#the pool scene. one day i must draw the pool scene | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gardenschedule · 8 months ago

Text

just insane mclennon things

John playing his and Yoko's sex tape in a band meeting

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over. It occured to me as I was walking down the stairs that what we’d heard could have been an expression of 1960s freedom and openness but was it more likely that it was as if a gauntlet had been thrown down? “You need to understand that this is where she and I are now. I don’t want to hold your hand anymore.”

Paul putting beetles fucking on his album artwork

John hiring a pig and posing with it solely to mock Ram even though he was scared of it

At the end of the day a farmer delivered a huge hog to the mansion [Tittenhurst Park]. It was John’s notion to parody the album jacket photograph of Paul McCartney’s Ram, which showed Paul wrestling with a ram; John would wrestle with a pig. We all went outside and stared at the large surly animal. It was much bigger than any of us had expected. John circled the animal warily. He liked the idea, but he didn’t like the hog. Dan stood poised to snap the picture. “Climb on its back, John, and grab its ears,” he said. John looked doubtful. He stepped closer to the animal. It let out a shrill, strange, sound. John stepped back, but we all urged him on. “You can do it, John,” I said. John approached the animal once again. “I can’t hold the friggin’ pig for too long. You get one shot and one shot alone,” he told Dan.

Loving John: The Untold Story, May Pang

John & Yoko attempting to get revenge married in Paris 2 days after Paul & Linda

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible”

Philip Norman, John Lennon: The life

We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required.

John Lennon

SALEWICZ: Well, I always found it interesting the fact that he got – I mean, it seemed too much like coincidence to me, the fact that he got married a week or month after you. You know what I mean? PAUL: Yeah. I think we spurred each other into marriage. I mean, you know. They were very strong together, which left me out of the picture. So I got together with Linda and then we got strong with our own kind of thing. And I used to listen to a lot of what they said. I remember him saying to me, “You’ve got to work at marriage,” which is something I still remember as a bit of advice. I still remember that. Um… And then yeah, I think they were a little bit peeved that we got married first. Probably. In a little way, you know, just minor jealousies. And so they got married. I don’t know if that’s – I mean, who knows… [inaudible] making it up, anyway.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London): journalist Chris Salewicz

Their belief in telepathy & shared dreams

NEIL: I’d just rather not say anything. It’s one of those situations. PAUL: Yeah. [pause] Well, that’s – that’s the trouble you see, there, ‘cause that’s it. It’s like, with our – heightened awareness, the answer is not to say anything, you know. But it isn’t. ‘Cause I mean, we screw each other up totally if we don’t do that. ‘Cause we’re not ready for your heightened… vows of silence. [laughs; hapless] We’re really not! Like, we don’t know what the fuck each other’s talking about, when that – we all just sort of get— NEIL: I think it’s just between the four of you, that get it. That’s what I’d pretend. PAUL: Oh yeah, right, yeah. But you see, that’s it, that’s why John doesn’t say anything. ‘Cause he, you know, he just… There was something the other day, when I said, “Well, what do you think?” And he just stood there and didn’t say anything. And then – and I know exactly why, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t, if… [long pause] Somehow. You know, there’s nothing really much to be said about it. You just – we all just have to do it, and all that, instead of like talking about it. But – but if one of us is talking about it, it’s a drag if the other three aren’t. Because then it sort of throws you off. [inaudible; voice marking tape slate] I mean, we’ve just been talking about it now for a few years, you know. Like this…

From the Get Back sessions (13 January 1969).

HINDLE: What do you think about language? JOHN: I think it’s a bit crummy, you know? It is a drag form of communication, really. We’ll get – we’ll get telepathy. I believe that. HINDLE: You believe that? JOHN: Yeah, sure. Sure. Sure as anything I believe. It’s too… Because now we need it so much. [...] There are – there’s people everywhere of the same mind and it’s just… even amongst ourselves we can’t communicate. Which is the hard bit, you know. HINDLE: Yeah. JOHN: Amongst the people that sort of really agree. HINDLE: Just ’cause of words? JOHN: Just ’cause of words, and upbringing, and attitude, and how you express your… Well, it’s just some – you’ve got to find a mutual sort of language to express yourself, you know? And my language is that— HINDLE: Unless you fall in love it’s impossible to communicate like that. JOHN: I mean, I wasn’t in love last year, but I was communicating quite well with people. Not as well, or maybe not as powerfully. ’Cause now there’s two of us, doing that, brrmmm, whatever it is. Sending out a vibration or whatever. But before it was me and… or me and George, alright, or whatever it was; we weren’t in love, but. You know. There’s enough in you to shove it out. It is just that bit. If you – if somebody comes in a room and he’s uptight and that, he can make the whole room uptight.

John Lennon, interviewed by Maurice Hindle (December 1968).

PAUL: I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another. The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.

PAUL MCCARTNEY TO THE BIG ISSUE. FEBRUARY 2012.

John climbing the wall to Paul's house because Paul skipped a session for his & Linda's anniversary

(Not confirmed but supposedly)

Paul being utterly convinced that John can't be gay because he didn't try it on when they slept in the same bed

I mean, if John was–the trouble is, see, is he’s not here to fend for himself, and we can’t ask him, “‘Scuse me, John, are you–have you ever been gay?” I mean, he’s the kind— I remember people used to ask that. There were lots of people asking cheeky questions, and they were always saying, “Well, why–have you ever tried homosexuality, John?” You know, they always used to ask all that kind of stuff. I remember John saying to them, “No, I’ve never met a fella I fancy enough.” And that was his kind of opinion. You know, “I may go–I may be gay one day, if some fella really turns me on.” He was–he was that open about it. But as far as I was concerned, I slept in a million hotel rooms–as we all did–slept in a million places with John, and there was never any hint of it.

December 24th, 1983: interview with DJ Roger Scott

“And I say, if he’s homosexual, I thought he’d have made a pass at me in 20 years, darling.”

Paul McCartney talking about John Lennon.

“Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, was a known homosexual. Epstein was always polite and charming. It has been insinuated that John was drawn to Epstein. I believe there was no such relationship between them. John was macho. But if John was a homosexual, it would have made no difference to me. I’ve asked Paul McCartney, who laughed and said: ‘Why not me? I’m handsome.’ Then he said: ‘I was holed up with John in hotel rooms everywhere. There was never a suggestion of anything like that.’ I believe him.”

Julia Baird, in Boston Globe: Lennon’s half-sister remembers… (2 October 1988).

“All I can ever say about it is that I slept with John a lot because you had to, you didn’t have more than one bed - and to my knowledge John was never gay.”

Paul McCartney, The Brian Epstein Story

And maybe he's right to be offended?

Did Lennon have sex with other men? “I think he had a desire to, but I think he was too inhibited,” says Ono. “No, not inhibited. He said, ‘I don’t mind if there’s an incredibly attractive guy.’ It’s very difficult: They would have to be not just physically attractive, but mentally very advanced too. And you can’t find people like that.” So did Lennon ever have sex with men? “No, I don’t think so,” says Ono. “The beginning of the year he was killed, he said to me, ‘I could have done it, but I can’t because I just never found somebody that was that attractive.’ Both John and I were into attractiveness—you know—beauty.”

Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

There was even some discussion, albeit not very serious, of whether he should stick to his own gender. “John said ‘It would hurt you like crazy if I made it with a girl. With a guy, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt, because that’s not competition. But I can’t make it with a guy because I love women too much, and I’d have to fall in love with the guy and I don’t think I can.’”

Yoko on her and John discussing the terms of an open marriage in 1973 (John Lennon: The Life)

On that note, Paul's obsession with sleeping in the same bed as John

Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998

John and I used to hitch-hike places together, it was something that we did together quite a lot; cementing our friendship, getting to know our feelings, our dreams, our ambitions together. It was a very wonderful period. I look back on it with great fondness. I particularly remember John and I would be squeezed in our little single bed, and Mike Robbins, who was a real nice guy, would come in late at night to say good night to us, switching off the lights as we were all going to bed.

Many Years From Now

John and I always liked wordplay. So, the phrase ‘She’s got a ticket to ride’ of course referred to riding on a bus or train, but – if you really want to know – it also referred to Ryde on the Isle of Wight, where my cousin Betty and her husband Mike were running a pub. That’s what they did; they ran pubs. He ended up as an entertainment manager at a Butlin’s holiday resort. Betty and Mike were very showbiz. It was great fun to visit them, so John and I hitchhiked down to Ryde, and when we wrote the song we were referring to the memory of this trip. It’s very cute now to think of me and John in a little single bed, top and tail, and Betty and Mike coming to tuck us in.

Paul McCartney, on ‘Ticket To Ride’. In The Lyrics (2021).

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

New Statesman, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle,” September 26, 1997

“I wrote all those songs with him so…. what can I say to people?? We were kids! I mean… we slept together, topped and tailed in beds and hitch-hiking and stuff, so,…. I mean, we were just totally you know,….. mates.”

Paul McCartney

John taking matters into his own hand to start rumours about him and Paul

The consensus among John, Paul and Yoko that if J&P could have been together, they would have

“. . . I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and… But you know I mean in this case I just sort of said, right – I mean, I didn’t say anything, but I could see that was the way it was going to go, and that Yoko would be very sort of powerful for him. So um, we all had to get out the way.”

Paul McCartney, interview with German tv program Exclusiv, April 1985.

JOHN: It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

John Lennon, interview w/ Sandra Shevey. (Mid-June?, 1972)

Y: After the initial embarrassment, that how Paul is being very nice to me, he’s nice and a very, str- on the level, straight, sense, like wherever there’s something like happening at the Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man, or something like that he asks me if I know of anybody, things like that. And like I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like his being, he’s treating me with respect, not because it’s me, but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat, because there’s something definitely very strong with me, John, and Paul.

Yoko Ono, Revolution Tape, June 4th 1968

"We thought we'd do a number of an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul.""

youtube

As a second choice from the Lennon- McCartney songbook, Elton suggested 'I Saw Her Standing There'. This appealed to John for its antiquity, and because its lead vocal always was sung by Paul. (...) There was a whisper of Royal Variety Show mischief when he announced "a number by an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul" - no one yet knowing the estranged fiancés were long reconciled.

John Lennon: The Life, Philip Norman

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

Married couple signatures

(and the reverse of that postcard...)

John publicly predicting Paul & Linda's divorce

You were right about New York! I do love it; it's the ONLY PLACE TO BE. (Apart from anything else, they leave you alone too!) I see you prefer Scotland! (MM) -- I'll bet you your piece of Apple you'll be living in New York by 1974 (two years is the usual time it takes you right?)

John's letter to Paul in Melody Maker, 1971 Finally, about not telling anyone that I left the Beatles—PAUL and Klein both spent the day persuading me it was better not to say anything—asking me not to say anything because it would 'hurt the Beatles'—and 'let's just let it petre out'—remember? So get that into your petty little perversion of a mind, Mrs. McCartney—the cunts asked me to keep quiet about it. Of course, the money angle is important—to all of us—especially after all the petty shit that came from your insane family/in laws—and GOD HELP YOU OUT, PAUL—see you in two years—I reckon you'll be out then—inspite of it all, love to you both, from us two.

John's personal letter to Linda & Paul, 1971

JOHN: Oh, [Klein]’d love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I’ve said that. In five years he’ll wake up. YOKO: And people don’t understand, you know. There’s so many groups that constantly announce they’re going to split, they’re going to split, and they can announce it every year, and it doesn’t mean they’re going to split. But people don’t understand what an extraordinary position the Beatles are in, you know. In every way. They’re in such an extraordinary position that they’re more insecure than other people. And so Klein thinks he’ll give Paul two years Linda-wise, you know. And John said, “No, Paul treasures things like children, things like that. It will be longer.” And of course, John was right.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #only a tiny fraction of insane things #they have such chaotic lore

400 notes · View notes

yoonkinii · 5 months ago

Text

How y♡u met Sukuna again (and got his number)!

Warning(s): Literally one curse word Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (Check for more AU content here)

Coincidences are curious things, often catching many off guard. You certainly didn’t expect one as you sat at a campus picnic table across from your close friend, Shoko, a fellow biology major.

What started as a casual lunch meet up quickly turned into you babbling on and on about your encounter with the ‘hot uncle’ you met at work. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen him, and he hasn’t returned. Perhaps it was foolish to hope he’d come back just so you could steal glances at his gorgeous face, but you couldn’t help it.

“I think I missed my chance, Shosho.” You sighed, sipping from the smoothie you had just purchased from a nearby smoothie bar. “We could’ve been soulmates.”

Your friend, eyes heavy with fatigue, rolled her eyes and poked at her lunch with her fork. “Do you realize how crazy you sound right now? You don’t even know his name.”

“It’s not about that though!” You scoffed, face falling as you voice your laments. “This is about me and some hot guy with pink hair.”

“You mean pink hair like that?”

Casting a confused glance at Shoko, you follow her pointing finger. When your eyes landed on the scene behind you, your mouth dropped open. Quickly turning back to face Shoko, you shrank in on yourself.

“Oh my God, that’s his nephew.”

Shoko hummed, arms crossed as she stared nonchalantly. You gasped and kicked her under the table. She hissed, her irritated gaze snapping to you. “What the hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell, Shoko? Why are you just staring?” You whisper urgently, leaning in toward her as if Yuji might hear, even though he was still a good distance away.

“Quit acting like that before people start looking at you.” She retorts, pointing a finger at you. “You’re the one that looks insane right now.”

“I can’t help it, ” You mutter, “I was just talking about his uncle and how I wanted to bag him. It's like the universe is telling me something.”

“Hopefully telling you to shut up.”

“Watch it.”

The corner of Shoko’s lip curved into a half smile. “I think you should watch it cause it seems that pink haired boy is making his way over here.”

Anxiety pooled in your stomach as your eyes widened. “You’re lying.”

Your dear friend couldn’t respond before your name was called out, drawing the attention of everyone around. Wishing you could sink into the ground at the moment, you turned to look over your shoulder.

There Yuji was, waving energetically with a big grin on his face. Two other students trailed behind him: a boy with black hair who looked like he regretted every moment, and a girl with a brown bob who eyed you with curiosity, glancing between Yuji and you.

“It’s been a while, miss Y/n! How have you been?”

You offered Yuji a welcoming smile. “Hello, Yuji. It’s surprising to see you here.” You weren’t surprised he knew your name, given that name tag you’re required to wear at work.

Shono snorts, hiding her laughter behind her hand as you slipped into a customer service mindset. You decided not to reprimand your friend, not with Yuji and his friends around. Turning to cuss out a friend isn’t something teenagers should witness from adults. You couldn’t help but glance at the other two standing behind Yuji.

“Oh! These are my friends.” A jolt of shock rushed over you as Yuji spoke. He must have noticed you eyeing his companions. “This is Megumi Fushiguro.” Yuji gestures towards the black-haired boy, who simply nodded, eyes downcast. It was surprising to see someone who looked so gloomy be friends with Yuji.

“I’m Nobara Kugisaki,” the girl interjected before Yuji could introduce her himself.

You smiled warmly, addressing Yuji’s friends. “Hello, you two. I’m Y/n, and this girl across from me is Shoko, a friend of mine.” Shoko waved her fingers in acknowledgement, more focused on finishing her lunch than engaging with high schoolers.

“Let’s cut to the chase. How do you know Yuji?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in mild exasperation. “I met Yuji once at my workplace. He needed some assistance, and that’s about it,” you explained, noticing Nobora nodding thoughtfully at your response. “Now,” you continue, redirecting the conversation, “what brings you guys here?”

“School trip,” Megumi replied plainly.

“Already on school trips to colleges?” Shoko interjected, her eyes glued to her phone as she multitasked between typing and adding to the conversation.

Nobora sighed, leaning against Yuji’s side. “Yeah, the school wants us to make connections and all that,” she says in a mocking tone, pulling a face for emphasis. You couldn’t help but snort at her antics, shaking your head.

“Well, it’s better than sitting at a desk all day.”

“True.” Nobora agrees, Yuji nodding his head in contemplation.

Megumi checks his phone for the time, glancing briefly before returning it to his pocket. “We need to go. It’s almost time for us to regroup.”

“Oh crap!” Yuji exclaims, eyes widening slightly. He waves goodbye to you and even to Shoko as he and his friends dash off to their designated meeting spot. Nobora’s shouts echo behind them as she begrudgingly follows, lamenting her dislike towards running.

