#theres more but these are the ones that specifically came to mind while i was thinking abt it
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Just realised Hiccup and Jack Frost as a ship fall into the trope of double identity preternatural dude W white/pale hair obsessed with a normal dude that gets pulled into his bs because of it that's so common in Japanese media cuz of Ryokira from Devilman by Go Nagai.
You could basically make a hijack au of any piece of Japanese media that adopts the Ryokira relationship dynamic and they would fit.
I'm about to fall down a plotbunny hole I haven't gone down since I was 13.
#httyd#meesr padfoot says#hijack#rotg#frostcup#hiccup haddock#jack frost#im gonna write out a list of these other ships in the tags in case anyone is curious#first of all an evangelion or persona 3 AU would HIT. with Hiccup as Shinji or Minato jack as kaworu or ryoji astrid as asuka or yuka/mitsu#also a berserk au w guts griffith and caska is there too but it would be more abt vibe and aesthetic cuz berserk is weird abt caska#yukito and touya from cardcaptor sakura is another solid one#where jack and hiccup would already be bfs but it would be jack as jackson overland and then he switches to jack frost#joshua and neku from twewy is another one that works and again u can throw astrid in as shiki too and the dynamic still fits#theres more but these are the ones that specifically came to mind while i was thinking abt it#and ykniw also just straight up ryokira devilman au#make hiccup and toothless fuse because jackson started a brawl in a nightclub to summon demons on purpose#also hi this is the first time ive used this blog to post smth in years cuz i never deleted my old hijack stuff from here#back on my bullshit so im back on my OG blog#if i wasnt starting my final yr of uni in two weeks id prob go back thru my old one shots and re edit and publish them on ao3 again#alas the reason i decided to study creative writing is also the thing i have to put aside until im done
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a friend who'd wait :)
#im posting this very late because i was sort of weary of how it came out and ended up messing w it until it was like 4am oops.#and i have plans tmrw so... oh well! i did my best and ill put it out while i can!#and i tried to make the scene match barnard's colors lol#finn's ocs#finn's art#i know i said id do more sillay stuff with the simpler screentone only style but i had a couple more of these in me#and this is the first piece im making thats like an actual part of the story too rather than just setting stuff for fun#i wanna write something to go with it too but for now ill just sort of briefly explain the context in the tags here:#barnard has a pretty bad case of OCD and his compulsions have made it difficult to make friends in the past#he was never outright bullied or anything but people just didnt really have the patience to deal with it#he has compulsions that include stuff like walking through doors until it feels right and needing things to be perfectly aligned#which in group settings has lead to people having to wait for him to finish his rituals and join them#they might find it tolerable at first but eventually they grow impatient and hes just... not invited to stuff anymore#but juno is a newer member of the guild who ends up frequenting the same library. hes also kinda a little weird#and they dont become fast friends or anything but just sort of naturally spend time in the same place#though they never plan meetups they eventually fall into a routine. around the same time theyd just both be at the library#and read next to each other. and maybe talk a bit. and eventually they end up walking back to the guildhall together#since theyre going to the same place after all. and juno always waits for barnard outside the door#eventually barnard asks if this bothers him. juno kinda just tells him 'of course it does' without any malice or anything. just a statement#barnard is surprised and apologizes and juno says not to. but the next day juno doesnt show up at the usual time.#barnard assumes hes committed somekinda more by bringing it up. he ends up staying there late reading to get his mind off it & not ruminate#but when he leaves juno is in fact still waiting for him down the hall (see pic) having collected a bunch of books literally abt ocd#he fell asleep bc barnard stayed later than expected. and hes an eepy guy generally. and also one very bad at expressing himself#but now barnard gets that juno's 'of course it [bothers me]' had the implication of 'but its worth it' which no friend has previously done.#and from the interaction juno was also able to understand that this isn't something barnard just does for the hell of it so. he studies.#and checks a bunch of stuff out because he thinks it could help his friend too (theres ocd workbooks and such- i remember working w them)#and thats the point where they became more ''friends'' than ''pleasant library acquaintances''#from there on they also do get into juno's problems. whole other bag of worms. but this specific scene is more about bernard from his pov#sorry about when i said briefly explain. i lied </3#but compared to the whole sequence im picturing its brief so shhh
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sitting huddled in my little writers hut trying to piece together what kinds of effects i want bellum’s possession to have on linebeck
#i refuse to puss out on this and just leave it at big scar but i dont want to go too overboard#cuz post ph is a thing and linebeck is kiiind of thr main character of that so lingering possession#stuff or anything thats a threat to his self control/agency/whatever is off the table#i like the idea of him like. having a newfound proximity to demonkind or w/e#im not even sure what that means i have berserk on the mind and came up with that phrase#like ok. big scar. it hurts and has lasting effects such as: man idk itchiness? its a big scar#im against there being anything especially magical going on. more like- hes been branded yknow#FUCK i have berserk on the mind i just fully caught up on the manga and oooooguh casca#but like less monster attraction more hes generally demonically aligned????#demonic things and monsters are slightly more chill with him while holier or w/e#creatures are less trusting of him? like monsters still attack and shit but more sentient ones#he can like. talk to he can converse decently with demons and evil stuff but more benevolent beings#dont like him as much- like its not an indication of him ig but more that hes been in very close proximity to a strong demon and that#demon has chosen to trust him like. idk how to better explain it. other than that? theres one actual magical aftereffect ive had in mind#but it only shows up after mixing with other stuff. anyways its like linebeck has been lightly accepted as a demon?#more specifically he’s trusted by bellum and survived being possessed and in a sense is an honorary phantom#it doesnt really. do anything except that other magical thing. but it does make more intelligent monsters less hostile towards him#im workin on it#salty talks#edit as i reread these: monster attraction is technically there but like. he doesnt draw them to him
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what do the rouges think of cardinal?
OHHHHH What a lovely question <33
Since i've yet to write in Cardinal in a scene beyond his desk work- these might change.
Cardinal acts well- like a cryptic?? It's a complete coin toss how he will behave, if he will turn the creepy to 100% and speak in tounge's (its a mix of latin and greek) But when he DOES respond its through a heavy voice modulater.
However if you want specifics?? (also some extra lore of some rouges no longer active- both due to. Cardinals interference and BECAUSE I SAID SO)
Joker- They are a menace, never once humors his schemes- he knows the moment Cardinal gets involved his fun is ruined. Therefore he hates their guts. (Cardinal is reported 10x more brutal when faced with the Joker)
Scarecrow- Self proclaimed "Arch enemy" of Cardinal since hes never once sucseeded in drugging them, and he longs to know what would make the little bird sing. (Cardinal is said to have an entire pocket dedicated to backup rebreathers, usually lets the bats take over)
Riddler- LOVES Cardinal so so much- they are like best friends (no no they are not) Cardinal seems to enjoy his puzzles and he's able to pull out ones even the Batman would struggle with. Sometimes an informant for a good game. (Cardinal will admit, out of all the rouges? He doesn't mind Riddler- just with less hostages)
Harley- Thinks they are strange, even more strange than the bats. But more than anything concerning- their behaviors raise a ton of red flags but she doubts she can convince them to therapy, though it is her goal. (Cardinal is... unsure about Harley, she's changed- but memories are hard)
Ivy- Theres a mutual respect- Though out of all the vigilantes Cardinal seems to fear her the most, the last time being hit by her pollen they freaked out enough Harley made her give over the antidote. They definently fight, but she does try and hold back some of her more underhanded stuff. (Cardinals suit got several more layers after that incident)
Mr.Freeze- Reformed villain now, as a result of Cardinal. Aka when he first did his villain monologue to them- they had spoke (for the first time to ANY rouge) and asked to see his blue prints. A few years later his suit was fortified to help him live a somewhat normal life, and his wife had been cured. They got their life back. Leaving Gotham soon after, but he still checks in on ocassion (Cardinal never responds though, but they're happy with the updates- that he was able to help)
Catwoman- Annoying, but interesting for sure. It seems no matter how elaborate her scheme they always seem to pop in and just stare or even wave. The most interesting thing though? They never stop her. Certian locations she robs they will return the item (usually museums) but have never once tried to actually take her in. If anything shes half convinced they throw the bats off her trail, its interesting. (She never steals from anyone who cant afford to replace it, and honestly her stuff goes to a good cause-)
Clayface- Never became a villain- After his accident, Dagget had been shut down long before so Matt Hageb he had no accsess to the cream. With the help of his coworker (and future husband) Teddy Lupus he got the help he needed. Drake Industries came out with an amazing prosthesis program that helped construct a whole new face. Now Mr & Mr Lupus live in upper west side of Gotham where they now raise two daughters going to Gotham Academy.
Blackmask- Hates their fucking guts. People think Cardinal comes down on the Joker hard? They're practically suffocating Black Mask movements- buisness is failing and at this rate he's trying to put out a hit on the fucker. (The hates their guts is mutual)
Two face- Instead of going to the Manori trial- Harvey had an emergency call from a very panicky Bruce who suddenly had CPS knocking at his door about Dick. The delay finding a new attorney meant Manori was found with the acid and held for attempted assault while Harvey was scot free. He owns his own law firm now and has continued to be a close confident to Bruce and "Uncle" to the kids. (Cardinal cried when he first found out about Harvey, that he was okay- he thought it had been too late.)
Penguin- Cardinal is a pain in their ass, not as much as Black mask but still just enough that he doesnt hold back when attacking. The ONLY saving grace from absolute hatred is Cardinal outright refuses to fight any of his birds, and will even go as far as to save some of them when the bats are too careless to notice a penguin slipping off a roof. (Cardinal wishes Penguin would stop dragging actual penguins into his shit- even with guns they're just too cute)
#rouge gallary#CLAYFACE#YOU CANNOT TELL ME HIM AND TEDDY ARENT IN LOVE#Also freeze and harvey#hurt too much to keep#tim drake#the drakes spoiled brat#trash tim au#ty for the ask#sunny asks#dc cardinal
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𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c3e665c6924af599adc959e24bafc8b2/899ddbcd1b27971a-6d/s540x810/7d6a4fd45e41bc4dc94e965538bc439218ce11b0.jpg)
{𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎}
𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel never knew what summer felt like. Until he met you.
𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: fluffy fluff fluffiness. Pining!Joel. Jackson!Joel. Post-Outbreak. Soft!Joel. Some alcohol consumption. (Age gap or no age gap, you decide). Close proximity. Joel is disgustingly in love. Light swearing. Coffee consumption. Flippin’ POVs like a burger at McDonald’s. Slow burn. Like, slooooooooow. Sort of kind of proofread (don’t hurt me). F!Reader, but has no description of any kind, so it’s all you bby <3
𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: <3k
ᴬ/ᴺ: Baby’s first fic!!! God, I’m so nervous. I really hope you guys enjoy it! This literally came to me while I was manic as fuuuuuu- and it was inspired by a Taylor Swift song (don’t judge!) So far I’ve written 2 1/2 parts, I think I’ll post part 2 this Sunday? Theres a LOT more to unpack in part 2, so stick around… Please let me know what you think!!! Likes, reblogs, comments, anything and everything is appreciated!! Thank you and happy reading <3
~*~*~
Joel was eating idly in the cafeteria when he heard Ellie’s voice. He glanced back, and noticed her talking to a woman he had seen around the town of Jackson. She was a friend of Tommy and Maria’s, he knew that much. But, he hadn’t spoken a word to her.
She was beautiful, but that was just a general observation.
You were beautiful, and he had made this observation several times while passing you by in town. He had noticed you speaking to nearly every person in town. You had a very easy going air about you, friendly. Open.
So, he steered clear. Forming personal connections outside of immediate family was not something he was keen on. He has had a life fraught with grief, seen and done unspeakable things. He wasn’t meant to be loved, not after everything he’s done.
But, the way you talked to Tommy, Maria, and now Ellie more and more often had Joel at an uncomfortably close proximity to you. Your presence was drawing near, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
He sort of didn’t want to stop it.
But, just when he thought you were going to approach the table to sit, you broke away from Ellie and walked to a different table. He felt something drop in his chest. Was that really disappointment that he felt?
“Makin’ friends?” Joel questioned as Ellie sat down, and she snorted.
“Right. ‘Cause I have friends.” She said dryly, and Joel cocked up an eyebrow.
“Looks like it.”
“You could use a friend.” Ellie replied, and Joel shifted a bit uncomfortably.
“I don’t need anyone.” He said into his food, and Ellie made a face, rolling her eyes.
“Everybody needs at least someone.”
Joel’s eyes shifted to you sitting at the table just across from them. Your smile was radiant, and he felt something twist in his chest.
No.
He wasn’t meant to be loved.
~*~*~
Winter was coming, and the people in town were preparing. You were busy but still managed to make time for people. For everyone really. Joel was almost envious about how easy you talked to people. He didn’t have the same talent, and he was fine with that.
So, one day, when he was called upon a house to help with some faulty wiring, he was taken aback when it was your house he was called to.
You didn’t need help. Not really. You were fairly self sufficient, and made your own way through town. Joel knew this, and it made him nervous when you called upon him specifically to make sure you were prepared for the wintertime.
But, he took his toolkit and went to your place. The door was open, but…
You weren’t home.
He felt disappointment in his chest again. He shook it off though and walked to the side of the house outside. He opened the box and began to work diligently, his mind wandering to other things.
“You look so serious.” A voice said, and Joel jerked back like he had been electrocuted. His head swiveled to the side and he saw you standing there, leaning against the side of the house with your arms crossed. You looked so effortless and cool, and-
How long had you been standing there?
“Job’s gotta get done.” Joel said, gesturing to the box, “as you requested.”
You nodded, and a smile creeped into your face that he hadn’t seen before. He had seen you smile plenty of times- laughing and talking with the people in town, with Maria, with Ellie. But this felt different. Or was he just imagining it?
“Yeah, you came highly recommended.” You said, and Joel scoffed, turning back to the box and tried to get back to work. But, he was horrible at multitasking, especially when it came down to you while he was preoccupied with something else.
“Don’t sell yourself short. Ellie was insistent that you were the best the town had.” You said, and Joel lost his concentration and nearly dropped the screwdriver he held.
Christ, I’m gonna kill that girl.
He furrowed his brow like nothing happened and kept working. He was definitely going to talk to Ellie later. The last thing he needed was the whole town to be depending on him for maintenance.
But for you…? Well, it wasn’t so bad.
“Sorry I wasn’t there to receive you. Work held me up.” You said, gesturing behind you. Joel finally flicked a switch and the box buzzed to life. He felt himself deflate a bit. Guess it was time for him to go.
“No worries.” He said, putting his tools back in the toolbox and stood straight. He held the box in hand, and regarded you with soft brown eyes. You pushed off the corner of the house, and smiled that smile of yours.
“You… let me know if there’s- if there’s anythin’ else.” Joel said, trying to keep it drawn out but it sounded rushed to his ears. He nodded minutely and you stepped out of the way.
“Thank you. It means more to me than you know.” You said, and shifted, your shoulders brushing by accident. Joel simply nodded, and made his way home.
He rubbed his arm after a few minutes of walking, and swore he felt warmth there.
~*~*~
Tommy and Joel were sitting at the local “bar” (if you could even call it that) and were talking over a few drinks.
You had requested Joel’s help two more times now. Both small and trivial, but Joel was more than happy to help. You weren’t there the second time he came, but when he was there the third time, you offered him coffee. He was an idiot, and turned you down. But, that smile never wavered.
“Next time.” You said.
Next time, Joel thought. There was going to be a next time? He hoped so.
“I see you’re helping some people out. Good for you to get some socializing in.” Tommy noted after taking a sip of his drink. Joel shrugged,
“It’s fine, I guess. Just doin’ my part.” He said. Tommy nodded, and regarded his brother with a peculiar expression. Joel felt like he was plotting something, but didn’t have time to really think about it before a voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Well, you two look like you’re having fun. Mind if we cut in?” Maria questioned, and Joel barely looked up, until it registered in his mind.
We?
You settled into the seat beside Joel while Maria took the one by Tommy, boxing the boys in. Joel instinctively stiffened, and hoped you didn’t notice. If you did, you didn’t show it.
“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” You questioned, and Joel glanced at you. He cleared his throat, looking down, and held up his glass slightly.
“Whatever they’re trying to pass off as beer.” He said, and you looked at him. He felt like a deer in the headlights, watching you look at him. It felt like time was suspended, and he gulped. But, you smiled like it was nothing and turned to the bartender.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” You said, jutting your thumb at Joel. The bartender slid the glass into your hand with ease. Joel thought everything you did was effortless. You certainly made it seem so.
It dawned on him that Tommy and Maria were knee-deep in their own conversation, promptly blocking off you two. Joel felt put on the spot, under your eye.
“Thanks for all your help by the way.” You said, taking a sip of the beer. Joel nodded, his brown eyes casting down to his beer.
“Anytime.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. It wasn’t lost on you that Joel was slowly becoming a bigger part of the community. He wasn’t just keeping to himself, but helping others with house repairs or such. You hadn't seen him offer such services until you had reached out to him.
But, he didn’t do it for them. He knew that deep down inside.
He did it for you.
“I gotta say, Mr. Miller, you’re an enigma.” You said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, and felt his stomach lurched at you saying his name, even if it was his last name.
“A what?”
“An enigma. You know; a mystery, something hard to explain.”
“I ain’t no mystery.” He said, shaking his head. You grinned, and tilted your head to the side. Joel felt his mouth go dry, so he took a sip of his beer to quell it.
“Okay, okay.” You said, shrugging and turned your gaze across the bar. He felt your elbows becoming achingly close. If he just shifted just slightly, he could feel you against him.
But, he’s not meant-
“Mind if I stop by tomorrow?” You said so abruptly that it threw his thoughts off.
“Sorry?”
“I got Ellie a new book. Something about space and aliens and shit. Something I think she’d like.” You said. Joel felt a twinge of appreciation there. So, somebody was looking after Ellie besides him. He liked that. It warmed his hardened heart.
“Sure. You can drop it off.” He said, and he stole a glance your way. You were grinning, but trying to hide it. You took a sip of your beer to try to mask it, but he could see the way the corners of your lips quirked up.
“I’ll be there then.”
~*~*~
Joel had waited for you for a day or two. He found reasons to stay home, claiming he wasn’t feeling well, that he was sick. So, when you finally knocked on his door towards the end of the second day, he was surprised to find you holding a dish in your hand as well as the book.
“Heard you weren’t feeling well. Made you a little something.” You said so casually it was like you were talking about the weather. But, Joel was floored. You heard about him, and went out of your way to do something for him?
He felt bad for faking his illness. But, the fact you did this? It made him… feel.
“Thank you.” He said, and went to take it but then paused. You laughed,
“I don’t care about getting sick. Here.” You said, and handed him the dish, barely crossing over the threshold. He took it gingerly, and looked down at it. Whatever it was, it looked damn good.
“Do you… would ya want to come in?” He offered. You suddenly beamed, and god, if that wasn’t a sight to see, Joel thought there wouldn’t be anything better in the world.
“If you want.” You responded, and Joel moved to let you inside. As you passed, he could smell your soap, or personal scent- whatever it was, he felt lightheaded in the best way. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen, you following him along.
“I also have the book. Hope Ellie’s not too mad it took me so long.” You laughed and set the book on the kitchen table. Joel walked to the other side, setting down the dish.
“‘M sure she won’t mind.” He said, and his eyes shifted to you. You and all your beauty, your kindness, the way your eyes smiled even while you were sharing a passive look.
“Do you want some coffee?” He questioned, and there he went, sounding rushed again. He just wanted you to stay, to share you sunlight with him just a bit longer.
When you agreed to it, he got busy. He nearly knocked off the mugs off the counter trying to prepare everything. You sat at the table, and glanced down at the book. Joel looked back to see your attention on something else other than him, and felt a little more at ease.
“I got a patrol coming up.” You said, and Joel poured the dark liquor into one of the faded mugs. He turned and carried it to you at the table, sitting across from you.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. This will be my first one.” You said, and he could see for the first time something else in your expression- anxiety. Fear.
He didn’t like it, to see you facing such emotions. He wished he could wrap them all up and throw them away. Whatever it took to see your smile again.
“Who’ya going with?”
“Jim Harris.” You replied with a nod, and Joel sat up a bit straighter. He didn’t like Jim, he always came off as loud and imposing. He didn’t have the best reputation when it came to women, either. He was rude and disrespectful, and there had been some complaints about harassment made against him.
