t stop his mouth from spouting off his concerns again. “I’m gonna finally tell him tonight I think. When we go home. I get the feeling he’ll like that.”

“Awfully romantic,” Seungmin shivered as he smiled.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, bobbing his head back and forth a couple times. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, though.”

“Changbin,” the false redhead placed his free, cold hand on the shoulder of his friend. “If he rejects you, he’s missing out, and that’s on him, not you. You’re my best friend, so yeah, I’m a little biased, but I know you’re a catch.”

The bluenette smiles, then stands up straight. “Where would I be without you, Seung?”

“I dunno, dead maybe?” They both laugh for a moment, before Seungmin loudly shudders as he shivers. “Come on, it’s fucking cold. Let’s go back inside, yeah? I wanna drink more of this rich people shit on your fiancé’s dime.”

Changbin smiled in appreciation. His best friend was truly a gift he didn’t deserve. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

They had been inside for maybe thirty seconds before Minho found Changbin, making a quick beeline towards him, politely excusing himself away from some riveting conversation about how he met Changbin two years ago for the nth time.

“Changbin, love,” he sighed in desperation as he caught up to the two cold men. “I think we should do the toast soon, because this is beyond exhausting.” Seungmin winked at Changbin before he snaked his way out of the conversation.

The bluenette tried to shove Seungmin’s words of encouragement down as he nodded his head. “That’s a great idea, Minho. Let’s go get this over with, so people stop asking us the same ten questions thirty times in a row.”

“Oh my god,” Minho sighed, colliding his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder. “If I have to answer ‘he’s so unlike your usual friends, how’d you meet?’ one more time, I might lose it and actually turn into a serial killer.”

Changbin rubbed his cheek against Minho’s head, then offered him a quick pat on the back. “We’ll get through it, I promise.”

“I know, I know.”

The toast had started off normal, seemingly fine. There were pleasantries, Minho gave a brief introduction about himself and the projects he had been working on, giving some half-true, half-bullshit explanation about how he and Changbin met and fell in love. Some of the details of how they fell in love, including how they were in love in the first place, caused discomfort inside Changbin.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s hand on Changbin’s back brought the younger man back to focus on the conversation. “Maybe you should introduce yourself?” That wasn’t really the question Minho was asking him. The look that the older man gave him was one of concern, as if he were asking him if he was actually alright.

“Right,” Changbin muttered incoherently, grabbing the microphone from Minho. “As you’ve heard, I’m the Changbin everyone seems to be talking about tonight. Seo Changbin.” He pauses, scanning the room for Seungmin, who is giving him a subtle thumbs up with a wince on his face. “Minho and I met at an art exhibit two years ago, where he told me he valued the honesty and the character behind my paintings.”

A couple of people make some sort of half-assed ‘aww’s and ‘ooh’s.

“I was worried about him, since my friend had just given me a crash-course on how Minho was supposedly some big, scary art critic. He was so scary, in fact, that he was known as The Heartless. A name, to this day, that I disagree with.” Changbin smiles, looking over to Minho, who returns a soft gaze and delicate smile. The younger man reached his hand out, and they interlaced their fingers together, getting close to the other, until they were practically embracing.

“I am very lucky to hopefully spend the rest of my life with a man like Minho. He’s not only very artistically gifted, but he’s kind and I do love him from the bottom of my heart.”

While Changbin meant every word he said, he simply read off the words that Minho asked him to memorize the night prior. It was honest, but its intentions were false, which caused a bit of nausea inside the young man. He passed the microphone back to Minho, letting him wrap up the speech with the same banal, inconsequential words he had probably come up with and memorized beforehand.

The words would sound nice, please the crowd, and get some annoying stragglers off of their backs for the rest of the party. Changbin held his customer service-style smile on his face until he stepped away from the makeshift stage. He made his way towards the kitchen again, trying to rid himself from the people that wanted to insincerely congratulate him. He heard people talking shit about him as he made his way through the crowd, gritting his teeth as certain words like ‘whore’, ‘sellout’, and ‘fake’ seemed magnified and heavier than they were.

Changbin watched a couple of staff members head outside for a break, and he growled in irritation to himself, eventually leaning up against a countertop, pressing his head into his palms. He wasn’t even that upset over one specific thing, it was just a lot of things suddenly compounding, along with the tension of the overall situation.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice was soft, quiet, as it came through the entrance of the kitchen. “Love, are you alright?”

His brain told him just to say that he wasn’t feeling well, tell some bullshit white lie that they could brush over. His heart, however, spoke up for him. “What are we doing, Minho?”

The brunette shook his head, then brought his hand up, almost sarcastically. “Announcing our engagement. I thought that was obvious.”

“Not that,” Changbin sucks in a quick breath of air through his teeth. “Put all this to the side for a second. What are we doing? How much of your speech was true? A lot of it seemed too hyperbolic and shallow, and it’s not sitting well with me.”

Minho squints in discomfort, a look of disbelief on his face as he looks at Changbin with confusion. “I’m sorry, what? Was I supposed to tell them that our entire relationship is false?”

“Entire relationship?” Changbin scoffed, all of the tension from before compiling together, and that was the final straw. “Fuck that. No, fuck that.” He pushed off of the counter with frustration, making his way through the back door and past the few staff members and through their cloud of nicotine.

“Changbin, wait,” Minho ran after the younger man, nearly sliding as his shoes came into contact with the icy concrete. “What’s gotten into you?”

The bluenette sucks in air through his teeth as he turns, staring down the older man. His face was contorted into a bitter scowl, and he was visibly shaken. “I don’t fucking understand you, you know?”

“What?” Minho panted, clouds of vapourized breath coming from his mouth, travelling past him on a bit of wind. “What did I say, Changbin?”

There’s a scoff that comes from Changbin, one that’s laden with frustration and a bit of sadness. “You’ve been saying a lot lately, Minho, that’s part of the problem.” He brings his hands up to his hair, gently tugging on the strands as he sniffles, partially due to the cold, partially due to his emotions. “I can’t fucking read you.”

“I’m not a book, Changbin,” Minho takes another step closer and rolls his eyes, “you can communicate your problems to me and we can discuss them.”

“You’re right. You’re not a book, and I believe I’m right in assuming that I’m more than a business deal to you.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, eyes nervously darting around. “What?” This interjection sounded shocked and breathless, less arrogant and confident than the other interjections came off as.

Changbin knows he shouldn’t ask it, not with how much tension is in the air, and how loaded the question is, but his heart causes him to act irrationally yet again. “Do you love me, Minho?”

There’s a gust of cold air that blows between them, causing Changbin to shiver. Minho tries not to notice, but his voice trembles when he repeats the question. “Do I love you?”

Another useless response.

“God, you’re so fucking dense,” Changbin muttered under his breath, angrily taking a couple of steps closer, centimetres away from the brunette now. “Do you want to know something, Minho?” There’s a pause after Changbin’s rhetorical question; the younger man feels the warmth of Minho feeding into his energy as he takes in a deep breath. “I realized it the morning after the fake proposal. I was upset at how much money you spent on a fake engagement ring, for a fake relationship that was probably going to end within a couple of years, if we’re being optimistic. You put in so much effort for something fake, and I was putting in a lot of emotional investment into someone that I’m supposed to have nothing more than a business deal with.

“I remember talking to Seungmin that night, and he told me straight up. He told me that I was in love with you. Beyond interest, beyond infatuation. Actually in full-fucking-blown love, something I didn’t know I was even capable of doing anymore.” A sarcastic scoff punctuates Changbin’s sentence as he licks his bottom lip, looking away from Minho. “I thought it was stupid, that I could shove it down and ignore it. But the truth is, Minho,” he tilts his head back, looking at Minho with a heavy gaze, like he was teetering on the edge of anger and despair, “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I meant for it all to stay professional, like we wanted it to be, but I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do that anymore, Minho.”

There’s a stutter as Changbin’s deep inhale gets caught in his throat. He inhales once again, and slowly breathes out, before he lets the words just fall from him. “I really do think I love you. I don’t know where to go from here, and I don’t know if you can understand how terrified I am.”

Minho doesn’t quite know how to respond. He watches a few tears start to roll down Changbin’s face, breaking down the confidence that was there for a fleeting moment. He instinctively reaches up to brush the tears away, causing the younger man to melt into his touch. A couple of rare wintry snowflakes fall in between them, one landing and subsequently melting on Changbin’s nose. “You really think you love me?” Minho softly questions, his voice coming off as soothing, yet anxious.

Changbin takes in a quick breath, shaking his head. “Minho,” his voice cracks as he knits his eyebrows together, “you and me, we…” Perhaps it’s the cold, but Changbin can’t quite get the words in his head to form the sentence he wants to say. That’s when it comes to him: there were some things where actions definitely spoke louder and more effectively than words.

A snowflake fell onto Changbin’s bottom lip right before his lips brushed up against Minho’s with a spark. Everything that felt confusing suddenly became clear. Tonight was the coldest night of winter so far this season, but it was like all of the ice around them had melted. Their kiss was nervous and awkward, but Minho pushed back, grabbing at Changbin’s neck, pulling him in closer and returning his kiss with a sense of urgency.

Changbin suddenly pulled back, taking a step backwards and staring at Minho with wide, terrified eyes. He frantically remembered that if either party developed too deep an emotional connection with the other, that their agreement could be rendered null and void by the other party. An overwhelming panic at the possibility of an upheaval of his life — going back to a life without Minho — overtook him. Not for the loss of financial stability, but the loss of connection, the loss of friendship they had built over the years.

His reaction was irrational, but the potential of heartbreak was so loud. It terrified and overwhelmed him, wrapping him in a bone-chilling embrace.

Minho takes a cautious step forward, staring at Changbin and reaching out to him with a timid hand. “Changbin, love, please…”

“Minho,” Changbin looks up at him, shaking his head and nearly hyperventilating. He takes a few steps backwards, watching a rapidly intensifying flurry of snow start to come between them. “Minho, I’m so sorry. This is all fucked up because of me. I shouldn’t have… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

His legs move before he can even acknowledge that he’s running. Changbin has no idea where exactly he is, but he’s maneuvering through alleyways and parking lots, backstreets and dead areas of town. He doesn’t consciously know where he is, but he somehow knows where he’s going. He gets far enough away, all the way out to Harbour Green Park. The sight of the ocean calms him down as he finally stops running.