Shaking your head at their lively departure, you turn to face Shoko. She glances up from her phone. “So that’s the nephew? Seems like a handful.”

“You think everything’s a handful, Sho.”

She hums pleasantly, “True.”

You slouch, resting your head against the picnic table. “I was so scared his uncle was going to appear out of nowhere.”

“Now that would’ve been amusing to watch.”

“Have I ever told you that I despise you?”

“Hmm, I can’t recall.” Shoko teases, her eyes never leaving her phone.

Yes, coincidences were a curious thing. There was no rhyme or reason to them; they simply happened without warning. Even as you stood behind the register, mechanically scanning, bagging, and collecting payments, your mind wandered elsewhere - or rather, fixated on someone else.

You released a deep sigh for what felt like the umpteenth time. No matter how hard you tried to focus, thoughts of Yuji’s uncle always entered your mind. No man has ever affected you like this, not even the countless celebrities you idolized in your teenage years. You attributed it to his striking; there was no other explanation for why the mere thought of him made your heart race.

Another sigh escaped you as a customer approached your register, placing a full basket of items on the conveyor belt. Your body moved on autopilot, instinctively grabbing the basket once it was close enough and beginning to ring up the items.

You froze, hands hovering above the register screen as you prepared to input the code for a cucumber. Slowly, your eyes trailed up, unable to believe your ears. There he stood, the man who has been constantly occupying your thoughts, now right before you. It was a moment that nearly stopped your heart. Gone was the casual attire from the time you saw him; now he wore something formal- a white dress shirt with long sleeves peeking from under a charcoal-colored vest. His trousers matched, tailored to fall in clean lines all the way to his black dress shoes. His formal attire created a heavy contrast against his pierced and tattoo appearance but it somehow made him look even hotter than before.

You were seriously going to die.

He met your gaze with a bored expression, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.

Your brain went into overdrive, thoughts racing like a cacophony of buzzing bees. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. Quickly snapping your mouth shut, embarrassment heating the tips of your ears as you resumed ringing up his items.

Nerves got the best of you; you couldn’t muster up a response. You knew you should’ve said something- after all, only God knew when you’d see him again- but your mind drew blank. It wasn’t until he paid and walked out the store that you groaned in frustration at yourself.

You stared at the entrance of the store for a few moments, your mind consumed by thoughts of this man whose name you didn’t even know, practically making you unable to continue to properly do your job.

“Fuck it,” You muttered to yourself, apologizing hastily to the customer as your register as you hurriedly exited from behind the counter and bolted out of the building.

Ignoring all the alarms sounding in your head- all the ‘what ifs’ and doubts- you scanned both sides of the sidewalk. Spotting him wasn’t difficult; he hadn’t gotten far, and the streets were sparsely populated; not to mention he stuck out from a typical crowd of people.

“Wait!” You called out, sprinting to catch up to him. It didn’t take long to reach him, but even then, you were slightly winded. He paused at the sound of your footsteps approaching, turning to look at you.

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You ignored the slight tremble in your hand and the fear churning in your stomach. Disregarding all rationality, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out your phone, and unlocking it with practiced ease. With a few quick clicks against the screen, you accessed your contact list.

“Your number-” You stammered, swallowing deeply. You couldn’t even meet his gaze as you held out your phone. “Can I have your number, please?”

Moments stretched into excruciating silence as you stood there, eyes fixed on the floor, phone extended toward him. Your courage felt fleeting, certain you might die on the spot if you saw his expression. An apology hovered on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out when his unexpected voice broke the silence.

“My number?” He mused, humming softly as he leaned in closer. You inhaled sharply, inhaling an earthy sandalwood as he got closer to you. You met his gaze instinctively, your heart skipping a beat. A playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he looked down at you, a smirk tugging at his full lips.

“Do you even know how old I am?”

Licking your lips nervously, you asked in a soft voice, “How old are you?”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, the deep sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m 32, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched at the endearment, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. “Even better,” you murmur.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your response. Balancing his groceries in one hand, he deftly took hold of your phone with the other. His thumb moved effortlessly over the screen, swiftly entering his information before handing it back to you. “I’ll expect a message from you soon.”

You stared at your phone in disbelief, blinking as if the number might vanish. When you looked up to thank him, you realized he had already disappeared. A smile crept onto your lips, your body tingling with excitement as you gazed at his name.

Sukuna. His name was Sukuna.

Taglist (open): @kalulakunundrum

181 notes · View notes

late-draft · 5 months ago

Note

Hello, Dema here!

First off—I have fallen desperately in love with your artworks. You have a very particular style, strong and fluid all the same, and I can't help but admire the way you draw and how you approach character design.

And talking about character design...

I saw your post about Zuko's bold design in S1 when compared to what we got in S3 and—as much as I love S3-Zuko—I completely agree with you. Something I've always loved about Zuko in S1 is just how striking he was, how much of a presence he had, even when he was being tossed around by a twelve-year-old. That being said, I love Zuko, I love him in armor and pointy shoes and with a ponytail, and I loved your alternative design for him.

What do you think about his S2 character design? How does it flow with the story beats and his overall character arc? Much has been said about the Hair-Growth-Means-Character-Growth (and I find it interesting, also, that he cut his hair again before joining the Gaang), but I'd like to know your opinion on how that translates to character design and how the decisions made in the show could be either good or bad in that regard.

Sorry about the long ask! I've just been thinking about this a lot, lately, and would like to know what you think. Hope you have a good day ❤️

AAAA Dema hii!!! I'm so happy I got a message from you, I didn't expect it!!

I'm super glad to hear, I'll wear it as a badge of honour and I must tell you that I also love your art, you wonderfully do volume and the shading done through a contrast of sharp and soft areas! Super solid anatomy too and I'd be lying if I said I didn't look up to your art!

Yess the character designs in the show actually are rather strong, I like a good balance between memorable and functional. Zuko is just *chef kiss* but, considering just how many appearance changes he goes through, some are bound to be weaker than the starting one. That said, I'm gonna go through a few of his S2 looks and make this reply long, ha!

The starting one when he ends up huddling with uncle Iroh with other poor refugees, fits extremely well for the narrative at the moment. It's actually one of my least liked looks for him, and that's great!! It's precisely how it should be, because he's also arguably at one of his two lowest moral points in the story - he basically lost almost all hope, no clear goal, nothing to fight for, he's desperate precisely because of the lack of orientation and thus his morals degrade and sink veeery low. He gets on my nerves so goddamn much in this period LMAO I want to beat him up, he looks like a recovering drug addict... annoying, entitled whiny jerk stealing food and anything shiny for his uncle, but even then he just does not cross the moral event horizon. Excellent characterization. He just looks atrocious and it's great because it fits this low point.

Next he gets the standard boyish square of a hair, no notes here...

But theeeen, he arrives at one of my favourite looks of his, and it's not just because the clothes fit him very nicely (I've seen fandom say they look too big for him which, maybe?? But it doesn't look like he's swimming in them to me) And a thing I've noticed which, maybe it was just an accident on design part but I'm not sure considering they colour coded the entire cave scene; in this part his clothes match the shape of Katara's, first one in bottom then the one in top. The collar is the same haf-circle design but I don't know, maybe there was a limited pool of clothes designs guide which they cycled through. Or, he really is meant to come close but miss Katara by a beat, like sine and cosine chasing each other.

But besides this outfit fitting the inconspicuous Earth Kingdom customer service persona, it also (perhaps inadvertently) does this VERY cool thing:

It makes his shape look closed off and guarded, supposedly non-threatening. It's most visible in his fight against Jet, whose shape is open and goes in many directions like an aggressive star. But then look at what Zuko's shape does:

When he attacks, it opens up to reveal the hidden aspect, again the aggressive star shape shows up! The same thing happens in "Zuko alone" episode but I think it's most clearly visible in this fight against Jet because here he has a direct contrast and comparing with Jet. I think this is an example where the outfit, whose similar design exists irl, overlaps with a great visual metaphor and enhances the narrative at that moment in story. He's still that combative firebender but he has to keep that aspect concealed most of the time. Plus it just looks badass as hell!!

Animators really knocked it out of the park with many frames. I think Jun was too early and missed his better hairstyle, but Katara was just in time.

I agree it's super funny how his hair in the Beach is awfully long, covers his face to an uncomfortable degree and then he apparently shortens it before joining the Gaang, insane behaviour Truly an "I'm so angry and depressed I won't show my face nor be capable of seeing anything because there's nothing nice to see in my life" look...

I guess all his appearances in S2 cover his mental states, but only one of them is extremely Extra (the tea server, doesn't even take the apron off and goes to fight) and I don't see any spot where a similar tier design could be shoved in, narratively speaking. So all in all, S2 did as much as S2 could have. More tea server arc please though, the Guru episode really feels like it skipped 800 km of plot and everything that happened in it is so crammed and pretty sus in terms of character behaviour.

#Thank you for the ask!!#I just rambled and I'm sure I didn't cover everything like I was supposed to #zuko #atla designs analysis #my art

165 notes · View notes

littlefireball · 4 months ago

Note

May I request a Yunho x Yeosang fic? Where all of Ateez is Poly but Yeosang hasn't gotten intimate with anyone yet. But when yunho comes out of a shower he gets really hot and bothered and he doesn't know why. (He's a virgin) He talks to Yunho and Yunho explains to him what's going on. And he asked to know what it feels like to be fucked and Yunho shows him while the rest of ATEEZ watch?

��‍⬛

First time to write BxB ahhh hope you like it

sorry for the slow update cuz i hv no inspiration to write TT

i quite like 'Fake God' setting so i added it to this fic

maybe i'm gonna make a series haha btw i find that 99% of requests are about yeosang 😂(it doesn't mean that i don't like him, just wonder why 🤣🤣 where are the other members ㅋㅋㅋㅋ）

Yunsang|BxB|Eros paidikos(M) ft. OT6

Becoming an attendant of the gods was considered the ultimate honor for a human being. Whenever a deity descended to earth, people would eagerly showcase their loyalty and talents in hopes of securing a place in heaven. They reveled in the adoration of humans, effortlessly casting spells to captivate them. To these beings, humans were mere playthings for their amusement or desire.

Yet, this did not stop humans from desiring to get close to those Gods, or I should say, those Fake Gods.

Becoming a servant was no simple task; one must first earn their favor. However, there was one man who effortlessly captured the hearts of the gods. No tribute or money was required. Simply being in their presence was enough to inspire them to offer everything for him. His appearance was akin to a masterpiece sculpted by the divine, drawing others to him like moths to a flame.

"Yeosang, bring us the wine," Yunho instructed. "Yes, master," Yeosang replied with a simple salute before turning to retrieve the wine. Unbeknownst to him, the seven men observing him were captivated by his beauty. Dressed in a white gauze garment that left little to the imagination, Yeosang's exposed chest, arms, and legs only added to his allure.

"He is truly remarkable, isn't he? I never thought I would use such a word to describe a man," Yunho admitted, his voice betraying a hint of desire. "Did you fuck him?" Jongho inquired, his posture shifting slightly as he leaned against the pool's edge.

"No," Yunho shook his head. "But I will not impose myself on him," he added. "Oh, really? I believe you have already made him your cum pocket," San remarked with a chuckle, resting his head on Seonghwa's chest. "I want him to come to me willingly. I am confident it will not be long before he does," Yunho replied.

“Why are you so certain?” Wooyoung interjected, moving closer to Yunho. “Maybe you just show him your big dick and he will ask you to fuck him badly.” “What?Do you want me to fuck you now?” Yunho lifted wooyoung's chin with his finger, hiding his surging lust under his cold face.

“Then fuck me,” With a smooth motion, Yunho flipped wooyoung over, pinning him under his big frame and thrusted into his hole with one go. "Oh fuck! You're so big!” Wooyoung moaned loud enough for yeosang to hear. He was already used to it as he watched them make love a thousand times, not to mention he could alway hear their moaning the whole day.

Yeosang carefully carried the tray back to the bath where they were gathered. What was once a sacred space now felt tainted by debauchery. Wooyoung was riding Yunho, Mingi was making out with Hongjoong, and Jongho was fucking Seonghwa as if the last day of the Earth.

The scene in the pool left onlookers speechless upon first sight. Yeosang was no exception, though he was tempted to join in despite his shyness. Deep down, he longed to experience the sensation of being desired.

The water in the pool rippled with their movements, creating a symphony of splashes against the sides. Moans and hesitant kisses filled the air, blending with the heady scent of desire to create an intensely erotic atmosphere.

"Master, your wine," Yeosang said as he approached Yunho, offering him the glass with a steady hand. As Yunho took a sip, Wooyoung's sudden rough movements caused him to choke on the wine. “Oh…mas─"

“Fuck you, wooyoung!” “Don't be mad~” Gripping wooyoung's waist hard enough to leave a red mark, Yunho fucked him at an inhuman pace. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Slow down!” “Who told you to act like a brat?" With a loud moan, both of them reached the climax and the white liquid floated on water.

“I gotta take a shower. Yeosang, go bring me some new clothes.” Yunho stood up from the bath, wrapping a towel on his waist. But that didn't stop him from seeing his big cock. “Yes, master.” Swallowed with a ball of saliva, Yeosang tried his best to hide his nervousness before turning to get some clothes.

“Hey, Yunho, what I said is true.” Wooyoung bent over the edge of the pool, tilting his head with an evil smirk.

“And remember what I said? It won't take too long for him to ask me.” Yunho winked before taking a quick bath.

—---

Yeosang's body suddenly felt ablaze, as if a fire was consuming him from within. His flushed face only intensified the heat that coursed through him. The recent scene played on a loop in his mind, stirring up desires he had long suppressed.

Holding Yunho's garment in his hand, Yeosang found himself drawn closer, unable to resist the urge to inhale deeply, savoring the scent that was uniquely Yunho's. The action only served to heighten his panic, causing his heart to race as if it might burst from his chest.

"No… I have to go back now…What's wrong with me?" Yeosang willed himself to calm down, the chill of the wind offering a slight reprieve from the feverish sensations that gripped him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to play him as the next sight pushed him to the brink of losing all restraint.

"Master, your attire." Yunho had just stepped out of the bath, water droplets cascading from his hair onto his broad shoulders, trickling down the contours of his sculpted abdomen… He was big,no,huge. Yeosang couldn't bear to meet Yunho's gaze, immediately averting his eyes from the mesmerizing sight before him.

"Thanks, my doll.” He deliberately emphasized the last sentence, and his knuckled fingers traced Yeosang's arm, making him tremble. But Yunho took his hand back and didn't grab the clothes, making Yeosang whimpered softly because of lost touch. "Shouldn't you serve me change my clothes?” Yunho remarked, raising an eyebrow at Yeosang. “Ye…yes, I apologize.”

Yeosang's hands were shaking like a leaf when he touched Yunho's arm, making him imagine how it felt in his embrace, just like what Yunho did to Wooyoung a moment ago.

“Are you hot? Your face is so red, just like the apple Jongho crushes every day." Yunho's concerned voice and laugh snapped Yeosang to reality, making Yeosang slightly jump.

“Just…a little bit…”

“But heaven is not that hot, here is not hell.” Yunho lifted Yeosang's chin with his big hand, brushing his moist lips while speaking softly, “You know why, Yeosang?”

“Why…?” Yeosang once swallowed nervously, finding himself unable to move away from Yunho's captivating gaze.

“Because you want me so badly.” Yunho stepped close enough to brush yeosang's forehead with his lips. “It's called heat, doll.”

“It's just human nature, not a big deal. And of course, we, Gods, have desire too.” Yunho continuted, luring Yeosang to ask the question he wanted to hear. “Sometimes, we just have to do something and the heat would cool down.”

“Is it being fucked?” Yunho's face lighted up as he finally heard what he desired, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes, you're right, darling.”

“How…how does it feel…? Is…is it hurt?” Yeosang stammered, realizing Yunho's cock sunk between his thighs and rubbed against his sensitive skin.

“No, of course no. It feels so good. Do you want it? Tell me.” “Yes, please. Mas─" Before his words fully came out from his mouth, Yunho attacked his lips without a second thought. They kissed each other hungrily without care. Yunho took the lead, parting yeosang's lips and intertwining with his tongue. Yeosang let out a hem as Yunho kissed him aggressively, leaving him breathless in this heavy make out.