“I see.” He said. Why did anyone assign you with Jim Harris, of all people? They knew of his ways and his complaints. The last thing they needed was to put you with him, all while alone.
No, he wouldn’t stand for that.
“I’ll get ‘em to switch things around. I’ll go with you.” He said, and nodded with finality. You looked at him, a bit surprised if not shocked.
“Oh. You really don’t have to-“
“I insist. I can get some strings pulled so you won’t have to be near him. Besides, I just… I can’t stand someone like him being near you. It ain’t right.” He said, his fingers gripping the coffee mug a bit tighter at the thought of Jim laying even a finger on you. You looked at Joel, the shock really settling in now. Joel was unaware of the gravity of his words in the moment, something he would regret later. Not that he said them, but that he hadn’t said more.
“… Thank you.” You said quietly. Joel looked at you, and felt his chest bloom with warmth. Your words, though short and few, were filled with gratitude and relief that didn’t go unnoticed by Joel.
“Anything you need, darlin’.” He said, the name rolling off his lips before he could stop himself. You smiled, and Joel would have given you the moon right then and there if you asked.
He cleared his throat as if it would clear the air, and he visibly relaxed. Knowing you would be under his care and away from Jim Harris’ whole being made him feel better. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong need to be by your side when the time for patrol comes. It just felt right that he would be there to protect you.
“A true southern gentleman.” You mused as you took a sip of your coffee. Joel’s face flushed, and he averted his gaze, and began to speak but you cut him off.
“I like it.”
Joel felt the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he glanced at you, shrugging.
“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He said, and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his hair curling under his fingertips as he did so. He needed a haircut, and sorely.
But, the town was lacking a barber, so he figured he would do it himself one of these days.
“A good habit to have.” You said, and he chuckled.
“Whatever you say, da-“ but he quickly cut himself off and hurriedly spoke your name instead. You smiled, regardless of what he called you. He found he liked saying your name. It felt personal, more grounded to reality. He was having a hard time grappling with reality ever since you crossed the threshold of his home. He couldn’t believe you were here, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. He wanted this moment to last as long as time would allow- he would commit it to memory. Every word, every glance, every piece.
He found he did that often with you- just taking in any bit of you you had to offer, when he was feeling brave enough.
“I gotta get back.” You said, and stood up, rubbing your hands together to conserve the warmth of the coffee mug. Joel stood up, and nodded hurriedly, though he already felt the air grow cold at the absence of your presence.
“Of course. I’ll… I’ll walk you out.” He said, and stood up as well. He walked with you to the door at a snail’s pace, and you talked about your work for the rest of the day. The walk was all too short, and Joel’s hand rested on the doorknob. He looked at you, his brown eyes taking you in before he released you back to the world.
“Take it easy. I’ll see you on patrol. Okay?” He said, and you gave him that gut wrenching smile. Could have brought him to his knees if you so desired.
“Sounds good, Joel.” You said, and he opened the door, the chill coming in as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. You smiled and gave him the lightest wave, and headed out into the cold Texas winter.
He watched you go, and his name still hung in the air. Despite the door being open, the cold sweeping in, he felt warm.
Oh, he was such a goner.
~*~*~
Part Two out now!
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#tlou#the last of us#joel miller tlou#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#daylight series
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Love in the Time of Socialism
joost klein x artist!reader
art, mush, and ramblings about life
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b321ceb5238274ee04f1053aa5f6a9f9/798890b0d7c7cb6e-a7/s540x810/6fc493d48e5030c7a3f46878effac1294e5da359.jpg)
warnings: depression (ish), burnout, reader character in some vague mental health funk
word count: 2k
a/n: slight prequel to blue is the colour of your eyes but can be read as stand alone. just same artist reader. vaguely romantic but just ramblings and getting feelings out haha. started this when I was in more of a bad mental state (lol) but im fine now so it got kinda tame by the end of it. still not proofreading anything
title from the song Love in the Time of Socialism by Yellow House
Rpf below the cut—
Normally Joost has to call you because its the only way you will actually look at your phone. Its more often that not you find yourself fixated on planning out your next project, and your friends have to force you back into reality. There was that one time no one had heard from you in over a week and thought you were dead, when you were just working. You hadn’t realized how many texts you missed and apologized for scaring your friends half to death. Especially Joost.
So now you leave your ringer on, and now they call.
Tonight, however, Joost calls and you aren’t in your studio. You are in your bed, where you have been for the entire day. and also most of yesterday. There isn’t a reason in your head specifically why this has happened. you MEANT to get up. Theres a list of chores and things to do just sitting on your desk, but you woke up late, so now nothing will get done. At some point it just became too stressful to even get up and look at it. You roll over and stare at the contact picture of him, smiling with some dumb fish eye lens he thought was funny. You debate not picking up at all.
But you can’t ignore him.
“Hi Joost.” your voice came through the phone more hoarse than intended when you answered, you don’t remember the last time you talked to someone. “Whats going on?”
“the others wanted to go out for drinks tonight, you hadn’t responded so I wanted to check you were joining us.” You could imagine him rocking back and forth on his heels in the middle of his living room while he talked, it was either that or pacing around.
“uhh..” Drinks at a bar was the last thing on your mind. In any other situation you would have loved to be around your friends, but right now you just needed to avoided as much as possible. “Not a good night, tonight. Sorry, I’ll have to join you guys next time.”
Joost felt like something was off, you sounded tired. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ll be fine I just… shit brain day. bad brain thats all. It happens.” You did your best to summarize how you felt without actually admitting anything, you weren’t sure how to explain anything anyway.
“ Oh Im sorry, would it be good, if I came over? I can keep you company, if thats okay?”
“you don’t have to, I’ll be fine tomorrow. I want you to have fun. ” you insisted, but he pressed on.
“I don’t mind, the group would understand. Have you eaten today?”
“Like… a meal? yes, or well, no. I had a soda..” You glance at the half drunk soda from the night before, now flat. “and uhhh..”
“I’ll pick something up.” You could hear him on the other end gathering things together, keys, wallet, probably his ipad.
“.. thank you. I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”
-
Joost knocked on your door about an hour later. In that time you were able to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to change and make yourself somewhat presentable in front of a guest, and to the kitchen to make coffee despite it being 8pm.
You opened it to see Joost with a sheepish smile as he extends his arms out for a hug. “Hi.”
“Hi Joost.” you take the step to hug him, feeling his body heat contrast with the cold nighttime. “I’m glad you’re here.” the two of you head inside to your living room where he empties his bag of take out to reveal a couple different thai dishes and egg rolls. It was hard to not admit you weren’t at least a little bit hungry.
The two of you ate in mostly silence, making small talk about different projects you two have going on, or the fact that the two of you were in between projects. He done with touring for the time being and in the process of working on a new album. You loosely avoiding talking about any current work plans but mentioned one or two paintings you finished for a private gallery commission last month.
“ Just some paintings of animals and nature-ish symbolism. Honestly my heart wasn’t really in that one, but it payed the rent so.” you shrug and shove noodles into your mouth.
“Well now you have the time to work on your own stuff, right?” he commented, leaning back into your couch and looking down at you sitting on the floor instead of any of your own furniture. “Draw whatever your heart desires.”
“I mean I guess.. Im just glad to be done with the oil paints for now. I swear i think I was gonna die in my studio from all the chemicals. I dunno, I finished that whole project last month, I haven’t really been very productive since then.” you trail off and Joost gets a concerned expression on his face.
He sinks down from his spot of the couch to join you in the floor. The fluffy rug brushing against his legs as he adjusts his new sitting position.
“Its okay to take a break, you know.”
“I know I know, I just get frustrated. I never seem to have my energy directed towards the right thing. Whenever I have all those big projects from other contractors, I can brainstorm and think of all these interesting ideas I wanna work on, but I can’t because then I would get behind on the art Im being paid to do.”
“mhm.” he nods, to indicate he’s following along.
“ And then whenever Im done with those projects, I just get… tired. and my focus is gone. and Everything just feels…” you gesture the last bit with your hands, scrambling your fingers, to imply your thoughts. You aren’t looking at him, but you can still see him nodding in your peripherals. Joost always seemed to understand your thinking and explanations to things, even if you thought they were messy.
“Do you want to try painting right now?” he asks. you just shrug your shoulders.
“I don’t know what I would paint.”
“You can paint our dinner, or, or yourself, or your plants maybe?” he suggested and stands up. “Can I paint too?”
“Oh we’re actually doing this?” Not that you didn’t want to, but this self doubt had creeped into your mind again. That failing to produce something decent would prove that you’ve lost all your talent, your skill.
“yea we can have a little painting party!” he chimed, but he hesitated walking over to your studio to grab stuff, still giving you the space to reject his idea.
you looked away and started nervously tapping your fork against the table.
tap tap tap tap
“…sure. We can use my watercolors, Ive been wanting to use them more often anyway.”
the coffee table became a little more cluttered as you set up the paints for the two of you. Joost using an old set 24 pans and you using a newer set of watercolor tubes you were gifted last year and never opened. You watched as Joost immediately dipped his brush in water and started activating the blue paints, spreading it onto his paper in big random strokes.
“what are you painting?”
“not sure yet, maybe im painting you.” he looks up and smirks. you scrunch your nose up.
“why are you using so much blue. am I a smurf?” you joke and he just shrugs and points to your own paper.
“Just mess around, can’t be any worse than what im doing.”
tap tap tap tap tap tap
you fidget with your own brush for a few seconds lo get before grabbing a big mop brush and wetting your paper with clean water. Taking your smaller brush again, you pour out a small amount of yellow and mix it up with some more water. You hesitate for a moment longer before letting the brush lightly touch the surface, creating a burst of colour on the paper as the colour seeps onto the page. You make a few more random marks before switching to another warm colour and repeating the process, now watching the colours bleeds and mix into each other. You look at Joost paper and see that he is actually now trying to paint you, the blue fortunately was able to be mostly contained to the background.
“Do you ever think about what you would do if you weren’t a musician?” you ask.
“I dunno I think after this I could have a pretty successful art career.” he teases but sees in your face the question is more serious. “I don’t know. I started off with youtube, but if I wasn’t doing that… its hard to think about what my life would be like if I didn’t follow this path.”
“I always have this feeling deep down, that I made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. I was thinking about going to school for psychology, I also wanted to work with animals at one point, be a vet. I enjoy art, don’t get me wrong, but I just worry that in making it my job Ive just drained all the passion I had for it.”
You let the paper dry before staining the page with lines of dark burgundy, creating hands and a human heart. he hums as he listens, not adding anything, but simply letting you vent. beginning to piece together your mood from earlier. “I don’t have any jobs lined up right now, which is what Ive been waiting for, to work on my own stuff, yknow? I haven’t had the time ive wanted to make something for myself for a while. But now I just feel, I feel like ive been frozen.”
“things seem to be okay right now. I like what youve made. ” you look down and see the scribbles youve made with your paint. hands clasped over a broken heart. you shrug and smile softly, signing the bottom.
“Just a scribble, you can have it if you want.” You hand the paper over to him. “thank you for coming by, its… its nice being around you. Helps a bit.”
Joost takes the paper and studies it for a second. “I really like it, maybe I should come by more often.”
“If you bring the food we can have art nights whenever you want.” he holds up his paper. The blue bleeding into your skintone and hair since he didn’t wait for anything to properly dry. “I might stick to my ipad though, I don’t know why you like this paint.” he scrunches his nose at it. you laugh and it makes him smile.
You notice for the first time how bright his eyes look when he smiles, but you brush the thought away.
-
“Feeling a bit better?” he asks as he lingers by the door on his way out.
“a bit. like I said It was just a mood, I was gonna be fine tomorrow most likely… I still appreciate you coming over.”
“Don’t ever be afraid to call or text okay? Im always here to talk if you need. or just to listen.”
“definitely. Ive been meaning to uh, talk to someone about all this stuff anyway, you’re not a professional but ill keep it in mind.”
he grins and goes in for one last hug. you feel him slightly squeeze you and linger a little longer than usual before letting go. With one last glance he waves and head off. You see him pull out a cigarette for the walk back. It takes you a second to close the door. standing there watching him walk off until he turns a corner and disappears. Closing the door you sigh and go the clean up your living room.
You notice he left the portrait he drew of you. signed at the bottom with a smiley face next to his name.
It gets hung up in your studio above your desk.
#joost klein#joost klein x reader#joost fanfic#joost klein fanfic#joost klein x you#rpf#eurovision#artist!reader#vague mental state#mental health issues#whoops#mush#i hate endings#no beta we die like men
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Can u plz write a dom bill smut? theres a lack of bill smut lately and its so devastating + i LOVE ur writing 😭❤️
QUIT YOUR JOB- BILL KAULITZ.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f15cf7fe91841c60eb2449e302995c62/1e08b6de72843ed4-e3/s540x810/6a04fcf90ce397266c9cca6af310635ded36a9b7.jpg)
𝙎𝙊𝙁𝙏 𝘿𝙊𝙈 𝘽𝙄𝙇𝙇:)
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙥 𝙞𝙣 𝙫, 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙙𝙤𝙢!𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙡, 𝙨𝙪𝙗!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙚𝙭 𝙩𝙤𝙮𝙨, 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚, 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙚, 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 (𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖?):)
a/n: hiiii and YESSS OFCCCC. I DEFINITELY NOTICED THE LACK OF BILL SMUT SO INHAD TO FIX THAT RQ😘. AND OMG I LOVE ALLL THE REQUESTS IVE RECEIVED, i’m sooo glad that you guys are actually sending them in🥹. please give me some time as i’m super busy but i will definitely try to do everyone’s requests as soon as i can!!
-
It was a tough day at work. A day full of bulky paperwork, long calls full of appointments and nasty complaints, as well as some harsh scolding's from your boss.
Bill came out from the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. "you're home," he grinned, walking toward you to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. You kissed back softly, not having the energy to reciprocate as much passion.
He pulled away , his eyebrows furrowed at your state. Your face was flat, eyes hollow with turned down lips. Your shoulders were slouched while your hands sluggishly undid the buttons on your white blouse.
"bad day at work?" he asked, a hint of sadness in his tone. You nodded slowly, your expression not changing as you continued to undo the buttons. "yeah," you replied flatly, the weight of everything now suddenly becoming heavier.
He frowned a little, pulling your arm to let you sit on a kitchen stool in front of the island. "tell me, what's wrong?" he asked, leaning forward as he was eager to hear what might've turned your day so sour.
You sighed, rolling your eyes a little as you remembered everything. "so much fucking paperwork, did about 150 pages. i had to take so many calls today, so many of them were just pure bullshit. this one lady called complaining about our policy and began insulting me as if i was the one who fucking created it. my dumbass boss basically yelled at me in front of everyone because of an appointment I scheduled when he specifically told me to do it for that day! apparently he didn't want it anymore and just assumed I was a fucking psychic that reads minds- and i can't get this fucking button off!"
Your tone becoming more frustrated and aggressive as you spoke, nearly shouting as you almost ripped the shirt apart. Bill shot up from his seat next to you, quickly pulling your arms apart from the blouse. "okay, okay- just relax," he said softly in a soothing tone.
You let out a frustrated breath, your hand coming up to rub your face. Bill's fingers gently began undoing the buttons, careful enough to not tug on the fragile thread.
It was silent until he was about half-way, "i think you should quit." You chuckled, almost scoffing, "i wish." You kept your hand over your eyes, trying to ease the now throbbing headache.
Bill shrugged even though you couldn't see him. "i'm serious. i think you should quit," he replied, now a bit more serious. "and do what? become a stripper?" you joked. He laughed, the smile coming up on his face.
Even if when extremely tired and annoyed,
you kept your humor. "i cant quit, Bill. how else will i-"
"me. i'll give you everything you need. you don't have to work, y'know," he said with a smile, undoing the last button. You chuckled at his silly idea, "i cant do that," you shook your head, now taking the blouse off.
Bill gently pushed the fabric back, helping you slip the blouse off before setting it on the island, now leaving you in your bra and pants. "why not?"
You chuckled again, a small smile coming from his selflessness. His hands came to rest on your hips as he stood in front of you, admiring you entirely.
"Bill, i'm not going to let you do that," you tried, your hands now running up his arms.
He cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "well, why not? i mean," he kissed you softly, "-we already live together," he kissed you again as he spoke against your lips.
"and," kiss, "i don't work by making all this music for nothing," he tried to reason with you. He caught your lips in another kiss, his lips pressing against yours with love.
You let out a small sigh through your nose, pulling away as you looked at him with an uneasy smile. "i don't know, Bill.. i don't want you to feel like i'm just with you for money or something-"
"nonsense!" he cut you off. He gave you a slightly pleading look, "you've been with me for years now, even before all of the money & fame. i would never think that," he reassured you.
You looked up at him, your face still uneasy. He pursed his lips slightly before sighing, "just think about it, baby!" His face came closer to you again, noses brushing.
"no paperwork, no calls, no mean bosses," he started, kissing you softly. "no waking up early, no dumb complaints, no stupidly tight blousesss," his voice trailed off jokingly as you laughed lightly.
He smiled, catching your lips in another kiss. "waking up late, going out whenever you want, you can lay in bed all day, go get your nails done, your hair, anything you want," his voice became a quieter the more he listed things.
"i'll give you anything you want," he whispered, kissing you again. The kiss was slightly harder, slower. His grip on your thighs becoming tighter. You moaned softly into the kiss, Bill's tone of speaking now getting to you.
You hummed, pulling away just enough for you to speak. "I need to think about it, billy," you whispered back, your fingers gently playing with his hair.
He looked down at you, nodding softly as he took his lower lip between his teeth. "maybe you just need some more convincing," he suggested, his voice becoming lower.
His hand moved your hair to one side, exposing your skin to him fully. "what d-do you mean?" you breathed out, feeling Bill's lips give open mouthed kisses to your neck.
"you're going to quit," he mumbled, "let me convince you." You didn't have time to respond before his teeth gave your neck a quick nip, you winced at the sudden pain which somehow bled into pleasure.
"you're okay," he whispered, continuing to kiss down your neck. His hands went up to your sides, rubbing them. You let out a soft moan as he sucked on your sweet spot, now leaving a dark hickey.
"c'mon," he whispered before grabbing your legs, suddenly carrying you into your shared bedroom. You kissed his neck as he walked you there, his scent invading your nose in a calming manner.
He closed the door the behind him, gently placing you down on the mattress with him on top of you. You let out a small moan, his hands now undoing your pants.
He slipped them off with the help of your legs, discarding them somewhere before slamming his lips against yours again. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up slightly to indicate you wanted it off.
He followed with a chuckle, tossing his shirt off before leaning back down. His hands gripped your sides, pushing you more up on the bed so that your head lay comfortably against the pillows.
You both breathed heavily, his lips finding yours again as he kissed you slower, but with passion. His hand slipped behind you, undoing your bra before discarding it. He quickly fondled your breast, his lips ghosting over your ear, "i'm gonna make you feel good, okay?"
He caught your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it as he felt it harden. You let out soft moans, your hands tangling themselves in his air as you arched your back.
He chuckled, now moving to the other nipple. His tongue swirled around it, gently taking it between his teeth to tug on. You let out a light hiss at the sting, before being soothed by his warm tongue running over it.
You let out a small whine, your hands reaching the buttons on his pants to undo before he stopped you. "let me take care of you. i know you've had a hard day," he whispered, kissing your breast.
You bit your lower lip gently, nodding as his fingers looped around your panties, dragging them down your legs and away to the ground. He spread your legs open, holding them apart by your thighs.
He let out a low groan as your area glistened, his thumb coming up to meet his tongue for saliva. His thumb pressed itself against your clit, causing you to jolt as he rubbed slow circles against it.
You let out a low moan, loving the slow pleasure he gave you. His fingers came down between your folds, collecting some of your wetness before pushing in two fingers.
A silent groan came from your throat as he slowly stretched you out, his fingers pushing themselves in until they hit the knuckle. The tip of his fingers gently ghosting over your spongey spot.
He slowly pumped his fingers in & out, pushing up against your g-spot as he curled his fingers. You moaned as his thumb continued to rub your clit, his lips coming down to swallow your moans.
You let out small breaths as you felt his fingers go deeper, now curling harder. He kissed you again, making it hard for you to kiss back as you felt the knot in your abdomen grow tight.