Changbin slides on the slick grass, and he collides into the ground. He starts hyperventilating, then just gives up and lets the inevitable tears fall from his face, down to the chilled ground beneath him. Time passes as he cries, upset with the situation, but mostly angry at himself.

The potential of heartbreak caused him to panic, and he responded by giving into that fear, literally running away from the man he claimed to love. It was stupid, really, throwing everything away just because of the possibility of discomfort, of facing reality. Before, there was a chance that Minho felt the same way. Now? Now Changbin had practically guaranteed that there was no possibility for that anymore. Perhaps knowing that he was the cause of the complete unravelling of two years of emotional connection hurt the most.

No. What hurt the most was that he desperately wanted Minho to catch him as he fell.

#we're professional #skz smut #skz fics #minbin #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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concealeddarkness13 · 4 years ago

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Someone Stop Me Before I Drown in WIPs

Ok, so I have another WIP idea...BUT I’m also going to get rid of the Nesri story (sorry @adie-dee). I feel it’s too vague of a plot and I wasn’t completely happy with where it was going. I only really liked Nesri and her relationship with Kiryth from that story. So, I’m going to keep Nesri (and maybe Kiryth) and put her in the new story! More on that later.

The working title of this story is Bring Me That Horizon. I got two inspirations: one from The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson (I loved the magic that makes a character glow, so this story has that) and Pirates of the Caribbean (hence the title and the common occurrence of pirates in this story). I don’t have a full plot figured out yet, but I do have quite a few characters and some antagonists. This might get long, so I apologize in advance!

This world is built in layers. There are pieces of land that float above and below other pieces of land (I hope that makes sense). All of the layers, besides one, are connected via waterfalls, and the only way to travel between them is by ships that have mechanisms to go up or down the waterfalls safely. And there’s a lot of water on these layers. The highest layer does not have a waterfall connecting it, so no one can get to it. There aren’t any ways to fly up to it yet. The only ones who can get up to the highest layer are the Shades (also a temporary name), but I’m not sure how yet. They are a species that are able to mysteriously give humans the magic that makes them glow. They demand a certain number of children every year that they take up to the highest layer to teach them the magic. The Shades can make themselves look like anything they want, and when they change appearances, they turn into shadow first. I’m thinking they have powers to take away. They can control people with shadowy chains that are invisible most of the time, so they take away people’s freedom. They can whisper to people they have touched, so they take away privacy. They also took away people’s glowy magic (that’s what I’m going to call it right now) in the past (since a lot more humans had it in the past, and they could get it naturally, not through the Shades), and the Shades can give the magic back to whoever they choose. Needless to say, these guys don’t have good intentions.

One of the main POV characters is Evelynne. She’s not fond of her name, so for acquaintances, she’s known as Lynne, and for really close friends, she’s known as Ev. She does not have the glowy magic, but she was supposed to. When she was an infant, her parents were killed, and someone on the streets took her in to protect her. They named her Microburst because she was small and they were expecting her to grow up fierce. When she was six, she found a group of other kids living on the streets, and she befriended them, and they all got storm nicknames as well (another main character called herself Tempest). She was chosen as one of the kids to go with the Shades when she was eight, but this rich couple decided to trade her with their “sickly” daughter (sickly in quotation marks because first, I’m not sure what was going on with her and I haven’t researched enough to say anything about it and second, because these people are horrible enough to call anything undesirable “sickly”, more about their daughter later). They were the ones that named her Evelynne. Lynne grew up with their expectations over her, and she tried to fight them as much as she could. Finally, they arranged for her to be married to the prince of their country, and even though she loved him, she decided to get herself captured by pirates to get away from that. She’s really good at fighting, both with a sword and a gun, even at the same time! As you can see, this is an aesthetic story before it is a realistic story. She’s snarky and loud and loves fighting. Soon enough, a Shade discovers her and realizes she was actually supposed to get the magic, so they decide to try to take her. A lot of this story is going to be her fighting to stay away from the Shades.

Most of the people with the glowy magic are brought back down to the rest of the world, and they are treated like celebrities but not allowed to do anything for themselves. They wait around in a place until someone makes a contract with them to get them to do something (assassinate someone, entertain at a party, etc.). I don’t know what the magic does yet, besides that when they use it, they glow and float a few inches off the ground. The ones who are the best at their magic stay up on the highest layer to stay with the Shades. They are mostly kept to enforce the Shades’ will on the world below.

The second POV is Tempest, one of Lynne’s friends from her days on the streets. She still goes by her nickname, at least to herself. The Shades have probably named her something else. She is up on the highest layer because she is one of the best at her magic, and the rich people’s daughter (Tempest came up with the nickname Virga for her, and yes, it is a weather phenomenon but not a storm) is also up there. They are good friends. Virga is also extremely good at her magic, and when Lynne is discovered, both Tempest and Virga are sent down there to bring her. Virga and Lynne do fight, but they also have some cheerful banter back and forth and talk about how terrible their parents (adoptive parents for Lynne) are. Lynne and Virga won’t hate each other. They’ll fight, but they’re actually going to be friends.

I have a few more main characters I’d like to talk about. The prince is named Alastair, but Lynne has called him Aster since they met (I might write a scene about that). He also loves Lynne, so he goes after her when she runs. Not to make her go back, but to be with her. He disguises himself, though, because he doesn’t want the pirates to know he’s the prince, and Lynne doesn’t realize who he is until he calls her Ev in a moment of vulnerability. He’s also very sarcastic and serious.

Nesri is going to be in this! She’s part of the pirates that “capture” Lynne. She is going to become fast friends with Lynne because they both love fighting. She also was a kid that was brought up to the Shades and got the glowy magic, but when she was sent back down, she ran away and joined the pirates to stay away. The Shades find it hard to control her, so that’s why she hasn’t been forced back yet.

And that’s about it right now! Thanks for reading! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @nightskywriter, and @merigreenleaf!

#writeblr #bring me that horizon #I'm really making a story that would look great as an anime #I love the aesthetic of this story!

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miracle-sham · 5 years ago

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Plan D for Dicey.

| {MaribatMarch2020 – Week 1, Day 6: Unconventional Weapon} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Triggers/Warnings: D&D typical Violence, kidnapping/imprisoning of Player Characters, Explicit Language/Swearing, (Also not so much a Trigger/Warning but this a gen/platonic fic). |

| The Wayne (bat)family attempt to play their first streamed session of Warriors and Warlocks. Unpredictably, things go surprisingly well. |

| Word Count: 4323 |

==–==

| A/N: So firstly, I got really carried away writing this so it's being posted a day late. Sorry! But fun fact, this means I'm posting this on my birthday, so wooh! Also if you can't tell yet, I'm a massive D&D geek (been playing for roughly five years now but I still fell like a complete noob whenever I play or DM :P). And DC has its own version of D&D (W&W/Warriors and Warlocks) and upon reading Day 6's prompt, my immediate thought was the improvised weapons mechanic from D&D. Also also, I originally intended for this fic to be MariTim (hence the tags) but I got caught up in all the platonic fun of the family playing D&D I kinda forgot to write in the shippy bits? |

| A/N cont.: Writing this was actually a massive challenge because at the start of this I had absolutely zero idea on how to write a D&D session as a ficlet. So this might be a bit more clunky and unrefined compared to my normal work (or that could just be my self-doubt talking). As I mentioned earlier, I got really carried away writing this because I love D&D so much. I would have written more but this ficlet is long enough and late enough as is. But if I were to continue this ficlet in additional parts, I definitely can already think of so many ways to improve writing this sort of fic (and maybe next time I won't forget to add in shippy stuff). Anyway, thanks to those who read these A/Ns, and I hope you guys enjoy reading this! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then comment or send me a DM/ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

Marinette, with Tikki on her shoulder, bursts into the Wayne Manor games room, barely able to contain her excitement. As the first in the room, she can't help but glance across the square conference U-table already set up with everyone's character sheets, dice equipment, other equipment, and snacks and drinks. Bounding over to her designated seat (right side, place nearest to the DM's section of the table), she pulls her chair out and sits down.

The rest of the Wayne (bat)family, including Steph but sans Alfred and Barbara, slowly filter into the room and take their designated seats. Jason takes his seat next to Marinette whilst Dick takes the seat directly opposite. Steph nabs the seat beside Jason, Damian stakes a claim to the seat next to Dick (despite it already being his designated seat), Cass sits down in the seat beside Steph, leaving Bruce to take his seat next to Damian.

Tim's the last of the family to enter. He slips into his seat, the DM's seat—as he is the most experienced Warriors and Warlocks player at the table—and grins downright ferally at his players.

He looks up at the cameras and recording equipment that is set up in the middle of the open space in the square U-table. “Hello and welcome to Plan D for Dicey, the first-ever Wayne Family Warriors and Warlocks fifth edition stream. We weren't quite expecting so many people to petition that we stream our sessions after a few people—” Tim fake coughs twice, “—Dick and Marinette—” Tim fake coughs twice again (whilst Marinette and Dick both grin and wave cheerfully at the cameras), “—rambled about their characters and some highlights from previous sessions, on Twitter. So we decided to give this a go and see how the session pans out whilst being streamed. So as a word of warning, prepare yourselves for the Venators, probably one of the most dysfunctional parties in W&W to miraculously band together.”

As soon as he says this, the rest of the table burst into grins and cheers (excluding Bruce who despite also smiling, looks like he's just aged five years). Marinette's side of the table all high five each other in their excitement.

Tim pauses for a second. “For anyone unfamiliar with who I am, I'm Tim. And as you can probably tell from the table set up, I'm the Dungeon Master for this campaign. That's because I've been playing W&W for just over five years now and have had experience DMing before. But for the rest of the players here, this is their first campaign and by extension first time playing. So before we begin our session, first let us introduce our players and their characters.” He nods to Marinette's side of the table.

She immediately slaps her hands on the table, pushes her chair out and stands, she waves at the cameras again. “Hi, I'm Marinette and my character is Nella Septa-Punctata. She's a Protector Aasimar Celestial Pact of the Chain Warlock, and she has a Sprite Familiar called Tikki. Nella's Chaotic Good and a little anxious but she tries her best to be a kind and heroic adventurer.” She then sits back down, scraping her chair back in again.