“Gotta fuck you now,” Leaving from each other's lips, Yunho wrapped Yeosang's legs around his waist and knelt down before placing him down on the ground. “Oh god!” Yeosang let out a soft gasp as Yunho entered him, drawing the attention of those around them. Yunho started at a slow pace to make Yeosang adjust to the sensation of being penetrated. After all, it was his first time. The feeling was a mix of strange and thrilling; Yunho pushed deep, almost pushing past his limits. Yet, Yeosang loved it so much. Each thrust gave him a wave of numbness and pleasure.

Murmuring and swearing fled both of their lips, Yeosang threw his head against the ground and closed his eyes, throwing himself into this endless bliss. “Fuck, you're amazing!” Yunho murmured, picking up the pace as Yeosang's long throaty moan urged Yunho to ruin him, have him completely. “Oh gosh-!!My god!! Ah~” Yeosang let out a choppy moan to make everyone gasp. How beautiful the melody was.

Without warning, Yunho pulled out and flipped Yeosang over, pressing him against before thrusting hard from behind. Yeosang's hips were in the air, allowing Yunho to go deeper in this new position. “Fuck!” Yunho groaned, his breath coming in heavy pants. His sanity was about to fade away as Yeosang kept sucking him in;the tightness and the wetness drove him crazy. He drew his hips back, and then slammed himself back in, pumping into his sensitive area.

“Keep your eyes open, Sang.” Yunho commanded, and Yeosang slowly opened his eyes to find that all of their gaze lingered on him. They couldn't tear their eyes away from the sight of Yunho entering him, and his face a mix of pleasure and desire. The wet strands of hair clung to Yeosang's face, swaying with each movement; his ass bounced each time Yunho rolled his hips into him. All of them couldn't lie; their lust was palpable, impossible to ignore.

“Wanna be fucked by them? Huh?Tell me, you slut.” Yunho slapped his ass, making Yeosang groan at the pain. Yet, he wanted more.“See?They all wanted you, wanted to sink their fat cock into your pink hole.” Yunho leaned down to whisper in his ears, pressing his chest against his back. “Oh please, pretty please.” He didn't know what he was begging for, but only felt something tightening in his stomach.

“Need to cum?” Feeling Yunho's big hand trails down to his erection, Yeosang moaned loudly as the cold touch sent him numbness. “Please, please.” Yunho jerked him off at a fast pace, all the heat rushed to his tip. The friction pushed him to the edge of climax, Yeosang spread his legs wider to make Yunho sinking deep. “Master…master…” Yunho fucked him faster and faster and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. Everything was overwhelming but perfect at the same time. Yeosang was on cloud nine, totally lost in the lust.

“Cum.” “Gosh!!” Yunho's command was like a trigger, making Yeosang cum immediately. “Good boy.” Yunho also came with a loud moan, filling Yeosang with all his seeds, even dripping on the ground. Huffed and puffed, Yeosang collapsed on the ground and couldn't even sit up straight.

“You're too rough, yunho.” Wooyuoung said while walking to Yeosang's side. “You should treat him softly," Patting his head, Wooyoung left a peck on Yeosang's lips, making Yeosang's eyes shut open in surprise. “Don't be afraid, we will treat you well.” “Don't break him.” Yunho smirked. Without waiting for Yeosang's response, he was picked up by someone effortlessly.

“We're gonna have something fun.” A gummy smile broke out on Jongho's face. Oh he looked so cute. But Yeosang soon denied this thought as Jongho was definitely not cute on the bed.

What Yeosang could remember after that was his clothes were literally ripped off, all the men fucked him at least twice, and he had came countless times until he couldn't anymore.

And, since then, Gods have not come to the world again. The blessedness of humans? They never care.

“Oh pretty, pretty, You want our cock so badly, do you?”

“Yes, please.”

What they cared about was only lust.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez ot8 #ateez yunho #ateez x female reader #yeosang smut #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #yunsang

37 notes · View notes

sweetsweetjellybean · 2 years ago

Text

Friends to Lovers | Steve Harrington

When a storm moves over Hawkins, your neighbor stops by to check on you.

TW: kissing, & more kissing with a little bit of bump & grind.

A deluge of rain punishes the earth for its unnamed transgressions. Dark cotton clouds roll across the sun, leaving the sky with a silvery amethyst glow. The green leaves desperately cling to the branches of a large oak as you watch from your raindrop-streaked window. A wall of torrential rain and wind moves across the garden with the smooth ripple of a snake. A loud crack precedes a neon lighting bolt, and a sizable branch hits the grass-carpeted ground. The northern oak sways ominously, mourning its lost limb. Scrambling toward the side of the bed furthest from the windows, you bring your black legging-clad legs towards your chest and tuck your toes under the white duvet.

The white fairy lights you have strung around your bed flicker, and you pull up the soft sleeve of your well-loved open cardigan from where it slipped down your shoulder. The long growl of thunder rattles your window. Quickly, you pick up your leather over-the-ear headphones and place them snugly on your head, blocking out any further cries of disapproval from mother nature. The sensual beat lets your mind wander back into the scene you had been writing earlier. Fingers tracing the spiral black cord running from your headphones to wear their plugged into the receiver, your tongue sneaks out, wetting your bottom lip as the faceless man in your head runs his hand from the back of your thigh to your hip. With your favorite pen in hand, you scribble down the details in your black comp notebook, trying to capture the sensation of the strong hands moving over skin. A warmth covers your chest, and goosebumps rise in a wave as the freckles dotting the arms of your faceless man come into focus. The flexing muscles of his chest, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows, a lock of golden brown hair falling over his brow. Sighing heavily, you rip out the page, crumple it up, and toss it toward the pile accumulating on your floor - you've got to stop picturing your neighbor.

He was jogging by as you wrestled your mattress from the back of the u-haul the day you moved in. His muscle tee stained darker in the center, saturated in sweat, and you weren't much better. Baby fine hairs that escaped your damp pony plastered to your sticky temples.

"You need any help?" he asks, out of breath as he stops in front of you, taking off his baseball cap to wipe away some sweat. He pushes some hair to the side before turning his hat around and putting it on backward.

The skeptical look you give him has him chuckling, "I'm not a creep, swear. I'm your neighbor. Apartment 44."

The ground-floor studio is one of four sandwiched between the rows of townhomes; you were lucky to snag it. The garden-style apartment opens to a shared green space with a pool and walking paths. It's the first time you've been able to afford somewhere on your own.

"Steve Harrington," he says, wiping his hand on his shorts before offering it to you. Deciding to take him up on his offer to help, you shake his hand and introduce yourself.

"This is cozy," he nods, looking around the space after he helped you set up your bed. There wasn't much to see. A mattress on a platform frame pushed close to a wall of windows, a desk with a word processor, and a small stand with your stereo that had crates of records and tapes surrounding it. A tiny efficiency kitchen ran along the same wall as the door, with an even smaller bathroom beside it. The extra-long cord for your headphones reaches every corner of your rental.

"I'm sure it's not as nice as yours," you say, knowing the price difference between your studio and his two-bedroom.

"It's just bigger," he says with his hands resting on his hips, drawing your eyes down to the running shorts clinging to quite a substantial bulge. Sweet Jesus, what does he keep in there?

"It must be," your eyes snap up to his face, "I mean you have two bedrooms," you stumble trying to cover up your gawking.

"They're pretty much all the same," he shrugs, "Pond View Estates doesn't offer much of a view. At least it didn't."

He's flirting. The weight of his gaze makes you feel self-conscious in your sweaty, dirty, moving clothes, "Okay, well, thanks for your help," you move towards the door, hoping he'll take the hint.

"Yeah, I'll let you get back to it. Let me know if you need anything," he pauses when he's on the other side of the threshold.

"I will. See you around," you say, inching the door closed.

"See you later…alligator," he says and then grimaces before turning in the direction of his apartment.

Leaning with your back against the door you think you hear a quiet "Goddammit" being muttered as he walks away. Capturing your lip between your teeth, you fight back a chuckle.

The song flowing into your ears fades into silence, quickly filled by the loud sound of the rain falling even harder outside. Alarm drags you back to the surface, away from the tranquil waters of the story playing out inside your head. Water is starting to collect in large puddles in the garden, and you worry the tiny slab of your concrete patio won't be enough to stop the rain from seeping under the french door. Slipping the headphones around your neck and setting aside your pen and notebook, you start scooting off your bed when a loud sound startles you. It takes a moment to realize the noise is someone rapping on your front door, not the sound of more tree limbs falling. The black cord trails behind you, the music sounding tinny and muffled where it comes out around your neck. The knocking grows more insistent. Twisting the deadbolt, you throw open the door without thinking of putting on the chain to check who is on the other side.

The howling wind blows a fine mist through your door, damping your cheeks and the wooden boards around your bare feet. Steve is standing with one hand on the door casing, his mouth slightly agape with irritation, his shirt completely sodden and clinging, while rainwater drips from his hair down his face.

"Steve, it's raining," you exclaim dumbly, surprised to see him in such a state on your doorstep.

"Yeah. I noticed," he closes his eyes and uses his thumb and index finger to clear his eyes, "Are you going to let me in?"

"Of course. I'm sorry, come in," you stand aside to let him pass.

He stands just inside the door, the water dripping off him, creating a puddle around his sneakers.

"You're soaked. Let me get you a towel," you open the small closet where you store your linens just outside the bathroom.

He toes off his shoes and carries them to the door. "I came to check on you. Make sure you weren't flooding," he yanks his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in worn light-washed jeans. It hits the floor with a splat. Rain water drips from his hair down his neck, disappearing into the patch of hair on his chest.

He takes the towel you're holding and rubs at his wet locks, "Your car's here. So when you didn't answer, I got worried."

"I had my headphones on. I didn't hear you."

"I should have guessed," he says, bending down to mop up the water on the floor.

"You don't have to worry about me, you know. It's just a thunderstorm," you say, startling as the lights flicker and a boom of thunder reverberates, shaking the dishes in your cupboard.

"I think I do," he says, taking a step towards you. The compact space feels even smaller with him here.

"When you answer the door without the chain on," he takes another step, the distance between you shrinking, "Dressed like that," he motions to the lacy bralette under your cardigan. The swell of your breasts barely covered and your midriff left bare.

"I wasn't expecting company," you swallow. He's standing so close. He smells like rain and soap scented with citrus and cedar.

He dips his head, and your lips part as you lean slightly toward him. A moment before you touch, his fingers wrap around the headphone cord instead. He pulls the plug from the jack on your receiver, and a sultry woman's voice plays through the speakers mixing with the patter of the downpour, as she sings I'm open to fall from grace. The warmth of embarrassment rushes to your cheeks, and you step back, regaining some space and remembering what you asked of him weeks earlier.

Pushing up the sunglasses that keep sliding down your nose, aided by your sweat-slicked skin, you look up from your half-filled notebook at the crowded pool in front of you. The blazing sun and oppressive humidity had the entire complex gathered around the in-ground pool. A group of senior ladies wearing gaudy jewelry and jungle-print bathing suits sat gossiping while they baked in the sun, their browned skin resembling raisins. Harried mothers joined by husbands sporting farmers' tans trying to wrangle crying kids holding sticky melting popsicles. Ignoring the leer of an oiled-up man wearing a neon speedo and two many gold chains, you go back to writing. The play button on your walkman pops, indicating it's time to turn the tape to the other side. Balancing your notebook on your lap, you fumble the tape, and your pen bounces off the concrete pavers before rolling under the lounger beside you.

"I'll get it," Steve says as he reaches under his lounger to retrieve your pen. Until then, you hadn't been aware of who was sitting beside you, but now you're very, very aware. A grin spreads across his boyishly handsome face, but the body it's attached to is all man.

"Thanks," you smile as you take the pen from his hand. A zip of electricity dances under your skin where your fingers brush against his.

"Can I ask you something?" he tilts his head and crosses those long legs at the ankle.

"Go for it," you slide your earphones down around your neck.

"Does the tape you're listening to have the same song playing on repeat?" he points at your walkman, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he squints in the bright sun.

"You could hear that, huh?" you ask, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

He nods in response, and you crinkle your nose disconcerted by his question, "Umm, yeah. It is the same song over and over again."

He chuckles good-naturedly and waits for further explanation.

"I get distracted when a new song starts. It takes me away from what I'm writing." you pull your knees closer to your chest and wrap your arms around them.

"So you're a writer?"

"I'm trying to be," you say, blowing out a breath.

"What do you write?" he asks, leaning towards you, giving you his full attention.

Book covers with images of big hunky men ripping open the bodices of pink-cheeked ladies stamped with your pen name come to mind, so you decide to go with, "Whatever pays the bills."

"What about you?" you ask before he gets a chance to press you further.

"I'm a manager at Family Video," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck, "but don't be impressed there are four employees, including me. Two of them are part-timers, and the other ones is another manager. So, I don't really manage anything. It means I keep the kids out of the adult section.

"Nothing wrong with being a cinephile," you comment. His face falls into confusion.

"Someone who loves films."

"Oh," his eyes brighten with understanding, "I do get free rentals," he says awkwardly before changing the subject, "Where are you from?"

"What makes you think I'm not from here?" you tease, "Does everybody really know each other?"

"Pretty much. It's a small town."

"Well, I'm an army brat, so I was in Huston and then St. Paul before my family moved to Chicago. I went to school for creative writing at Perdue, and now I'm here," you say, gesturing around you as a group of small children run by with a blow-up beach ball.

"You should let me take you out sometime and show you around," he says, making his move.

"Steve, you seem really great, but I just moved here. I'm trying to finish this book and get my feet under me. I'm not ready to date right now," you let him down gently, "but I could really use a friend?"

"Of course, we can be friends," he recovers quickly without a hint of disappointment in his voice, "Who said anything about dating? Friends show friends around."

"You're right. That was presumptuous of me," you say, going along with him.

"Alright friend," he says, standing up, "I'll let you get back to work," he picks up his towel and wraps it around his neck, "I'll see you around," he heads in the direction of his apartment.

"See you later, alligator," you call after him.

Guys like him were usually too good to be true, but over the weeks, you've gotten to know him, and he's proved to be the exception. Settling into an easy friendship, he hasn't pushed for more. The attraction has been there, though, just under the surface, simmering like a pot on the stove. Small touches. A hand on the small of your back or your shoulder. Sitting with the outside of his thigh pressed against yours. Glances that have lasted a little too long. Increasing the heat, now he's standing right in front of you, and you feel like you're going to boil over.

"Stop looking at me like that," he says, walking away from you to the french door, bending down to check the seal.

Taking your headphones from around your neck and setting them down, you join him, crowding into his space.

"Like what?" you ask once he's straightened up, looking into the warm honey hues of his eyes.

"Like you want me to…" he trails off as his eyes break the connection fluttering down to your lips. After a soft inhale, his mouth follows their path. Soft lips ghosting over yours, the lightest brush before pulling back, his eyes begging for permission.

"I thought we were friends," cold uncertainty pushes back against the fire between you.

"Friends kiss," he assures, his hand moving to your shoulder, nudging the neck of your sweater until it falls off your shoulder.

"Not like that," your stomach tightens with every touch.

"It doesn't count when it's raining," he reasons. His big hand lands on your hip, urging you closer.

"Why is that?" you place your palms flat on his bare stomach, and his abs jump under at the contact.

"I don't know. I don't make the rules," the corners of his mouth twitch, fighting back a smile as he explains the absurd logic he concocted.

"Who does then?" you press, your hands slowly sliding up the silky skin of his chest, fingertips collecting his freckles as they pass.

"You do," his other hand presses into your back, pulling you flush against him.

"Me?" you ask, surprised. The coarse hair on his chest is softer than it looks as your hands travel through it on their way to wrap around the back of his neck.

"Yeah, you're going to tell me if you want me to stop, and I'm going to listen," he makes sure you know you're in control before his mouth comes down, pulling your bottom lip between his before mirroring his movements with the top.

He pauses to gauge your reaction, but you don't let him get far. Tightening your hold on his neck, you bring his mouth back to yours, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss. And god, Steve can kiss. He deliciously explores your mouth, tongue sliding against yours.

As your hand slides down his neck to his shoulder, opening and closing to knead the muscle, you try to conjure the words to capture this moment, so you can take it out later when the sun is out. But the way his mouth moves has every thought fleeing like a firefly on a summer night trying to escape being caught in a jar.