“feels nice, doesn’t it?” he asked against your lips, his fingers perfectly hitting your g-spot. You whined, feeling your orgasm grow closer. He bit your lip rather harshly, causing you to hiss.
“i asked you a question,” he mumbled huskily, his fingers going faster & rubbing your clit harsher. “yes, yes!” you closed your eyes tightly, feeling your orgasm approach.
You let out a dragged out groan as your orgasm hit, cumming on his fingers as he slowed his pace. “good, so good,” he whispered as he pulled his fingers out.
He licked his fingers up, enjoying the taste of you. He came down to kiss you again, his lips tasting of you as his hands sweetly rubbed your thighs again. “think you can do another?” he asked.
You nodded, half-lidded. He smiled, pecking your nose as he turned over to grab some toys. When you fully opened your eyes, you were taken aback by the items.
A vibrator set next to your thigh, as well as a dildo. You were familiar with the vibrator, but not with the dildo. You looked up at him, slightly uneasy.
He chuckled at your expression, his fingers gently caressing your abdomen. “you trust me, right?” he asked. You nodded again, of course you did. He smiled, “then trust me. i’ll be gentle,” he whispered.
You felt a slight burn arise in your area again, you were nervous but excited. You two hadn’t experimented quite fully with toys, so it would be a different experience.
He situated himself on his knees, between your legs. Your legs were spread open for him, your cunt still wet from your previous orgasm. He grabbed the vibrator, turning it to a low setting before pressing it firmly on your clit.
Your hips jolted at the sudden sensation, his hand quickly coming to hold your hip down. “ah,” you breathed out as it vibrated against your bundle of nerves.
He slowly rubbed it up & down, your hips bucking up as the feeling bled into intense pleasure. You closed your eyes, loving it. Suddenly, you felt a cold object at your entrance.
You looked down to see the dildo, lathered in a thin layer of lube. Bill looked up at you with a warm smile, “relax,” he whispered. Your jaw hung low as he began to push it in you, your walls stretching as you felt yourself adjust to the foreign toy.
It wasn’t that big, obviously not as big as Bill’s cock, but the dildo was decorated with various thick faux veins. A whine left your lips as he pushed the rest in, letting you adjust before he began pumping it.
He maintained a slow pace, only pushing it out slightly before pumping it further in you. The short thrusts mixed perfectly with the vibrations.
Bills finger discreetly pushed on the button, leaving it at a higher setting. You whined again, Bill’s wrist now thrusting the dildo in a bit harsher.
He occasionally rotated the dildo in you, making you squirm as you felt your second orgasm approaching. You bucked your hips up, meeting the thrusts of the dildo as you felt your thighs slightly begin to shake.
“do you like that?” he asked, looking up at you through his lashes with a playful grin. You only managed to hum back before your orgasm came crashing down, your hips shuddering.
“good fucking girl, you listen so well,” he cooed.
You arched your back, feeling him now tone down his movements in an attempt to drag out your orgasm. You panted heavily as you recovered, wincing slightly as he gently pulled the dildo out.
The toy was covered in your juices, a smirk on his face as it glistened. “so fucking hot,” he mumbled, now setting the toys aside. You tried to regain your breath as you laid there, your body covered in sweat.
You were deep in your mind, not realizing the sounds coming from in front of you as Bill undressed himself. He took his pants off, along with his boxers as he kissed up your chest to your lips.
“one more for me, okay?” he whispered, pure lust flowing from his voice. Your eyes snapped open, one more? He chuckled , “c’mon, baby. you’ve been doing so good, last one, alright?” he reassured you, pecking your lips repeatedly.
You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you felt his body come on top of you. His hands on either side of your head, his chest against yours and the tip of his cock right at your entrance.
He pushed his hips forward, his cock stretching you out, more than the toy. You let out a small moan at the burn which bled into pleasure as he buried his cock further into you.
He groaned as he bottomed out into you, his face in the crook of your neck. His small breaths tickling your neck. His tip pressed firmly against your spongey spot, god was he big.
He pulled back slightly, snapping his hips forward before slowly pulling back again. He kept a slow pace, making sure to bury his cock as deep as he could into you.
His short thrusts made you writhe, the way his cock would just barely give you a break as he pulled back, only to shove himself deep into you again, making you feel incredibly full.
“so tight. just for me,” be breathed out. He moaned and licked at your neck, his teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin as he continued to fuck himself into you. Your hips bucking up to match his thrusts.
He groaned as you did this, making his tip ram into your spot harder. “fuck, just like that,” he sighed, a burn in his hips starting as he started to grow tired.
But the way your walls would clench around him, the soft sounds of him thrusting into you and your moans, there was no way he was going to stop.
Occasionally, he would take small breaks by shoving himself entirely in, rotating his hips for friction. You wailed at this, his entire body weight practically shoving his cock in deeper into you.
His finger trailed down your body, finding your swollen clit as he rubbed soft circles on it. “fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you hissed, throwing your head back.
He panted heavily, now thrusting himself harder. “me too, baby. fuck- so close,” he mewled before he felt you gasp, your legs suddenly shaking.
Your eyes rolled back, nails digging into the skin on his back as you cummed. Your walls tightly squeezing around him caused him to let out a deep groan, his cum squirting in you.
He let out strings of curses, his hips now slowing down. You whimpered as he continued, his head dropping slightly to watch his cock easily slide in & out of you.
His cum threatened to seep out, but didn’t as he grabbed your hips, angling them upward to keep it in. “B-bill,” you moaned out softly with a scrunched face, his eyes fixated on your cunt as he fucked his cum into you.
“just making sure it stays in,” he whispered back, laying back on top of you without pulling out. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead lovingly. “gonna stay inside for a bit longer.”
You chuckled, kissing his chin, nodding.
“i’m gonna quit my job.”
#bill kaulitz smut#bill kaulitz x reader#evieskiesss#georg listing#gustav schäfer#smut#tokio hotel#tokio hotel x reader#tom kaulitz smut#tom kaulitz x reader
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Finally Doodled the Black Myth Oc, ive been hyperfixating on ARGHHH. I usually work on my other ocs but this is the first Oc i make thats probably more fluff and angst than angst no comfort... Letsss get to her/their Bio shall wee!!!
Suklha
A Centipede Deity, a replica of her former reincarnation, Kafkaesque. (She/Them)
They appear Feminine, so usual pronouns could be between they/her. They dont mind it as long as you're respectful.
They actually dont have a real name, the moment they woke up in a disheveled shrine, they found some scrolls and the only word they can read is "Suklha" which somehow has the meaning "Bearer of all forms, Goddess of Forms" so they took that as their own name.
Suklha also doesn't know how they came to be, one day covered in warmth they descended into the world. To be nothing but a seed created by Buddha, to discover, relive and replicate what their past self are like. To continue the samsara made specifically for her, a destiny for an otherworldly being.
Despite being born in an abandoned Shrine, they dont particularly feel at home. So they travel a lot, understanding nature and its functionality. Suklha use their own experience as knowledge, they noticed the more gentle you give to the world, the more answer it will give you.
They're a centipede deity, yet they don't know how the supreme strength and impregnable defense came from. Just because they've been hit by a large boulder plenty of times doesn't mean they can always dismiss it as a leaf. Thats how strong her fortification is, she can crawl out of being poured lava and a whole mountain unscathed.
They can easily blow a pebble that'll circle around the earth. The extraordinary strength and ability is such a feat. Even Yuan Fen had to take a few moments for himself. It's not Everyday you hear someone stronger than wukong himself.
Despite their counterpart being a calculative and cunning Deity, Suklha has the opposite personality (as my theory) they're shy, airheaded and aloof. They show how caring they are through acts of service and words, gentle hands giving you a homemade tea. While its warm, Suklha would tell you how proud she is for you to get through the journey this far.
If given the chance, i dont think Suklha would be that surprise meeting their more jesterly persona Counterpart. I think they'd be more amused, how such a difference in soul could be connected through fates.
They're a replica, of course, not the real deal. But its enough for Yuan fen and Wukong. Its enough for the broken shell of the monkey king to falter a bit and widen its eyes. Giving Yuan fen a chance to strike and ending the duel prematurely.
Even at the end, as the two destined relics combined. Suklha still feels a little loss, theres a harrowing feeling. They havent found "home", as their tears fall from the observation. Suklha saw the conjoined relic of Yuan fen and the broken shell handing out a fragment of some gemstone. They stared at it, confused.
Yuan fen gently pecked their lips with the fragment. As if telling them to swallow it, noticing this. Suklha slowly took the pieces and swallowed with a nervous hiccup.
The the power flooded in, small shreds of what used to be Suklha's ability came crashing into her mind.
Heaven hated them. Heaven HATED them working together, they planned a fake betrayal of the other so they could start a conflict within. Breaking their dreams of living a peaceful life together.
Is that why the monkey king left his shell? His unorganized despair at what's left.
Could they have their happy ending now? In this new forsaken life? While the previous one ended in heartbreak and dreams?
Artwork ©️ Miifu666
Writings ©️ Miifu666
Last prompt idea ©️ mehiwilldoitlater
#Yingshan#📃—Ref Sheet#✍️—doodles#🦭—oc#oc#original character#black myth destined one x oc#black myth destined one#black myth sun wukong#black myth wukong#wukong#wukong x oc#sun wukong#oc x canon
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— smudgeproof
sub!model!felix x dom!makeup artist!reader
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There’s a new lipstick that claims to be make-out-proof. You, with your makeup expertise, naturally decide to test it on your model boyfriend, Felix: except he’s the one that gets to wear it.
🏷 gender neutral afab reader (they/them pronouns, no specifics), smut, fluff, some humor, established relationship, porn with barely any plot.
🏷 petnames “mommy” and “baby girl,” unprotected sex, feminization kink, slight oral and hand fixation, marking, butt plug (felix using), thigh riding, fingering (felix receiving), overstimulation, male squirting, lots of teasing, voyeurism mention, no specifics about y/n’s physique.
w/c: 8.8k
a/n: happy (hopefully not late) valentine’s day! to celebrate, i finally present to you the long overdue felix-gets-fucked fic! based on my thought piece, this concept has been on my mind ever since. i kept rewriting this fic but i drew the header art so fast LMAO icb i finished it!! otherwise, enjoy!
18+ only. minors do not interact.
On slow days, you would often find yourself bored in the makeup store. Your boyfriend, Lee Felix, would probably be just as bored, sitting in the chair of his set. Your notifications were as empty as the barren shop.
After two aimless scrolls down your Instagram feed, you realized that you hadn’t posted anything recently and hadn’t texted Felix that day.
The afternoon sun brought in waves of humid air throughout the city, setting everyone back from a trip around the shops. You peered over at the conversation with your boyfriend as you thought about ways to kill time.
It wasn’t uncommon to go for a while without contacting each other. It had been years since you two became official, after all, and comfortable silence had become a given that you both simply indulged in. That didn’t take your mind off of the boredom, though, and your fingers itched to do something. They found Felix’s contact on your phone, bedazzled with an embarrassing nickname and profile picture.
It stung to think that if you weren’t looking at his endearing profile, you would instead settle for some sort of creeping guilt of not posting anything on your social media page after a while. Either way, you shot him a message.
you: lix, wya? you: im bored as hell
Considering Felix’s work as a professional model, he would probably reply in less than ten minutes. You thought to turn your phone off and play with the freshly-cleaned makeup brushes on the makeup store’s vanity counter while waiting.
But this is Lee Felix, the sunshine of your days, and you didn’t have to wait any longer than two seconds.
lixie: Am at the shoot I told u about lixie: Bored too tbh LOL
Even if he typed in a silly way, you couldn’t help but love him.
He’d always been your go-to person to unwind and be yourself around. Starting as best friends gave you both a jumpstart to be comfortable around the other. People would say it worked a little too well especially since you two had become the most seriously unserious couple in the creative industry.
That fact made him understand you more than anyone else: you were both creatives. Your heart belonged to the artistic liberties of makeup and beauty, while his heart belonged to the ethereal realm of modeling and fashion. Your two hearts found each other, which was almost perfect for the adjacent businesses. He collaborated with you on makeup challenges. You came to his sets as his “preferred makeup artist.” He understood you whenever you ranted about stupid trends and declining engagement in your channels.
With that, could tell him about your uneventful day and equally uneventful social media pages, but you refrained from complaining more than dropping a passing mention.
you: idrk what to do there are no customers you: and i havent posted anything new you: but its not like theres much to do lixie: Well you’re the genius one here! lixie: Got art block or something?
The prompt response caught you off guard. Almost as if you have forgotten, this was Felix, and he always sensed whenever something was wrong.
As if he had some sort of radar or emotion detector, he always just knew how you were. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he had always been in the proximity of your face, observing your concentration as you put eyeliner on him before shooting. Maybe that connection stuck with him after years of being together, and it had remained strong to the point that he could feel it from miles away, staring emptily into the face of some other random MUA.
Alas, you found yourself overthinking again. You would rather overthink about your relationship than your semi-abandoned creative efforts, though.
you: well i guess you can call it that. im just conscious since i havent really posted you: idk what to do next. ive done everything lixie: How about, “Boyfriend does my makeup drunk edition”? :D you: boring ! lixie: “Makeup tut but bf does my voiceover”? :D you: just because it got views doesnt mean its worth doing a fifth time >:(( lixie: I’m kidding LOL
The scowl on your face reflected on the mirror sitting in front of you. You knew that if only Felix saw it right now, he would have lost his mind trying to turn it upside down.
You were right though. You two did everything.
My boyfriend does my makeup? Done, and he did an okay job at it. “The boy beat” makeup tutorial featuring Felix? Damn right he did. Boyfriend does my voiceover? It was so good that you guys did it four times and everyone fell in love with the deep timbre of his voice contrasted with his surprising amount of knowledge. Even if it was easy to collaborate with him, it was hard to create something new and unique. On the contrary, your audience fell in love with you two. It’s nice to watch a model and a stylist practice their art together.
Lost for ideas, you decided just to tease him instead.
lixie: So? No ideas in that pretty head? you: i got one thing in mind lixie: And what might that be? you: having you here you: in my arms you: to kiss up and call pretty :>
It was a thing that you usually did since you loved how he always reacted so pricelessly. He didn’t disappoint with his response, the notifications popping up not even half a minute after your last message.
lixie: HNDNSABNNDJS lixie: Don’t tease me unprompted!! lixie: ;__;
You’re so grateful that he’s always up to play with you.
You thought deeply — too deeply for a situation like this — and scanned the store shelves and storage room for ideas.
You wondered what he would be up to right now.
Felix was stunned.
Done-up in the most expensive face and hairstyle he’s rocked to date, adorned with an unbuttoned suit jacket that one could only dream to wear, he was supposed to look like the stunner. His pecs were only barely hidden and the midsection of his upper body was almost entirely exposed.
Instead, he was the speechless one. He wasn’t shocked by the cold air seeping through his revealing outfit, but his hair raised at your messages.
Your teasing usually should not affect him this much, but today, it was something different. The whole day, all he could think about was you. His mind went to your first meeting. Earlier, he got deja vu as one of the stylists applied lipstick on him. It felt familiar, the feeling of a senior stylist’s hand resting on his face as a brush glided along the perimeter of his mouth. All it lacked was the stunning view of your face in particular. It reminded him of the first time you ever laid eyes on him, and it was to check on his eyeshadow. You stared at each other for too long, exchanged numbers after the shoot, and the rest was history.
He was pissed, to say the least, that you weren’t the assigned stylist for the shoot this time. Nothing could ever compare to the focused look you gave him as you fixed the corners of his mouth with the smooth swipe of your pinky finger.
He craved that touch again.
“Yo,” a dragged-out sigh whisked through the air. “You’ll catch a fly in your mouth if you keep that jaw open.”
Felix looked up from his phone to find Hyunjin, his best friend and one of the junior photographers on set, eyeing his reflection in the mirror. He had his bleached blond hair half-up, tied messily to complete his so-called “intern look.” Most of the senior directors and photographers on set confused him for a model.
“Am I interrupting some kinda internal monologue sesh?” Hyunjin smiled, leaning behind Felix’s chair, raising a brow at him through the reflection.
“No, I just—”
“He’s thinking about Y/N again.” Jeongin, their other best friend, popped from behind the vanity, carrying Hyunjin’s abandoned camera.
The two were interns at the studio. Both were very bored art students looking for a job to pass the time by. Jeongin was there to work as a personal assistant and was mistaken for a stylist considering his fashion sense. His behavior around set proved otherwise, though, since he spent the entire day prodding at everyone’s business.
Felix was no exception as a victim.
“Imagine flirting online,” Hyunjin chuckled while reaching for the camera. Jeongin handed it out to him, only to swing his arm back, teasing the older.
Jeongin dismissed the frown on Hyunjin’s face and fiddled with the camera. “Yeah, cut your significant other some slack, they must be busy at the store or something,” he added.
“Nah, they aren’t.”
Hyunjin snagged the camera back. “Editing a Youtube video?”
“That’s exactly why they messaged me. They asked for ideas for a new video.” Felix sat back and redirected his eyes back to the conversation on his phone. The other two slowly turned their heads to each other.
“Wow! Did you hear that, Innie? They messaged him!” Hyunjin yelped.
“Lix didn’t message first? Unheard of!” Jeongin gasped.
“Cut it out, overdramatic cunts.” The accent made the last word roll off Felix’s tongue in a heavy and aggressive accent. “I want to help them this once. Shoo. Leave me be.”
“Oh, why are you getting all worked up, man?” The younger placed his hands on Felix’s shoulders and wiggled them.
Actually — why was he getting all worked up? Everything seemed off: he wasn’t the type to get annoyed easily like that.
He would have defended himself, but he thought it over. Not only had he been unusually sentimental while getting ready, but even as the day started, he was already rolling off to a rough start. He barely got out of bed, reaching out to you from the side and asking for longer morning cuddles specifically from you. He had been so clingy all day that the silence and afternoon heat killed him from looking forward to anything else but you.
A discussion brewed between the menaces as Felix thought about it. “Innie, you know, he couldn’t even hit the poses right. The director felt bad because our bro didn’t seem into it.”
Felix’s cheeks flushed upon hearing that. “No way, Hyune,” the other replied.
Oh god, Felix thought.
He swatted embarrassing thoughts away from his head to not get teased any further by his own friends. His thoughts — and something else — were hindering him from doing anything physically. The poor boy couldn’t even shift in his seat from embarrassment. It’s not that he didn’t want to physically fidget, he just couldn’t. His entire body froze, but he also just could not move by any means. It would be uncomfortable for him, and it wasn’t just because the clothes restricted him.
Something underneath his clothes would shift too and pierce his body with shockwaves. Before that could, though, his phone vibrated before he did.
you: babe! you: had a breakthrough so big i said eureka out loud in the store [you sent a photo]
Felix immediately opened the notifications and observed the sent messages. He opened the photo even before it loaded. When it did, he nearly melted in his seat.
You supposedly sent him a picture of a product that you found. By the looks of it, you probably thought of doing a product review of it, but that wasn’t the first impression he got from the picture. The first thing he saw was your face, winking with a toothy grin, your beautiful hand holding the product up next to your cheek.
God, you were all sorts of stunning to him.
lixie: OMHJYGOD YOUre so pretty you: dont look at me, silly! you: look at this lipstick. its so funny
For a moment, he didn’t listen. His eyes were still fixated on everything from your expression, to your features, to the nails that you just got done holding up the product. As if he had gone stupid, he had to blink and shake his head before formulating a reply that made sense.
lixie: LMFAOOOO THE NAME you: its not the name baby lixie: WHAT SHADE COLOR IS THAT LMAOOO you: the shade looks fine, look at the label! lixie: What’s it say you: the label claims its make-out proof lixie: ??!!! LOL
Of course, he didn’t make any sort of sense whatsoever. His two friends watched him frantically type away, barely being able to process anything from the mere sight of you.
“Bro’s deluded,” Jeongin whispered.
“Bro’s fucking horny,” Hyunjin commented, squinting at his friend.
you: you sound so funny baby you: anyway i was thinking i should review it you: but can you join me? i wanna try something
It felt like something broke inside of him. A shot of excitement ran through his system, hitting down until his core — oh shit that hurt.