Jason raises an eye at Marinette's antics but shrugs. “I'm Jay, I play a Winged Variant Feral Tiefling Gunslinger called Rehodros. He's Chaotic Neutral, verging on Chaotic Evil at times, and he only joined the Venators because they helped save him from backstory related stuff and he ended up getting reluctantly attached to them.”

Deciding to also stand up from her chair as well as slap the table with both hands, Steph smirks at the cameras. “I'm Stephanie, my character's Speilsol Leyer, and she's a Chaotic Good Variant Human Ancestral Guardian Barbarian with the Tavern Brawler Feat. She lives for beating up bad guys and doing good, even if it goes against the law.”

Cass decides to take things one step further and moves to sit on the back of the chair, balancing it carefully as to not let herself fall. She waves at the cameras. “Hi, I Cass. Play Balabitara. Neutral Good, Kalashtar Shadow Monk.” She then sits back down on the chair normally.

With one half of the table introduced, Tim nods towards the other side of the table.

Dick winks at the cameras, “I'm Dick and I play Niriwyse, a Chaotic Good Eladrin Glamour Bard who's along for the ride and just wants to have a good time.” At that, he wiggles his eyebrows.

Scoffing, Damian glares at the cameras. “I am Damian and my character is Rokian. He is a Firbolg Circle of the Shepherd Druid and is Lawful Neutral in the sense that he believes the only laws that should be obeyed in the world, are that or the laws of nature. He begrudgingly joined this party of adventurers after they saved an animal friend of his.”

This leaves Bruce as the only one to have not introduced himself and his character yet. He smiles his Brucie Wayne smile at the cameras. “My name's Brucie and my character is called Chirop. He's a Chaotic Good Bugbear Swashbuckler Rogue. He comes across as very gruff, but he's just a big old teddy bear at heart.”

Tim coughs under his breath. “Alright, with our introductions over, let's get on with the show.” The lights in the room suddenly dim and turn a dark red shade whilst creepy echoing organ music begins to play from hidden speakers. “Last session, our brave party of seven adventurers were captured by the evil Lich Dreldaz whilst trying to rescue the beautiful princess Theophania—”

“—Timothea!” Corrects the rest of the table.

Rolling his eyes, Tim continues. “—from the cursed castle in which she has been trapped in, by Dreldaz.” He pauses, steepling his fingers as the dim red lighting becomes a dark grey shade. “The Venators awaken, only to find themselves shackled to the walls, in individual stone brick cells and stripped of any and all equipment bar the clothes on their backs. From what you all can immediately tell upon waking, these cells are small, cold, dark and dingy. What do you do?”

The seven players all exchange glances between themselves.

“I'd like to look around my cell, see if I can find anything or if I can get an idea of what the cellblock we're in looks like?” Jason announces after a few seconds.

Tim nods. “Roll a perception check, please.”

Jason narrows his eyes Tim. He reaches towards the red and black dice set beside his character sheet and picks up the D20. He shakes the dice in his hands before rolling it into the dice box. It lands on a 7. “Alright so because I don't have my gear any more, that means I don't have my eyes of the eagle right?”

“That's right,” Tim responds.

“Mmk, that's a seven then, plus my perception modifier… Fourteen total.” Jason glances up at Tim once he finishes calculating.

Humming, Tim glances down at his Mysterious™ DM notes. “With your Darkvision, you manage to make out that there are two small barred windows on the walls adjacent to the wall with the cell door. The door luckily has a barred window in it too, but you're too far away to glean anything from peering at it.”

Marinette purses her lips and double-checks her character sheet. “Is there anything magical about the darkness in these cells?”

“Roll an Arcana check to see.” Is Tim's response.

She reaches over to the pink and gold dice set beside her character sheet and picks up the D20. She shakes the dice in her hands before rolling it into the dice box. The D20 lands on a 16. “Sixteen! Wait, plus my arcana modifier, uh…” She scans her sheet for the relevant modifier, “plus six, so that's uh… oh heck maths, uhh I think that's twenty-two total? Yeah.” She nods to herself at calculating the maths.

Jason snorts and addresses the cameras. “This is why you should stay in school kids!”

Huffing, Marinette elbows him in the side. “Fight me!”

Not evening flinching at the elbowing, Jason pats her on the top of her head. “Friendly fire, Mari! Friendly fire!”

Tim waits for silence with his best poker face on. “As far as you can tell, there is nothing magical about the darkness!”

“Really?” She furrows her brows. “Alright then.”

He smiles in response.

Dick glances down at his character sheet then up at Tim, he taps his fingers against the table idly as he speaks. “The walls of the cells are stone? So I can use my Cli Lyre to cast Stone Shape and create a hole in the stone where the metal shackles connect, which would free me, right!”

Clicking his tongue, Tim shakes his head. “Nope, you don't have your Cli Lyre on you right now, so you can't cast any spells from it.”

Cursing under his breath, Dick frantically scans his character sheet for anything. He reaches his spells and freezes and slaps the spell sheet (and by extension, the table). “Ah hah!” He crows, “I will cast Knock on the shackles!”

Tim raises an eyebrow, then looks down to flip through his spell cheat sheet. “When you cast the spell, it makes a loud knock that's audible for up to three hundred feet. Are you sure you want to cast this?”

Dick falters and furrows his brow, then glances around the table at the rest of the party. “I think I'll wait and see if anyone else has a way to escape this first? Wait we can all hear each other speaking from our cells, right?”

“You can indeed.” Tim answers.

“I got nothin',” Jason admits, putting on his Rehodros voice, which is just his normal voice but deeper and with a raspy—almost hissing—clipped tone.

Steph, using her Speilsol Leyer voice (which sounds like she's putting on a weak German accent), shrugs. “I could try breaking the shackles? I'm strong enough to do cool things like that?”

“But that will also be fairly loud.” Bruce points out, speaking with a gruff tone of voice (which is significantly different from his gravelly Batman tone of voice) for Chirop. “If I had my lockpicks, it would be easy to escape stealthily. But without them, I can't see a way for me to get out of these shackles.”

Damian wrinkles his nose. “I might be able to summon creatures, elementals, or fey but what I get is determined by the DM and may not be entirely helpful. However, I could try wildshaping?”

Tim smiles cryptically and the lighting behind him changes from dark grey to lime green. “You could.”

Damian nods. “Alright then, I will use my wildshape ability to transform into a spider.”

The lime green light fades to flickering orange-red light. “As you try to use your druidic abilities to magically assume the shape of a spider, you feel a burning sensation around your wrists, right where the shackles are. You are unable to transform and take…” Tim pauses as he pulls out his black and red dragon dice and rolls a D6 behind the DM screen. “Five points of fire damage.”

Cursing under his breath in Arabic, Damian glares at Tim. He crosses out his current hp and writes down the new amount.

Jason taps Marinette on the shoulder. “What about Nells, Mari? She got any tricks up her sleeve to escape?”

Marinette startles at that, having been chewing her lip and staring intently at her character sheet since her arcana check. She licks her lips then glances up. “I might…”

She taps a small stat block card with a pencil and turns to Tim with an intense stare. “Is Tikki nearby?”

At that, Tim grins widely and raises a finger. “That,” He says, flipping through his notes, “is a very good question.”

“Because on my notes, here it says that last session Tikki was invisible when we all got captured.” Marinette picks up her session notes journal and shows it to him.

“Would you say Tikki followed after you when you got caught?”

Marinette tilts her head to the side and Tikki whispers in her ear. Of course, the cameras inability to record kwamis means it just looks like she's thinking instead of listening to a flying red bug deity. “Yep, I would say that. I would also like to telepathically communicate with Tikki and ask if she can come and pick the locks because we gave her a spare Thieves' Tools kit last shopping session in case she needed to pick the locks during an invisible scouting mission!”

“Indeed you did, so Tikki flies over to your cell and will try to pick the locks on your door first. So roll a d20 and add Tikki's Dex bonus.” He instructs.

Marinette nods and picks up the dice, cupping her hands underneath it so Tikki can shake then roll it without it looking suspicious on camera. Tikki shakes the dice and drops it as Marinette separates her hands. The dice lands in the box and rolls a 16. “Plus Tikki's Dex mod, that's uh…” She scrambles for the Sprite Familiar statblock card, “Plus four, so dirty twenty!”

“That's enough to pick the lock. Do you want Tikki to enter the cell and try to pick the lock?” He asks.

She nods and repeats the roll with Tikki, this time rolling an eleven. “With mods, fifteen.” Tikki then returns to her place on Marinette's shoulder.

“Tikki barely manages to get the locks open. The shackles open and you land on the cell floor.”

Marinette punches the air. “Wooh! Freedom!”

Cass then waves her hand in the air. “Shadowstep out?”

Tim cocks his head to the side. “As you don't have Darkvision, you can't see outside your cell but you manage to use your shadowstep ability to escape the shackles. Then by peering out the barred window in the door, you manage to shadow step into the cellblock corridor.”

Marinette and Cass share a high-five.

“Let's go free everyone else!”

==–==

It takes them ten minutes to finish freeing everyone else, and start making their way out of the dungeon cell block. The Venators now make their way through the bowels of the castle, searching for the armoury in which all their belongings have been stored.

“As you push open the grand oak doors, the faint scent of sickly sweet rotting food and fire hits your noses. The doors reveal the next room to be a grand dining room with a long oak table, set as though prepared for a grand feast expecting many a guest. It's adequately lit but the two corners of the room above the door seem to glow with a dim greenish glow.” Tim pauses in his description as lighting changing to a dim greenish light behind him; he rolls a D8 four times (6, 7, 2, 4), behind the DM screen, followed by the rolling of a D20 four times (3, 19, 13, 18).

“Oh god…” Dick mutters,

Jason huffs. “What are you going to torture us with now, oh great DM?”

Tim smiles cruelly. “Four rays of fire are shot towards the party from somewhere within the dining room. First attack is an eight versus Chirop's AC?”

Bruce sighs in relief. “That's a miss.”

Tim continues to smile. “Mmk, the rest of the attacks are, twenty-four versus Balabitara's AC, eighteen versus Niriwyse's AC, and twenty-three verses Rokian's AC. I assume those hit.”