Steve takes a few steps towards the bed, taking you with him. The springs of your mattress protest the sudden shift in weight as you climb in together, lying on your sides.

"Tell me what you want," he says, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"It's still raining out," you reply, slipping your arms out of your sweater, trading its warmth for his, "I want you to kiss me."

He leans over you, dipping down again and again, languidly tasting, savoring, kissing you like the world could fall down around him and you'd be the only thing that mattered. The cassette tape spins, songs changing from one to the next. For once it doesn't distract you, living fully present in this world instead of the one inside your head. Kissing him back like the billowing clouds, like it's everything, like its art.

Tugging him by the belt loops, you pull him closer until he's cradled between your thighs, the comforting press of his weight a luxury in itself. When his hardening length hits just the right spot, your eyes roll back, and you're suddenly aware of just how wet you've become. Your hips roll without your permission, chasing the lightning bolt of pleasure. He groans, burying his face in the pillow beside you.

"Is that okay?" you whisper against his temple stroking his hair.

"It's okay," he says, lifting his head to look at you, "but I'm probably going to um-"

"Me too," you admit shyly.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, studying your face, "For me to make you feel good?"

"Yes, that's what I want."

There's a new urgency to his kiss as his first strokes of his hips steal your breath leading to a frenzy of movements before finding a rhythm, rocking in opposite directions.

"Just like that," you moan as he grinds his rigid bulge against your core.

His hand grips your thigh, directing it around his waist, driving the rough denim over the thin material of your yoga pants, increasing the pressure.

"You're so beautiful. I've wanted to tell you since we met," he whispers, placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

The last song fades into the whirring of the tape deck before it stops completely with a sharp click. Your ears swiftly adjust, sharpening the sound of the falling rain and rumbling thunder. His mouth lingers on the sensitive skin just below your ear, exhales turning into low aughhs in harmony with each thrust. The rise and fall of your chest is getting faster, your stomach tightens with arousal knowing his noises are all for you. Seeking out his mouth, your hips rise off the bed, moving harder with a desperate need to see him come undone.

He smooths your hair back, fingers sliding against your temple, thumb brushing your chin, "Let yourself fall," he kisses just below the curve of your bottom lip, "I'll catch you."

And so you do, and he falls over the edge with you. With a strike of lighting, the world blurs as you float through the clouds, and just like he promised, he catches you with warm lips and gentle touches until you've both come down from the surge. Offbeat plinks of drops hitting metal add another layer to the storm's changing song.

"You'll have to call maintenance," he says, snaking his arms around your waist, "they probably won't show up until tomorrow. You'd better stay at my place tonight. You know, just in case."

There's a splash of water as Steve's feet hit the floor. "Oh shit," he looks at the floor and then at the french door. A small stream of water has crept its way in from the outside. Steve rolls up towels and places them in front of the door, trying to block the gap while you mop up what you can.

"You might be right," you say, pulling him down for another kiss, "I think the forecast said it's going to rain all night."

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog. It makes a big difference in helping others find my work.

Thanks to the hive. I appreciate all of you.

Graphics by: @superblysubpar

#steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

469 notes · View notes

detectivesebcas · 2 months ago

Text

Promptober 2024 Day 2- Appreciating Stefano's Art (Canon Divergence)

Warnings- canon typical gore

At first, Sebastian isn’t sure what draws his eye to the large framed print on the wall next to him. He’s moving at a run as he tries to get through the artist’s domain as quickly as possible, determined to find Lily before the unthinkable happens, but still he can’t resist the pull of this one blown-up photograph, and without even realizing it, he slows and stops, staring at it as though in a trance.

It’s not so different from Stefano’s other creations. The main focus is on the body of a woman. It’s wrapped in barbed wire in a way that viscerally reminds him of Ruvik, but this isn’t the sort of crude scientific experiment Ruvik would conduct. The model is laid out elegantly, almost reverently, and while Sebastian recoils at the violence of the image- the places where the wire pierces her skin and the blood trickles down her body to pool underneath her- there is something compelling about it, something…He stops himself before he can call it beautiful, even in his mind.

There’s a flicker of blue light to his left, and even without looking, he knows Stefano is beside him. He tenses for a moment, but the other man doesn’t move to attack him.

“She is stunning. Is she not?” Stefano asks, his voice softer and more contemplative than Sebastian has ever heard him. “It was a privilege to work with her.”

Sebastian shakes his head, but his own voice comes out with far less conviction than he intends to inject into his words. He wouldn’t describe what he’s seeing as ‘stunning’, but there is also something that sets it apart from the hundreds of crime scenes he’s witnessed. This victim was handled with care, displayed like an object of worship.

When he finds his voice, all he can say is, “You killed her.”

“I did,” Stefano says simply, “but not because I wanted to see her dead. Because I had to memorialize her final moment, the culmination of her entire life. I allowed her to transcend her dull reality, her lack of purpose. I helped her to become more than she could ever have been on her own.”

“No,” Sebastian says. He wants to shout it, but there’s a heaviness in the air around them, and his voice will only leave him in a quiet, collected tone. “It’s not worth it. No piece of art is worth taking a life.”

Despite his words, in that moment, he understands Stefano more than he ever has. Before this, he thought the other man was motivated by the thrill of power, of taking a life, that he was capturing this moment on film to relive his sick fantasies, but now he can see that the photograph is his end goal. The death of the subject is a necessary step, but it’s not what Stefano ultimately desires. Even so, he could never condone it.

Almost as if he can hear Sebastian’s thoughts, Stefano speaks.

“And what about Lily?”

Sebastian quickly turns to Stefano, a look of surprise on his face, but Stefano only gives him a vague smile and continues before he can interject.

“Yes, I know her name.” He pauses. “I suppose you would take a life for her?”

Sebastian feels dizzy, agitated- torn between his duty to protect life and the knowledge that he would kill a thousand men if it meant he could have Lily back. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough.

“As many as I have to.”

“Good,” Stefano says with a nod. “In time you’ll understand why I must do the things I do.”

Sebastian shakes his head, but he’s not even convincing himself. “I won’t,” he insists. “We are not the same.”

“Not the same,” Stefano muses, “but not entirely different either.”

Sebastian knows Stefano is right, knows there is something to what he’s saying, but anger flares up inside him and he lunges forward, grabbing at empty air as Stefano disappears in a flash of blue light. His laughter rings in Sebastian’s ears.

“No!” Sebastian snarls. “I’ll never be like you!”

His words echo off the walls around him, and he knows in some ways, he already is.

Stefano watches through the aperture as Sebastian collects himself and continues forward. They are both heading toward their inevitable confrontation, but Stefano doesn’t relish the thought of it the same way he did before. Something has changed about the way he sees Sebastian, and now the exhibit hall he has prepared for him doesn’t seem like enough, doesn’t feel like it would do justice to the intensity of his passion, the pure determination to achieve his goal.

It’s odd, Stefano thinks to himself, because his other subjects- in fact every other person he has met- achieves their most perfect form only at the moment of death, but it seems that to kill Sebastian would be to rob him of everything that makes him a compelling subject, everything that makes him a formidable foe.

At the very least, he must see how far Sebastian is willing to go for the girl…how much he is willing to compromise his other ideals to save her…how much he is willing to sacrifice. Sebastian is the rare person who is far more interesting to him alive than dead.

There is still the matter of the girl, of course. Sebastian will not stop until he has her, and Stefano cannot let that happen. All of his work has led up to this moment. He will take the Core’s power and create his own world with absolute artistic freedom, and no one will stop him.

And yet he still has plans for this world, plans for Lily and her father. Perhaps he can draw things out a bit longer, or perhaps his own death at Sebastian’s hands will be the culmination of everything they have both worked for.

He takes a deep breath and strides into the gallery, knowing he is only a few seconds ahead of Sebastian.

#the evil within 2 #steseb #sebastian castellanos #stefano valentini #steseb promptober 2024 #fanfiction #canon typical violence

16 notes · View notes

btr-rewatch · 1 year ago

Text

Big Time Rush Season 1, Episode 2: “Big Time Crib”

It's nice to be in the "real" series now! I thought I was going to be stuck reviewing episode one forever.

Highlights: Shenanigans abound, Bandana Man makes his first appearance, and the guys get an apartment makeover.

We begin at the Palm Woods pool, where the guys have just returned from an exhausting day of rehearsals. Before they can get any time to relax, they're kicked out on account of a dog food commercial being filmed there. Several of the commercial's crew members pick up the boys and deposit them into the Palm Woods lobby.

I happened to pause the episode here to write that above paragraph and had to screenshot it. I'd mentioned in the previous post how I remember there being a clear pairing of Kendall & Logan and then James & Carlos, and whaddya know? There it is again. Also, I like Kendall and Logan's matching poses.

Since it's after 9pm, Bitters kicks them out of the lobby, leaving the boys no choice but to retreat to their ugly apartment. I totally forgot that 2J looked terrible in the beginning!

Also, the theme song! It's been so long since I've seen this opening theme song. So fun. Really brings back memories of my dad walking into the room and going, "This silly show again?"

YES, DAD.

The boys are upset that they're stuck in a dump while other residents get much nicer accommodations. Bitters attempts to point out all the positives of their apartment, but it doesn't sway the guys. Moments after Bitters leaves, a pipe bursts, and Carlos responds to it in a way only Carlos can.

This brings back another vague memory of the times my dad would sometimes sit and watch BTR with me and ask, "What's wrong with him?" whenever Carlos did, like...anything, lol.

The guys need a better place to live, and they get a glimpse of that possibility the following day at Rocque Records when they see a drawing of an apartment set that's going to be used in an upcoming promotional video. Griffin wants each of them interviewed for it.

James thinks they should all wear bandanas. This is another thing I'd forgotten about; James had a bandana obsession. I do remember Bandana Man!

The reaction on their faces to James's suggestion is great.

Not gonna happen, James. Keep dreaming.

After the meeting, the guys get right to scheming on how to get the set built in their apartment instead. Well, it's mostly Kendall doing the scheming. Logan thinks it's never going to work, James thinks bandanas will somehow solve their problems, and Carlos is just along for the ride.

They end up recruiting Camille to help with their plan, and she instructs the builders of the set to bring it to the Palm Woods instead. Logan impersonates Griffin (against his will) and then voices his displeasure at this whole entire plan. He does not want to get into trouble. But, like...shouldn't he be used to it? This is what you sign up for when you decide to be friends with Kendall, James, and Carlos.

We hear the "Logie" nickname for the first time in this episode!

Logan points out that a major problem with their plan is that Mrs. Knight is certainly going to take notice of a bunch of people in the apartment from 11-3. We cut immediately to Mrs. Knight informing the boys that she's going to be out job-hunting the following day from 11-3. Cue Kendall throwing Logan this look:

Logan, don't you know by now that things always end up working out for Kendall?

The guys end up getting the interviews moved to the Palm Woods pool and proceed to split up in order to tackle the remaining tasks. And I must say that one of my favorite moments is when Kelly goes to check on how the set is coming and we get that little scene of Carlos and Katie in the studio just making construction sounds.

This is one of those scenes that's lived rent-free in my head for 13 years for some reason. I've forgotten so much about this show, but Carlos sitting there running the power tools and hammering that pile of wood boards earned a reserved place in my brain. I don't know why. But it's a scene that has popped into my thoughts every so often over the years.

Meanwhile, at James's interview...

This show is peak comedy.

Lots of shenanigans happen from here, and for a moment, it looks like the plan is going to fall apart. James Bandana Man saves the day by locking Bitters in a supply closet that, for some reason, has a very simple latch lock on the outside??

This makes absolutely zero sense. For what reason would you choose this type of lock for a supply closet? Literally anyone can open it?? This is serving no purpose.

Anyway! The guys get their super cool new crib installed, they film their music video, and Gustavo has the crew immediately take the set apart and revert the apartment back to its previous state. Sadness once again reigns supreme in 2J.

Their video and interviews are a success, but Gustavo still needs his dogs to face consequences for all their sneakiness. He has them practice harmonies for ten hours with no breaks, which sounds illegal to me?? The boys are only 16, right? Idk, this feels like it's violating some kind of law. Needless to say, they're all tired and bummed when they arrive home. That is, until they see that their apartment has been transformed back!

Gustavo explains that it's a "bone" being thrown to them but not to expect any more. Kelly notes that Gustavo likes the boys but he insists that he does not. Yeah, right. Gustavo loves his dogs.

And that's where the episode ends. It's an enjoyable one for sure—lots of funny moments. Totally different feel to "Big Time Audition" though, and I'm already mourning the loss of Original Kendall. He was still scheming and manipulative in this, but it was in a purely goofy way. There was none of that "fire" that we saw several times in BTA. No edge. First Episode Kendall had an edge. Why has the edge been smoothed away by EPISODE 2?? Does it come back in some spots during the series? I can't remember. I still love him, though.

ok, the end.

#big time rush #btr #btr rewatch #btr season 1 #kendall knight #carlos garcia #james diamond #logan mitchell

27 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 2 years ago

Text

fic rec friday 21

welcome to the twenty-first fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Most Artists are Messy by @shipsgalore

Lance is drawing a complicated flower on the base of Keith’s wrist and it makes his lips pull up into a smile despite the panic. They’re always flowers when it comes to Lance. He uses them in everything he does, and usually doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Keith can count on one hand how many times the doodles on his arms haven’t been of flowers.

i love this one because keith & lance are just blatantly and clearly autistic. it’s wonderful. it’s sweet and fluffy and it’s a modern au, which as y’all know is my jam, and the last few paragraphs do this specific thing with sentiment repetition that genuinely gets to me every time

2. Be Alive With Me Tonight by @caesaria [EXPLICIT] [ABO]

When the Blade of Marmora requests assistance on an information gathering mission, Lance and Keith go undercover as a bonded alpha and omega pair. At first, it seems like this is going to be more like a vacation than a mission – right up until everything falls apart and they realize how unprepared they really are. Now, Lance and Keith have to fight to not only survive, but to make it out together. They’ll have to rely not only on their skills as Paladin, but the bond they’ve created and nurtured between them.

okay i gave this one the explicit warning bc there are chapters that are explicit, but tbh the scenes are skippable if that’s not ur thing. now this fic is an EPIC. truly. its a quarter million words and the plot is breathtaking, the worldbuilding is iconic and the romance is like HOLY SHIT. this is a novel, and better yet its a KLANCE novel, so. highly recommend if you have a day or two to read.

3. roses by @renyoi

Lance is always getting flowers for Keith, so Keith decides to return the favor--with a little help, of course.

written for prompt #4 of klance valentine's week!

keith is hilarious here. just in general but here especially and i love him. he wants to pamper lance so so badly and hes so straightforward and earnest!! and allura’s character in here is also excellent. i will leave u with this one line from the fic that made me laugh it loud: “ The next day, the sun rises to Keith Kogane, dressed all in black (that’s all that was clean, okay?!), loitering around in front of Alluring Blossom, the 5-star-rated “I’ve never had such a delightful bouquet delivered to me in my entire life!” flower shop of a woman named Allura Altea. Keith automatically trusted her because he loves people that also have alliteration in their names. “ king. love him

4. here it comes by rideahorse

Keith watched a lonely droplet of water fall from Lance’s soaked bangs, curving a path over the bridge of his nose and then pooling—almost teasingly so—at the bow of his lips.

“I feel like I won, for some reason,” Lance said quietly.

what have i told yall about fics from 2016!!! this fic made me SMILE and im not usually a fan of like senior year of high school fics but holy shit!! holy SHIT!! this fic had me smiling and kicking my feet and losing my mind. i will leave u with the note i put on my bookmark (spoiler warning):

a couple things: 1. “lance is a bad influence” and “lance is a pretty princess (tm)” are god tier tags so thanks for that 2. keith with a tongue piercing. must i say more. 3. i miss keith gyeong that was an excellent era 4. the couple tattoo moment had me taking a Moment 5. here’s how i imagine the aftermath of this: shiro: i saw u ditched prom. are you okay? keith: yeah actually! lance convinced me that we have to have a wild final night, so we went to a High School Party (tm), i decked a guy for lance and your honour, we panic drove away, went skinny dipping in a pool, got caught, ran away naked for two blocks, went to sonic in another town, got matching tattoos, fucked in the backseat of my car, and watched the sunrise :)) shiro: shiro: shiro: shiro: i’m sorry. what were those last parts keith: yeah i know you really like sunrises we probably should have invited you :// but it was kind of an us thing i’m sure you understand :) shiro: KEITH

anyways i laughed

5. if silence was a song by @angstinspace

“It’s … Your show is on so late at night,” Keith tries to explain, as if Lance didn’t know this already. “I guess I was just wondering why that is.”