He tried to twist his lower half again, fidgeting in his seat, but it grew harder for him to do so. With tears in his eyes, he jolted up, attempting to focus on the conversation.
lixie: Sure, what do you want me to do? lixie: Won’t you just do an application and wear test thing? you: mmm i guess u can say that you: but im making it a lil different lixie: How so?
The intrigue bit his tongue and Felix attempted to swallow it. The staff around him were wrapping up the shoot, pushing equipment back in their places, and some started to leave as soon as the director announced the last “cut.” He, however, was glued to the vanity chair, shaking in anticipation.
you: im gonna put it on you baby <3
Felix’s eyes widened.
It didn’t matter how many times you placed makeup on him, nor did it matter how many times he joined you in your antics. There were too many things going on in his head that toyed with his thought process and everything that came with it. He didn’t exactly know why, but a knot formed in his stomach. He grew nervous and just knew that you were up to something sinister.
lixie: But how are we gonna do the wear test? I already got my face done and half the day has passed, I’m even done w my part of the shoot you: you dont get it ??? lixie: I don’t get it!! you: ill put it on you when you get here. and were not just testing how long it wears regularly, were testing what the label says you: ill be there in 10mins love you baby
He sat back, looked up from his phone, and his gaze zeroed in on his reflection, attempting to focus on the thought. How would you conduct a different kind of wear test? In terms of makeup, a wear test would simply be to spend a full day with the product on and to see if it still holds its place at the end of it. It had already been well past afternoon by that time and it wasn’t like there were many other things to do that could budge the lipstick aside from dinner. He always trusted your genius, but he knew that there was more to this.
Felix blinked, once, twice, and then stared.
Were you…going to test if it was really make-out proof?
The world around him seemed to dim — it did, since the studio lights were turning off and the senior stylists urged Jeongin to wake the model up from his short-circuiting brain to change out of the clothes.
That is if Felix could still respond before the horniness consumed him.
lixie: Wait lixie: Don’t tell me lixie: DON’T TELL ME lixie: You’ll test it by putting it on me lixie: AND THEN MAKE OUT WITH ME?????? [Read 2:50 PM] lixie: Y/N!!! Answer me!!! [Delivered, unread 2:51 PM]
The cogs in his head accelerated before banging to a full stop, clinks and clanks ringing through his ears at his very slow realization.
“Congrats, smartypants, you figured it out.” Hyunjin scoffed from behind him.
“Dude—wait, hey! Have you been watching me the whole time?!”
“You should be more secretive,” Jeongin giggled. “Get those privacy screen protectors or something. Now we know what poor Y/N has to deal with every day.”
“And stop getting your thoughts tangled in horny next time you text,” Hyunjin elbowed the poor model boy, fiddling with his camera as if nothing happened. “Don’t worry. Your secrets and online PDA are safe with us.”
Felix’s face was washed without color. His jaw hung open both at his friends’ antics and your devilish plans.
“I’m looking forward to that review,” Jeongin added before walking away, teasingly pushing Felix’s shoulder on the way out. “Not that I’ll use it or anything.”
The two friends left the set side-eyeing and giggling at Felix.
—
It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the studio to pick your boyfriend up.
“Hi, darling.” Felix’s greeting and nervous smile lit up the quiet air and darkness of your car. He got in the passenger seat and immediately leaned in to kiss your cheek.
He was trembling.
You had to laugh. “Hey, babe. What’s got you shaken up?”
“Long day.”
“That’s it?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Long because of you,” he said, scrunching his nose. “Kept teasing me.”
“Aw, don’t sulk, silly.” You cooed at him, “Save the pout for later, baby. We’re going home.”
Maybe it was the combination of inhaling your expensive signature scent and hearing the sound of your voice again that made him tingle all over. Maybe it had to do with the curling corners of your mouth that gave Felix all the information he needed in the world. Maybe it was the fact that you held the back of his seat as the car reversed, and the action looked undeniably sexy.
Felix lifted a leg to cross over the other, but it only ever made him look more uncomfortable throughout the entire car ride home. Though concerned, you didn’t point it out, and instead continued to drive.
His chest was heaving and he internally scolded himself for acting like a bitch in heat.
The both of you arrived home sooner than expected.
The tunes that you played earlier in the car ride home stuck in Felix’s head. He wondered if the song choice of a sultry voice singing about “wants and needs” was deliberate. It was your playlist, and if you intended to include subliminal messaging, then it worked like a charm on him.
He had been worked out to the point he couldn’t face you. The moment he laid eyes on you again in your apartment’s living room, he shied away almost immediately.
You caught his averting gaze, though, and disallowed him from living it down. “Is there something on my face, baby?”
Baby. He could spend a lifetime just listening to you calling him that name. The way it sounded so natural coming from you made him melt.
He also could not stop staring at your lips. You always wore a certain gloss no matter the occasion. Even if it was your signature, Felix couldn’t help but stare, and it didn’t make his situation any better. In fact, it got worse, and it felt like the straining in his pants could explode.
“Mm, ‘s nothing, Y/N.”
“You sure?” You prodded. “Your friends kept waving at me and they looked back at you earlier.”
“Ah, please don’t mind them.” He scoffed. “They were being cheeky cunts.”
“That’s a funny way to put it.”
“Anyway, how are we gonna do th-the…uh, the thing…?” Felix stammered, playing with his fingers instead of looking you in the eye.
“Oh, glad you mentioned it!” You hurriedly grabbed the three tiny boxes in your bag. “I got a bit excited over it. Look at this!”
There was nothing too remarkable about the boxes. They looked like basic products, but the huge bolded font on the product labels caught his eye. “It’s more of a stain or something. The label says it can survive five consecutive make-out sessions before a singular budge.”
“It’s…interesting, yeah.” Felix blinked. You chuckled, nodding at his reasonable reaction. “So…y-you’ll put that on me.”
“Yep.”
“And then we kiss.”
“Make-out,” you corrected. Your voice was clear and slightly stern, but the smile that formed on your face sent him in shivers.
The familiarity in your features contrasted with whatever stunts you were going to pull on him sent his head into a haze.
“Anything wrong with it?”
“No,” he shook his head.
“Lix, baby, just be clear with me.” You inched closer to him, bringing your hands to his plump freckle-spotted cheeks. “You don’t mind that I’ll record this and post it?”
“Of course, I don’t mind. I just…” Felix sighed.
“…Just curious, what are you planning to show in the video?”
“I’m gonna show the application, I’ll start by putting it on you.”
The heat rushed to Felix’s face as numerous thoughts clouded his mind as he visualized everything in his mind.
“We’re gonna kiss for a brief moment in the video, probably make out and do…whatever,” you winked shyly. “It’s only gonna be brief. Gotta keep it within community guidelines.”
One of your hands made its way down to his hip. You pulled him closer. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat from gulping back an otherwise embarrassing sound.
You had to wonder if he was hiding anything causing him discomfort there.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
Felix bit his lip. “A hundred percent sure.”
“If you don’t want—”
“I want…it,” he whispered under his breath. “I want you.”
He flashed a weak smile. He was incredibly excited, but he was losing composure and he didn’t exactly know why.
He was about to melt in your hands but you held him up and adjusted your set-up for the video with an equally beautiful smile.
—
Three, two, one, action.
The camera rolled and you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline surge through you. Impressively, you thought you would have lost your spark at content creation, but posing in front of the ring light felt refreshing.
“It’s been a long time coming y’all,” you waved, “but I’m back! And guess who I’m with!”
Felix stared at the camera for a moment, his eyes flicking back to you for a split second. It was his cue to wave as well.
“Ah, hi, everyone!”
“Still handsome and meek as always,” you teased. “He still has a bit of makeup on since he came from a shoot.”
Your hand ran down the side of his neck. You felt the goosebumps rise from his skin.
“Anyway, today I’ll be starting a series of videos covering weird products and their weird claims. We’re starting strong with this funky new liquid lipstick from…B.Me Cosmetics.”
Taking the tube out of its package, you examined it and showed it to the phone camera. You swatched a shade on the back of your hand. Differing from a bullet lip, it had a liquid formula that boasted a unique, pseudo-gloss satin finish.
“It claims to be smudge-proof, make-out-proof, everything-proof. Can last five rounds of kissin’ and smoochin’ I assume.” You said many things that Felix didn’t even dare to process.
Felix simply watched your hands delicately hold the product. His gaze was fixated on your nails, fingers, and everything about you that wasn’t the lipstick.
“But oh no no, I’m not testing it on myself. Well, kinda, but Lixie over here is gonna be my test subject.” You swung an arm over Felix, dragging him down to the height of the phone, showing everyone his nervous yet precious face. He eyed up at you with what seemed to be hearts in his pupils.
“Let’s first see how this goes on, hmm?”
You walked a bit away to grab two chairs: one was velvety and comfortable, while the other was taller and had regular cushions. The first was the same chair your clients usually sat on, and the second was your working chair. You urged him to sit down, patting the seat as a signal.
The moment he sat down, Felix started trembling. His knees looked like they were about to give in and his thighs took a moment to settle onto the velvet.
“Everything alright?” You whispered.
He wordlessly nodded back at you. Unknown to you, though, he bit back a noise. He didn’t mind the sharp pulsing pain when he finally got the courage to look up fully, of course with the guidance of your thumb and index finger propping up his chin.
It felt like handling a little kitten in your hands.
“Which shade, which shade…” You took the other bottles out of the bold box packaging and waved them out in front of Felix’s lips. It either would have been a rosy nude color, a deep red, or a bright cherry pinkish-red.
You tapped the tube of the last color against your boyfriend’s bottom lip, watching his cheeks pout slightly at the action. You quietly settled on the cherry color, to Felix’s apparent delight.
“Would you look at that?” You cupped his face with one hand, holding the lipstick on your free one. You faced him towards the camera, relishing in the sight of his cheeks puffing up in your palm. “Call me biased or whatever, but his lips are some of the prettiest I’d ever seen.”
Before he could indulge in the praise though, you urged him to open his mouth. He didn’t prepare for any of this and not your next course of action.
You slotted the bottle in between Felix’s teeth and kept it in place even after unscrewing the applicator off. He bit slightly and carefully to keep the bottle in place without damaging it. If he were a nervous wreck then, he became overly anxious now. You, however, in full focus, took the applicator of the liquid lipstick and slid it along his top lip. The cold sensation of the new foreign product on his mouth made him squirm slightly, though you held him firmly in place with your hand.
“So fitting that his lips are shaped like a heart. He’s so kissable.” You smooched the air while cleaning up the perimeter of his lips, teasing him.
Wished I kissed you right now, huh? Felix could hear that in your voice and he let it echo in his pretty little head. Alas, he couldn’t retaliate nor speak back at all. He couldn’t even dip his head in embarrassment. Your eyes were trained on the brush you flicked, almost dismissive of your own flirting and it mismatched the smirk that adorned your mouth after teasing.
It was the exact kind of look he’s seen many times before. The exact look he fell in love with when you first met.
It’s the look he would get off to almost every night.
You finished off applying the lipstick and it was impressively smooth. You took the bottle from his teeth and sighed. The color made his mouth look irresistibly edible. It would take you three marathons and a trip to the moon to admit that you were starting to feel just as affected as Felix by the sight of his pouty mouth.
“Rub those pretty lips for me, baby.”
Only you could say those words to him the way that you do. Felix felt multiple urges rummaging through his system at once. He could almost cry from wanting to say something, to call out your name, to moan it, to whine and whimper, and melt in your arms as if nobody were watching.
The eyes of the world were on him, though, and all he could do was comply. He rubbed his lips together and pouted them out with a smack.
“Good job, baby.” You rubbed his chin with your thumb. He felt fire surging within his heart.
He knew that you knew what you were doing. It was only you, after all, who knew how to push his buttons in the right places. Unlike Hyunjin nor Jeongin, it took you no effort and no risks to leave him a mentally jumbled mess; not agitated, but certainly needy.
You were still sticking to a mental script, though. “How does it feel? Chalky? Rough? Sticky…?”
“I-It’s smooth. Feels thin.” He felt his tongue almost twist in his mouth from trying to speak when he was physically weakening over you.
“Seems like a good formula,” you giggled.
He watched as you turned your back on him, explaining bits of beauty jargon that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. His vision seemed to blur as a need to satisfy the growing discomfort in his pants overwhelmed him. It all snapped away for a second when you switched the angle of your phone and pulled him up by his arms, leading him in front of the couch.
All of a sudden, you rubbed a circle around the base of his wrist. You looked up at him with eyes that demanded something from him. It was dark yet inviting as if he had just eyed down a wolf threatening to eat him whole.
The gesture was your signal that you wanted to fuck him then and there.
Felix finally didn’t have to keep to himself.
“Time to test how good it wears,” you smirked at him.
Felix’s eyes were focused on yours. He didn’t move an inch as your fingers crawled from his jaw to his cheek. You glanced at your phone, propped up on the countertop, to check if it was recording. When you looked back, your eyes met Felix’s red lips.
You were so glad that you picked that shade. The makeup line released a ton of colors and your mind folded into itself when you realized how many there were. It was almost overwhelming to choose a shade for your boyfriend: you wanted to see him with a pinky nude on his lips, but you also thought the dark berry shade looked pretty.
As a trained makeup artist, you had a knack for figuring out which hues elevated which skin tones. Of all people, you knew Felix’s skin would match the slightly muted, pinkish cherry satin stain.
You should know this. You’ve seen his skin flush many times before, that would be more than enough to be familiar with the hues of his delicious skin.
You were the reason why he would constantly blush, after all. His skin would burn under your slightest touch, but it would flare up until his freckles darkened each time you held him down on your hips and called him pretty. His cheeks would turn as red as the tip of his cock every time you squeezed it lightly.
Before you could think of any more, you tapped your boyfriend’s cheek. His face burned into a shade not far from the color of his lipstick.
“Are you sure you want to record this with me?” You asked, eyes scanning his face for second thoughts.
Felix almost forgot that you needed a clip of the both of you briefly kissing. He nodded after a second, confusion snapping into realization as you smiled at him. He seemed to be lost in thought, too: maybe he was nervous, maybe he was thinking of the same things you thought about. Either way, he simply answered with a smirk and the faintest giggle.
“Yeah. I’m game.”
You were on a mission to prove that this lip product could not budge after an intense make-out session. Now, you — and maybe Felix — wanted to see if it could survive intense sex, too.
All it took were two inches forward: you grabbed his hands dangling in front of you and closed in. Your noses touched each other, the skin bumping softly before your lips slotted against his in the smoothest kiss possible. To his surprise, you started gently. He expected you to crash against his mouth. He expected you to rummage through the product sitting on his mouth right away, to test its strength as a long-lasting piece of makeup, but you didn’t.
Maybe he wanted you to be rough. He wanted it.
You could tell by the whimper he choked up behind the kiss. That, and his hands roamed around your arms and sides, pulling you closer.
“Getting a little excited now, are we?” You purred, pulling your face away from his. He hesitated to break the kiss, inching his lips closer to yours even as you talked.
“Sorry, s-sorry. Got a little carried away.”
You wondered what got him to be so clingy and affectionate. You’re well aware of him being loving and tender, but it’s another thing to have him smitten while you’re doing nothing special.
Little did you know that to him, everything involving you is special. Even the texts you sent earlier and the ones you sent before. He couldn’t stop thinking about them; who wouldn’t, especially when you were being such a tease?
He finally pulled his head back. “Smooth,” he whispered.
You thought to tease him. “The lipstick?”
“No,” Felix chuckled, “I meant you.”
Your hands traveled from up to his toned arms until one of them met the nape of his neck — his sensitive spot. You often called him a little kitten for enjoying being petted on that spot a little too much.
“So, did it rub off yet?” Your boyfriend managed to squeak, still affected by your antics.
His face was impossibly close to yours and you could feel the heat in his cheeks growing the more that he smiled at you. You stepped back to observe his face: apart from the blush on his cheeks, the lipstick was seemingly left unscathed. By the look on his face, he observed your lips, and there were no signs of product transferring.
He also just wanted to kiss it again.
You raised an eyebrow at the camera and shrugged. “I guess it survived round one.”
“That was round one?” Felix mirrored the look you gave your phone. “I thought we call that first base.”
Your head whipped back to him. He simply smirked back, feigning an angel’s smile.
You’ve dated him for a long while, and while he had always been silly, he had never been this way in front of the camera. You wondered if the shoot he did — or the staff he was with — earlier had anything to do with a sudden ego boost.
“Now you’re bold, baby.”
The nickname caused Felix’s smirking eyes into wide ones, the excitement writing itself everywhere on his face.
“Just wanna do more with you,” he teased back. “Do more rounds, test how much removes.”
He puckered his lips and pouted. It was a juicy invitation that you couldn’t turn down. Instead, you took it with a kiss — a deep kiss, one that made you inhale and caught him off guard.
It was still gentle and velvety. It felt like you both tasted clouds and nothing was in between. The hand on the nape of his neck ran up to his hair and back down almost instinctively, making Felix shake. Unable to focus on both the sensation of a passionate kiss, an overwhelming urge to breathe and process the suddenness, and the general feeling of being petted, his hands swung to your chest and squeezed.
“Ah! Felix!” You whispered loudly against his mouth, almost moaning at the sensation.
“Sorry! Force of habit,” he said.
“Gotta keep it PG, baby, I’m posting this.” He nodded assuringly at your words but his hands were crucially still on your chest, threatening to squeeze again.
After realizing this, he immediately attempted to pull his hands back, an apology dripping on the tip of his tongue. Instead, you surprisingly threw your hands on his wrists, caging his hands in place.
If that didn’t surprise him enough, you leaned in close to his face and kissed him once more. It was fiery this time; he felt your tongue darting at him while your teeth nipped slightly at his bottom lip before you pulled away. He gasped louder than he should have.
You giggled at his shock and nuzzled your face on his neck. “Sorry. Reflex.”
“But mommy—” Felix froze, realizing what he had just said. He didn’t mean to say that.
All the cockiness he displayed earlier fizzled out into thin air. You could feel the heartbeat in his neck thumping against your lips. From his eyes fluttered shut to wide open ones, you could see the embarrassment wash over him.
Sure, you two were doing something intimate, kissing and groping in front of the camera. He knew and trusted you enough to edit it out, but the idea that footage would have existed of him calling you that nickname…scared him. The camera watched him, the microphone picked up his low voice, and on the off-chance that this moment makes the cut, thousands of people would have seen it.
He’d gotten used to the idea that millions of people could pass by his face and body, but it’s different when he’s exposing a bit of himself that he only reserved for you — his “mommy.”
“Y/N… Shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t—”
“Oh baby, it’s okay.” You gave a reassuring look and a warm smile, shifting your position to hide his face away from the phone camera.
The pet name was his suggestion. The idea that you could hold this title as his dominant partner was something he never thought of telling you at first, but the moment he mentioned it, you indulged immediately. It was something so dear, so sweet, and soft, definitely making you less of an ominous presence to him in bed and more like a warm home he can return to. You loved it even if he didn’t expect you to.
Even while he’s embarrassed and fully vulnerable, he felt so safe, entrusted to the only one in his life that could take the title without judgment.
“Call me that as much as you want. I won’t show it,” you whispered. Felix nodded but you didn’t miss the tears threatening to form in his eyes.
“Mommy…” He inevitably gave up and dipped his head in the crook of your neck. You petted the back of his head again and kissed the side of his head, calming him with hushes and soft hums.
Before he could melt at your warm embrace, you took a few steps back. Felix whined and hoped to hug you for longer, only to watch you press the button on your phone to stop the recording. You shut the phone off, looked back at him, and smiled with your eyes.
He always valued your respect for his boundaries and the fact that you always made his comfort your top priority.
“We’re not done,” you inched closer, “the lipstick’s still on there.”
Because if you two were going to fuck comfortably, you two were still going to fuck.
Taking his arms and pulling them towards you, you prompted him to wrap himself around you as your lips crashed against his. You held him by his waist — it was remarkably small, toned, and muscled but definitely made for your hands to take it.
With force, you hugged his waist and carried him slightly, pushing you both on the couch. You sat on it while he was essentially hovering over your figure, his hips just above your lap.
“Mommy—g-god,” Felix gasped, muffled by another nudge of your mouth.
As if your brain switched off, your hands started going on their own. One was trained on his hip and the other snaked up his side and cupped his face, making him tremble at the sudden yet soft movements.
You were focused on the kiss but you just knew he looked gorgeous.