Damian narrows his eyes at Tim, whilst Dick winces and Cass pouts.

Tim rolls a D6 nine times, behind the DM screen. “Balabitara takes four points of fire damage, Niriwyse and Rokian both take eight points of fire damage.”

The three all jot down the damage taken.

Still smiling, like the truly evil DM that he is, Tim clasps his hands together. “Two skulls, enveloped with green flames, descend from the ceiling. One hovers over the grand table and the other hovers but the top of the opened doors, giving itself cover.” He pauses, then grins. “With the surprise round over, everyone roll initiative!”

Out of habit, all seven players, and Tikki, roll their D20s in almost perfect sync. Dick rolls an 18, Cass rolls a 9, Jason rolls a 14, Bruce rolls a 16, Steph rolls a 17 with advantage, Damian rolls a 2, Marinette rolls a 10, and Tikki rolls a 14.

“Twenty or above?” Tim asks.

“Twenty three,” Bruce announces.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Twenty-one.”

Dick grins, “Twenty one as well!”

Tim scribbles down the rolls on the initiative table. “D'awww, you both rolled twenty-one. Anyway, fifteen or above?”

“Tikki rolled an eighteen.” Informs Marinette.

“I got nineteen!” Steph exclaims.

Jotting down those rolls as well, Tim asks “Alright, anyone ten or above?”

Cass signs her roll, ‘fourteen.’

“Thirteen.” Marinette answers.

Tim glances at the initiative table, then at Damian. “And you Damian?”

Damian scoffs. “Three.”

“Okay.” Tim then rolls a D20 twice. “Chirop! You're up first!”

Bruce looks slightly bewildered. He clears his throat. “Can I grab the nearest sharp pieces of cutlery and sneak behind a chair?”

Tim nods. “Roll stealth.”

He rolls an 18. “My stealth modifier is plus thirteen, so thirty-one to stealth.”

Tim whistles, “To the rest of the Venators, it looks like Chirop just vanishes into thin air.”

“Are any of the enemies close enough that I could move into melee range?” He questions.

“There's one floating Flameskull hovering five foot in the air, with your Long-Limbed trait, it's well within reach,” Tim informs.

Bruce narrows his eyes. “I would like to stab the Flameskull with the sharp cutlery, knives are preferable.”

“Roll to hit. As knives are close enough to daggers, I'll say you can get away with adding your proficiency bonus as well.”

Bruce rolls, with advantage, a 19. “Plus my modifiers, that's twenty-eight to hit.”

“That hits.”

Bruce rolls for damage, 2. “That's two, so seven.” He then rolls for Surprise damage, 8 (5, 3), and Sneak Attack damage, 24 (6, 2, 5, 6, 5). “That's a total of 39 piercing damage. Then I'll use my bonus action to stab it again,” He rolls a 16, “Twenty-one to hit.”

Tim puts on his best poker face. “That also hits.”

“Then that'll be…” He rolls a 1. “One damage from the second attack.”

“The Flameskull you hit screeches in fury as it crumbles to bone dust.” Tim then proceeds to make a horrific screeching sound, for immersion of course.

“What the fuck, Timbo?” Jason asks, wincing.

Dick cringes. “At least you aren't right beside him! My poor ears!”

“Rip us closest seats.” Mumbles Marinette, wrinkling her nose.

“Rehodros, you're up next!” Tim announces gleefully, ignoring his suffering players.

Jason narrows his eyes at Tim, “I want to run over to the table, grab any food on the table that's not rotten, and yeet it at the nearest Flameskull.”

Tim hums, “Okay, the only non-rotten food you can find, is a block of aged cheese and a bowl of hardened sugar cubes.

Snorting, Jason cracks his knuckles. “Oh, I have to pick the block of aged cheese.”

“Roll your attack then. But make sure you only add your Dex modifier to the attack as you're not proficient in improvised weaponry.”

Jason rolls to attack and also gets a 19. “Twenty four to hit.”

Tim snorts. “Yeah, that definitely hits, go ahead and roll damage.”

Jason nods and rolls a 1D4, managing to get max damage. “Four! Wooh! Plus my Dex mod, that's nine damage!”

“You lob the cheese at the Flameskull, managing to cause a couple of cracks to form on its skull. It turns it's furious gaze to you, intending to intimidate you but the effect is somewhat hindered by the melting cheese covering half of its skull.” Tim flips through his notes and marks down the damage taken.

“Okay, then I want to grab the bowl of sugar and using my extra attack to throw that at the Flameskull, in the jaw.” Jason smirks and switches to his Rehodros voice, “You look like you've got a sssweet tooth, bonehead!” He rolls to attack and gets a 12. “Seventeen to hit?”

“That will hit.”

Jason rolls a 3 on the D4. “That's eight damage total.”

“As the bowl of sugar starts to melt from the heat of the fire, the sickly sweet scent of hot sugar begins to emanate from the Flameskull. The Flameskull does not look happy.” Tim pauses to glance at the initiative table. “Niriwyse! You're up.”

Dick glances down at his spell list and beams. “I'm going to cast Vicious Mockery. And say,” he puts on his Niriwyse voice, which is just his voice but higher pitch and with a British Estuary accent, “Green is so not your colour!”

Tim hums, then flips through his notes. “What's the spell Save DC on that again?”

Quickly checking his spell sheet, Dick answers, “DC 16.”

“Mmk,” Tim responds non-committally, before rolling a D20 twice from behind the DM screen. “That, unfortunately for you, is a nat 20. Which means it takes no damage and suffers no disadvantage. The Flameskull turns to you briefly, to cackle in your face, before turning its attention back to Rehodros.”

Dick frowns. “Aww that failed, welp I'll use my bonus action to give Speilsol Leyer inspiration.” He clears his throat and puts on his Niriwyse voice to sing. “Let's get down to business! To defeat, this skull! Did they order heroes, no they asked for none! We're the saddest party you'll ever meet! But you can bet before we're through, Flameskull, we'll make dust out of you!”

The rest of the table burst into cheers and groans.

“Beautiful, Speilsol Leyer, you get 1D10 bardic inspiration,” Tim confirms. “And now it's your turn. Show the audience what you've got.”

Steph giggles. “Okay, okay, I've got a really dumb idea.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at her.

“So, firstly, is there anything on the walls, like paintings? Wall sconces? Y'know.” She asks.

“There's a painting of a naked elven lady on one wall, and a taxidermied fox head on the other,” Tim informs.

Steph bounces in her seat. “Cool! So I'm gonna rage! Rip the taxidermied fox head off the wall, then run and leap up into the air to bludgeon the Flameskull with the fox head!”

“Right. Make an athletics roll.”

Rolling a D20, she gets 13. “Twenty one!”

“You manage to jump into the air with expert grace. Roll to hit.”

She rolls a 16. “That's a twenty-four to hit because I've got the Tavern Brawler Feat so I've got proficiency with improvised and-slash-or unconventional weapons!”

He snorts. “That'll definitely hit, roll damage.”

Steph picks up her D4 and rolls it, getting a 3. “Do with my strength modifier and Rage damage, that's ten damage! And uh, that's the end of my turn!”

Tim scribbles down the damage taken, he then checks his notes quickly. “The sugary cheese-covered Flameskull starts to cackle madly. It casts fireball on the party, everyone make dexterity saving throws.”

On cue, everyone in the party rolls their D20s. Tikki rolls an 18, Damian and Marinette both roll 16s, and Dick rolls a 4.

Before Bruce rolls his dice, he proclaims, “I'd like to use evasion!” He then rolls and gets a 5. “Fourteen total.”

“Evasion too!” Cass declares with a smile, she rolls her D20, getting 18. She then signs her result, ‘twenty-seven

“Shit!” Jason mutters, staring at his roll of 2.

“Nat one?” Tim questions.

Jason shakes his head. “Natural two, so seven total.”

“I also got seven,” Dick adds.

“Seventeen,” Damian announces.

“I rolled a nineteen and Tikki rolled a twenty-two.” Marinette pipes up.

Steph frowns at her roll of nine. “Eleven…” She glances at her character sheet again. “Wait, no! I get advantage on dexterity saving throws!” She shakes the dice in her hands and blows on it for good luck, then rolls it into the dice box. It lands on an 18. Fist pumping the air, she cheers. “Yes! Dirty twenty, fuck yeah!”

“Alright. Niriwyse and Rehodros both take…” Tim rolls a D6 eight times, behind the DM screen. “Twenty-three fire damage. And everyone else except Chirop and Balabitara take half that, so eleven damage. And of course, Chirop and Balabitara take no damage whatsoever.”

“Wooh,” Bruce cheers.

“Wait a second!” Jason interrupts, triple-checking his character sheet, “I've got fire resistance!”

“Then you also take eleven damage instead of the full twenty-three.” Tim corrects. “And that's the end of the Flameskull's turn. Tikki's up now.”

Marinette tilts her head to the side as Tikki whispers in her again. “Tikki is going to hold her turn.”

Tim nods. “Okay then, it's Balabitara's turn.”

Cass smiles sweetly. “Jump and punch?”

“Roll an athletics check then, please.”

She rolls a 13, and signs her results, ‘eighteen.’

“You barely manage to leap within melee range of the Flameskull,” Tim narrates. “Roll to hit.”

She rolls her dice again, rolling a flat 17. Again, she signs her result, ‘twenty-six.’

“That will definitely hit.” He acknowledges.

Cass then rolls damage, gets a 4, and signs the total, ‘nine.’ She glances down at her character sheet, and then back up at Tim. “Second attack?”

Tim nods again, still jotting down the damage taken. “Go ahead and roll.”

Rolling again, she gets a nine, so she signs the result, ‘eighteen.’

He hums, “That'll also hit, roll damage.”

She rolls and gets a 3. ‘Eight,’ she signs.

Tim chuckles, “As you punch the Flameskull twice, the skull shatters and turns into sugary and cheesy skull dust.”

Cass grins and fist-pumps the air as the rest of the table breaks into cheers.