A crackling silence answers him, and Keith’s stomach sinks. Did Lance hang up? Keith can’t exactly blame him.

But then he hears Lance make a noise––a short huff of breath that might have been either an impatient sigh or a quiet laugh … Keith has no clue.

“That’s the reason you’re calling? To complain about my time slot?”

or, Keith starts anonymously calling Lance's college radio show and develops an unexpected crush.

@catnippackets did a comic of this i believe, and it literally never leaves my head. yall know the trope where one person gets a phone call and halfway through they sigh wistfully and say “god i wish you were here” and then the other person smiles so viscerally it can be felt through the phone and they say “look behind you” and theyre THERE?????? that makes me lose it every time. i love this fic

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#god fic rec friday is so healing 4 me #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #keith #klance #brown-eyed lance #autistic keith #autistic lance #keith gyeong #lance sanchez #modern au #canon divergence #fic rec #fic rec friday

128 notes · View notes

nightghoul381 · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I have a request if you may make something about alfons x mc/kate, like maybe me/kate was once a part of danganronpa game (a killing game) and when she saw corpses she had a panic attack or something, please and thank you :)

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry it took longer than I thought it would for me to get to this request, I was waiting on Alfons' birthday story to be released and translated so I could get a better feel for his pesonality.

I hope this story meets your expectations!

Never Again

Alfons (POV) x Reader Hurt/Comfort | Angst C/W: Mentions of death, blood and murder

Since we rescued you, I’d tried my best to protect you and keep you away from this sort of thing. I knew you were sensitive to the sight of bodies and no one could blame you.

You had been trapped by a twisted doctor who decided he wanted to pit several people against each other in a test of survival, last one alive was the winner. Crown had caught wind of the event only hours after the ‘event’ had started and before the end of the day we had managed to put a stop to it. But that was more than enough time to completely scar your mind.

You had been one of only three people who had managed to stay alive during that time, corpses strewn about the makeshift arena and blood spattered all over your horrified face. Something about the pure terror in your eyes tugged at my otherwise emotionless heart and I felt myself drawn to you. You looked like a frightened little deer, clinging to me as though I was the only thing keeping you from being dragged under by the torrent of emotions swirling through your brain. I felt compelled to hold you closer, cradling you in my arms until your trembling had ceased and your heart rate had slowed.

Ever since then I couldn’t seem to let you leave my side. I had never felt so overwhelmingly concerned over the well-being of another person as I did with you. I had managed to convince El and Victor to let you stay with us, El allowing you to live at his mansion with me and Victor allowing you to remain alive after witnessing the existence of Crown.

It surprisingly took only a short while for you to recover from the shock, and you’d been so desperate to earn your keep that you finagled your way into Crown’s innermost circle and were granted the opportunity to accompany the team on missions.

I tried to argue with Victor about this, you were already in such a fragile state from the trauma you had witnessed I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be for you to repeatedly experience murder and torture. Victor had tried to assure me that he would only allow you to accompany on the safest missions, where reconnaissance and intelligence gathering were the only goal.

I was still hesitant but you had been so excited to prove your worth that I couldn’t bring myself to stop you. I really regret not stopping you now.

This was supposed to be just a simple information gathering task, talk to a couple of people who were thought to have intel on some nobles associated with a group of thugs for hire. The nobles must have somehow caught wind of the meeting, however and when we arrived, the people were lying in a large pool of blood, devoid of life.

I tried to shield you from the sight but it was too late. Your eyes were stretched impossibly wide with terror, your breathing rapid and shallow and I hardly had time to catch you as you began to crumple to the floor, panicked gasps spilling from your lips as you covered your ears in an attempt to drown out the sound of your own racing mind. My heart lurched as you let out a frantic sob, eyes unblinking as you stared right through me to the grisly scene behind my back.

“Shhh, shh, sweet one it’s alright. You’re safe,” my words did nothing to soothe you as you curled into yourself, lost in your thoughts. Swallowing thickly, I slid one glove off, drawing my bare fingers across the nape of your neck and once again whispering calming promises of safety in your ear.

I hated using my ability on you. I wish that I could be the one to soothe you with my words and my presence alone, but this was the only way I could think of stopping the downward spiral of your mind into the darkness. I relaxed slightly as your breathing calmed and I was able to pull you tightly to my chest, holding you close like the precious treasure you had become for me. I gingerly shifted you in my arms, lifting you in such a way that allowed your face to remain buried against my chest as I carried you out of the building and away from the nightmare within its walls.

Never again, I thought inwardly, I will never let you feel this way again.

Taglist: @aquagirl1978 @themiscarnival @abundance-pathchooser @candied-boys

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikemen villains fanfiction #ikevil alfons #ikevil alfons sylvatica #ikemen villains alfons syvatica #alfons sylvatica

35 notes · View notes

limitlessscion · 6 months ago

Note

MAKEOVER, nobara helps outfitting her sensei with some new threads!! taken from here: 웃. (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Satoru had watched with a wistful grin from the entrance to the break room as raucous laughter filled the air. It'd been a ridiculous sight, the front of Megumi's jacket comically padded while Nobara and Yuji were lost in a fit of giggling, pulling out a ruined shirt. There was an energy to the scene, to their friendship, that reminded him of precious days long past and a happiness that could never be his anymore.

He was glad that these kids could still experience such joy; this was something worth protecting.

Satoru had leaned into the moment, mourning his ruined shirt with a pathetic energy that could only elicit more laughter, and drew a snort from even Megumi at his expense. When Satoru could feel that all the nervous energy that must have been building up before his entrance dissipate, he'd make a dramatic shake of the head and hands thrown up to his sides.

"I can't stay mad at my precious students! Okay! The gracious Satoru Gojo forgives you!" He'd meant for that to be the end of that; it wasn't as if he particularly cared for the shirt in the first place, but coffee stains could be washed out, and it was cute to see the inexperience of youth drum it up into such a big deal. This is exactly what they should be experiencing at their age; just kids being able to be kids, in between the duties and grim realities sorcerers otherwise had to contend with.

But then somehow the conversation shifted and before Satoru could interject they'd seemed to have decided that they still needed to pay him back. That was how the four of them ended up waltzing through a large shopping mall, Megumi looking like he'd rather be anywhere else while Nobara clearly took control of the reigns and Yuji just looked excited just to be there. Nobara seemed determined to pick out a new outfit for her sensei and he'd conceded to her whims. Ahead of him faced an afternoon of flitting from clothing store to clothing store, the strongest sorcerer in modern history made into a living dress up doll.

He didn't mind; it was fun to indulge the kids. Even Megumi offered a few opinions here and there.

Satoru would emerge from the dressing room each time with a dramatic pose and flourish, often highlighting something he'd worn wrong (oftentimes on purpose, if for no other reason than to see the second-hand embarrassment on Megumi's face while drawing laughter from the other two) and had to be scolded and shoved back into the dressing room to fix. By the end of the day he'd be up one new outfit with funds pooled between his students, at a price point much more reasonable than the shirt that had started this all.

He had to admit; it wasn't half bad and he'd made a point to wear it as they left the mall. He offered to treat the trio to dinner and hung back to watch as they began to bicker and debate over exactly what they wanted to eat, and how exactly to maximize the benefit of having access to their sensei's seemingly bottomless wallet.

A fond smile flitted across Satoru's face.

#>> answered #waraningyo #AAAAH THANK YOU THIS WAS SUCH A FUN SCENARIO #it kinda turned into more abt the trio as a whole.... but u know nobara was 100% leading every step of the way #anyways they all deserve to be happy

1 note · View note

bourbon-ontherocks · 1 year ago

Note

so, 305. I hate that there were so many lovable things about it. like the ducks around morgane’s house (bathroom, living room) keeping up with the theme--reminded me of those pictures books where you had to find the duckling hidden on every page! (speaking of; timothée il a un peu une tête d’Où est Charlie nan ? he’s got the stripes + glasses + hair) or the fact that morgane is randomly wearing floaties at the swimming pool 😂 (… maintenant que j’y pense, elle comptait peut-être les piquer pour chloé mdrr)

et les combines de serge. céline giving up on educating morgane on procedure, ptdr. l’employée de l’ehpad qui a un vague air de mylène farmer. [gros canard] still holds the title of HPI’s mr. worldwide. daphné being daphné. ("gilles..? 🤨 euh, oui. GILLES !") gilles STILL being way too good a friend (j’espère que sa psy lui dit), but also how close he was to morgane during the investigation, that was cute!

par contre, 2 trucs qui me hantent : 1) why does [gros canard] seem mesmerized by morgane’s neck while she goes on and on about the kid’s drawing?? 2) morgane’s lack of empathy at the pool. I didn’t expect her to joke about moms murdering each other right in front of the bereft husband 😧

Oh my gosh anon, I'm just so sad that this episode was so tainted and ruined for you 😭 It breaks my heart a little, and also it makes me dread for you, knowing what's coming ahead, but... one shitty plotline at a time, amirite?

Soooooo *cracks knuckles* let's get started 😈

"I hate that there were so many lovable things about it" -> literally me after watching the finale tbh 😂😭

I must say I didn't notice the ducks thingy but thank you for pointing it out, it really is reminiscent of those child books and was a very nice touch (the way this show can switch from absolutely shitty and unsubtle to actually brilliant and clever in the bat of an eye will never cease to baffle me) 😍 The duck jokes at the crime scene were excessively funny too, and the moment Bonnemain enters the game too with a joke that's not even funny?? Peak comedy! And Adam's reaction "Mais vous allez pas vous y mettre vous aussi ?!" -> 200% Artur vibes 😂

100% agreed that Timothée is a human waldo and was intended to be lol (also on en parle de Timothée qui offre le même polo à Théa ?? Who does that? 😂 It's like he asked for her to put it in the mopping supplies... And her general passive-aggressive animosity towards him was SO entertaining!)

And OMG I didn't even notice Morgane had floaties on at the swimming pool, this is hysterical 🤣 And re her lack of compassion, I must say Morgane's relationship with empathy has been a mystery for me since day one, sometimes we get to see her really sympathizing with the victims' families (the daughter in the pilot for instance, or the mall's widow in 201, or even the actual bledigirl), but also sometimes not ("ah bah ça tombe bien puisqu'elle est morte" with the victim's sister in 201), so this scene didn't strike me as particularly ooc, but her characterization regarding this specific personality trait is unclear. I'd say perhaps she tends to lose her compassionate skills when she gets excited about figuring out some stuff?

Serge's cancer kid scam was very fun to watch ("coucou c'est la maman du petit Eliott, bon bah il est mort" 😂), and also I wouldn't have noticed the ehpad employee's similarity with Mylène Farmer but now that you're pointing it out...

Somehow it warms my heart a bit to see you calling Adam [gros canard] this episode, I guess it shows you're on your way to forgive him? But maybe it's just my own wishful thinking lol! Anyway, yes, he also speaks Russian (and not to spoil, but Mehdi Nebbou is gonna keep on bragging in later eps 👅), and remember when I told you that your dream about escaping from Putin was foreshadowing? Well I was talking about this KGB bit haha 😆

No idea why he seems to stare at Morgane's neck in the hospital, perhaps he just can't look her in the eyes nor in the boobs (in his defense, she just talked to him about nipples) so he's stuck in between lol 😅 Or maybe Mehdi just forgot he was acting for a bit and was thinking about dinner or something idk... But there is indeed room for interpretation and I'll go with the most probable option which is that he's just mesmerized by her in general, especially in that episode where he's discovering that he can't stand seeing her with someone else (let's be real, everyone saw that coming but him 😂), so he's probably just staring at her while thinking "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

Daphné and Gilles were the heart and soul of this episode I swear!! I love Daphné's completely clueless but supportive ass, Gilles being so torn between friendships he's gonna break, the fact that he kept the charade going on for TWO MONTHS, the fact that apparently he talks about Morgane to his therapist 🤣, him trying to hide Morgane's presence from Adam at David's (he's the definition of the no-questions-asked friend who'll support you no matter what, we all need a Gilles in our lives 🥰) Daphné being ready to get any disabled but homophobic employee fired (worst idea ever to give her that workplace inclusion responsibility mais je l'a-dore), and also her blind anger towards Morgane, misunderstanding of the CENTURY 🤩🤩🤩

Also, did you notice that Gilles shaved, this ep? The man is such an Adam fangirl he's now cosplaying as him istg 🤣🤣🤣

[EDIT] OMG I JUST FIGURED OUT WHY YOU CALL HIM GROS CANARD ANON YOU ARE A GENIUS IN DISGUISE OK BYYYYYE

#julia's adventures with the hpi anon #hpi #anon #hpi analysis #hpi season 3 #ask

7 notes · View notes

treepsap · 15 days ago

Text

Feral Draft??

Prologue

Crunch.

Soft footsteps were heard in the snow, the ground glistening pristine white, the blood red leaves above casting red shadows onto the base of the tree. He was angry, his red eyes glinting in the remaining light of the day. He could taste it in the air as he inhaled. It would blizzard tonight. His skin a pale caramel, contrasting with the white and red landscape, his eyes just as deep of red as the trees around him. Shadows seemed to draw in towards the border to Lakeroot Valley, a place he didn’t like. It was windy there, the people too kind for his liking. He was going to ignore the feeling, but the sweet iron scent of blood hit his nose. His head turned to face the direction it came from. He transformed, his body shortening and lengthening to accommodate the lithe, long body of his Senri form. Thick black and grey fur made up his pelt, white spots dotted his muzzle. He stalked towards it, paws quietly indenting the snow. Ahead was a scene he hadn’t expected. A tree- one of the Blood Tundra- had nailed to it two heads. One looked half decayed, under it hung a fresh head, still oozing blood from the wound in its neck, and the clear indent of a gemstone pried out of its dying forehead. His lips drew back in a snarl.

“My damn brother and his Spark Hunter ideals.” He approached the tree, nose wrinkled in disgust at the decaying head. As he studied it, he seen slash marks. “Must have been decapitated by hand, but who-” He jumped as a voice, raspy and ancient spoke behind him.

“Spark...” Scout jumped around; claws unsheathed as he faced the threat. A Shinigami floated opposite of him, it’s pure black tongue licking the blood from it’s claws. It was pitch black, unsettlingly so. It’s eyes were pitch black with a glowing white, hollow circle betraying where it was looking.

“What is wrong with you?! You can’t just walk up on a dude looking at heads-” He spoke, his red eyes trained on the newcomer.

“Your Spark... will be mine.” It lunged, barely missing. It’s limbs emitted shadowy smoke as the outstretched claws flew past his head.

“What the hell?!” He immediately went to defend himself, the red gemstone on his forehead glowing, his white horns matching the hue as his magic flowed into the ground, red crystal pillars shot up from the ground towards this creature. It easily dodged it, and its white eyes focused and narrowed on the Spark on his forehead, its black jaws drooling at the sight. It immediately retaliated and appeared in front of him, black claws slicing through. He was fast, the cat-like reflexes moving him back, but he wasn’t fast enough. The tip of his eyelid, from the browbone to his cheekbone sliced. He cried out in pain, instinctively releasing a blast to the snow on the ground, he obstructed his attacker’s vision, then he ran.

C1 (MAKE LESS CONFUSING AS FUCK?)

He trudged into City Fera, blood caked into his thick pelt. Pain seared his eye. Would it be blinded? He swore he felt it cut into his eye- why could he still see? Archolde above, it hurt. The soft sound of the fountain beneath the portal filled his ears as he padded towards it, going to clean out his eye. The water was cold here, fresh and clean. Unlike the bloody rivers in the Tundra he grew up in. He waded into the large pool, using his paw to rinse out his raw, hurting eye. He heard shuffling behind him from the bushed after a while, and he glared over to whomever was making the racket. He seen another Senri girl peeking out at him, wide green eyes trained on him. The girl had a white pelt with black patches, her fur fluffed up against the chill.

“Sir...? Are you okay?” She asked shyly, her voice meek and respectful as she inquired. She padded along the stone tiles bordering the different levels of the pool as she stepped out.