Of all the clients you put makeup on, your boyfriend always turned out the prettiest. Maybe it’s because his eyes seemed to shine with certain shadows on them. Maybe it’s the way his freckles peek through the base products. In this case, maybe it was the plumpness of his lips that you loved, covered in a flattering shade of red. Maybe that’s what was doing it for you.
“You’re so cute, baby,” you said, pausing the kiss.
Felix pouted. The pigment on his lips accentuated the curves of his mouth. “Not as cute as mommy.”
“Hm, thank you. But you’re my cute baby.”
Sometimes, you wonder how you got this to be so vulnerable, so whipped for you. It didn’t take him that long to warm up to you with this side of him, a side he so dearly hid from the rest of the world. It’s like this doll was made for you.
“Mommy,” Felix dragged out a whimper as he called you by the title. “Making me needy.”
“Don’t get impatient baby boy,” you whispered, a kiss on his temple following your sweet words.
While rolling your hips onto his, you thought about it what you said. You thought back to the last night he fell into this extremely submissive role. He’d always been the one under you and you’ve always been the one in control, but during that one night — similar to this one — he shyly asked you to call him a certain pet name. You loved it, probably more than he did, and you figured he might want to hear you say it again.
“Or are you my baby girl for tonight?”
“Mommy!” Felix scolded. If his cheeks were already flushed, his entire face heated up with a warmth that you simply indulged in. His ears and the corners of his eyes lit up with a blush tone that complimented and accentuated the cherry color that lined his shy smile.
He enjoyed the pet name too much, and he seemed to be threatened with memories of the same night the moment you said it.
“What? Don’t want to be my baby girl? It’s okay if you—”
“I’m mommy’s girl! Yeah, I’m their baby girl!”
Almost all traces of bass in Felix’s voice left the moment he squealed his response to you.
His eyebrows were slanting upwards like a needy puppy, his eyes sparkled as beads of tears sat on his eyelashes, and he wiggled his hips onto yours with a neediness you’ve seen many times before. He briefly whimpered again in a high pitch.
Being called that for the first time was as special to him as it was to you. It still landed him punches to the gut every time you said it. You would wonder why he loved it even if he was incredibly comfortable in his masculinity.
Maybe it made sense like that, considering he was wearing makeup while sitting on your lap.
You kissed him again and praised him until he gave into the burning sensations he felt from your overwhelmingly smooth graces around his body. With fast swipes, you pulled his plain shirt over his head, only to clothe him again with nothing but the warm embrace of your arms.
He moaned, writhed, and whined, adjusting his position on your lap until his legs were slotted against one of your thighs. Once he found his balance, he rutted against your leg, letting out a sound that he couldn’t resist.
“Didn’t even undress you yet, I still have pants on, and you’re already riding me?” You smiled widely at him. Felix huffed, unable to think, inhaling so that he wouldn’t drool on your shirt.
Or your chest, now that you abandoned your top in a flash, leaving it even harder for him to contain himself.
You took his lips into yours again, this time licking and biting his sweet mouth, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. It was messy and sloppy, just the way he needed it. You wondered if he had been craving this for so long and just couldn’t tell you.
Nevertheless, the next step was to take the bottoms off of your lower half and his own, but he paused your hands from reaching onto his crotch.
“W-Want mommy’s off first,” he sighed. It sounded more like a question now that his voice was so high and his tone was so soft. He was far from the boy whose mouth went foul over his own best friends at work.
His head was far gone, you figured.
Felix helped you pull your pants down, careful not to disrupt the current position that you were both in, only slightly lifting yourself off the couch. He sighed once he saw you, bare and beautiful, rid of anything that kept him from being horny the entire day.
He wanted you so bad.
“Baby girl, tell me,” it was your turn to pause his hands from reaching you.
“Is something bothering you?”
“No…not really a-a bother…” He pursed his lips.
He figured to rip the bandaid off and just show you the source of his discomfort—or, as it seems, the source of his pleasure.
“Baby girl, you…”
He revealed a pastel pink lacy fabric covering his private area. He was wearing panties.
“I…I got them from a PR package…from th-that one underwear company…” Felix justified, stuttering from both extreme embarrassment and arousal.
“It was supposed to be yours b-but I…liked it so much…a-and I wanted to…”
You couldn’t help but notice the drool threatening to fall from his tongue, glossing his lips. Distracted, you didn’t kiss him. You licked his mouth and bit his bottom lip again. The blood under his skin rushed to color his lips, emphasizing the pink-colored stain.
As you bit his lip, your fingers found the band of his panties, toying with the pink lace before slipping under it. The flesh — rather, his cock — was hard and pulsing. Felix moaned. His chest heaved from being unable to process everything at once.
“Baby girl’s clit is so hard for me already.” You pecked his cheek and let him whine. “You’ve been needy since earlier?”
“Y-Yeah, but, ‘m…not finished.” He mumbled under his breath. “Got more…to show you.”
He pulled his panties fully down, allowing his cock to bounce up. You couldn’t help but notice something at the base, but your suspicions were confirmed when he led one of your hands to touch his ass.
“You wore a butt plug the whole day?”
Felix’s face flushed into a shade similar, if not deeper than the cherry red he wore on his lips. At your words, he felt like crumpling into himself.
“It’s just for you. Thought y-you’d like it.”
All you could do in response was kiss him deeply and thrust your thigh up, hitting the plug deeper into his ass.
He moaned deliciously into the kiss and almost cried at the contact. It fucked with him — literally — the entire day and you made it all the better. Only that he had so little time to adjust before you gave him a dark look again.
“Mommy, what are you—”
He was shut up by you licking his mouth and your fingers filling up his hole.
“Your cunt’s so fucking wet, baby girl.” Your words left your system through gritted teeth, filtering your animalistic desire to ruin him even more than ever. “This pussy is mine and only mine.”
You bit his lip once more, sucking on the plump flesh before abandoning it. “Bet your toys can’t satisfy you as I do.”
“They d-don’t, mommy!” Felix was on the verge of tears, choking back sobs as your teeth found his jaw, peppering it with love bites lining his natural contour.
You started pumping your fingers up and down his ass, hitting his prostate with your fingertips over and over. “Can only take me inside your cunt.”
“Ah, god—fuck, mommy!” The delirious sounds escaping him as he scrambled to hold onto your body kept you going.
As if he noticed, he started grinding into the air next to your entrance. You took this as his usual sign that he wanted to please you too. Felix valued mutual pleasure and craved it as much as he craved the sloppy crashing of mouths on a couch.
“Take me like a good girl.” Your voice softened as you cooed. “Can you do it? Ride mommy’s fingers while fucking into me?”
He could only nod frantically, allowing the drool in his mouth to drop onto his cock.
The lipstick probably looked so messy by now.
You held his cock, lengthy and hard, and squeezed it in your free hand. “This is mommy’s to play with.”
Shoving it into your entrance, you curled your fingers deep onto Felix’s prostate, eliciting loud moans from either of you. Felix could scream from the sudden warmth enveloping his cock.
“Rub your clit against me,” you demanded, urging him to thrust his cock immediately. He complied only to start whining and crying out from the stimulation.
You leaned your head to the side and exposed your neck. With a subtle nod of your head, you invited him to bite your neck before his next thrust. Lightning bolts entered you when his teeth sunk into your skin for some semblance of comfort.
In turn, you kissed and sucked a spot on Felix’s shoulder. The biting sensation made him squirm away from you, but his noises only amplified when you latched onto a more sensitive spot above his freckled collarbone. It didn’t help that your fingers were practically exiting and entering his hole completely, filling and emptying him at a speed he almost couldn’t take.
The stimulation from all ends of his body caught up to him, release rumbling from his core up to his cock. He begged and pleaded and called your name multiple times as you did too. Felix readied for release but shocked himself when it came suddenly, almost without warning.
He started gushing just outside your entrance, the relief surging through his hips in waves: it had never happened to him before, but the slight amusement on his fucked-out face sent you over the edge too.
You came at the same time, your wetness coating the sides of your thighs and the cushions of the couch, the pool of both your juices mixing right under you.
It had to take you both several minutes to an hour of downtime before you both got up to clean. During that time, Felix held you close, trapping you in a warm cuddle.
“Y/N, I love you,” he whispered, his deep voice returning, calming you from your high.
You pressed one more kiss on his lips. “I love you too, Felix.”
Aftercare had to be a non-negotiable after the scene you guys painted all over the living room.
You made sure to offer Felix the softest bubble bath, massaging and soothing every inch of his skin, scrubbing away at the residue of the new lipstick.
You both found out, just before the bath, that it barely survived at all. It still stained his lips a shade of red, and the stains of love bites that he left on you stuck for a long while, but the actual product budged possibly within the third round of kisses. It barely held on when you started biting him.
The bedroom was full of giggles and the shuffling of your bodies cuddling close to calm yourselves down. Felix shared how he couldn’t believe his horniness that day, and you teased that he was being a hormonal girl.
He whined at that, kissed you good night, and fell asleep while huddled close to your chest. You calmly played with your phone, quickly editing the footage and clipping out the moment that he slipped into submission.
That was for your eyes only.
You posted the video and muted the notifications, kissed his forehead good night, and fell asleep.
—
“Baby, baby girl…” Your voice, although hoarse and deep from the blissful sleep, woke your boyfriend up. The clock on your bedside table flashed 9:00 AM in bright red, but the light from your phone shone brighter. “Look at this!”
“Holy…Y/N, oh my god!” Every trace of sleepiness left Felix as he jumped out of bed. “The video blew up?!”
You sat up next to him, chuckling in disbelief. “Let’s see what people are saying.”
“Why does the suggested search bar have…”
Men marked up. Men with hickeys. Men whining. It was clear that the video affected your audience in more ways than one.
“Silly,” you giggled, sinking into your boyfriend’s embrace. “Wonder how this thing got through community guidelines.”
Felix pointed at a comment. “Help. Someone’s asking about washing the stains off.”
The both of you cuddled closer. As the sunlight shone through your curtains and hit your figures, it highlighted Felix’s honey skin and the cherry stains that failed to wash off in the shower.
You turned your head to his and smirked. “Should we film an update video? What about a part 2?”
taglist: @toastyseungmo @hobihearteu @biddes-enthusiast @snow-pegasus @subby-kpop @myrandomthoughtsandhobbies @eggielix @hanniecheesecake @chrisbahng @laylasbunbunny @ppiri-bahng @he-they-heathen @chriscentric @svintsandghosts @sstarryoong
+ @imrllytootiredforthis @imsolovelylovely @beefis @sorikkung @lix-ables figured to tag since yall showed interest!
special thanks to @meivida, my ride or die, the big brain that inspired me to write this in the first place! they also took time out of their day to proofread it ^_^
thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 artwork and writing © ipegchangbin. no reposts and translations.
#skz smut#sub!skz#sub!felix#sub!yongbok#dom!reader#stray kids smut#felix smut#yongbok smut#💬 z is writimg
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dead meat
Alastor/reader (gnc)
romantic-platonic
word count: 11.1k
Or, the progress of going down and deeper. (please treat this as if theyre a bunch of drafts coupled together (they are) this read so much funnier if you keep in mind the fact alastor have genuine feelings/genuinely cares for you but he’s just batshit insane) its 13min til 2am if theres an error no theres not tw: gorish talks and imagery littered thru specifically 1, 5 and 7. alastor chased you down in 7.
1. Because you listen.
When you finally came back — frayed at the seams, run-through you with a headache and a rock in hand. You looked down, the warm wetness oozing from him and seeping into your pants quickly turn cold. You couldn’t tell what you’re looking at for a minute, adrenaline still running through you and your head ache just a tad. When you finally see the pink bits and the leaking blood, your breath runs ragged and your thought run miles. You try to remember all the warning your mother gave you about getting involved with a man like Alastor, you don’t know how you’ll tell mom she never gave you any advice or warning about this.
“God… Oh my God what did I—What—“
Not a single book warned you about the way you physically feel ill touching a body growing cold. So with guts churning and the prickling on your skins, you scrambled to throw yourself off and backing away from the body on all four. Desperately, you called out to whatever is there and beg in your head to wake you up from this nightmare of a show. And when you hit something distinctly warm and alive from behind, you call out to it, thinking it’s your mother, coming to save you from this, to tell you that it’s alright and that everyone make mistakes and this is nothing more than a bad dream. You’ll wake up from this soon, in your childhood bed, in your childhood room, in your childhood house and you’ll be anywhere else and not here.
But when the warmth embraces you, and you feel a warmer breath by your right ear, pressing a soft smile and a bliss-filled chuckle into it, it hit you that your mother would’ve hated you if she sees this. If she sees him.
“Oh, mon Chéri, I knew you’d have it in you” You hate the way the voice swallowed and a take a breath, as if mesmerized by the sight, like you but so wholly unlike you, it whispered in your ear, “What a show. What a show.”
Your eyes is focused on him, but not on him, not a person. That couldn’t be a person at all. Saliva tasting bitter, the bile rising in your throat hurts as you desperately tries and tear your eyes away from it. But enraptured by the intricacies inside his head, you only do so much before finding yourself looking closer for something you couldn’t understand.
“Don’t worry,” setting his lips on your temple, he sigh into your skin, one hand held onto yours and gently rubbing the red from your fingers onto his, as if helping you clean up, “It’s your first time, everything will be so much better once you’re used to it.”
Your eyes flickered between the thing and whatever of yourself visible to you. It’s all red, so much red. Its head, his head was caved in, you can see the front of his skull, everything else is everywhere. How could this ever get any better if it’s going to be this red? Was it going to be this red every other time too? You can feel your fingers going numb from the grip you have on that rock, you can feel the dent from where it dug into your palm, you can feel clearly the traces of well-kept nails running down your left arm from where he tries to pull you away. And every bit of it is red. And suddenly your clothes and his grip and the night air and your skin felt just a bit too tight, too suffocating. Your brain pulses and compressed against your skull. It hurts to think, it hurts way much more to speak.
“I—I don’t want to – I can’t-“
“I thought I couldn’t too, until I did it again, and then again. And then I realized that this,” raising the hand he held onto so kindly, almost like guiding your eyes to the sight. While the pain in your stomach is almost unbearable, he couldn’t sound any more ecstatic. “This, is freedom. Our freedom”
You were sure that the freedom that you’ve been yearning for wasn’t supposed to be associate with a corpse. No type of freedom will ever be going to drive someone to cracked open a skull in the middle of the night. There’s nothing but pure malice that will drive someone to bring a rock onto another man’s head and refuses to stop even when his ears bleed and he stop fighting and started begging. Your mother hated Alastor, and she never break his skull open. You hated your mother, and you never break her skull open.
You want to open your mouth and tell him to shut up. You want to say your mother was right, you shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, no matter how inviting his offer is. You shouldn’t have run off night after night chasing the daylight with him. He is a scoundrel, he is disgusting, he’s the worst type of delusional criminal there is, the most pretentious man in all of Louisiana. But you can’t, because you just maimed a good man and refused to hear his pleas. With nothing left to you, you all but break down into his arms.
“There, there~” he coos into your hair as your wailing get swallowed up by the cold night air, “I’m right here, aren’t I?” if only he’s anywhere else but here with you, mouth spewing reassurances one after the other.
(It’s alright, he’ll take care of it today. It’s ok, he’ll teach you about some other day. From now on, you’re going with him, whether liking it or not.)
2. Because you wouldn’t
“Isn’t he one of those highbrows you like to rub shoulders with?” her tone accusing and upset, you almost choked on your tea when she slapped the papers down in front of your food and walk out the living room. Even though you have an idea about what she talk about – the news came out just in time for it to be covered on the radio first, you still pick it up and scanned your eyes along.
“So I’m supposed to remember every face I came by now?” you glowered to yourself, “How do you know who I’m ‘rubbing shoulders’ with anyway?”
Over the sounds of your heart beating wildly in your ears, over the humming in your head, you hear her mumbled something about “that boy” as she starts to vacuumed the carpet. It’s a ridiculous thought, but for a brief second, you were sure she’s going to ask you about your numb fingers.
‘SON OF FAMOUS MUSICIAN, REPORTED MISSING AFTER NIGHT OUT-’
It’s so odd to you, how much he worth, yet how little people care. Name printed in bold font atop news about the fast declined of the economy and crashing stock markets a full week after he disappeared. He never told you his full name, nor does anyone around him ever make mention of it despite their occasional jeering and jokes. You didn’t bother with it at the time, you two weren’t the most talkative person in the room, let alone together.
Then again, it does make sense. He told you before that he’s not proud of what he came from or what he became, under drowsy lights and forced to sit side-by-side like all the other night. You still can’t drink, he still can’t dance while being miserably drunk, and nobody else wants to babysit a miserable drunk. You don’t get why anyone needs you to look after him, despite being so out of his head, he seems perfectly well with handling himself.
Your lift the tea cup to your dry lips and take a sip, the tea tasted bitter.
A voice loudly called for you, irritation written clear in it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and all but jump to her spot in the small hall, unwilling to let the two talks for more than necessary. Your mother stand with a huff to her posture.
“It’s him again.”
You laugh dryly, “It’s always him, mom.” tugging the receiver from her hand, you bring it up to your ears. The moment you do, a chuckle rang out. You shivers.
“There’s the lad of the hour! Why, I almost thought your mother was trying to stringed me along before shutting the line off again!” the mother in question grunt and grumble about how annoyingly persistent he is, you agree. Last time she did so, the phone kept ringing until she relented. “In any case, I hoped you’re all up and ready today!”
“We have nothing planned today.” Your reply was immediate and flat, hoping he would leave you alone, but Alastor only laughs in an almost affectionate tone.
“And I’m here to changed that!” he exclaimed, you run a hand down your face and try to keep your calm.
“Alastor, John’s missing. This is not the time.” you whispered sharply into the receiver, hoping to whatever’s true he’ll shut his trap for once. You’re not interested in getting caught by the neighbours over the phone of all thing.
“John? Now that sounds familiar…” he pauses, you can almost see the way he turn a brow up and pretends like he’s lost in thought, it’s almost endearing, “Why, isn’t that the lad I named on the radio yesterday?! What a horrible case! Some people are saying he finally throw himself onto a train and-“
“Alastor!” at the sound of your own voice scrapping in your ears, you pauses. You relax your grip and lower your voice, doing your best not to pay attention to the figure peeking out from your kitchen, “Listen, I don’t have the time to play around. Get to the point.”
“Clearly, you’ve the time for nothing, you and your mother…” sighing heavily, he dropped the act. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop kidding. We’ll talk once I get there. Be ready in twenty.”
“Wh— Alastor!“ The phone turn dead in your hand and you’re left standing in the hallway.
You stare at the receiver in shock, then, you grip it. Holding back the urge to break it open over the table it sits on, grinding your teeth, you place the receiver back. You clutched at the end of the table and count to ten, jaws aching and head spinning from anger. Even with your head hanging low, you can hear footsteps falling along the hallway. Your mother red house slippers stand in view from the side, you wondered if you can burn it and buy another pair.
“You’re going out with that creepy radio host again.” she’s standing with her hand crossed and an exasperated look, you just know it.
“Mom, please,” heaving a sigh of your own, you don’t want her to rub it in your face, even if she doesn’t know it, “Alastor’s not creepy. He’s a good man, I promise.” you have to believe he’s a good man, after everything. If you don’t, you’ll lose the rest of your mind. You prayed that she leave you alone, but she kept pressing.
“You keep saying that, but I know he’s nothing but trouble. I mean- look at you!? You looked so exhausted every day. Every time you leave with that scurf, you came back looking more lost than before!”
Turning to her, you have a retort at the tip of your tongue, you always do. But the looks on her face was nowhere near what you thought it was, so you stumbled. For a second, your vision blurs and your head spins. When it cleared up, your eyes met.
“That good for nothing man, dragging you out every night! Have he ever asked what you want before?!”
Standing like a cornered rat, you try to find your voice.
“I-“ you swallowed again, “I don’t mind it, mom. I like going out.”
Have your mother always looked this tired and worn beyond her age? It almost as if she’s been holding the world alone. She said your name, and you feel all lost again. Like a small child with bare knees stripped red and wailing for her to come and save you.
“You don’t even like parties.”
You remember how much she always scolded you when you got yourself into troubles, but your mom always patches you up while she does so. In the time frame before your home became more of a house and your front door is a front door without any sort of implications. And then it hit you just how old mom looked now. She used to be so tall compared to you, but now you’re over her slightly hunching figure, a little bit or a lot, it’s just enough to look down on her. Suddenly, the world feels too constricting and your skin feels too tight.