“Everyone breathe a sigh of relief! Encounter over.” He comments. “And I think we've reached our halfway mark, so we'll take a quick five minutes break to grab something to eat and drink, and we'll continue on after the break.”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| @maribat-march2020 | | @vixen-uchiha |

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jeejee-the-snek-boi · 5 years ago

Text

The Urban Kraken

TMA AU

Tw: mild/moderate horror depending on tastes, drowning, facial distortion/shapeshifting/camouflage

Statement of Logan Sanders, regarding his time as a marine biologist working in Birmingham. Original statement given January 13th, 2012. Audio recording by Janus Dee, Head Archivist of the Thomas Headscape Institute, London.

Statement begins.

I'd recently moved to Birmingham to help out at the National Sea Life Centre. It wasn't particularly an interesting job, or even one appropriate for my level of qualification as a marine biologist, but we'd had reports of some kind of squid spotted in the local canals. There'd been otters and even dolphins who had managed to find their way into canals and rivers that would be outside of their normal habitat, so whilst a squid sounded unusual, to boot, I was naturally curious as to how it had got there. My colleague at the time- a rather very annoying yet charming man called Roman who worked in the gift shop- had warned me not to investigate. I found it… odd, to say the least. He couldn't have known much about marine biology- or, at least, I assumed he didn't, given the fact he was unable to distinguish between a shark plushie or a dolphin one, although perhaps he merely needed glasses.

I, of course, didn't heed his warnings- I had no need to, at the time, of course, although he did seem rather familiar.

It took me a few days to realise that we had the same face, only… he wore it more expressively than I did, and he didn't seem to wear glasses either. I merely assumed it was a coincidence, or some long lost relative, so I didn't give it any thought.

I was working behind the scenes mainly, although I did occasionally try my hand at being a tour guide. I happen to have a special interest in marine life- hence my profession- so I found joy in teaching people about the animals we housed there. The children particularly liked the sharks, which wasn't a surprise to me, although it wasn't uncommon for people to label my commentary as unnecessary and boring- I tried not to let it get to me, of course, although occasionally it did.

On one such day, I found myself going for coffee on my break, where I ran into Roman. I didn't particularly mind his company, although I still found him a little odd. I knew everything about his dreams and ambitions- and he had a lot- but very little about him personally. He would talk for hours about his dreams to make it as an actor, and I gained a fair few insights of his insecurities too- the man seemed riddled with them.

And, whilst I'll admit, none of that is particularly unusual, he'd ask everyone about their families or their kids- he made it a point to learn as much as he could about people and to include those facts in his daily interactions, but we never learned anything about him. Most people where I worked had written him off as shallow and selfish, superficial even, but I suspected differently.

Anyway, Roman and I talked for a number of months, and I still hadn't learned a single thing about his life. I still didn't know why his face was so familiar to me until I found myself people- watching at the gift shop one day, and I noticed that, alone, his features seemed to… shift. I couldn't pinpoint what colours his eyes were, and his skin had taken on an almost… iridescent quality, if that's even the right word for it, as though he had chromatophores. It reminded me of a cuttlefish, or other cephalopod.

I'd put it down to some form of shiny make-up, or perhaps a face mask that he'd forgotten to remove in the morning properly, and it wasn't until a few weeks later and more people watching that I finally noticed what detail I had been missing- his features seemed to shift and change to match those of each customer.

I was alarmed, of course, because there was no logical explanation as to why a human would possess such qualities.

Which… for some strange reason, drew my attention back to the so-called squid in the canals myth that had been circulating for a while now.

There had been some… rumours circulating, asides from the existence of the squid. There'd been a few scattered suicides and cases of drunken misadventure down at the canals, a few dead bodies, all drowned. Some were intoxicated, and almost all were alone- although the time of death wasn't always at night as you might expect for a spate of murders. So, naturally, people started to link the deaths with the squid.

I was curious, and wanted to see the squid for myself, so I spent several days observing the canal. I sat on the benches with my notebook and camera, although apart from the odd family of mallards, or a troublesome Canada goose, there was nothing in the water. I eventually concluded that there wasn't anything in the water, but now I was invested in the mystery.

The deaths were relatively spread apart, although almost all of them had been within the city centre. I observed for longer anyways, deciding instead to people watch- if there was a murderer, the murderer most likely frequented the area, although as more deaths occurred, I found myself struggling to find a connection to any particular person's commute and the times or locations of the murders.

I remembered Roman's odd ability to camouflage, although I knew his commute took him to the other side of the city.

That was… until I saw him down by the canal. He seemed to be talking to the water, so I kept myself hidden behind one of the bridges. He left, and, as far as I'm aware, didn't kill anyone.

I took to following him after work, watching him frequently do the same thing again and again. It was… odd, but he wasn't the murderer. Although, I was beginning to suspect that, if Roman wasn't human, and was some form of… I wouldn't go as far as to call him an aquatic mammal- but sea creature, perhaps, then perhaps he was communicating with the squid.

So the next time I visited, I brought my scuba suit. I must have looked a prat walking through the streets in scuba gear in the middle of an urban area, but I was intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery.

It took several days before I had the courage to jump into the murky water- the amount of waste products thrown into the canals ranged from the odd box to shopping trolleys to knives- and there were a lot of knives in Birmingham- anyway, I wasn't planning to jump in just yet, until I saw a thick tentacle pull Roman into the canal.

I panicked, and dived in. I'd had experience working with squids- it was stupid of me to dive in without chain mail, given how sharp the beak of a squid can be- but I was only thinking about saving my colleague from the canal. I knew how to make the squid let go, and I intended to do that.

I couldn't see very well, but I could make out their shapes, and Roman didn't seem to be having any trouble breathing at all. The squid was half person, like a mermaid- although perhaps a little demented, but they were hugging Roman.

As soon as the squid person- for comedic purposes, I'd named them squidward- noticed my presence, I attempted to swim away, although they grabbed me before I could do so.

I was sure I was going to die, so I squeezed my eyes shut- only to find myself being pulled to the squid person's chest in a hug. It was… strange, to say the least, and awkward. But soon, the squid person let go of me and allowed me to swim away. Roman joined me, although he seemed reluctant to look me in the eye.

I confronted Roman, who explained to me that the squid person was his brother, Remus- or, more accurately, his sort of twin. The two had once been one being, but both had very different desires- Roman wanted to live on land, whilst Remus was content in the water- so they had simply… split, into two.

I asked about the deaths, and Roman explained that Remus didn't understand that humans couldn't breathe in the water. He was lonely, and whenever he saw somebody else lonely, he wanted to hug them. They usually drowned, and Roman didn't have the heart to tell him that they had died.

I… went back, in my scuba suit, and kept Remus company with Roman for the best part of six months- and the deaths diminished greatly. Of course, we couldn't keep it up forever, so we had to find a way to help Remus to understand that humans couldn't breathe. We didn't find a way, so I came up with a solution.

Roman had quite a bit of money saved up, and the two of us had become… close, to say the least, if the evenings spent in his apartment were anything to go by, so we brought ourselves a patch of land up in the Yorkshire Dales, and dug up one of the fields entirely. We made a pool, a deep pool, and I borrowed one of the moving tanks from the aquarium and we transported Remus up to his new home.

He loves it there, content to splash about, and free to hug Roman and I without fear of drowning anyone. And Roman and I managed to hold down our jobs back in Birmingham thanks to rail travel, even if the long commute was taxing, at times, and eventually decided to get married.

I decided to submit my story to the archives to keep a document of the existence of such creatures, and to put word out that they are not harmful and are not to be killed.

My initial reaction would be to discredit this statement as a rather elaborate prank, but nonetheless I had my colleague Virgil do some digging, and he found that Logan Sanders had a doctorate in marine biology from Oxford University. He did work, and still does work, at the Sea Life Centre in Birmingham city centre, and was willing to talk to us again. Virgil requested pictures, which Logan was happy to provide us with, so I had Patton check to see if the photographs are real. Again, the photographs checked out, and Logan and Roman allowed us to visit. After said visit, I can confirm that the squid man, and indeed Roman's cuttlefish-like camouflage, are more than just urban myths.

Recording ends.

@needscaffeine @patton-birdie @sanderssideburns

Anyone can ask to be tagged! Tagging you guys because

1. Mutual

2. I sent an anon ask and you said I could tag you!

3. Bae

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thefreelanceangel · 5 years ago

Text

Tagged: Seven Things

Annalei d’Latu:

i. A small jar of lip carmine: Both admittedly vain and of the belief that a woman’s beauty is one of her best weapons, Anna always pays attention to her looks. Even an afternoon of slaughter is no excuse to ignore those particular details that draw the eye. And soft, glossy lips stained dark pink or blood red are definitely a particular detail.

ii. Combination nail file and buffer: Nothing tells someone you’re bored with their conversation quite like breaking out a nail file and diverting your attention to filing your nails. Anna knows this and uses it with cruel relish.

iii. A silver flask with ‘S & A’ engraved in entwined letters: Although she does have a matching flask for her husband, she hasn’t yet given him the gift commemorating their marriage. Anna prefers to keep mint-laced bourbon available wherever she is and doesn’t stint herself on drinking it.

iv. Wedding ring: Seifer may concern himself with potential mishaps befalling his wedding ring (an excuse for not wearing it that Anna finds questionable, to say the least) but Anna rather proudly flaunts the heavily engraved platinum band with the excessively large, glittering diamond.

v. Blue crystal pendant on a thin silver chain: She doesn’t wear this, but keeps it on her person at all times. As she relies heavily on combat and such sources to keep her own stagnant aether replenished, it helps to have something that will identify the nearest source of potent aether.

vi. A slim, razor-sharp dagger: Despite preferring to handle all combat with magic, Anna’s quite aware there are times when the only thing that will do is a blade.

vii. A black leather collar with an intricate silver clasp: After all, she still has one open slot for a permanent lover, and if she happens to find one to her taste, it’d be remiss to not have the appropriate item on hand to claim him.