“What do you want?” He snapped, fangs shown as his lips drew back.

“I- uhm-” She seemed taken aback as she took a step back, “Your eye, was just- I wanted to see if you were okay-”

“Back the hell off, girl, I don’t want your help, or your concern. Get out of here.” He hissed, his wet tail lashing behind him.

Now she seemed offended. “Sir, I did absolutely nothing to you, and you start snapping at me for no reason-!” She stood up, green eyes flashing with indignation, fear, and general irritation. Gods above, he didn’t have the time to deal with this, nor the energy. She was a Spark creature like himself. It glowed slightly with green, to match her long horns and eyes, and the tiny floating crystals on the tips of each of her ears, matching her spark.

“Don’t you use your fucking magic on me, I’m not in the mood for your snarky ass remarks.” He began to grow irritated, his ears flattening down, showcasing the length of his white horns.

“You seriously-” She brought herself up, her thin frame highlighting her broad shoulders under that fluffy pelt. “You seriously think you can walk all over me when all I did was ask if you were okay?! Don’t be such an asshole!” She raised her voice, her fur bushed out in irritation.

He took a step back, not exactly expecting the shy Senri to stand up to him. He opened his mouth to argue when he tasted a familiar scent- a familiar shadow. It was in a different form this time, a shadowed Senri. It rose up on haunches behind the girl, and she seemed oblivious. “Hey! Get out of here-”

“I’m not done talking to you-” She flattened her ears, approaching him a step.

“Lady, move!” His magic shot behind her and she shrieked, ducking right as the Shadow lunged at her.

“H-hey! What was that for?!” She asked the Shadow, and Scout rolled his eyes.

“Lady, trust me, get out of here!” With that he turned tail and dashed off. She let out a childish squeal as it lunged for her as she ran after him.

“Why are you following me?! Go home!” He snarled at her, glancing back to see the Shadow dashing after them.

“Well it’s this way-!” She argued, picking up the pace as they rounded the corner. He dashed for the portal, skidding on it as he halted. She quickly jumped behind him as they teleported to one of the portals in the Blood Tundra. They were under the Blood Tree, blood dripping around them in the soil. A big drop fell on her head and she squeaked at the cold blood, jumping back.

“Of course you followed me. Have fun grooming that off, tastes gross.” He sneered, walking past her, his tail lashing as snow crunched softly under his paws.

“Oh seriously- it'll take forever to get out.” She whined, licking her paw and running it through the fluffy fur on her head that covered her spark. “Eww- it’s so gross.”

“That’s what you get for following me.” He began to trot off, and she quickly went to follow him.

“Wait, where are you going? You can’t leave me!” She looked cold and scared as she shivered.

“You followed me. I’m going to meet up with someone. Go home.” He snorted, annoyed as he continued without looking back.

“But I don’t know how to get home-” He could hear the whimper in her voice. This annoyance was lost, and he was wasting time. He sighed and flicked towards himself with his tail, signaling her to follow. She quickly followed, whispering a meek “Thank you.” as they set off. It was getting dark, so they headed int the direction of his friend’s cabin. As they arrived, they were met with the sight of his friend’s little brother playing in the snow.

“Scout!” Liam perked up from where he was rolling in the snow. “Kaleb, Scout’s here!” The small Senri called, his thick pelt the color of an oak, his little light brown underbelly peeking out. He wasn’t a Spark creature at all, and he seemed curious about the girl with him. Kaleb stepped out of the cabin. An older Senri without a Spark as well, muscular in build, a few scars on his muzzle. His pelt was a bit darker Liam’s, with browner spotting.

“Liam, relax. Hello Scout, you don’t typically visit this late, need something?” He paused, his brows quirking at the girl behind him. “Didn’t see her there, she blends in with the landscape. Hey gorgeous, what’s your name?”

She got flustered, looking down at her paws. “Oh uh, I’m Glacier.” Scout sighed.

“She followed me after this fucking thing attacked us. It sliced my eye, got anything for it?” He sighed, walking across the snowy ground to the porch.

“Oh yeah, hold on. That looks bad.” Kaleb went back inside. When he reemerged, he was in his Karseen form. His face was handsome with smooth, tanned skin. His eyes were amber, a scar over his lip. His hair was short and brown. “Come here, don’t transform.” He knelt down, smoothing a poultice over it as Scout grit his teeth. Then he wrapped it in a bandage. “Keep that on for a bit.”

“Okay, thanks.” He sighed, sitting down as he licked at his paws. Liam bounded up to Kaleb and Scout, looking at Glacier across the stones leading to the door.

“Kaleb... is that Scout’s girlfriend?” Scout coughed and spit out his fur.

“No, she is not my girlfriend.” He growled, glaring at the girl. She flinched, looking down, silently cleaning the blood on her head from earlier. Kaleb put his hands on his hips.

“You don’t need to be an ass, Scout. Liam, you should go inside, it’s cold. You can stay the night Scout if you like. What about you?” He called over to Glacier, who looked up, her green eyes wide as she flicked her ear.

“What?” She asked, her paw halted mid-lick.

“Where do you live? You got a place to stay?” He asked, running a hand through his fluffy brown hair.

“Oh... well, yes but I don’t know how to get there from here.” She mumbled, looking around.

“You can stay here if you want, it’ll blizzard tonight, see the snow? It’ll get cold, you should stay here. Liam, get the firewood from the pile, will you?”

He nodded and bounded off to grab the firewood. The boy was no older than eight, and he happily transformed into his own Karseen form, similar looking to Kaleb’s as he brought firewood inside. “Okay!”

Scout flattened his ears and whispered to him. “This girl seems too innocent. I don’t think we should let her in.”

“It’s my house, calm down dude.” He rolled his eyes and turned and walked inside, gesturing to them all. Scout transformed into his own Karseen form, his angular face set with a scowl as Glacier padded into the room. She stayed by the door with her head bowed as she licked the snow from her paws. The inside was a warm cabin with an old couch and a fireplace in the middle. There were lots of blankets and a pantry on the side. It was small, big enough for two. “Have you guys eaten yet? I have left over fish from Lakeroot.”

“No, I’ll take some if you don’t mind.” Scout spoke up, walking over to the kitchenette with Kaleb. Glacier sat there, and didn’t say anything as she sat down on the rug just inside the door.

“Glacier?” He peeked out of the kitchenette. She looked up, then looked back down.

“Oh... no thank you. I’m not hungry.” She laid down, curling up on the mat. Her tail flicked over her nose. “Thank you for letting me stay.” Kaleb nodded as he gave Scout some fish and rice.

As the night went on, Scout made himself comfortable on the couch, Liam opting to stay with him, bringing a little sleeping bag to set up next to the couch. Kaleb got everyone settled for the night, Glacier remained by the door.

The next morning, the sun was out, but the snow didn’t seem to melt. They all shared a small meal of Picken eggs before setting out. Kaleb had wanted to report the Shadow to Luca, the leader of the Blood Tundra. Glacier followed behind, mostly being quiet as she trailed in the back. She had clearly been trying not to be a bother, unlike Liam who was jumping around in the snow. It was cold that day, no sun shining on the white blanket settled over the scenery. The small group trudged through the snow, passing a wooded area where Scout lived, a cabin.

“Seen your brother recently?” Kaleb asked, his ears perked up towards Scout.

“That motherfucker has been gone, and I hope it stays that way. He’s probably with his Spark Hunter goons.” He growled, his tail lashing. “I hate that he has to be my twin, like, of course we have to look the same. I don’t want to be compared to that bitch.”

“You could keep the cursing to the minimum around Liam. But I agree, he is an ass.” He sighed, Liam bounding up to them.

“Why can’t I say bad words? Mommy and Daddy used to say them all the time!”

“Well, you know they’re gone now Liam, and just because they did, doesn’t mean you should.” He told him. Kaleb’s eyes looked tired, and it wasn’t hard to miss the new thinness in his face.

“How have you been? Since they passed?” Scout murmured; a brow raised.

“It’s been hard to make money, so I learned to fish and I go over to Lakeroot. I help the shop keeper in one of the stores there, and he lets me pick out some things for me and Liam.” He sighed. “What about you? Lost your mom soon after your dad. I know they weren’t great, but they were still your parents.”

“It... hurts. Honestly. Keinen doesn’t seem to care, but that’s to be expected. He’s always been heartless. Not my fault I was born with the Spark and he wasn’t.”

“Yeah, he’s just been an ass about that, since we were kids.” Kaleb sighed, looking back to see if Glacier was still following, before he looked back. “Your eye still hurt?”

“A bit. I can still see out of it shockingly.” He replied, opening his jaws in a yawn.

“That’s weird, though. For a wound on such a sensitive area, you would think it wouldn’t have healed so fast, or so quickly. I say wait for a few days before licking at it. Let the skin heal over.” Kaleb looked at his eye for a moment before turning back to the path. Liam had gone to walk beside Glacier in the back, who remained mostly quiet. Snow was matting in her fluffy fur. Obviously not born in the Tundra.

“Miss? You have snow in your fur.” Liam chided to her.

“Oh… I guess I do.” She murmured. “Thank you Liam.”

“You don’t talk very much miss. Do you struggle to talk?”

“Well, no. I just don’t want it to be a bother.” She spoke softly, the girl was pretty meek, more so than he figured she’d be.

“You can talk you know, it’s a free world.” Kaleb looked back. “Nobody here is telling you to be quiet.”

Scout snorted, irritation in his eyes. “Yeah, nobody.” Glacier looked down, her ears folding back.

“If you really want me to leave I will.” She spoke softly, her green eyes fixed on the ground ahead of her.

“Yeah, you should leave.” He growled.

“Scout, this girl has no way home.” Kaleb scolded.

“And? She’s resourceful enough to find the teleportation crystal.” He argued.

“And she doesn’t live here. You see her fur? You can tell she’s not from around here. Likely Lakeroot.” He sighed. “You’re from Lakeroot, right?”

“Yes sir, I am.” She looked up.

“Exactly. See Scout? She isn’t equipped to be here alone. It’s going to blizzard today too. Let her come with us.” He protested.

“Whatever. You can walk with her if you like, but I’m not doing shit.” He stormed off.

Glacier looked at him storm off, and she just looked down and continued following Kaleb, who went after him. Eventually the group came to a snowy clearing. The side of a cliff hung over, snow falling off to the side. The birch-looking trees littered the circumference of the valley, the red leaves seemingly frozen in place as a frigid breeze blew through. Scout spotted a pair of red eyes peeking out from ahead.

“Okay Keinen, come out.” He scoffed, ears flattening down. The man walked through the brush, followed by a Kobold and a Valkeri. His skin was the same shade as his own, eyes a red that was just brighter than Scout’s own. His hair was the same as his, just styled differently. It covered his forehead, concealing the lack of Spark. The perfect twin.

“Tsk, you really missed your brother, didn’t you? Coming back home so soon. What’s with the eye, hm? Did he get you?” A smirk grew on his face, a condescending look in his eyes.

“He- are you fucking working with that... thing?!” Fury boiled in his eyes, his tail fluffing out.

“Why, he’s a Spark Hunter like myself. See this? I’m in their ranks.” He sneered, showing him the badge adorning his t-shirt. His chest was toned, though he was thin, especially in the waist. After all, food wasn’t necessarily plentiful in the Tundra.

“So, you really went and joined it, didn’t you? Joined the group of terrorists because you hate me that much. Wow, you really are street scum. This is fucking ridiculous. You know how many families they kill?!”

“I do, I helped with one last night.” His eyes narrowed, a look of pleasure spreading across his face at Scout’s obvious disgust. “I’m so sad it only got your eye, dear brother. Maybe next time it won’t miss.” He transformed, body lengthening as he approached Scout. “It must’ve hurt, being up against something so powerful. Does your eye still hurt, brother?” He got up in his face, Scout’s jaws set, his eyes wide in unbridled rage.

He lashed forward, his claws slicing his brother’s own eye. Keinen started back with a yelp of pain. His paw immediately going to his eye. It was the one opposite his own. Arguably the only difference between them. “There, now we can share.” He hissed.

“What the fuck Scout?!” Keinen’s own fur bushed up.

“You guys, calm down-!” Kaleb jumped in, already having pushed Liam back. He transformed, grabbing Scout by the scruff. “Calm the fuck down. Don’t take a fight you won’t win- wait, where did the Kobold go-?” He paused.

Keinen smirked. “After that girl.”

End of C1

C2 (EDIT PACING)

“Let me go-!” She squirmed, finally wriggling free of his grasp. She dashed off.

“Get back here, girl!” He ran, but he couldn’t keep up. Her long legs stretched with each step, her lungs burning with cold air.

‘Shit-! He’ll catch me if I stop... and I don’t want to be fed to that... thing!’ It was quickly growing dark in the Tundra, and she didn’t stop. By the time she slowed to a walk, her lungs burned. Paw pads were numb, her breath was shaking. ‘Hopefully I lost him... Now I just have to turn around and find-... Wait...’

“Where am I-?” Her eyes took in the scenery around her. Mountains and snowy hills surrounded her at all angles, snow beginning to fall in the quickly darkening sky. She was worried, frankly. How would she get home? Should she even go home? She began to pad through the snow, trying to find the way out. At first, she tried to go back the way she came, but she kept coming to the same wall. It got very cold quickly. Her fur bushed up, trying to keep herself warm. “It’s so cold- maybe I should find shelter-”

She began to trot through the snow, but everything looked the same. She was afraid, honestly. In a new place, afraid, lost, and cold. She had no idea where to go, and who knows if she would ever be found? Hours passed. There seemed to be no end in sight. She decided to try and go to the left. She followed the wall. It was so cold, and she was so, so tired. White markings began to grow on the black parts of her pelt, in the shapes of small crystals of snow. Snow covered her fur. She was shaking, trying to blink the driving snow out of her eyes. She approached what looked to be a cave, but it only seemed to be a small crack in the rock. Sounds came from up ahead somewhere. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she looked out through bleary eyes. “Hello...? Is... is anyone-... there...” Her world faded as a white form loomed in front of her, before it all went black.

When she awoke, she was pressed against something warm. She nuzzled into it. How long had it been since there was something nice and warm like this for her? Too long. As she gained her consciousness, she realized it was moving. Her eyes slowly blinked open to see firelight flickering on the walls of dark stone, a furry creature pressed against her. She startled awake, rolling away. “Who’s there?!”

Beside her was a thinner Kobold. He had red eyes, a brown underfur, which faded out to the long, thick creamy white fur on the ends. A large sword was set to his back, a red gem set in the hilt. “Hey, take it easy. I found you out there.” He spoke, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. This man was aged, not old, but definitely the exhausted voice of a grown man. His shoulders were broad, and in them carried power. “You don’t seem to be from around here. It’s normal for newcomers to get lost in these mountains, but we don’t typically get tourists during the blizzard season. What brings you here Miss? Oh and, my name’s Luca, what’s yours?” He had a gentle smile on his face, warmly contrasting to the blizzard outside.

She seemed distrustful for a moment, then she forced her fur to smooth as she looked at him. “I’m Glacier, and I was just with some...” She paused a moment, thinking. Could she even say friends, with how hostile Scout had been? After all, she had gone to leave when that Kobold tried to kidnap her. “…companions. But who are you?” She licked her paw and drew it over her muzzle, now dotted with melted snow.

“My name is Luca, you’re lucky you were nearby. I might not have heard you- which you blended in so well with the snow. I couldn’t do with another death in the mountains.” He sighed, yawning, his fangs exposed a moment before he closed his mouth. The hilt on his sword glowed for a moment before he shot it a glare and it fizzled out. Then he continued. “I’m the leader of these lands. I have been since the Blood War.”

The Blood War? She had heard about it of course, but she didn’t get very far in school. Part of her figured she shouldn’t ask, but they were trapped in here for a while. “The Blood War?”

“Ah, have you not heard of it, Miss?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Well, I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know really what transpired.” She nodded to herself.

“Look Miss, it’s more a sore topic, you see-”

“Well... I just wanted to know, but if you didn’t want to-” She seemed saddened slightly, but didn’t press.

He paused, looking at her. The man looked tired and not necessarily in the mood to argue, or to make the girl feel bad. “I guess I might as well since.... we’ll be held up in here until the blizzard passes.” His red eyes cast a faint glow over his face as he reluctantly agreed.