All this time, she wasn’t angry at all, was she? Your mom haven’t been angry for a long time now. But it doesn’t change you, it doesn’t change anything else. You closed your eyes and push a breath through your nose.
“Maybe I’ve changed, mom,” you walk past her into the living and tug on your overcoat with fingers stained red, fighting against the waver in your voice and hoping she won’t hear it, “maybe you should be happy for me.”
Alastor always take less than twenty to show up, but you didn’t know how long he was watching you for before clearing his throat. You didn’t bother to respond, only lifted your head up to make sure it wasn’t some random prude before shifting aside. He have the decency to stay silent and sit down with you on your front porch, offering a sympathetic smile at your sorry state and gently wiped away your tears with his red handkerchief when you refused to move and take it yourself. It wasn’t the first time you sit out and wait for him on the porch instead of listening to her outburst, but it was the first time you ever cry over it.
You wanted so desperately to turn back and tell her that you haven’t change, that you’re still her little kid. The same one that want to sit out the parties and the smokes and the dancing and the jazz just to spent the days working on something with her nearby, in the kitchen working on something or sleeping in the armchair, always in the old set of red house slippers. You want to show her something you make, only for her to not get a single part about it. You want to fall at her feet and begged her to tell you you’re still the same kid. You want her to go back to closing the front door and locking you away from the world again.
But you’re nothing but a rat, fresh off from a murder. You’d soon throw yourself in front a running train than to ever let mom know her child will ever do anything wrong. So you swallowed everything back, stand up, and walked away from her porch with Alastor hot on your trail, smiling all the while.
(you want to tell her you haven’t changed at all, but you know better than anyone else. you thought you know better.)
3. Loosely, you’ll fall.
The show was an utter bore, you’ve concluded. The allure of watching history made quickly died out when it pertains to dancing, something you’ve been watching people do with much more grace. It might’ve been much more interesting too, if the dull drums in your head invites itself out. But even when you step outside into open air outside the theater, it remains.
“Well, that certainly was… something.” Walking after you in a leisured pace with one hand behind his back, another going back and forth on brushing off his coat or adjusting his glasses, to anyone else, he looked completely normal. But you know him long enough. “I could’ve sworn it’s a musical show.”
Usually, it’s fairly hard to catch Alastor in a flustered state, facial or demeanour wise. You supposed years of practice couldn’t really stamp out personal discomfort. You would’ve felt bad, but you don’t have enough strength to bother.
“There is musical, alright,” you grumbled, a hand to your temple as you walk on without waiting for him, “I’d say it’s too much even.”
Obediently, silently, Alastor traces your footstep as you seethe to yourself. You were supposed to be back in bed and sleep away this headache and your free day at this hour. It’s a shame you just can’t help from talking back to your mom and chased yourself out of the house, onto the street, and right into his games.
You wish you could rub those kissing scenes into his face and mocked his offbeat timid nature and tell him to go shove it. For once, the mere thought of intimacy itself reminds you of that night and forced you to think about how Alastor always stands just a bit too close to you, always just behind you. It takes everything in you to not scratch at your wrist and tears your skin open, so you opted for patience and sympathy, no matter how much the image haunted your eyelids said otherwise.
Before you know it, the voices and the hollers and bumping shoulders traded itself for a single bell chiming, then hushed murmurs and echoing clinks of porcelains and glasses filled the space. You invited yourself to a small spot off in the corner with a lone seat and hunched over with your left hand over your face, while Alastor comes up to the counter. When he came back, he pulls another chair from the table right next to yours and all but covered you from everyone else’s sight. You stare at him in between the webs of your fingers while Alastor rest his chin in his right hand and hums all softly at you.
“You should’ve told me it’s still there, dear. I wouldn’t have bother dragging you out.” His free hand brush against yours in a gesture you can blindly guess as benign and kind. Unlike the Alastor from this morning, unlike him in the theater. Unlike Alastor from the broadcast and unlike the man holding onto you that night. You’ve seen this so many times before in so many people, it’s just make-believe for adults and you’ve already seen this in him. You thought you have, anyway, so you take your hand away from him and look at the approaching waitress. It must’ve been a trick of the light, the way his eyes grows just a bit darker. But you still think hard about what you would’ve said back then.
“I need to get out anyway, better here than there right now.” You would’ve been fine with the idea of going back in, but by the time you do, Alastor was standing in front of you, and you would rather let him think whatever he wants than to pissed him off even further somehow.
“Better with me~” When push comes to shove, he is a bitter man with a silver tongue, you’ve seen him pour drinks onto people and getting away scot-free. It’s always funny to everyone else in the group, until they’re at the direct end of his bitter temper.
Alastor have never even so much as raising his voice at you in anger, but you also thought he would never kill anyone, so you refuse to take any chances. As long as you stay cordial and don’t step past your line, Alastor won’t ever have a reason to. So long as you keep to your leash, he’ll be pleasant and let you go home soon. It leave a nasty taste on your tongue, how you know exactly what to do with him.
“Whatever you say, Alastor.” Gently nursing your headache, you sits a bit straighter. You really couldn’t tell what’s worse, the oddly plastic smell of the café, or the light from the bulbs burning your retinas. “You never told me why we’re out here in the first place.”
Clapping his hand together, he grins. “Oh, yes! Terribly sorry my dear, I figured we shouldn’t talk about it over the party line. Who knows what else is lurking, yeah?” you stay seated despite your instinct telling you to run. You know this was coming anyway, “See, we didn’t get to celebrate the other day. You got so sick, after all-”
He kept on talking, seemingly perfectly fine with you tuning him out. Even if he’s not fine with it, he can’t do anything to stop the almost freakish way statics filled your head and washes your entire body in a cold and numbing wave of sweat, electrics ran through your head while you grips your hair. And it’s almost like he knows what’s going through you, because he wiped away a drop of sweat running from your forehead with a knowing smile.
“Be careful now, if you get sick, I’ll have to take care of you.”
“As if you can take a step into my house.” As if she’s ever going to let him take a single step inside after today. But he kept that irritating look on him, if only the thought of tearing it off his face doesn’t hurt you so badly.
“Who said it’ll be at your house~”
His chuckle right after shuts you up. Right, you forgot. Of course you did. He have a lodge somewhere near a bayou. You weren’t sure whether Alastor meant it as a tease or a threat, you don’t really want to think about it. So you forced a laugh when he grows just a tad silent. Tilting his head, he looked at you with something you couldn’t tell, and like aways, he switch topics without a bat of an eye while you sat there with sweats running down your back in the middle of winter.
You reach for your cup and bring it to your lips without bothering to know what’s in it, trying to follow along while Alastor rattled off a to-do list he made without your consent for today’s hangout. A visit to a confectionary shop, a trip to the tailor, quick stop at a small dinner he discovered recently and, if there’s still time, he can take you to your book shop. As your vision blurred for a second, the bitter taste of coffee hit your tongue, and it took everything in you to bite back a swear and to hold your mask of politeness. Accidentally flitting your eyes up, you catch him smiles. But it isn’t the kind of smile friend gives to one another, it isn’t the type where two people love and care for each other. So you keep your gaze low and keep drinking the coffee he ordered, at least they do a decent enough job at taking your mind off of John.
(somehow, it felt so familiar, it wasn’t until the moment you crawl back into your warm bed after a cold dinner that it hit you. it wasn’t against your ear this time, but it was the same smile. you swallowed the acid in your throat and thought about how many people saw it just before they lay six-feet under.)
4. And when you finally fall,
John wasn’t that much of an asshole, but he lives like he’s the most wretched man in all of Louisiana. A shadow of a person, beyond that of a ghost. Alastor told you that the only reason anyone ever stuck around is because John have more money than anyone could ever understand, and as long as you can withstand the awkward silent and the sneers, you can count your worries for the night’s drinks goodbye.
Coming from a long and well-known line of gifted artist, John was set for life, even with his less-than-responsible lifestyle. His great grandfather wrote plays, his grandfather paint, his father plays the piano and John drink himself blind. He stop touching anything that even insinuate the idea of creating art on his twenty birthday. Ever since, he wanders the night, going from place to place to emptied his family’s wealth into pretty floozies and drink away his own shame.
With an eerily out of place grin, just close enough to his normal happy demeanour to count, just a bit too wide to be normal, Alastor show you off to John like an exotic pet while his friends already dash off to dance.
“Oh! And how could I forget, this one might not be able to play it, but they have a fantastic taste in music!” then, he turns to you with a friendly hand on your shoulder and a sympathetic look, “If only you ever have the means to pick it up, you’ll be the talk of the town for sure!””
“Surely.” John reply with an odd laugh and look you up and down, suddenly the idea of sitting back with him and watching the others felt just a bit too much for you. But you only brushed their comment off with a wave of your hand. Acting like you didn’t pick up on how John down his drink with just a bit more fervour and Alastor smiles breached the border of normalcy before he pats your back gently, as if encouraging a shy dog to socialize, before inviting himself out and leaving you alone with a man you’re not sure was all there.
You tell yourself you just won’t go with Alastor to his night parties next time, but you pick up the phone every time. And every night you have to sit right by John’s side in complete silent when everyone spreads across the bar.
At first, it was somewhat scary and unpleasant. Then, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Every time you sit right next to him, he would scoff and chuff at you under his breath. Refusing to ever talk or look at you. Unless it was time to leave, John will never do anything more than call for a drink and then sip on it until he needs another one. Every time Alastor came to check up on you, he would smile at you sweetly and make a jab or two at John. You figured by now it’s a show of sort to him, but sometimes you still make a small effort to shut Alastor up and direct him back to whatever he was doing before. It became your new normal for half a year at least.
And then one night, completely worn out and tired with the day and the loud jazz inside a loud room with lousy lights and lousy companion, you stand up without a word to anyone and went out the back door. Outside in the cold air of October, you huddled by a wall inside the back-alley and pulled your knees to your chest. Staring at your hands, you can only sigh and ruffled your hair, digging the palm of your hand into the base of your skulls and wishing you can break it open.
“If you’re so tired, then why not haul yourself back home?”
Jumping up with a yelp, you clutched at your heart, completely missing the door creaking open the first time. You forgot how John even sounded like for a minute, voice low and gruff, completely contrasting everyone else in the group.
“…” halfway peeking through the door and staring impassively, you wondered why he even bother when he seems so done with you. Words right on the tip of your tongue, you him a passing glance, debating whether this worth an excuse out of your pocket. He cut you off before you even begin to open your mouth.
“What? You’re deaf now?” John shouldered the door and step outside fully, standing in front of you.
“…And if I am?” You frown, this feels too much like being scolded. At least his voice is kinder to your ears . “Better off if you are.” He chuckled, “…So?” You would be upset, but you’re too tired and he’s not leaving you alone, so you shrugs your shoulder apathetically.
“Horrible day at work, fight with my mom, then got dragged out here again.”
“Heh, figured.” You glare up at him, he raises his hands up in defence, whiskey with a single ice cube in its glass clinking as he does so, “You seems miserable whenever the lot isn’t around to see.”
You want to spat at him, what would he know about you? But you know he’s right. It really does feel miserable, going all the way out here just to sit and having nothing to do. So you dropped your head into your palm and groan.
“Ugh-…Is it that obvious?”
He cackle, you take it as a yes and sink your head a bit lower at the sound.
“Why not just—not come?” taking a sip from his whiskey, he sat next to you without invitation, “You can just say no to him, y’know.”
“As if I haven’t tried.” You grumbled, but stop when he raised a brow at you, motion for you to keep on. A bit clueless, you shrugs again, “What? You know him for longer than me. You should know that.”
John looks at you as if you’re stupid, and you’re beginning to think you are. Pointing a finger at you, he asked you about your job. Then with a nod, he stated outright.
“But you don’t do anything for him.”
You sputtered, the irony of a drunkard basically calling you useless and being right about it doesn’t escape you at all.
“What does that have to do with anything? He’s a persistent guy, that’s it.”
“That bastard doesn’t bother hanging around anything that isn’t useful. He’s not that type of guy.”
“Then what type of guy is he?” you ask. He looks at you, licked the top row of his teeth, then heave a heavy sigh.
Dowing the rest of his whiskey, John stand up and offers you a hand. You hesitate before slowly taking hold of it and nearly fell over when he pulled you up. He mumbled a half-hearted sorry with a look.
“Not whatever you’re thinking of him, that’s for sure,” he drag you inside by the shoulder, snickering when you try to keep up and failing miserably before slowing down for you, “Now common, I need another drink.”
It’s all John ever told you about Alastor, it’s all you ever need, but you never listen.
-
John didn’t change fully after that night, but he still change somewhat. The John that was so drained and empty was still there, but he sits up a bit straighter, as if managed to confirmed whatever else he have in his head. For three months, you two never talked about what happened in the back alley, nor do you talk at all. He still down enough drink to kill an elephant and lost his balance to the point someone needs to take him home. But he nodded his head whenever he’s not tipsy enough that the ceiling spins like a globe and you catches eyes, and sitting beside him felt a bit less draining and off-putting.
You told Alastor about it later, the conversation you two have in the back alley, because of course you do, telling everything to your good friend. Alastor would then look over whenever John’s acting friendlier to you, because of course he does, and joked about it. You saved him five years of his life, he laugh. You laugh along because his tone seems just a bit off. You sometimes think about who Alastor is, whenever you have a moment to sit back and contemplates everything between you two. But not for long, because like clockwork, Alastor would pull you away to do whatever he wants for the day, and like always, you would follow along with little to no complains.
Sometime before John went “missing”, you break the thinning layer of ice between you two and tell him out of the blue that you never actually touch an instrument in your life, but you wished you have the chance to. You thought he would’ve laugh at you, but he sat through your recount of younger you being enthralled by a street musician, seeing it as a form of liberty you can only hope to capture through any other art you made. He asked why, you said there was no space in your life for making music. Not then, not now. He asked if it’s ever a regret, you stay silent.
You asked him to play you something, he huff a laugh behind his glass, but shut up when you didn’t laugh along. A false police alarm got the place empty enough for your group early that night, and the owner was desperate enough for extra cash, enough for him to mousey up and play a song you remember by heart. He played really well, you told him. His playing is the bare minimum, it lacks the souls his father have, he sneers at you. He doesn’t need to have a soul in it, just get used to being mediocre while having fun instead, you reply, leaning against the piano and staring at the group chatting away from you two. He didn’t bother with a counter, but he kept playing, this time it’s a melody you’ve never heard before. You saw Alastor turning his head to you two, but you pay him no mind and turn back to John. He looked so calm playing something like this.
John trips over his fingers and curses a lot, you tell him to keep playing. Until the song’s finished and you left standing in silence for just a bit, waiting for the other to say something. Turning the word over in your mouth, you’re a bit speechless, like you’re face-to-face with a kindred soul. But there’s no real comfort in telling a drowning man he can breathe, so you say his melody felt like home.
Worn beyond his age and exhausted in a way that’s so out of place for someone who have the world in his hand, his smile was genuine, facing towards you, like an old friend and a warm meal. The bar dives and the social circles Alastor loved pulling you along have always made you feel so out of place. Their grin’s too perfect and their voices too pleasant, all with an oddly rotten attitude. It’s like watching a picture show, it’s not how people genuinely act, it’s the semblance of one.
Maybe that’s why you and John never got along too well, he was too busy hiding his face behind glasses of gin and whiskeys, you’re too busy hiding in Alastor shadows. But you both never play along, and you both never faced each other fully before that night. You hope John never have that realization, the fact you’ve never faced him at all.
Then before you knew it, his face to the ground, all red, turned from you. That’s all you knew about John Holloway, that’s all he ever get to tells you.
(deep inside, you want to say that it wasn’t your fault. but the difference between getting swept along with life and standing in a back alley with blood on your hands is that somewhere in your empty head, you did register his scream. there’s a reason you can’t see his face and there’s a reason the rock was in your red hand, sitting in your red palm.)
5. so far down, you won’t know the way home
The forest floor was red, by the time you realized it.
It wasn’t by your hand, but it’s enough for you to step back and breathe. It always so odd to you, just how easy it really is to see in the dark, even when the moon hides away behind strips of clouds. In the dark, at the dead of night, your eyes should’ve been blind to the red that’s bleeding all over, but it never does. It took you a second to remember what you’re supposed to be looking at, and you turn the light towards the main figure, standing so proudly in the middle of this. In through nose, out the mouth. Don’t focus on the thing below, look at him and smile. He smiles back, genuine joy stiches itself on every corner of his face. If only this flashlight is weaker.
“Sorry darlin’. This one have more fight in him than I thought he would,” he strides towards you, the familiar metallic stench overwhelms your senses when his red hand came up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear, “Good thing we got it done before he find his way out, huh?”
Good thing he got it done at all, you thought. You can only bother to hide your exhaustion with a mute nod and a grim grin. Knowing exactly how this will plays out again, you remind yourself to be ready. Alastor laughs and pat your cheek affectionately before pulling you by your hand towards the corpse quickly growing cold amongst the grass. As he does, you try to ignore the echoing in your eardrums.
It was gut wrenching at first. The panting, the gasping, frantic steps that echoes through the empty woods, devoid of bird calls, devoid of life. Just a hound, chasing its prey, and a vulture perched on a tree waiting, watching. The choked exhale when they fall, eventually tired out and tripped over themselves or getting a bullet to the thigh. The way they all looked so confused, then they bargain, then they get mad and calls him every name under the sun before shutting up and look at him in the eye. You weren’t sure just how he looked to them, but perversely, you’re glad you never get to see it.
They scream and yell and beg for someone to please come and save them until they can’t anymore, but it felt like they never stop at all.
“Come here.”
He sits you down by the body, open and ready, still holding onto your wrist while you fight every bone in your body to keep your hand still and keep your foot nailed down. His face, flushed with excitement and sweat running down his forehead as he rattled on about how soon, you’ll have enough guts to do this with him instead of only ever following after and picking up the scraps.
“Remember that feeling? Remember the rush?” lifting your clenching fist up to his lips, he smiles and chases your gaze, you stare back, “Etch it into your brain, don’t ever forget it.”
With that, he plunges your fist into the open cavern of flesh and red and it feels so incredibly blasphemous and wrong. While Alastor knitted his fingers atop yours and guide your hand through the process, you feel your senses grows fuzzy around the edge. Half of you wish that headache didn’t die after the 3rd time, at least then you have something else to focus on other than the sopping wet red mush slipping in and out between your frozen fingers. The idea that someone’s inside would immediately cool off after their death is a farce to you, their warmth still so tangible and so fragile it takes everything in you to stop the burning acid from bursting in your throat. He told you on your fifth time that if you vomit on the body, he’ll have you cleaning it with him, sounding just a tad bit considerate, as if the idea of forcing you into doing something you dislike hurts him.
It's almost too much to think about, how you’re becoming something so different, something that’s just enough to his liking, to the point where all you have left are instincts and the alarms in your head. It felt like years ago when your weekdays are filled with nothing but sitting inside your cozy home and looking out the window, hoping one day you’ll be able to experience that high life and being cared for by someone who love you with everything they have, even if it’s the worst experience of your life. It’s almost like decades ago when your thoughtcrimes are no more than passerby on a long day and your smile is a sham but it’s ok because everyone bought into it and you do too. Now you spent your days looking behind your shoulders for excuses while pinprick runs up your neck, waiting for the day you’ll be buried with the people he hate.
You hope when, not if, you do have to, you’ll manage to come up with an excuse to mom for the body in that alley way. You clenched your fist, only the red squelching and spongy inside of a man you barely know respond.
(the hound stare up at the vulture and leave with a red maw, it watches the vulture from the shadow of the trees. the vulture learned to ignore the hound and feast away at leftovers.)
6. I hope you’ll call out for my name.
Unconsciously, you tap your index finger to a rhythm a man showed you some years ago. One you called beautiful, and one that made him smile. Like always, your weary and sunken eye catches red painting your left hand, but you only sigh and return to penning out your letter. A ringing echoes throughout your bleak and empty house, but no voice call out for you. There’s no point in picking up, you simply let the call die on its own. If it’s him, he’ll crawl his way to the front door with or without that call either way.