C’allie Kyho:

i. Popcorn / salted peanuts / chocolate-covered nuts / etc.: With the world as her entertainment, C’allie is always equipped with an assortment of snacks. It’d be a waste of a good show if she didn’t have something available to munch while watching a relationship combust, a free company fall apart, a fistfight in the streets.

ii. Numerous concealed blades of various sizes: Never hurts a girl to be prepared and C’allie prides herself on always being prepared.

iii. Tomestone: With a propensity for taking candid pictures (and video), C’allie keeps her tomestone readily at hand, just in case something particularly juicy happens and she wants to remember it later.

iv. A short length of silk rope: Although it certainly has “recreational” uses, the rope she carries with her is just in case she needs to restrain someone for questioning.

v. A small makeup kit: A girl’s gotta look good for all her lovers, doesn’t she? C’allie can’t always make it back to one of her many boltholes in order to freshen up, so she makes sure she’s got what she needs on the go.

vi. Several silver flasks: Anyone who loves entertainment as much as C’allie does is going to carry a small variety of alcohol in order to fully enjoy the moment.

vii. A small emergency medical kit: She’s not a healer, no, but C’allie keeps with her the basic essentials needed to treat a few minor wounds. Why? Well... She has her reasons.

Ferazhin Mercile:

i. A small, faded pink ribbon: Part of being a professional martyr is never forgetting her own mistakes, and so this particular memento is rarely out of Ferazhin’s reach.

ii. A small brass bell with Hingan writing etched on the handle: Although Ferazhin devoutly believes the kami have turned their backs on her, she goes through the motions of worship in hopes that one day, they’ll turn back to her.

iii. A simple light blue leather collar: Often hidden beneath the decorative style of her gowns, the collar is something she’s yet to come to full terms with. Annalei d’Latu insisted, however, and Ferazhin didn’t feel herself in a position to negotiate.

iv. Lip stain papers and rice powder: Being in the ‘service’ that she is, Ferazhin is fully aware of the need to present an appealing presence and carries a few cosmetic aids with her.

v. A small ivory ring with Hingan writing carved on it: Few things came to Ul’dah with her, but this particular gift from Itsuki, given in their early childhood, still has great meaning for her.

vi. An intricately fashioned star globe: With healing still a goal in sight and one she’s put much more focus on out of sheer fear of her own delight in thaumaturgy, Ferazhin doesn’t pass up a chance to examine the celestial bodies and attune herself to the echoes of their aether.

Dawne Strider:

i. A leather satchel of medical supplies: As a healer, Dawne knows to always be prepared. After all, illnesses and wounds don’t wait until it’s convenient to happen and a good healer is ready to help at any given moment.

ii. A small bone-handled dagger: During her time on the Steppes, Dawne learned the necessity of being prepared to defend herself. Her Xaela lover, Vachir, took steps to teach her and gifted her with the dagger when she managed to land three hits in a row on him during a spar.

iii. One small leather-bound book on herbalism: Being blind, she can’t read it, but as her aunt read it to her very often and other people have found it helpful in identifying herbs to help her (ones she can’t find by scent and feel alone,) she keeps it with her.

iv. A dried scrap of vine with a chocobo feather: An odd thing to carry about, especially considering it has no medicinal value, but the vine lead directly to her brief relationship with Deepwood Sniper (Kona). The feather she keeps with it was shed from Eddie, the chocobo she rode when Buck began teaching her to ride. Memories of the two men are dear to her; she keeps these entwined items safe.

v. A simple leather choker with a small brass pendant: Close inspection reveals the pendant to show an enameled sunrise. The necklace was another gift from Vachir to christen her “Endai” which he assured her was a suitable Xaela name for her to bear.

vi. An extra change of clothing: With all the time she’s spent living out in the open, making her own way, Dawne has learned to keep a change of clothing readily available. She never can tell when whatever she’s wearing will end up bloodied, coated in plant sap or soaked through.

Summer Bellmayne:

i. A sturdy leather-bound notebook and pens: Story inspiration is everywhere and Summer never misses an opportunity to jot it down. With her mind constantly racing and potential characters everywhere in the world, she needs to be able to write her ideas down without any time lost.

ii. A simple cream-colored leather collar: Often concealed by her clothing or an overlaid decorative necklace, Summer never takes this particular item off outside of her home in the First, and even then, she prefers to be in Il Mheg if she’s going to remove it.

iii. Sugary treats in all forms: How the mystel manages to survive off of so much sugar is anyone’s guess, but Summer’s become familiar enough with the “average” Eorzean diet to know she has to supply herself. Hence the stash of candy that’s always readily at hand.

iv. A small sewing kit: With as much traveling as she does, Summer tends to be particularly hard on clothing. Climbing trees to escape angry animals, prowling through caves and falling into rivers isn’t gentle on her garb; she repairs it herself or stops somewhere for fabric to make herself replacement clothing.

v. An intricately woven silk scarf in brilliant pastels: Believing devoutly in True Love™ means being prepared to meet that One True Love at any moment. With that in mind, Summer wove an intricate scarf with just a little pixie magic so her Knight in Shining Armor will have a favor right off the bat.

vi. A small handful of river-polished pebbles: Collected from the shores of Longmirror Lake, these pebbles are held in reserve, to be given only to the dearest of friends.

vii. A curled piece of looking grass, carefully dried: With travel being such an important part of her life, it’s equally important Summer be able to return home. This particular item she uses to find locations with exceptionally potent aether in order to slip back through the doors leading into Lyhe Mheg.

Tagged by: @yshai-tia; @kich-rp (Gods, it took me so long to do this ><)

Tagging: @scarssdoesrp; @mirugaidoesthings; @va1kyn; @kymeira (whenever you get your blog going :D); @lareine-kira; @gatheredfates; @thorstyrh (Edit: DERP, YOU TAGGED ME. God, send help.); @janderius-ffxiv and anyone I missed because I got tagged in this FOREVER ago ><

#Tagged #finally god I'm so sorry #Summer Bellmayne #Annalei d'Latu #C'allie Kyho #Dawne Strider #Ferazhin Mercile #FFXIV

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powerstrangerdacre · 6 years ago

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Blame

Part 1 - you, me, us

Part 2 - “his&hers” chains

Part 3 - NORMAL

Summary: He longed to see her Y/E/C eyes staring at him in that way only she could. And he feared that this same feeling would swallow him whole and break him from the inside out.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: Cursing? (Maybe?)

Wordcount: 2900+

AN: Hey y’all. I’m just... y’know... dropping by to say hi and thanks for reading. Please tell me if I can improve in any way. Or just like, what you thought about this. I’ll post the other two parts over the course of the next days... so tell me if you wanna be tagged ;). Also, huge thanks to @theoneanna and to @mercuryriver for proofreading and stuff. You guys are way too nice. ^^

In the beginning, everything was fine. They were young. They were foolish. They were just kids that didn’t know about the weight of the world which was about to crash onto them. In the beginning, they had their parents to depend on. They had someone to tell them what was wrong and what was right, just so they wouldn’t have to support the weight of their own choices. However heavy that weight was.

Then they were friends. It wasn’t hard to become friends, since they were literally pushed together by their parents. Everyone knows that type of friendship that happens because your mom or dad tells you to be nice to the other person. The type of friendship that isn’t exactly forced, but doesn’t happen because you wanted it to happen. For “normal” people that kind of friendship usually happens when they’re too small and too shy to form their own relationships.

But Y/N and Tony weren’t exactly what people called “normal”.

No, Tony was Howard Stark’s of Stark Industries only, star child. And Y/N… Well let’s just say that her family was influential in not the most legal of ways.

No, Tony and Y/N didn’t meet in kindergarten or in school or on the playground. They were old enough to make their own choices and any other normal kid would have to take responsibility for the choices they made. But they didn’t. No, Y/N and Tony didn’t know anything about responsibility or freedom, and yet they somehow made their “coerced” friendship work. Some of their other friends couldn’t understand why on earth they would just allow for something like that to happen. Some people just couldn’t understand how they could allow their parents to manage their lives to such amount.

But they simply just couldn’t say no.

Tony’s reason for not saying no to his father was simple: he didn’t want to disappoint him more than he already had. Sure, he was the best student and the best athlete and smart and charismatic, and still he felt like so much less in his father’s eyes. Hence the undying fidelity to his each and every order.

Y/N’s reason was much more complicated. Sure, her parents boasted about her academic achievements and strong-headed personality to others, but they weren’t as easy on her as they let others think. They controlled each and every one of her steps in life. School? Her father chose it for her, no matter how much she complained. Friends? Her mother ran background checks on all of them, “disposing” of the ones she deemed unfitting. They chose her clothes and hairstyle and everything in-between. And they mostly made the right choices. That is, the right choices for them.

And then one night at one of Howard’s get-togethers, they made one wrong choice and introduced one very controlled Y/N to one very out-of-control Tony.

She watched as the party-goers drank and danced along to the soft tune playing through the speakers. The room smelled of money and fame and prominence. This was the world her parents had chosen. This was the world she had grown up in. Her mind yelled and screamed at her to get out, to run as far away as possible and never look back on this life of materialism and greed.

She could basically hear the thoughts of each and every person in that room. The eyes of the old men that lingered on the daughters of their so-called friends. The smile on some women’s faces as their fingers trailed loose circles on the men’s shirts. She felt a shiver run up her spine as her father’s hand touched her back, ushering her towards someone she didn’t recognize. This was all she was, a possession to her parents, to be won by one; the one that was most influential.

Tony lingered by the bar, a girl he didn’t know hanging by his every word. The conversation was little and far-between, but every time he spoke even one word of acknowledgement towards her she would giggle and bat her butterfly eyelashes at him. A smirk pulled at his lips as he watched her eyes focus on someone behind him, widening with every second that passed. He had a feeling of just who was the presence behind him, and the voice that followed that presence just proved his feeling to be right.

“Son, I have someone I would like you to meet.” Howard’s hand came down on his shoulder, the woman Tony had been talking to leaving with just one disapproving glance from the well-known inventor.

Tony stood up and followed his father, words of conflict on his lips, and yet his lungs couldn’t form breath to let those words roam free.

First, his eyes fell on a man. His hair was gray and his face was ridden by wrinkles, but Tony knew this man was no older than 40. John Persico, Junior, the one and only boss of the one and only New York City mafia. He shook hands with the man, not batting an eye when his grip was way too strong.

Then, his eyes fell on a woman, much younger than who he assumed to be her husband. Her smile was bright and charming as she shook his hand, but he knew that she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Adriana Persico, the woman behind every move of the Colombo crime family.

He wondered, how out of so many people at that damn party, his father wanted to introduce him to the ones that could most likely kill him without any remorse.

And then, he saw her. A girl, her smile shy and her eyes fearful. Her trembling hands only proved what he feared to be right. Her eyes shifted and her shoulders slumped as her father pushed her forward.