“Oh, that’ll be nice. I would love to learn more of the history of this place. After all, I’m afraid I don’t know very much.” She looked a bit shy as she said it, but didn’t look away. “Go ahead.”

He grimaced slightly, and nodded. “If you wish Miss. Ah, the Blood War... how I don’t miss it.” He sighed, then continued, his eyes seeming a bit distant for a moment. “I was a young Kobold then, with my friend Slate. She was a Senri like yourself, although much sharper in personality and looks. I grew up with her. Back then the Titan ruled over the Blood Tundra, though back then it was called Riverside Mountains. It was beautiful then, the water clear, the leaves green. We weren’t plagued with snow and blood during those days. Then came the Blood War. The Titan had become corrupt, though we thought it was simply his personality.” His gaze darkened as the sword on his back thrummed. “I’ve learned now that it was not. We spent years fighting for our freedom.” He paused and shown a scar under his chest plate, it was scored across his heart.

“Ouch-“ Her brows furrowed as she looked at it, then up at his face. “Slate... she sounded special to you. What happened to her?

“Slate suffered worse wounds than I did. She gave… everything to win. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her. She… died then. I was heartbroken, but I didn’t have time to mourn, because when the Titan exploded to whatever curse it was under. This blade… came out of the remains… its cursed, binding itself to any soul who touches it. Granting it power, but evil. I ward it off thanks to the leftover power from the Titan.” The red in his under eyes now fading from view as the red glow in his eyes dampened.

“Wow…” She looked at him, her green eyes widened as she paid attention. “That’s a lot… is the sword cursed to you now?”

“Well, I don’t like to tell people, but yes. It makes me violent, but I tend leave beforehand if I feel it coming. I’ve held this sword for three hundred years. And for just as long, I’ve been the leader of this place.”

Glacier curled in on herself, nose nuzzling into the white fluff of her tail. “Sounds hard, leading a place, I mean.”

“It is, sometimes. There are… difficult individuals who get into trouble.” He flexed his clawed fingers for a moment before withdrawing them.

“Like who?” She asked, distractedly drawing a paw over her whiskers.

“Well, this boy named Keinen. He’s some Senri kid, a bunch of trouble. Always stealing and doing substances. Starting to think he wasn’t loved at home, honestly.”

“I think… I heard the people I traveled with talk about him. I wasn’t paying super close attention though.” She mumbled, half to herself.

After a few beats, he looked at her. ”Well, enough about me? Tell me, where do you come from?”

She looked at him a moment, a sullen look covering her face. “Well sir, I live in Lakeroot Valley.”

“Lakeroot, huh? Not super far, but just far enough from home. You folk are the windy climate hm? Probably not used to the snow like us.”

“No sir. I live in the valley. Where the wind whips the grass down.”

“Not too much acclimatization for you, but still freezing here compared to there. Feel uneasy in my fur there, so I tend to visit as a Karseen.”

“Makes sense. It gets warm in the markets there.” She nodded softly.

“You know, with all the absolute characters that live here in the Tundra, it’s nice to speak with someone quiet. I don’t think I’ve met someone quite meek as yourself.”

“Ah, well I certainly try.” She nuzzled her face into her tail more.

“You’re in rough shape, so I’ll take you to Gladacious’ clinic in Sunken Thicket. He’ll take good care of you, I’m sure. As for your companions, do you know their names?”

“Well, I believe it’s Scout, Kaleb, and Liam.”

“Oh them. Kaleb’s great, bless him and his brother. Scout has definitely… got some anger issues. Got worse after his parents passed, but I won’t talk about that.” Luca nodded to himself. “Well, the storms let up. Let’s get you to Gladacious.”

End of C2

Start of C3 (REWRITTEN)

He had noticed her absence; it was hard to forget about what his brother said after all. She was one of the dwindling numbers left of Spark Creatures left on Fera. Though she could very well be dead already, it didn’t feel right letting his brother get to her first. It was cold, and they had to take shelter from the blizzard before they could continue safely. The group found themselves wandering through the mountains, the snowy hills like a maze to an inexperienced eye. He had lived here his whole life, new a good portion of the mountains, but nobody except Luca dared to travel through the dangerous terrain up at the top of the mountain. The blizzard had blown over any paw tracks. At one point, they had found snow ruined from a tussle and a few clumsy paw prints from a running Senri, but those ran out as soon as they reached the mountain entrance. The group wandered in, Liam jumping around as he bent to sniff the snow to no avail.

‘Of course she had to go in the mountains. What an idiot. It’ll take at least a day to get through, and most people who get lost in the mountains don’t come out.’ He thought. ‘I just hope she’s not dead. Besides, if we come across her, Liam would be crushed surely. He had already lost his mother.’

He was upset. The mountains were dangerous, bordering Sunken Thicket at one end. He’d have looked there, was he sure she knew where she was going. But she didn’t. He had run into a troublesome girl, just wasting him time. Something worried him though. What would it have meant if that Kobold had gotten his claws on her? Would her head end up like the ones on the tree? It was a gruesome thought, not one he wished to entertain any longer as he let out a sigh.

Kaleb looked at him. “For someone who hates her so much, you are awfully concerned about her.”

“I am concerned, Kaleb. There aren’t very many of us left, and I don’t want Keinen to kill another innocent person. What if they feed her to that thing?” He sighed.

“You’re right. They’ve killed at least a hundred in the last two years.”

“I’m worried, what if my kind die out? Archolde forbid I die at the claws of that wretched thing. God, it drooled when it tasted my blood-”

“Sounds horrifying. You really think Keinen teamed up with some ancient evil?” Kaleb asked, turning his head to look at him.

“Probably. It… found me, after I ran so far without a trace. I ran to Fera, and it still found me.” Scout sighed, his brows furrowed in thought.

“What?! That’s so far! How would it have found you? That makes no sense.” He mulled it over, his amber eyes glancing around for tracks. “Much different than any creature I’ve seen. Archolde destroyed that shadow dragon thing, so it wouldn’t be that, right?”

“If it’s not fucking dead and it’s after me, I don’t think I’m gonna last.” He looked behind him, almost paranoid.

“We can only keep running. Maybe we could find out how to kill it.”

“You want to kill some ancient monster? You’re hilarious.” Scout scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “This thing tracked me across three different lands. I’m not so sure we can kill something made of shadows.”

“Would you rather it hunt you down until the day you die, Scout?”

“Well, no- “

“Then we’ll have to find a way to survive.” Kaleb put his foot down.

“It's not even you that it’s hunting! You’re not a Spark!” He snapped. “You really think it’s going to be that easy when it can probably sense my magic?”

“Look, I’m trying to make you feel better. Do you think I want my friend to get killed by this thing?” He raised his voice in turn.

“I don’t know, probably not.” He muttered, his brows falling to a furrow. After a beat, he looked back up and spoke to him. “We’ve been searching for so long now; would she even have survived?”

“I don’t want to give up that hope. Especially if she may be alive.” Kaleb reasoned.

Up ahead a black form flashed in front of them. Scout immediately tensed up. “It’s there!” He flashed by Kaleb and chased it, going to jump on top of it.

A loud growl came from beneath him, the body hard as it writhed beneath his weight. He wasn’t necessarily a large Senri, but large enough to send something a similar size to topple. Whatever was beneath him threw him off with a roll, his back thudding against the snowy ground. He grunted in pain as the creature stood over him, claws pressed into the fluffy softness of his throat. The paw was cold, not enough to pierce his skin, but pressed enough to feel the gulp he swallowed at the sight before him. His eyes were wide as he stared upwards at something completely different.

“Scout-!” Kaleb called, holding Liam behind him protectively.

It… wasn’t the shadow at all. In fact, she was a beautiful Senri, a regal, predatory snout with fangs longer than the typical ones for a Senri. This breed of Senri wasn’t very common, but it definitely was of an opulent variety. Her fur pattern on her legs matched a white stocking, and she wore spikes that seemed to grow out of her fur on her shoulders. She wore floating jewelry, white bands circling around her tail and neck. She was very fluffy, and obviously born here in the Tundra. White eyes pierced into his red ones, white horns menacing as her spark was dull, not glowing. She was strong without her power. “Who are you to attack a creature you spy in the mountains, boy?” The word was a sneer, almost humored as if him attacking her was funny.

“I- well, I thought you were someone else-“ He felt himself grow slightly flustered under her gaze, not having met a woman this bold before. Why was something so threatening so beautiful?

“Who? You’re lucky I don’t slice your throat. But unfortunately, we need more of our kind now that these bothersome so called ‘Spark Hunters’ are about.” She snorted in irritation as she got off him, not before tripping him with her tail the moment he stood.

“Well Miss I’m sorry. I’ve been hunted by one of them and your pelt looked similar in the distance. The white blended in and all I seen was the black- “

She flicked the fur out of her eyes the fluffy mane-like fur hanging over her eyes. “You better be sorry.” She took in the sight of the three of them. “Now, are you friends or foe?” She still hadn’t put her claws away, though now she paused to lick Scout’s gray underneath from her claws.

“Friends.” Kaleb quickly butted in, approaching with Liam behind him. The young Senri quickly ran forward in front of her, seeming to take her slightly by surprise as she flinched back defensively.

“Hello Miss! You’re so very pretty, what’s your name?” Liam smiled warmly at her, Scout spying the little fangs poking from his mouth.

“I don’t normally see children around these parts. Typically, it’s only the teenage or adult creatures who are moronic enough to come around these parts of the mountains. Humor me with your name, child. Then I will share mine.” The girl looked at him, taking a step forward to lick a piece of fur that was tufted up between his eyes.

“My name’s Liam Miss! This is my brother Kaleb, and his name is Scout!” Liam smiled shyly as she licked away the fur, before proceeding to flick his tail to signal who was who.

“My name is Slate, young one. I guard these mountains, and I return the lost. You have traveled far to make it up to the domain I watch. This is the top of the mountain, near the grave of the Titan. Tell me, why do you come?” She asked, thick fog rolling in from the sides of the cliffs surrounding them.

Kaleb spoke up again. “We’re here to find a friend. Her name is Glacier.”

“Tell me, what did she look like.”

“A very pretty Senri! She was white with black markings and green eyes!” Liam happily announced.

“Ah, the girl. I have seen Luca take her to Sunken Thicket, but you are far from the entrance.”

“If you could please guide us there I would be very thankful. Liam is young and I do not want him to be sick from being without proper shelter for so long.” Kaleb asked, pausing a moment to lick at the back of Liam’s ears, a loving gesture, before he looked back.

“Very well, so long as your friend doesn’t attack me again.” A mischievous grin lit her face and Scout practically blushed.

“Look, I didn’t mean to- well, I did. But I didn’t mean to attack you.” He quickly stumbled over his words, shame washing over him as his ears flattened.

She cracked a smile before she dipped her head and turned around. Liam walked beside her. “Miss? Do you have any friends?”

“Friends? Well, once I did. But I have not spoken to him for three-hundred years. He is unaware that I live.” She explained.

“What? Why would he think you’re dead?”

“Liam…” Kaleb warned.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I have not had good company in a very long time. We fought in the Blood War together. We were very fond of each other then, but I sustained big wounds in that fight.” She used her spark to pull back the long fur on her stomach, revealing a long scar that ran from her chest to her hind leg on the left side. They each winced a bit. “I survived, barely though. When the curse settled over the land, there were… properties left in the water that was saved. I happened to have some left in my pack, and so I lived, right as I died.”

“Woah…” Liam looked at her with wide eyes.

“Indeed, woah.” She smiled. As they walked Scout picked up the pace to walk beside her.

“So... I’m sorry about earlier.” He told her, an embarrassed grin on his muzzle. She fixed her striking eyes on him, her ear flicking.

“You should be, you could’ve ruined my pelt.” She scoffed, lashing her tail. “Now, tell me about this creature I looked so much like, hm?”

“Ah well, it’s like, this Shadow creature.” Scout began, “It was like it was made of shadows itself. It... was bloodthirsty.”

“Interesting.” Slate flicked her ear in acknowledgement, her eyes studying the terrain.

As night slowly began to fall, and it grew colder in the ever-freezing mountains, they began to settle in for the night. Kaleb took up most of the cooking, and Slate hunted a few Vexrats. Though not the most delicious meal, it would be filling. Scout has certainly taken a liking to Slate, her snarky attitude very appealing to him. After all, she was pretty to. He did go hunting with her, very triumphantly catching a rat, boasting to her. She didn’t seem impressed in the slightest.

“You’re a Senri, you should have been catching them since you were young. That’s what it was like in the old days.”

“Well- we eat more fish now.”

“From Lakeroot? Such a walk for food when it’s abundant here. They are pests regardless; it’s fixing two problems with one claw.”

“Well, I’ve never been one for the taste…” He went to defend himself, but her listless gaze was intimidating. She was taller than him, even though he wasn’t full grown himself yet. After all, he was just seventeen. This lady was at least three-hundred years old. A full-grown Spark Senri. Not surprising that she’s not fallen to the Spark Hunters.

“Taste? There is seasoning if it is so bad. Just because they look disgusting doesn’t mean they don’t taste just as fine as fish do. Besides they taste similar to Thicket Halibut.”

“Oh, really?” Kaleb piped up. “I love those.”

“Yes. I’ve eating these, since I can hunt them fairly undetected. It’s been a very long time since I’ve eaten anything other than these blood scum.”

“Really? That’s sad. Maybe you should come into town and- “

“No. He will see me.” She growled

“What’s wrong with your friend seeing you?”

“I am to watch him rule this land as he fights the curse on that sword. I will not put him through the vulnerability of emotional turmoil.” She lashed her tail. “And I’ll be here to stop him if he goes corrupt before that sword gets anyone else.” Her eyes narrowed as she used her magic to flip the now pelted Vexrats over the fire, the crackling warmth washing over the four of them. It remained silent for a while after that as the group ate their meal.

Then night fell, a pale glow cast over the snow. Slate had led them to a concealed cave. It was smaller, but doable. Liam snuggled with Kaleb, though it didn’t last long as Liam ended up sprawled out on his back. Slate wasn’t inside the cave currently, outside sitting quietly. Scout padded outwards to see her in her Karseen form. Long black hair with white tendrils running through the curly strands. Her skin was plush and of a slight olive hue. Her eyes were like a lilac in this form as she turned to look at him. Sharp cheekbones and a strong nose defined her face, her brows full and assertive on her face, the round shape of her Spark nestled in the center of her forehead. He felt himself grow warm. It was just uncharacteristic of him to feel so flustered under a woman’s gaze. “Sit with me.”

“Okay.” He transformed himself, putting his hands in the dark hoodie that covered his skin. He stepped forward and sat next to her. His breath whipped around his face slowly as the he let out a breath. “Thank you for guiding us. I don’t usually come this way; I try to steer from the mountains.” He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. His hand slid down his face slowly, fingers tracing his scarred eye.

“That scar looks new; how did you get it?” Slate asked, her fingers distractedly playing with a piece of jewelry that adorned her hand.

“Well, I was attacked by that Shadow we spoke of. It sliced my eye. I was angry, made a stupid decision. I ran, met the girl we’re looking for. She was just trying to ask me what was the matter...” He sighed and put his head in his hands. “I’ve been an ass.”

“Indeed you have.” She paused a moment, letting the silence settle before she brought up the next topic. “You seem to be fond of me now, is there a reason?” She asked, her eyes fixing on him. She was beautiful honestly, the way her eyes glinted in the moonlight was enthralling. He shook it off, sighing as he hung his head.

“Either I’m an idiot or you’re just really fucking pretty.” He sighed.

“I have been told I am beautiful, but I think it is your teenage idiocy.” She offered a half grin, and Scout felt shame burn in his face. She paused a moment, then spoke softer this time. “Are you lonely?”

“I…” He hadn’t really thought he wasn’t until he really thought about it. Who else was left to care about him now, other than Kaleb and Liam? Of course they were his friends, but it didn’t fill the once-full void in his chest. “I guess I am.” Vulnerability eased into his voice, before he shook it off. “I’m sorry I’ve been coming onto you the way I have.”

She took a moment to laugh, running her hand through the bailage of her hair. “Oh child, you are very sweet. Even if you came onto me, I wouldn’t have let it work. After all, I am older than you by a few hundred years, and I stay here in the mountains.”

He looked back up at her, yawning for a beat. “Aren’t you lonely too? You’ve been alone for three-hundred years.”