When the noise abruptly ended and didn’t pick up again, you put down your pen and hold the letter in hands that never lost its stain. Staring down at the words you’ve painstakingly poured over since her funeral, you crumbled the page and held your head. Over and over again, you write and write, hoping that some way, somehow, something can change.
But like always, nothing is enough, so you throw the paper into the small bin next to your seat, holding back the urge to throw everything else on the table with it too; your mom raise a murderer, not an ill-manner rodent. There’s no longer a point in lamenting things that can never be change in your lifetime. You can do this tomorrow, or the next day, or the day next to that, you’re considering how to go out still. As long as he’s not here, that is. You check the clock, eleven and a half, you have around fifteen minutes before he’s here.
Alastor was always suffocating, you thought, dragging yourself to a wardrobe that haven’t felt familiar for more than half a year now. Nosy and meddlesome, it’s something you picked up on even when you were a doe-eye little rat running across the night without realizing you were walking with a hunting hound, but you always thought it was simply how Alastor cares about people. Your mom was right, you were so naïve about him, thinking he can care for anyone else aside from his mother and himself.
He was always suffocating, but ever since the funeral, he all but latch onto you.
The pure black outfit he gave you was something you would wear to mom’s funeral. But coming from him, it makes you feel like a stranger was staring back from the mirror’s view, out of your own skin. So you boxed it and hid it under the sofa after the whole thing.
And of course, Alastor knows this. So whenever he browse through your wardrobe on his own accord, he would always make sure to make a comment about how these plain and boring clothes never look right on you with a good-nature smile. You no longer have the mind to bother with a reply, so you let him do whatever he wants. As long as he get his digs in, you get your peace of mind. The things in here means the world to you, but what use is there to defend something you’ll soon have no use for.
Clicking your tongue, you pulled out something that looks decent for the street and locked the door to your room. You fixed your clothes until it fits right on you and sat on your bed, wondering if you should just stay inside and make him take some couple extra steps. But decidedly, being in your own room with him will always be so much more unnerving of an experience rather than just letting him shuffling through your stuff on his own. So, the door to your room open with a click, and you step out into long familiar but distant hallways. You wish you can unlearn the concept of loving something that isn’t tangible anymore. It’ll make the hallways a bit brighter.
Like usual, you peek into the empty, almost sterile kitchen and walk up to her armchair. After confirming that you’re alone today also, you found yourself back on the sofa with nothing else to do, simply waiting for Alastor. Checking the time again, it’s exactly mid-day now, so his mother must’ve needed help with something, you’ll have to wait for a bit. Gulping down the uncomfortable heavy weight that settled over your heart since a year and a half ago, refusing to ever die, you lie down and close your eyes.
A year, a half, two week and three days, it’s really a wonder how you work. Maybe that’s what Alastor sees in you, a walking list of contradictions, or maybe this is how everyone works, and you were just cruelly kept out of the loop. Even though you never bother to consider her in your own life, ever since a year and a half ago, you wake up staring at the ceiling with bleary eyes wondering what’s she’s doing every day and why you can’t hear her. Then, remembering that she won’t be doing anything from now on, you get up and make yourself breakfast. Sometimes you would still hear someone calling for you, along with the constant ringing from the phone, but then one day, you forgot how she sounded like, so you starts to ignore the calls.
The day you realized you can no longer hear her voice, calling out to you from the door to your house, you’d tried to trace her footstep by opening her cookbook and making the dish she love. One moment, you were staring down into the pages, the next, you’re seated at the counter, surrounded by Alastor’s companions. You’d call for a whiskey. Everyone find it absolutely hilarious and jokes about your new life while you held the glass in your hand and stare down into the amber-colour liquid. Just as Alastor laugh and reach out for your hand to take it away, talking about how you simply won’t be able to handle the aftermath, you knock your head back and the glass ran clear in one gulp. His friends all cheered for you and shoving another glass into your hand, assuring you’ll get used to this soon, but you don’t know how much you can trust them.
Quite frankly, the whiskey was beyond repulsive. As if you just swallowed flaming charcoal, your throat burns so badly, it’s stopping you from forming a single coherent sentence. You can’t stop yourself from tearing up over it, either, vision blurred and unsteady while a beginning of a headache started creeping up on you, so you down whatever’s in your hand again in the hope of becoming familiar with it fast enough to never have to think twice about it. Before a pretty dame in the group can pass you a third drink, you were hauled up by the shoulder and drag out the door, Alastor hissing a goodbye to the group through his teeth.
Storming off ahead and ranting about how utterly irresponsible you are while you stumbled behind him like a fawn, Alastor would slow down and stare when he can’t hear your soft footstep anymore. You remember walking by a closed tailor shop and flopping yourself down, back against the glass window and weeping without a word. He walked back and sit next to you after a while. You know he’s waiting for you to say something on your own, but you only shrink into yourself. You don’t know what was worse in that moment, the burning in your throat, the head splitting ache slowly brewing or the fact you never know your mother favorite food. How are you supposed to grief someone you don’t know anymore?
In the midst of it all is Alastor, who seemingly lost all of his previous anger. You’ve seen a lot of him over the years, you know he sees all of you. But this is the first time you break down without a word or a reason and you wondered if he feels just as lost and confused as you are. It as if he doesn’t know what to do with you once you actually breaks in a way that doesn’t serve his vision of you, in a way he never have to fix before.
“…Tough day?” with an oddly shy tone, he nudge you from the side, “Didn’t know you’re this much of a sad drunk, honey. Guess I was right to keep you off the bottle after all.” He chuckled, then trail off when you stay silent and stare off into nothing.
It must’ve been no more than ten minutes, but it felt like years before you gave up and open your mouth, voice breaking and quiet. “He made it look so easy.”
“He? Michael?”
He perks up the moment you speak, mouthing off the names of all his associates in hope of finding the one that raises your ire. You would’ve found him endearing if things were different, but you cut him off.
“John,” Then as if it’s not enough, as if Alastor never remembers anyone else, you try to keep your voice even while rubbing your eyes “John Holloway. He made drinking look so easy.” Even without looking, you can see his lips pulled into a taut line.
“Ah, right, John Holloway,” rolling his eyes and shuffling that much closer to you and pulling out his handkerchief, he sneers, holding your wrist still while wiping your face, “No doubt he does. If you didn’t take him out, that chump would’ve drink himself to Hell on his own.”
“At least then he gets to pick his own way out…” You huff.
“It’s been years, honey!” done with cleaning you up, he stuff the handkerchief in his left pocket, “I can’t believe you’re still hung up on him!”
With every word out of his mouth, Alastor’s fake and chipper accent gets just a bit firmer, as if finally knowing what to do. Sitting up straight and pulling his glasses off, he wiped it on his vest and ask dismissively.
“When did he die again? Was it 1928?”
“1929,” you breathe and lean your head against the glass, “Remember that musical you called innovative and new?”
“If only I can forget.” He blanch at the thought of it, you smile wistfully.
“The music was nice, it’ll be nice to watch it again.” From the corner of your eyes, you catches his. You hated how he look so content with this.
“That makes one of us…”
After that, a blanket of silence fell onto you two. With a headache in full swing, you recalled asking whether he ever remembers how they look. Chuckling, he only leans close until your nose almost touch and say that he does. You ask if he’ll ever remember you, he froze and stare into your eyes with an almost incomprehensible look. Standing up, he brushes himself from dust and give you a hand, you take it.
Before you two departed in front of a door that no longer lead to a home, he tells you in an almost too quiet voice that he hope he never have to remember you. You hate his everything in that moment. From how his stands was just a tad bit different from his usual tall and confident poised self to the way he looks so abnormal with the corner of his lips dipped down. You hate how you’ve grown fond of his smile, so you turn and closed the door with a good night.
In the morning, sounding like you just dragged yourself from hell back up, you asked him for a clipped picture from the old newspaper and leave it under your pillow. And ever since, you’ve been rewriting the same letter. To everyone that you ever have a hand on, and to John and your mom. But specifically to John and mom.
John was a good man. It’s a shame he drank too much and care too much in one night. It’s a bigger shame that you can’t keep your thoughtcrime as exactly that, a thoughtcrime. He was right, too. You never knew the man you called Alastor, you don’t think you’ll ever do and you’re happy for it. You only ever find the cowardice to take another man’s life with his help, and you’ll only ever find yourself in more trap than being free from it.
You still bought yarns and cookbooks that you think your mother would’ve love. You come back with enough groceries for two people and the kitchen table are always set for two. You check every day in the kitchen for her still. You still crept up behind the armchair just in case she’s sleeping. Her red slippers still sat patiently just in front of her door. You know she never will be there, but it’s a nice thought. And since mom won’t ever going to be there again, you’ll take a nap. Alastor can have fun dealing with half-asleep you once he’s here.
(you’re woken up by the sounds from your kitchen, the smell familiar. as if finally escaping a bad nightmare, you sprang up on your feet and peek in like a child. Alastor stood at the stove, smiling at you. for the first time in years, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.)
7. we’re going to hell together, after all.
Left, right, right, left.
The silent always puts you on edge, as if there’s something out here, biding for it’s time. If only it’s a beast you can take down with a shotgun. You try to recall the forest trail that you know is somewhere out here as shadows of trees covered you from the moon. But you know Alastor, and you know for a fact that if he wanted to, he could herd you out of New Orleans with just a couple of words and a smile. So you uselessly try to focus past the thundering in your ears, you can’t hear a trace of him anymore. So on the count of three…
Throwing yourself to the right, you almost slammed into a tree as a bullet lodge into the trunk of another just right ahead. A soft chuckle rang out from behind, you kept running. Left hand clutching your right wrist, a sob bubbling up from your aching throat, it’s between running like this and letting the hand ram itself into whatever’s there in the forest. Even if you’re blessed with the chance to get out of this alive, you’ll never have use for your right hand ever again. Bones doesn’t heal right when they sit past five days, but you’re not sure you can even hold a pen with a mangled thumb and a pinkie barely hanging on. You lost a bit of your will at that, but the silence of the woods draws you from your thought. You want to die by your own hands.
Right, left, right.
But you know you won’t be able to. The moment you let him take you here, you already lost. Alastor knows the woods better than you. He knows hunting better than you. And you’re sure he knows he can outrun you at any time. You refuse to dwell on the meaning of it and push your left hand against a tree.
Another shot rang out, this time hurling right by your head and nicked the tip of your right ear and went into the night. You don’t know where it goes, but you staggered just a bit and nearly launch yourself forward when a small bush snatches the end of your clothes.
“Sorry honey!” his voice gets further and further away while he stand still and yell out to you with a casual tone, as casual as he can keep it, “Frayed nerves and all~” he laughs, the rest of his words intelligible, and then suddenly, the forest went silent again. You can’t afford to stop and think anything through, so you push on ahead.
When you’re stuck with only the breaking and crushing of leaves under foot and your own winded breaths filling your ears, you cursed. Your throat starch, your lungs burns. With every step you take, your visions blackened around the edge and breathing alone hurts so horribly. It’s a blessing you even lasted for this long, you never have to chase anyone like he did. You wishes you burn that letter instead of dropping it in the bin, you wish you burn that house down instead of living with a ghost you can’t see. You wish you burn him. You know something was off with him that day, Alastor couldn’t shut up to save his life ever since he gets the key to the house. But he didn’t so much as uttered a word to you while staring down at the cutting board, but you didn’t care enough to ask him. Biting back a curse when a stinging pain shot up from your ankle, you feel your head spin as a short and pained chuckle escape your dry lips, he was thinking about how he wants you dead, surely.
Left, left? Right. L-
You can’t help but cry out the moment the bullet sink into your right upper thigh and sent you down. You crashed sideway onto the forest floor and black out for just half a second when a rock dig into your left temple. Clutching at your thigh with a broken hand, your laugh sounds unfamiliar to your own ears, almost choking as it drags nails and spikes through your throat, like that of an animal, like you’re an animal. The loss of oxygen is getting to you, the irony doesn’t escape you.
While your body winds down and the pain and exhaustion settles in, you go into the most horrible aftermath you’ve ever have to endure. Your head pulsating with every beat of your heart and your limbs grew heavy and cold. Vividly, you pick up on leaves breaking and sticks crushed under heavy footstep and you abandoned all sort of dignity to scrambled and try to drag yourself away from him, fingernails dug into dirt and grass to pull your lead like body away. But another clink, another shot hit your lower torso from behind as your choke scream got swallowed up by the earth, left to clutch at your wounds with face buried into the earth and tears streaming from your eyes.
“Oh honey, why so sad?” a heel sit on your bullet wound, dancing in circle before he slowly press his whole weight onto it. Your suffocating wail isn’t enough to amused him, but he still laugh with such gentleness in his tone. “I thought this is what you want? Weren’t you writing to dear old John about leaving? Well, here it is!”
The relief he granted you last for all but half a second before he bring his foot down. Stinging, numbing pain spread through your entire body and you’re left gasping for air while he held your shoulder and set you to face him. Hunching over your shivering body with a hand on your face, he smiles. Or at least you think he is, there’s not a point trying to make out a single thing over the agonizing pain that’s making a home in your body. You wanted so badly to just black out and die right here, you pretty sure you did black out at some point, but Alastor slap your cheek lightly and calls your name with almost a whine to his tone. The warmth from his hand stand out amongst the incomprehensible burning of your flesh and the blood rushing through your head, why are you here again?
“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging like this. You know I hate it when you ignore me.”
You’re not, you want to scream. If there’s anything you can ever say for him to get off of you and leave you alone, you would. You don’t know if it’s the blood lost or the pain getting to you, but your already waning visions of him blurs beyond recognition while he coos at you.
“I guess it really do hurts that badly?” he laughs, “One question solves then!”
At the mention of it, your blood ran cold and the forest felt just a bit more freezing than it already was. Right, he did say something about John, didn’t he? Almost like it was yesterday, when you’re sitting alone in your room at eleven in the morning. Although barely able to remember the exact wording of every letter, you know by heart the concepts and questions in all the letters you’ve written and rephrased a thousand times and over. But the question wasn’t in that one, it was at least several drafts before it, dropped because it was too presumptuous to ask your first and closest victim such a horribly him question. All of it, sitting neatly in the bin right by your writing desk. All of it, he could’ve read in the hours it took you to wake up.
You want to stick to what’s left of you and die raising your head just a bit higher than when you live by not letting him hear a word out of you, either the fact your throat still hurts so badly just swallowing or the fact you know it’s all but useless talking now that’s keeping you. But from the corner of your eye, you saw his right, red hand gripping tightly onto something that you can’t properly make out, and then you remember the reason you never anticipated any of this occurring within your lifetime.
“Th-the letters…” you groaned, “it’s not-you-“
Right, the reason you were caught off guard by him breaking your fingers while pinning you to his car, the reason you couldn’t even begin to make head from tail when he pressed you for the name of whoever it was that makes you do this. The letters that is, for all its intended purposes, your suicide note.
“Yes, yes,” with a draws to his voice, as if he’s tired of this, “Your lovely letters, to dear old ma and John. We both know I read all about them.”
“No-“ you cough, it’s hurts just to breathe, “I wasn’t going to- tell them-“
“Oh, that. I know.”
For just a moment, you’re void of anything. All the pain and the blistering heat and the cold night air leave your body for just a second and left you with nothing at his words. You’re aware of his every movement, even through the darkness of the night. Suddenly, everything is too much, too loud.
“I thought you’re smarter than this, love.” you can’t see him properly at all, but you can’t see him smiling and it scares you, “It never was just about the letters.”
“Then what-“
Shushing you, he leans down until your forehead nearly touched, you try to focus and find his eyes at this awkward angle but it only worsen the unbearable pounding in your head.
“This, is what you want,” he pauses, you can see the outline of his jaw shifting, like rolling words on his tongue. You want to call him a madman, but you don’t even know if this is him anymore. This isn’t the Alastor you know for years. He would’ve never talk to you without that stupid accent that’s everywhere on the radio. The Alastor you know doesn’t need to considers his words talking to anyone, always with an excuse on his sleeve. And that Alastor would never gotten so close, wouldn’t have sounded so personal. “You said you want to leave. To get to that ‘freedom’, right?”
He sounded so hurt, as if it’s him that’s being crushed under weight with bullets in him and two broken fingers, as if it’s not you writhing on the forest floor, as if he’s the one dying tonight.
“You can’t bear to live anymore, right? You can’t do this with me anymore, can you?” you’re painstakingly reminded of the fact he still have his right hand on you, casually moving it down to your neck while he raises his left. You aren’t sure why, but you still try to claw at the hand clasping gently around you. You think this happened before, but you weren’t sure where the idea came from, the loss of oxygen getting to you quicker than you thought it would. Somewhere in the back of your mind, your fingers, two broken and eight dirtied with dirt and your own blood, it lost the red that have been clinging onto you like a disease.
“Al-“ in that moment, your vision suddenly cleared, like a last-ditch attempt at life. The grip he have around you is like that of a snake, too. Coiling gently and kindly, with a thumb digging into your skin while the inners of your ears felt like bursting open.
“It’s alright, mon Chéri, I’ll help you. I always have, haven’t I?” he always have been helping you, but that was Alastor, your friend and the demon on your shoulder. Not the man that’s staring down at you with such a look and speaking to you with such tenderness and love you can’t begin to dissect.
Desperately, you stare up at the image of an unfamiliar man with voices you’ve never heard before. He smiles a smile so painful, as if losing his mind too, but you can’t tell who he is anymore. Your mom was right, John was right, you’re right, but none of it matters when you’re running out of breath and the rock in his left hand fits so well into his palm.
“I’ll come see you when I’m down there, wait for me.”
Your vision bloomed and blurred away. You stay awake for long enough to hear the first crack of skull, reverberating through your eardrums. You’d stay awake for the second hit, and the third. And you stay awake for just long enough to grow envy of John for never having to faced you that night.
(the hound leaps, sharp fangs breaking tough skin and tearing veins, the vulture, without a mind to think of god, only knows how to cries out.)
#alastor#x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel oneshots
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finished reading exordia! its a book about people having fucked up relationships and making terrible decisions all while staying true to themselves. it took me a while to get into the flow because seth dickinson loves his slow buildup and 5 billion chess pieces and ultra-detailed sci-fi worldbuilding, but i think it all came together fantastically and im left with an emotion i cant parse after the ending.
my book rec below, no spoilers:
youll like this book if you like: unhealthy relationships, seeking out truth through well-done worldbuilding, fun new dynamics classifications! homestucks in looking at you; the agony of feeling like a wallflower and being at odds with your family (this is specifically targeted to one character, chaya panaguiton, a ugandan-filipino butch with issues on how she matters to other people), aliens that fascinate and disgust, morality questions, and ESPECIALLY meta commentary on the essence of narratives itself
things that may frustrate you about this book if youre not fond of them: multiple POVs, intricate details on worldbuilding, im talking physics and aircraft and geopolitics mentions - but to be fair, dickinson tends to be good at clearing up the more abstract concepts. he likes to retierate and reclassify terms he WANTS you to remember in metaphor upon metaphor, so if you have the patience then you wont mind - pop culture references (not a dealbreaker, just a bit annoying as someone who lives under a rock), loss and the feeling of grief piling upon itself trolley-question style. seth doesnt shy away from giving you death and loss to understand the gravity of the situation, and i think he is good at playing with tragedy and hope in this way.
you should definitely have a little translator app ready with you. theres a lot of interjections from multiple languages that give nice snippets of insight if you do translate them
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Gonna be interrupting the ongoing Neo3 saga for a bit, because something serious needs to be addressed.
Its come to my attention that there have been some serious allegations against me and another member of the Magoverse server. The posts were brought to us by someone in said server and that’s how we all found out.
Im here to provide proof against them.
TLDR: There has been a person lying about some very serious matters. I will discuss and provide proof against their claims below.
A former member of our server, giyagas-strikes-back, has claimed that I have been generally harassing them while they were there. They have stated that they have no proof of their accusations. There is no evidence of this because it did not happen at all.
I did not abuse or harass them. All I did was address the behavior that was making other members of the server uncomfortable. We were not once rude to this individual. We had spoken with them regarding their disruptive behavior multiple times, including their disrespect towards our members when they had asked them to tone things down and failed to regard such wishes.