“This is my daughter, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll become great friends,” he said.

And great friends they did become, though not like her parents had expected.

At first, when Tony first got to know Y/N, at that same party, he thought she was just another girl. A pretty girl, hell, gorgeous even. But she was just that, a pretty face with no personality. Just like all the others.

Of course, he didn’t plan to see her ever again, but his father had other plans, forcing him over and over again to take the girl out. They went to the park, to the movies, out to dance. Seemingly everywhere, just to get them together.

At first, he thought she was just another pawn in their parents’ games, just like him. At first, he thought she didn’t have a mind of her own, since he had never had to talk so much about himself while with a girl. Most of them just liked blabbing away about anything and everything. But not Y/N. She listened to what he had to say, only giving him small affirmation that she was indeed listening. Indicating that he wasn’t just talking to himself.

Then, without his father telling him to, he found himself calling her and meeting her more and more often. And when he did that, he started noticing the real Y/N, in-between fragments of a broken, fearful mind.

And that Y/N, she was simply and utterly beautiful. She could keep up with his banter and his wit. He could talk science with her and not feel as though he was talking to a brick. She challenged his ideas about robotics and astrophysics, coming up with ideas of her own and shutting down some of Tony’s which she deemed “too crazy”. Y/N had a certain spark to her, one that he was certain he would never grow bored of, and so he was sure he would never grow bored of her. And it wasn’t long until Tony noticed that that thing he was feeling whenever he was around her had grown from worry and friendship to something more. Fondness. Care. Appreciation. Love.

He longed to see her Y/E/C eyes staring at him in that way only she could. He longed to hear her voice and her contagious laughter whenever she wasn’t around him. He wished for the touch of her hand, even though she never had granted it to him. And he feared she never would. And he feared what he felt for her would never be reciprocated. And he feared that this same feeling would swallow him whole and break him from the inside out.

And so he didn’t meet her anymore. Not because he didn’t wish to, but because he was too scared, and that in itself terrified him.

But then there she was. Standing tall and proud in her flowy, golden, silk dress, looking like a goddess with her hair flowing freely behind her as she walked from guest to guest at yet another one of his father’s party. And he couldn’t help but watch and admire.

She must’ve felt his eyes on her, because as soon as she turned once more, her eyes fell on him and a smile spread over her lips. He watched as she made her way towards him, swallowing dryly as that feeling returned, clawing at his heart.

“Hey there, jackass,” she said, eyes as bright as bright, or maybe even brighter than he remembered them to be.

“Hey, honey.” His eyes couldn’t move, or rather he didn’t want to move them as he took in all of her.

“So…” she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she took a seat next to him by the bar, “What’s got you so busy the last few weeks?”

“Oh, nothing…” he lied, “You know how it is…” He found himself tongue-tied. He couldn’t believe it. Him. The Anthony Edward Stark. Tongue-tied because of some girl. Only, it wasn’t just some girl. It was Y/N. And that made a whole world of difference.

“That’s so…” Y/N took a sip of her champagne, eyes trailing down. She knew he was avoiding her, though he didn’t really have to do a lot of avoiding, since they didn’t really run in the same circles. But she knew something had changed in him. Something had shifted as his eyes finally snapped away from her and shifted between everything and everyone at the party. “We’re okay though, right?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Tony muttered, not entirely sure what she meant.

“We’re still friends… right?” she asked.

Tony wished nothing more than to yell “No! We can’t be friends! Friends don’t look at each other like we do. Friends don’t understand each other like we do.”. Instead, he settled for a “Yeah… sure.”

“Great!” She smiled that brilliant smile of hers, a smile he really hoped was reserved only for him. “’Cause I’ve got this great theory about Einstein’s theory of relativity and I can’t really discuss it with anyone but you.”

And she started explaining and talking animatedly about whatever nonsense she had come up with. And he stood and listened and gave her more nonsensical ideas. And for once he understood why his father had been so adamant about him meeting her. She was a girl, subjugated by the weight of her family’s words and rules, but it seemed like Howard had seen something in her that no one else had. Maybe it had been that spark that Tony could see now, or maybe not. But he couldn’t help himself as he watched this girl, so much more stunning than the shadow of herself that she used to be, and the words simply slipped out of his mouth.

“You know… I’m usually smooth and stuff but… how about I take you out sometime?”

She smiled and nodded, pink dusting her cheeks as she stared into her glass of golden, sparkling alcohol.

“It’s a date.”

And just like he already knew and predicted, he never grew tired of her. There was always something new and unexpected about her. Like the time when she had tried to cook for them only for it to come out a mess. Or the time she helped him build the robot for MIT’s Robotics contest. He reaped the rewards for their work, but she didn’t mind. She was simply proud to see their work out there and being acknowledged by so many people.

To put it simply, he was happy with her by his side, and she was happiest whenever he was by hers.

But then, reality came crashing down, just like the responsibility that Tony’s parents had tried to shield him from.

His eyes widened as the call from the police came. His heartbeat stammered in his chest and his breathing stuttered. “We’re sorry to inform you but your parents seemed to have been in an accident. Their car collided with a tree and they both died on impact.” the voice had said before he hung up.

The funeral was just a few days later. She was by his side, but he couldn’t help but see her as somewhat of a gift for him. A gift and a blessing his father had bestowed on him. She reminded him of Howard and he simply couldn’t take it. It was enough that he had lost both his parents. He didn’t want something to remind him of that every damn day.

Y/N walked into his apartment, looking out for the pieces of shattered glass that littered the floor. She stepped directly into his living room, where he laid on the couch, empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, the back of his other arm laying over his eyes. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew that nothing that she could say or do would make it any easier or better.

“Tony… you should really stop. They wouldn’t want this for you.” She walked over to him, taking the bottle and placing it down on the floor. Her hand grasped his and he squeezed it tightly, before his hand went limp once again.

“How do you know what they would want for me?” he asked.

Her eyes widened, her hand gripping his tightly. She knew he was trying to push her away, but she wouldn’t go without a fight. “I don’t know… But no parent would want this for their child.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the words left a sour taste in her mouth, almost like they’d burnt her tongue. She knew what she said wasn’t true. There were parents out there who didn’t care what their kids went through, as long as those kids behaved. “I know Howard and Maria loved you,” she said, “I know they cared for you, and I know they would’ve never left you if they could’ve helped it.”

Suddenly, he snatched his hand from hers as he stood. He paced back and forth, hands clawing over his face as he took a deep breath. “You don’t know anything. Howard… he was nothing but a… a leech that only came to me when I would be of some use to him!” he screamed, “I was not his son! I was not family! Hell I wasn’t even human! I was just a pawn in that sick, twisted game of his!” He turned to her, eyes scanning her shrinking stature. “But not anymore! No! I won’t play his game even after he died!”

“What… what do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean that I’m moving, Y/N. I mean that I don’t want anything to do with anything that has his… his damn signature on it.”

She nodded. “Where are you taking us?”

“ ‘Us’?” he took a deep breath, “Y/N… there is no ‘us’. There was never an ‘us’.”

Y/N simply nodded, expression as stoic as stone. Tears slowly welled in her eyes, but he was right. They had never actually put a label on whatever it was that they had. You couldn’t lose something you never had in the first place. Nothing gained, nothing lost.

He watched as she grabbed her bag from the couch, nodding once again as a goodbye before turning to head for the door. He watched as her shoulders slumped and her head dropped, and he willed everything he had just said out of existence. But he knew that the words couldn’t be taken back. This was his decision, after all. So he settled for a simple “Don’t cry for me. I’m just a jackass. You know that.”.

She turned her head, taking a last glance at him. “I know. No need to cry. There was never an ‘us’ anyway… right?” She shook her head. That couldn’t be right. It didn’t feel right. “But if there was never an ‘us’… then what about every. Single. Day we spent together? What about the way you talked about a future that I would be in? Why did you make me believe there was an ‘us’?!” she screamed. He could feel her words resonate within him. This was exactly what he had been afraid of: that feeling he had for her breaking him. That feeling taking over whatever conscience he had underneath all the alcohol he had just consumed. “Why did you make me believe that you loved me?” she whispered brokenly.

He took a deep breath, words caught in his throat. Until, finally, he forced them out. “I never loved you.”

The sob that shook her body was heartbreaking, even for his inebriated state, as she nodded once again and walked out of the room.

Taglist: @artisticlales

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skammovistarplus · 6 years ago

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Culture and Translation - S01 E02 C04-C07 and SKAM+ Clip 1

Hi hi! Okay, so I’ve both gotten a bunch of followers and the tag is a lot more poppin since the last time I posted one of these. Quick explanation: when I got into og Skam, I felt I had to piece together a lot of the cultural context behind it, such as, yes, Russetiden, but also stuff like the cost of a bunad or sex without protection. I’ve also read from multiple Norwegian people that the fansubs didn’t do justice to the slang Skam characters use. So these posts provide cultural context. They also provide explanations for the translation I went with in the subs and the best approximation to the slang the Skam España characters use on the show in the cases where I felt the translation didn’t fully do justice to the actual dialogue.

Note: these posts are based on my own subs/translations, so they might not make as much sense if you hadn’t watched those.

Note 2: You can check the culture and translation tag for the rest of the posts.

CLIP 4: In which I learn that a dj system is not a mixer.

This clip was shot in the Pinar de Chamartín subway station. It’s the only station that connects another line with lines 1 and 4, and the show thanks Metro Ligero in the credits. Pinar de Chamartín is a Metro Ligero subway station. (There are several kinds, depending on which company manages the station.) They probably used this station because it’s big and doesn’t get a lot of commuters. Otherwise, it’s completely out of the way of anything these characters would go to.

Hola acosadora! (“Hi creeper!”): would be closer in meaning to, “hi, harasser!” (which doesn’t flow well in English) or “hi, stalker!” (but Eva uses the word in English right after). So creeper it is.

Dale duro (Subs: Hit it hard): I don’t really have any comment about this, other than it seems to be Lucas’ signature phrase. He’s always saying it.