“Lonely? Sometimes the answer would be yes, but when I meet entertaining creatures such as yourselves… it gets less lonely. Besides, it’s much better than growing up fighting a war. I pray to Archolde that you never have to fight in a war, it really is a terrible existence, I pray to Archolde you never have to fight as I have. I spent fifty years of my life in that place, and I wish to never return.” She paused, her eyes darkening as her voice grew solemn. “Though, with the Spark Hunters, that may be unavoidable. I would say they can’t beat us with our magic… but they have been stealing Sparks for Archolde-knows-what.”

“Yeah… I can only hope that it doesn’t come to that.”

“If it does come to that, Scout.” She paused and looked him dead in the eyes. “I will fight with you, for the liberation of Spark Creatures like yourself and I.” She vowed, her Spark glowing slightly with the promise. The wave of white light grew into a flickering strand, weaving itself down and wrapping around his finger before disappearing into his skin.

“What was that?” He asked, examining his finger as he turned his hand over.

“A physical promise. If I ever feel you in danger in the context we’ve just spoken of, I will feel it. Then I will come to your rescue.” She looked at him, her eyes fixed on his own red ones.

“Thank you. It means a lot. But... so soon?” She sighed, but didn’t say anything. He spoke softly at first. “You won’t come with us?”

“No, I can’t. I have a duty to the Tundra, but I am sure we will meet again. As for your question... What is there left of us? We are shrinking in numbers by the day... so I only wish to stop this cruelty. At least while I still live.” She let out a puff of air, letting the silence settle before moving on. “For now, we should get some rest.”

He sighed, then nodded. “Yes… let’s get some sleep.” He stood, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. He felt let down inside, but he knew it was for the best. Slate brushed away his tracks, as well as hers, with her foot. He curled up next to Kaleb on the cold stone floor, eyes watching as Slate settled in herself. “Goodnight.” He murmured.

“Goodnight.” She spoke softly, before he closed his eyes, the sound of the groups’ collective breathing lulling him to sleep.

End of C3

Start of C4 (REMEMBER PACING)

It was a strange mixture of warm and cold in Sunken Thicket. She hadn’t been there before, usually sticking to City Fera and her homeland, Lakeroot Valley. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep on the way, just remembering the warm feeling of Luca’s strong arms wrapped around her cat-like body. When she woke, she was greeted with a warm smell and the sound of gentle voices. It was comfortable and warm, the smell of herbs lingering in the air, and in the cushion beneath her. Her green eyes slowly blinked away the sleep from her eyes. “Where…” She mumbled to herself, seeing two creatures in front of her. First was a Spark, his large storm cloud blue muscles moving under a thick pelt. A Werewolf. Bright amber eyes striking against his blue fur, black ram-like horns curled around long ears. Beside him was the small creature of a Kitsune. She was in her single-tailed form, a white pelt with ombré shades of magenta strewn throughout her fur. She was cooking over a small stove, the scent of warm, cooked food filling the space. The werewolf sat nearby, crushing different herbs into a poultice. He then leaned over to touch her, then he paused.

“You’re awake.” He observed, his eyes fixing in her.

She felt herself odd under his gaze, trying not to squirm under his strong gaze. “Yes sir…”

He tilted his head quizzically, before grabbing the poultice he mixed. “May I touch you? This will help heal the frostbite.”

“Oh- if you want, sure-“ She looked slightly uneasy as the large creature sat over her. He looked threatening, but his touch was gentle and sweet. He grabbed one of her paws, massaging the warm poultice into her fur, his clawed fingers careful. It was strange, calming feeling. She hadn’t even realized she was nodding back off until he swiped a bit on her nose, her eyes opening at the unexpected feeling.

He smiled warmly down at her. “Hungry?”

She felt her stomach clench as the ever-loving of food. No… she would have to pay it back. “No thank you.”

“I doubt that, you’ve been out for a day or so. Luca brought you in from the cold. Come now, Floruna made the stew fresh for us.” He straightened and turned his head back towards her. “Is dinner ready yet honey? Our guest is awake.” He spoke fondly, his amber eyes warm at the sight of her. Perhaps they were together… the way he looked at her was the way any girl would want to be looked at.

“It’ll be ready soon.” Her turned to face him, her horns branch-like with magenta flowers growing on them. She had soft blue eyes, her foxy muzzle disappearing as she transformed into her own Karseen form. She had warm white skin, her hair magenta with a white streaks faded into her hair. Her lips pressed together as her brow went up. “You best be washing your hands Gladacious, you won’t be ruining the tablecloth again.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. You love me too much.” He stood and transformed, his strong arms wrapping around her waist as he kissed her cheek. He was much taller than her, hair a dark, blued grey. His eyes were those same amber, set above high cheekbones and soft cheeks. She reached up and tousled his hair, before pushing him away as she realized what he was doing. He began to giggled as he rubbed his dirty hands on her shirt- a light green tank.

“Oh you fool! I am not washing this!” She was exasperated, pushing him off.

“I’ll wash it honey, don’t you worry.” He kissed her cheek. She snorted, waving him off as she went to go check on the stew. He turned back to Glacier. “Sorry about that… NY wife definitely will be salty with me for a while. My name is Gladacious, her name is Floruna. You’re here at my clinic.” He paused as he messed with his hair in slight embarrassment. “Well… it’s doesn’t really look like one, and I well, technically live here, but it’s still a clinic. I’ve just hidden the devices away.” He gestured to the house around him. It looked like it was built inside a large tree, soft cushions in the living space. It wasn’t large, but it was comfortable.

The man himself looked a bit intimidating if not for the personality, his arms muscular, his chest fit. He had a bit of softness to his stomach, given the absence of abs there. Floruna looked back at the two of them. “They’re hidden away since we I don’t want the mess but someone keeps forgetting to pit them away, hm?’

“Oh don’t be like that… Mrs. Olceen had just left… I didn’t have the chance to put the ultrasound device away-“ He argued, but it was only playful.

“You could’ve waited to pee.” Floruna grinned. She looked back at Glacier. “What’s your name dear?”

“O-oh uhm-…” She paused. It was more expected that she had asked so calmly. She had figured it would break into an actual argument, but it didn’t. “My name… It’s Glacier, Mrs. Floruna.”

“Just Floruna is fine, dear. No need for formalities in this household.” She smiled sweetly. She began to ladle stew into wooden bowls.

“Yes ma’am.” She felt a bit shy as she responded. It was so quiet here… so calm; and they were being nice to her. It was just new.

[Unadded]

0 notes

cress-meadowforge · 1 year ago

Text

private training, july 105.

trigger warnings: suicide, self harm, blood

She’d pressed him, asked to practice, even offered to craft a routine herself. But Slate had refused, stubborn as he was — a snide, slick thing too. “It's supposed to be a secret,” he’d smirked, crossing his arms defensively. “Indulge the Gamemakers in their secrecy, Cress.” Which had, admittedly, pushed her over an already precarious ledge.

“Slate, the only secret you’re keeping is that you didn’t wear a condom when you came in me,” Cress replied, tone cutting. She wasn’t interested in his childish games, not when they were navigating a much larger, more sinister one. “If you go in there and throw this, or you treat it like one of the satire pieces in your zine—“ another space thriller, set on the alien planet of menap “—then so help me, Snow, I will kill you myself.” But it wasn’t clicking, wasn’t getting through. He was infuriatingly stubborn, and Cress wanted to shake him, to ask when his thick skull had ever actually served him good.

Then again, she was familiar with every scar, every dent on his body. Cress was fairly certain he would have been dead already if it wasn’t, ironically, for his hard head. Occasionally useful after all, she supposed.

“Look at me,” Cress took his face, wanting his unwavering gaze. He needed to be refocused from time to time, tethered back to her, to the task or topic at hand. Otherwise, he’d drift off or spiral far away. “You are capable of this, but I cannot force you to go in there and try. I can stand here. I can beg you. Is that what you need? Is that what it would take — for me to beg this of you?” She was angry, the energy in the dynamic out of its natural alignment. He was fire, burning, blazing. Not her. This nonchalant apathy was throwing Cress for a loop. “Show them that there is still fight, still strength. I see it. I know it’s there, as do you. You want to tell them to fuck off? Do it by proving you’re still capable of giving them hell. Show them they didn’t fucking tame you.”

It was unlike her to advise him into antagonizing the Capitol, but at this point, it was play or die. They were toying with Slate, making a show of it, but the truth was that they’d have an easier time killing him if he refused to engage. “Go in there, pick up a bow, wrap your fingers around a knife — whatever you like. And show them what we have been working on for a year, what you’ve been capable of your entire life.”

When the tributes had finished and the Training Center had been cleared, Cress let herself in to take stock, to draw up the initial requests for replacement inventory. It was the end of training, and it all needed to be patched or polished or cycled out. Inevitably, there would be synthetic blood stains on the mats, or scratches from a fallen blade. Dummies that looked like sponges, so full of stab wounds. Occasionally, something more interesting would arise. The back-up generator had sufficed for the rest of private sessions, but Cress had needed to call an electrician to help after Nano’s stunt, when he’d ripped the wires from the socket and short-circuited the place.

But this afternoon, Cress opened the door, took a step into the center, and froze.

At first, she thought time must be moving strangely. She’d been here already, days prior. She’d caused it herself. This wreckage, this massacre. But there were pieces that didn’t match the scene she’d created: a dummy, sprawled headless; a splatter of blood across the window of the viewing box; another target mangled, with its face unrecognizable, having been so brutally stabbed with a broken arrow. Cress stepped further, approaching the decimated mannequin.

Her shoes stuck to the mat, wet and sticky. Cress looked down. Synthetic blood pooled at her feet, having spilled out of the targets. It coated the ground a slick, shiny red, so glossy that it reflected her own features back. She stared. Surprised, yes, but that morphed quickly. If the Training Center had been this wholly destroyed at any point during the private training process, they would have paused to reset. A quarter of the space was entirely unusable. They would have needed to, in order to continue.

Unless, of course, there were no tributes left to perform.

Voices glimmered down from the observation room: a few remaining Gamemakers, picking over the platters of food, deep in their goblets now that they’d submitted scores, chatting jovially about the performances.

“The pair from Seven–”

“Peculiar, aren’t they?”

“You’d think they were wild animals–”

“--that they’d never seen a Game before!”

It wasn’t unusual for Cress to hear a smattering of commentary as she righted the center. Only a handful of Gamemakers observed and scored, and Cress had the misfortune of being familiar with a few. Besides, they saw no one but themselves. Like she was an Avox, neither seen nor heard. Simply part of the center itself – another facet of the machine. Cress listened, milling about her work, parsing through the blades to determine which needed to be scrapped, or sharpened, or polished.

“The two from Eleven won’t last long, but my wife hopes they do–”

“I expected more from the Meadowforge girl–”

“Think McCoy will make it longer than his brother?”

“Depends on if you think the Serpentine boy will be less of a fool than his cousin.”

They carried on, their snide remarks background noise as she finished inventory. The synthetic blood had dried on her shoes, and Cress shifted to powering down the simulator and the plant identification wall.

“But the Flint kid–”

“--we should have killed him in prison–”

“--we should have shot him on the Tower steps!”

“Where could he have possibly learned to do that?”

“Not from Hestia Ember, certainly.”

“You don’t know that–”

“Oh, and you do?”

They bickered back and forth, but Cress’ interest was piqued. She turned, leaning back against the padded wall directly beneath the Gamemaker’s box.

“What a savage, feral thing–”

“–a menace–”

“–a beast–”

“A problem,” they agreed, their voices lowering gravely. So quiet, Cress strained to hear. “One we hadn’t accounted for. One we’ll need to fix.”

It seemed to confirm her suspicions about what had happened in this space. Cress lingered, an odd amalgamation of emotions seeping through. Concern, for she knew the kind of rage it took to exact this, the kind of anger that spurred this strength. And pride. A full-bodied sensation that filled her chest. That he had not thrown this, yes, but that they were seeing him for what he was: capable, skilled, a threat. She wanted to laugh, even, to shout up at them that’s what you get for underestimating him. My Slate can do this. He can win.

“That damn Peacekeeper–”

“--should have let him fall. Spared us the trouble.”

“--and let him kill himself like a coward after causing such a scene?”

“Oh, who cares? Let him snap his neck.”

“But then we wouldn’t get to watch it on replay! I want to see him in the arena–”

“--see him die in the arena, you mean.”

“Yes, a canon. Can you blame me?”

“No, I agree. Let them watch–”

“Let them see their precious Meta Morphic brought to his knees.”

Suddenly, Cress wasn’t interested in tidying further. Being here made her uneasy. All she could do was look out at the mat, glossy with blood, and wonder if any of it was real.

Cress finished wrapping her hair up in a towel, her skin flushed from the shower. She’d coaxed Slate in with her – an excuse to keep him close, to examine his body, but it appeared that he’d emerged nearly unscathed. Only his thighs needed tending, the fragile skin between them burned from friction, cut from odd contact, though she wasn’t sure what caused such markings.

A jar of salve in one hand and adhesive gauze pads in the other, Cress nudged him onto the bed, seating Slate at the end before she knelt down on the floor. She placed the materials to the side, tucking closer, resting back against his left thigh while she bandaged the right. “What did you do for your presentation?” she asked, curious if he would tell her. Or, if, perhaps, he would lie. They hadn’t broached the subject in the shower; Cress had been focused on cleaning him, on easing him into a more primed state of mind.

Slate shrugged one shoulder. He was neither proud nor ashamed of what he’d done in the training center; rather, he felt like someone adjacent to him had done all of those things. Cress didn’t need details, though. “It’s supposed to be a secret, remember?”

Of course, that was a useless attempt at avoidance. She wouldn’t let him get away with that, with no details. Not after she’d already tolerated one verbal side-step today. “Try again,” those careful words, a warning that he had disappointed in some way. That he had a chance to correct. Cress turned her eyes up, eyes expectant and knowing; after all, she’d seen the aftermath first-hand. Slate frowned. She was always coaxing things from him.

“I did what you told me to. I tried.” He supposed that in the end, that had been the result – trying. He’d hit a few bullseyes. Who knew, maybe he wouldn’t score a zero after all.

Cress nodded, her fingers glossed over his skin, a pale sheen of red smudging where the cuts had been scrubbed. “And how’d you get these?”

“Tree,” he said shortly, as if that one word explained everything. But he knew she’d hit him with another try again, knew that he owed her something more, so he said, “I scaled it with my knife. I’ve done that in Twelve before. But I forgot how much thigh shit it involves.” He looked down at himself, having only noticed the pain truly in the shower.

She finished smearing salve over the first set of wounds, placing the jar down. It was Capitol-grade, a gift from Lex in return for some job well done. It would heal the skin before Launch, if he could manage to stay out of trouble for that long. Cress placed the bandage, smoothing the adhesive down to seal it. Then she shifted, to the other side, brows arching without lifting her gaze. “Anything else?” The Gamemakers’ words echoed. Should have let him fall. Let him kill himself. They had just talked about this. He had just said he wanted to live. His own words rippled now: But not like this.

“Fucked around with the dummies, the targets. The rope ladder.” He shrugged again, wanting that to be it. “It’s over, Cress, I don’t want to go over it all again. Didn’t want to do it in the first place.” She knew that. Reliving the details felt like raking him over the coals. The attempt to end it all in the way he wanted had failed. The attempt to do nothing had failed. He was playing their game whether he liked it or not.

The anticipation of the response didn’t lessen the ache, the sinking sensation of distance or distrust. That he had once again withheld the full truth from her. That he had tried, yes, but had also tried to kill himself – a second time. Cress finished her handiwork in silence, sealing the twin bandage to match the first. She dressed, pulling her limbs through one of his shirts, discarded the towel, put away the salve. Scores would come in a few hours, but she could see Slate was drained now. Tired and empty. He likely wasn’t interested in speculating, in waiting for their release and biding their time. So Cress slipped into bed, the world still light outside, summer’s late sunset just now beginning to dawn.

“Come here,” another coaxing move. And as Slate curled against her, Cress kissed his head, cradling him close in protective form. He needed to know she was proud, even if he had tried to leave them. Even if he wished for death. “You did well.” An enveloping hold, lips brushing his forehead. “It’s over,” an offering, an echo. A promise not to discuss it anymore. “I love you.”

#tw suicide #tw self harm #134 #self para #slate #inspo: slate #mtoextra

1 note · View note