La gente se cree que hacen una movida los DJs que flipas (“People think DJs are some kind of crazy wizards”) Holy shit, I had so much trouble with this sentence. I wish I knew whether this line was on the original script or if Jorge’s actor reworded it. As per the FormulaTV article, the actors get to reword lines if they think it’d sound more natural some other way. Alas, I couldn’t think of how to translate “movida” in this context (it comes up again later), so I settled for the line in the subs. Let’s just say that the implication is that DJs are almost unknowable in their mad DJ skillz, what with the “movida” and the verb “flipar” that we’ve seen so often at this point. I find my translation much inferior to Jorge’s line, which provides such a vivid visual and is hilarious.

Hablando de punchi punchi (“Speaking of sick beats”): Jorge obviously doesn’t say sick beats, but he’s trying for an onomatopoeia for the beat in dance songs. There are a lot of variants in Spanish for this specific purpose of talking about the beat in a song. Another popular one is, “chunda chunda.” I’m actually really proud of how I translated this line, lol. Too bad I can’t put it on a resume.

“¿Te renta?” is another idiom that often comes up on Skam España. I’ve been told it’s Madrileño slang, but I’ve personally never used it or heard it before the show. (Which doesn’t mean it’s not in use, lol, just that it hasn’t made its way to me yet.) A literal translation would be, “Is it worth it?” Jorge asks Lucas whether it’d be worth it to Lucas to do something this weekend, and Lucas responds going out for beers would be worth it to him. In this case, I didn’t go for the literal translation as this scene is already too long and involved to be throwing more idioms into the mix. Other times, I’ve translated it as is, because I do feel it sums Madrileños up well. Like, we can’t be bothered to do anything or go anywhere if we don’t feel it’s worth it.

Keli (“House”): This has been Madrileño slang for decades at this point. It just means house.

Sí, movidas, ya sabes (“Yeah, shit, you know”): “Movidas” comes up again, this time in the context of Lucas’ home life. Basically, there’s trouble, but the use of “movidas” implies movement, i.e. it’s an active, ongoing situation.

Tengo un programita (“I have some ‘wares”): The literal translation is, “I have a little software,” but I remembered downloading completely legal software from sketchy websites, which would call them ‘warez.’ I thought this phrasing would be more vivid for English speakers. Also, there’s really nothing about Jorge’s persona that suggests this software would’ve been obtained legally, so yeah.

It’s unclear what part of what Eva is saying Jorge reacts to when he says, “Fuck…” Personally, I think he’s impressed that Eva has scammed a rich dude out of an invite to that huge-ass house. But it could also be that he’s proud she’s making plans with the girl squad! Either way, he’s impressed!

Pico, pala, pico, pala (“Joke, flirt, joke, flirt”): OKAY. So, the literal translation of this is, “Pick, shovel, pick, shovel.” This is fairly common Spanish slang for the process of flirting with a girl until she is won over, or she is less reluctant to flirt back. Visually, it makes you think of a miner having to put in long hours of exhausting physical work in order to get results. It makes it sound like more scummy than it is, kind of? I translated it as “joke, flirt, joke, flirt,” because that’s what it usually amounts to. As we’ve seen from Jorge, he does voices, gives odd nicknames and generally aims to be cute in a cheesy way. That is the kind of techniques that are meant to win a girl over, or at least get her to joke along with you.

One more objectionable maneuver, which would still fall under the umbrella of pick and shovel, would be Cristian’s “my DMs aren’t working” move to get Eva to give him her cellphone number.

Final lines from the clip that didn’t make it to the episode:

Eva: But, okay, no. Save up or ask your parents to get it for your b-day, no?

Jorge: Nah, maybe I’ll just get one secondhand.

Lucas: And you lend it to me.

Jorge: Okay.

Lucas: But you can’t… [cuts off]

I love the way all the dj system talk ended up having no impact whatsoever on the plot. It’s not like I had to look specific terms or anything.

CLIP 5: The girl squad chooses an impractical, yet picturesque, meeting point

Eva is waiting right outside Tribunal subway station. I’ve met up with friends at this station probably since I was allowed to hang out on my own, lol.

You can barely make out a building behind the girls. It’s this one: Museum of History of Madrid. Entrance is free, and it has tons of cool stuff to check out.

The girls have a quick chat on how they’ve dressed up for Cristian’s party. Cris says it was about time they had a chance to dress up. Nora says she put on one of her daily outfits, but the girls don’t buy it and tease her over it. Honestly, she doesn’t look overdressed at all? She wore an actual dress for New Year’s Eve.

Maripili! (“Maripili!”): Maripili is a name, which Nora randomly uses to call Viri over. It doesn’t seem to be a meme, so I think Nora is just teasing Viri with a name that sounds dated and cutesy. It’s very gentle teasing though.

Al chino (“To the convenience store”): Eva instructs the girls to go to “el chino,” which is slang for a type of convenience store owned by immigrants. These are usually Chinese immigrants, hence the name, but stores owned by Maghrebi and Latinx immigrants are also fairly common. The name “chino” has stuck regardless. These convenience stores sell a small range of foodstuffs, such as canned food, microwavable food, some fruit and vegetables, ice cream, bread, and, as the scene implies, booze. They also remain open longer than most grocery store chains, often until 23:30 on a weekday and way past midnight on Fridays and Saturdays. They’re not allowed to sell alcohol to minors, but I guess they don’t mind breaking the law? I don’t know, guys, we got older students to buy us booze lol.

Que me acaba de dar un cringe (“I just cringed a lot”): “Cringe” is an English loanword, which is obviously the word cringe.

Tú la que más, tú la que más (“You’re partying the hardest, you are”): The literal translation is: “You’re the most, you’re the most.” It’s implied that whichever girl is “you” (it’s the singular form, so Cris doesn’t mean all of the girls) is doing something the most, but the sentence doesn’t have a verb. Basically, it’s a way of hyping themselves up for the party. I assumed Cris meant “partying” from context, but it’s not explicit.

In the episode, clip 5 became two different clips to account for the train ride. That’s why there’s a timestamp in the middle of the clip when you watch the episode version.

Cristián lives in Pozuelo de Alarcón, an affluent Madrid suburb with its own city hall. At the time, twitter commentary from Spanish viewers was critical of the show choosing to make the girls meet in Tribunal, because public transit from Tribunal to Pozuelo takes too many connections and it’s not like Madrid isn’t rife with convenience stores. I included both the route the girls take, and an alternate for ur edification.

I just realized that when Viri goes over to greet Lara, you can clearly hear Lara saying, “what’s up, dude?” in response.

And also, when Eva begs Nora not to leave her alone, Nora teases Eva by saying the sentence back to her. That’s why Eva laughs and says Nora is being dumb.

A saco (“going all out”): “A saco” is that kind of slang that’s hard to translate, but Eva means that Viri is assertively taking the lead in pursuing (and making it clear she wants to make out with) ALEJANDRO, rather than waiting for him to notice her.

CLIP 6: Viri lost a battle, but she didn’t lose the war!

Nora’s ringtone is so… She truly leaves me speechless sometimes.

No soy celoso (“I’m not possessive”): I translated “celoso” as possessive, because if I translated it as “jealous” it would mean that Cristian, right this moment, doesn’t feel jealous of Jorge. In fact, what Cristian is saying that this is a general personality trait of his, like being blond. He is totally chill with any and all girls he is interested in having boyfriends. That’s not at all an obstacle!

It’s also a very corny thing Spanish guys say all the time when a girl says she’s taken, hence Eva’s uncomfortable smile in response.

As Inés and Alicia greet ALEJANDRO, he seems pretty annoyed by Viri floating around him, clearly laying a claim on him. The three of them intentionally crowd Viri out.

CLIP 7: Hard work pays off

En doce siglos (“in twelve centuries”): This is Amira’s catchphrase for measuring time. She also uses it during the truth or dare game.

One of the season 1 mysteries: what did Alicia say to Inés to make her leave so quickly? In hindsight, it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Jorge, but that was one of the popular theories at the time.

Another detail: Cristian is behind Inés, seemingly on her side of this girl fight. ALEJANDRO’s crew seems to be pretty friendly with Inés and Alicia. They celebrated Inés’ birthday together, and often post ig stories together.

Social media:

I already mentioned this in a post, but Cris’ instagram makes it very obvious that Cris is a stoner. Her rainbow tops are peak Spanish stoner girl fashion, the soap video she regrammed is the sort of thing a stoner would be fascinated by, she follows ifyouhigh and highpeopledoingstuff, and she’s holding a blunt for her first ever ig pic. So yeah. I also just realized the implications, seeing she’s the s2 main. I don’t think she’ll lose a bunch of weed, but she might smoke it with 🐸?

“Perezón,” i.e. the title of clip 4, would literally translate to sloth or laziness, but its actual meaning is “what a drag,” as in “that party/those people/going to that rally is such a drag.”

Viri’s house is pretty basic-looking. What we can see of it looks like a working class household, but it isn’t the borderline hoarder situation in Vilde’s clip.

Eva watches an 11-episode show, which may or may not be Skam s1. The fun thing is she promises she won’t watch episode 12. The NYE special is listed as episode12 on the Movistar site.

Jorge got ahold of a charger after midnight!

SKAM+ #1:

This clip takes place between episode 2 clips 6 and 7. Specifically, 20 minutes before the last clip.

Aitana is a Spanish singer born in 1999. She became famous thanks to talent show Operación Triunfo, where she came in second. At the time season 1 aired, she had only dropped two songs, Lo Malo with Ana Guerra, and Teléfono. Both of these songs played a prominent role on the show.

Cristian’s dad works at a record label! Explains Cristian’s huge ass house and mixing room!

ALEJANDRO asks Aitana where she’d like to hang out with him at Retiro Park. Retiro Park is one of the largest parks in Madrid. The park belonged to the Spanish Monarchy until the late 19th century, when it became a public park. It’s one of the most picturesque sights in the city and it’s overrun by people. So I don’t think it’s the place you want to take a celeb on a low-key date, but otherwise, good choice! Almost makes it seem like ALEJANDRO isn’t after sex!

Hasta yo preferiría a Aitana (“Even I’d rather Aitana”): That is… so lesbian of Viri.

Speaking of lesbians, Cris is also absolutely overcome by Aitana’s beauty.

In case you weren’t aware, Spaniards greet each other with two cheek kisses when we meet someone. Touching people’s hair without their permission, though, is still a no-no.

#culture and translation #skam españa #skam spain #skamesp #skames #skam esp

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