Seen below:
For this next series of screenshots, they were involved in an rp involving sudden angst/violence that made members in the server uncomfortable. I was not the one who addressed the concern, but I did agree with the point of the one who did.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2f31609ae8387bc93780c15fb437d0ab/9bb02476e4eae11b-ee/s1280x1920/bea3328275140406e20978fb0c2564d9cc104630.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fa688eb9294af54a636d15b0635c26d5/9bb02476e4eae11b-48/s1280x1920/aa1c53f0b64987312bc4642b6550c8c67409df8e.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/278c94a84d460bc8848df21cbdab8cbc/9bb02476e4eae11b-f3/s1280x1920/cae2115fdcd8a7c9582d4e2a253fd4c88584d675.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/95c09d3e11bf5901aa5ee76884675165/9bb02476e4eae11b-96/s1280x1920/3d1dd9154b4b4dc27ae43b671d73c0c5119652d6.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9bab251f65c9942d47d04a5b2efee4ed/9bb02476e4eae11b-60/s1280x1920/035a5d259486219a38576f4735f8e7a5ec2325d0.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cafb5fff0e6baf4cde0cb5634b3b19a9/9bb02476e4eae11b-14/s1280x1920/c0f803e8c9c587b4d11eeb3e58b2792257766c08.jpg)
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![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1e24597710f1918693558073ff81e37c/9bb02476e4eae11b-76/s1280x1920/d8dfa294466382657eee58ccb5ee2a1ffb8a4976.jpg)
Another event where they commented something negative about something and someone else talked to them about it. Again, I was only agreeing with someone else, I did not speak harshly to them at all:
We never held a grudge against them, and only spoke to them in this way when they made someone uncomfortable.
Additionally, they told us that they were at least 13 (minimum age for joining the server) when we talked to them. We all thought we were speaking to an individual who would handle criticism we gave them seriously. We found out later that they were lying about their age:
Because we weren't notified, it only came to our attention much later into their membership, as is shown here. (Edited Discord notifications do not provide an "unread message" tag, and with a massive influx of members coming in at that time, this message was quickly buried.) We do not accept members under the age of 13 in our server. Every member under the age of 18 must inform us that they are a minor (no specific number required, just that they're under 18), and they are given a tag indicating that they are a minor. Additionally, we have multiple guidelines in place regarding minors and VC manners. We all mind our distance. To note: Before we could confront giyagas-strikes-back they left the server. We are unsure if they left because they caught wind we knew about them lying about their age, or if they left because of the multiple times that members of the mod staff had been forced to step in to handle behaviors or statements made by them that made other members uncomfortable.
An extra note to add, giyagas-strikes-back claimed that all this happened in a server where the “mod was always away”. We are the mods, and they were fully aware of this. The status of our mods is very apparent and in no way shape or form secret. Even our nicknames are given a specific color to indicate that we are the mods of the server. We only ever interacted with them on the specific server that we mod, so I am unsure if this is another lie, or if they legitimately didn’t realize we were mods and that is why we kept addressing their behaviors with them.
They also mentioned that I associate with Blaze, who they claim said weird stuff to them/is grooming them. But doing a quick search on a statement they made proves otherwise:
I believe these allegations are an immature act of retaliation due to our addressing their ill behaviors.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/541bbae8abb15bf84d1befe89318b8c1/9bb02476e4eae11b-02/s540x810/b8be14724d081298402725f69a4f8debaef6c932.jpg)
Theres one more thing I need to address. It was also brought to my attention that someone is claiming I stole an AU. I was never approached about this, neither has Blue as far as I am aware, and honestly have no idea what AU they're referring to, so I'm going to assume it is CtyH (Close to Your Heart, the au where Mags marries a god). We first discussed this au last January 26, 2023 -- here are screenshots of the first discussions about it. This AU started off as an offshoot to my interp and evolved from there. If anyone ever felt I had stolen something, it was never brought up with me or Blue, and I never wrote this AU with anyone elses in mind.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/34ef0f4af61ddab8b80f086c5e20ff96/9bb02476e4eae11b-9e/s540x810/5ada18adb76db751d9478ae802d0fc7cc61f5761.jpg)
In closing: A healthy reminder. When people are accusing others of something, never take just their word as fact. Always look into it before making your own decision about the person in question, even if it comes from someone you trust. Never let anyone's opinion be your opinion. Always, ALWAYS, find the facts and discern for yourself! Make your own choice. Don't allow others to choose for you. Take this evidence as you will, but please, if you know those responsible for damning our names and making these baseless claims, we ask that you do not harass them on our behalf. We will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of them in my name. Yes, what they are doing is bad, but would any of us be better if we reciprocate in the same manner? That helps no one. Instead, simply inform and educate others. Be peaceful, be respectful. Be polite. Do not attack these people under any circumstances.
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hey hiii love your art and i am astonished by your background composition, is there a process behind that or maybe tips you would share ?
hi!! thank you! this kind of like depends per piece, im not a professional artist (compsci student, so take my advice as a student with no formal art studies with enough salt to taste) but i do have a kind of general-ish process that i can talk about like with this scara piece comp:
i work pose first, composition second: i.e. i draw a pose and usually refine it before i start thinking about a background lol 😭
working general -> specific is my best friend, and I think it also helps me evolve a drawing as i go, since i don't usually have an idea for a full composition when i start (that's so stressful to me LMAO) you can see this progress here (i erased the basic guidelines though so theres no facial features, but i usually leave the face for last anyway because it helps me fit in an expression better)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4e592f4b39108a304c1dbe86fd2970b1/cb9ab794a370b545-da/s540x810/0f8491190547e148ab449a69fc454a9e61413eb4.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3bd273577a23be2d126c325368a46c84/cb9ab794a370b545-46/s540x810/f3e41601053195731b02a4d65adf40d99123ec51.jpg)
by the time i have a full pose THEN ill start refining to an actual composition. this is also the point at which i decide to start putting actual effort in
then i just. fill the background with objects, usually ones that have a connection to the character or vibe im trying to fit. this is a weird example because the only things i know about scaramouche is there's some sort of like connection with puppets and he also likes his vision so i played with that idea, which is kind of where those fishes and the general pose came from. (i go into more detail about this here!)
i originally wanted to have puppet strings for those objects as you can see below but it made the final piece kind of muddy so i took them out :(
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2372a435b5d43c55471083ce3dd56816/cb9ab794a370b545-4e/s540x810/593e009c7ccb32fef3c5a5d46396cbbb5d7b50a8.jpg)
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then its just coloring, which is usually what takes me the longest because im so. indecisive 😭 i like to keep depth and 3d space as the like #1 thing in my mind while coloring though and how shadows will work with that, because i think it helps a piece pop out way more
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f8b50d3dea2a419b0961127d25250667/cb9ab794a370b545-3f/s540x810/a879d9ac67f150d616e44f2369fbe946b784b836.jpg)
and that's how i get my compositions !! i make it seem pretty streamlined here please know it's a lot of redoing whole parts of the drawing and fixing the background/foreground until im happy with the finished result
thank you for asking, i hope this helped answer the question <3
#ask koko#you all should see the reference pictures i had to take for this LMAOOO i look so angry in them its so embarassing#but the drawing turned out well so. it was worth it#thank you for asking!#scaramouche
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hi there! i hope you’re having a good day and merry christmas from 🇦🇺 if you celebrate it! i have a little idea that’s been on the top of my head recently and i just need to get it out into the world (this may be a request, or just a thought) but i have been thinking. imagine a ninjago au where it’s thief/tagger (graffiti artist) reader x the ninjas.. like it could be like a specific ninja but i was thinking more smth like this (picture it)
you’re out doing your usual criminal activities and you and the ninja squad have been rivalling forever, and suddenly you get caught off guard in an alleyway where one of them appear outta no where and ambushes you, so they tease and banter for a hot second with you before you land a hit on them and run off.. but then another appears, cocking their head at you.. then they all start just dropping in onto the hoods of abandoned rusty cars and like old crates and stuff, or like behind you and #jawontheground
anyways, there’s no specific genre to that just needed to get this out of my mind 😢 if you could turn it into like a one shot i would be 😱honoured😱 but it’s just a thought ^^
AHHHHH OMG I LOVE THIS SCENARIO MERRY CHRISTMAS ML 🫶🫶 i hope everyone is having an amazing Christmas eve or day!! Now, enjoy!!
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ALLEYWAY ART GONE WRONG
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Bobbing my hand up and down, shaking the spray can in my hand, i brought up the messy can and sprayed up on the wall, moving it slowly, leaving a dripping effect as the paint slides off the wall. Headphones to a full volume as i hummed along the tunes.
From morning till dawn, my mural was finally finished. I climbed down the rustic ladder and stepped back a few feet to see the masterpiece in front of me. I grinned in success as i laid my eyes upon my art.
Grabbing my bag, i stuffed the rest of the cans into the leather bag and threw it up my shoulder. I crouched down to a periwinkle purse and rummaged through it, the purse had a few dirt and soot on the cover, since it was recently stolen by me.
Finding a lighter and some cigars in the bag, i stuffed the said items into my pocket as i spotted a wallet, reaching my hand out to grab it, i heard some strange noises. Seeming it was some clanging metal. Whipping my head to the right, i spotted no trace of people.
I took my headphones off, being wary of my surroundings. I stood upright and eyed the area where the sound came from, before i knew it i was pinned to the wall aggressively.
Squirming against the strangers grip, they tightened their arms and pressed on my back. I was faced to the wall with my hands behind my back. Groaning and grunting as i tried to pry out of the hard grasp, the stranger started to chuckle from behind me.
“As expected, i knew you were here.” The voice spoke out as he whispered into my ear. I recognized the voice as the earth ninja, Cole brookstone. His hot breath against my ear sent shivers down my spine. He turned me around to face him, my back against the wall with his arms beside me and a knee between my thighs.
“Theres no way to get out of this one, you were a hard catch you know that?” I laid my eyes upon his dark brown ones, i felt his finger tracing my jawline as he chuckled. He moved his arms and started to propel on his elbows against the wall. Our face a mere inch away.
I moved my hand upward, clenching into a fist as i punched his chin from beneath, his teeth hitting each other as he grunted in pain, releasing me from his arms. I lifted myself from the wall and watched as he crouched down while holding his jaw, before he could muster up a word i held the back of his head, feeling his soft jet black hair with a tug.
Pushing his head to the hard surface, his face was met with the wall he was originally on before. His knees against the cold concrete floor while his face was against the brick wall, his hands behind his back with my foot on his wrists tightly.
I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards as i felt a smirk forming on my face, i bent down to his ear, my hand still in his hair and my left foot on his hands against his back. My breath on his ear.
“As much as i love to be put in handcuffs, i dont like the police kind” i whispered and pickpocketed his gi. Throwing his head onto the floor, i darted away from the black ninja, only to realize a dead end, by another one of the ninjas.
Kai jiang smith, the fire ninja, also known as the red ninja. My eyes laid upon his figure as we were about 5 meters away from each other. Backing up and turning away from the said ninja, i was faced with a female with a pool of water in her hands. Knowing it was Nya i groaned and heard a few metal clanging from all around me. Looking around, my eyes were met with the rest of the ninjas on top of garbage bins and old rusted metal of car pieces.
I chuckled and turned my body towards the so called leader who was glaring behind me. “You really had to bring the whole skittles pack, didn’t you Lloyd?” I brought my hand against my hip, watching the Green ninja from afar. “It’s about time you trapped me, although i was having fun with the other ninja” I used my thumb and pointed to the direction of Cole, who was now standing a few meters away from me with some crimson red liquid flowing down his nose.
Lloyd started to get into a fighting stance with his hands glowing green. “Well the fun just started.” He spoke out with a rough voice. Sprinting towards me, he jumped upwards and brought his hand back for a punch, quickly dodging to the right, his fist was met against the floor, leaving a crack in the cement. Feeling a hot temperature behind me, i whipped my head and turned my body just in time, moving away from a fireball from behind me.
“6 verses 1 i see? Kind of unfair dont you think?” Kai and Lloyd was in the air with the intentions of pouncing me, slipping my legs into a split, my thighs and legs were met with the ground, moving my torso to kiss the floor, Kai and Lloyd accidentally attacked each other as they muster apologies.
Lifting my body into a hand stand, i moved my hands and twisted my body into a circular movement, kicking Jay who was dashing towards me.
At the same time he was kicked, he sent lightning at my chest as i grunted in pain, clutching my chest i was quickly met face first to the ground, my hands on my back with a strong grip in my hair.
“And thats payback.” Cole responded as he nodded towards Zane, feeling a cold sensation against my hands, i assumed he was freezing my hands shut. I squinted and groaned as i tried to wiggle my way out of his hold, that led to cole tightening his grip on my hair and pushing my head into the ground.
I bent my knees and started to kick cole, currently my feet were in the air, kicking left and right, Jay then grabbed on of my feet while Nya grabbed ahold of the other. Bringing them together as Zane also freezed my ankles together.
Bringing me to my knees as i was sat upright, “what should we do with her now that we captured her?” Nya asked to the colourful group infront of me. Puffing away a strand of hair in my face i glared at everyone as they were in a small circle, deciding what to do with me.
Kai stayed behind and watched me on the ground, my knees making contact of the cold hard floor, i darted my pupils to the fire head.
Crouching beside me as he sat down with a grunt. We made eye contact, my eyes met his hazels. “Looks like you’re on your knees for me.” He teased and laughed, a frown appearing on my face, i rolled my eyes and shook my head at his behaviour.
“Well then, it’s settled…” Jay turned towards me and kai’s figure on the ground, “You’re staying with us.” Lloyd finished the sentence as he pointed his thumb at himself with a smug grin on his face. I yelled in shock at the answer i was given. “Theres no way you’re making me stay at your stupid hideout!!” I glared my hard eyes at Lloyd.
“Well, we don’t think it’s a good idea to have you back at the prison, since you escaped from that before.” Zane stated.
Groaning, i laid my head back on the wall.
Well this will be a fun night…
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/14320113b5b3e35f12443a0d00d36819/584c8f0b1a97cd87-64/s540x810/1a812ce517f43b6c4cb85bc1899ebf6659ca7b62.jpg)
A/n: IM SO SORRY THAT THIS WAS RUSHED, i didnt really know how to end it so i just hope this is okay 😓
MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🫶
MASTERLIST
#fandom#ninjago#ninjagoxreader#fanfic#cole brookstone#ninjago lloyd#lloyd garmadon#ninjago x reader#ninjago kai#ninjago cole#ninjago zane#x reader
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On asgardian subcultures
Aka ive been thinking about this for months and youre all finally gonna hear about it
Obligatory disclaimer of im not an expert in any of this, ive mixed ideas from the movies comics and myths together so if thats not your thing im sorry, a ton of this is my own headcanons about asgard so ymmv, correct me if i get any facts wrong, this is an oversimplified look at asgard and how countercultures develop (theres no way I could cover everything), consider this post a jumping off point, etc. etc.
Subcultures Primer
Ok so, subcultures dont form in a vacuum. They tend to develop as a response to dominant cultures, and often aim to subvert the political and social norms of their time (see 70s punk, the us anti vietnam war movement that gave rise to hippies). They also tend to form in specific geographical locations, usually a city or county, and then spread further out (see the london 00s grime scene that spread through pirate radio stations before reaching mainstream success in the late 00s, 90s grunge forming in seattle and taking aesthetic cues from the clothes that were cheapest and most durable in seattle at the time). The other place alternative scenes tend to crop up is in music (see pretty much every subculture ive previously mentioned, plus goths, emos, mods, ravers, metalheads, northern soul, etc). This is not something I'll be covering about asgard because music history just isnt my area.
The only other thing i really need to mention here is the dilution of subcultures, aka the set aesthetics of a movement being co-opted by people outside that movement and diluting it's original message. While this is a real thing that eventually happens with all movements that have a set aesthetic, im not gonna touch on it here. Because quite honestly thats way too much worldbuilding for one post. You'd be asking me to invent like, all of asgard. In a tumblr post. Im not doing that.
Dominant Asgardian Culture
For asgard in specific, to figure out what the alternative scenes look like, you first have to figure out whats going on in the mainstream. Dominant asgardian culture (for me at least) brings to mind:
War and warrior culture, aka fight and die for asgard and be rewarded with eternal life in paradise, before fighting and dying again at the end of the world. Asgard doesnt have a huge military for nothing
Gold, and the wealth and political power it signifies. The fact that gold is concentrated in the palace at centre of the city is not an accident (gold actually has some really interesting chemical properties, including its inability to rust or degrade over time, it's many uses in scientific equipment, etc. Idk where else to put this, i just think it's really neat that gold doesnt rust, it's eternal, it makes total sense for asgardians to be obsessed with it)
A monarchy and rigid class system (see rigsthula/the high fantasy genre in general)
Extreme technological advancement, and a rise in scientific rationalism. In particular I feel that asgardians would look down upon the other realms, and consider themselves more sophisticated and rational, and less prone to superstition (of course this is merely a belief; how asgardians see themselves is not always reflected in reality).
A general sense of immortality and eternity. Lives stretching out unchanged for thousands of years. The preservation of youth from enchanted golden apples. It's all very reminiscent of an insect trapped in amber, or a city of immortal vampires
Aesthetically, this manifests as
sleek, shiny, very new looking tech, particularly in richer areas of the city. Think silicon valley or high concept supercars
art deco style architecture (whoever on the design team at marvel came up with that i am kissing you on the mouth it's fucking inspired)
gold armor/jewellery/ornamentation on buildings etc. primarily concentrated among the wealthiest citizens and districts
highly decorated buildings (specifically with very neat, clean lines and patterns, controlled curves, very mathematical and scientific designs, almost reminiscent of the art of the islamic golden age, also fucking inspired btw, seriously theres some great design choices in those early movies, like it was genius for the artists to pick architectural influences from great scientific ages throughout history and mix them with traditional viking age motifs and patterns, really great design work i feel like people dont talk about this enough)
The architecture of asgard itself also plays a role in the formation and maintenance of it's cultural norms. The palace is located in the centre of the city, centralising the wealth and power among those who live there, and leaving behind citizens who live further out from the centre.
The immediate areas around the palace would be home to asgards wealthiest families, as well as politicians/diplomats/ambassadors etc. Very wealthy landowners may have private lands here, which they use as gardens, vineyards, or for fancy rich people hobbies like foxhunting and horse riding. There would also be a high military presence in this area due to proximity to the palace.
The areas fairly near the centre would likely be relatively wealthy, and be home to a greater diversity of professions (engineers/doctors/etc). They're likely to contain big cities with big city amenities, such as music halls, universities, more niche and specialist shops, etc. These areas would be densely populated, with modern apartment complexes and a decent transit system.
Further out, more industrial areas would likely start appearing, with larger industrial cities forming particularly close to mountains and forests. More rural areas will start to crop up too, and will consist mostly of farmland and smaller towns.
The outermost edges of the city would likely be mostly port cities, with docks and large fishing communities (asgard is an island after all). Some of these cities would likely see some trade from fishing and beach tourism, but many may also be struggling financially. There may be some small islands off the coast in some areas, with their own small communities largely cut off from the mainland. Whaling would likely be fairly common here, alongside other forms of fishing.
In addition, the bifrost is the only way in and out of asgard, and is only open to a select few, meaning the vast majority of people living in asgard will never step foot outside it. Even some rich asgardians may never leave the realm once in their entire lives. This means that most of asgardian culture would develop mostly in isolation from the other realms, with very little cultural exchange outside of traders and extremely wealthy citizens.
Countercultures: Formation and Aesthetics
Rejection of technology and scientific thinking in favour of the supernatural/wisdom of old/outright cults (see 19th century gothic literature as a reaction to the industrial revolution). Would be expressed as returning to old technology (anything from drop spindles to whatever the asgardian equivalent of cassette tapes is). Potentially this could also give rise to pseudoscientific thinking as a backlash to scientific reasoning. Things like contacting the norns to have them read your fortune, or having your consciousness travel through the branches of yggdrasil, would be fairly common. I can imagine there would be a fair few grifters claiming they can "realign your spirit with the branches of the world tree. For a small fee of course".
Whilst subcultures can form anywhere there's people, they most often tend to form in places with dissatisfaction with cultural and political norms. In asgard, these would be places with little influence over the crown, aka areas far away from the palace that may also be struggling financially. These countercultures could manifest from a variety of things, including:
Anti war and warrior culture. It's likely that, during its long and storied history of wars with the other realms, asgard would have had at least one anti war movement. I reckon it would spring up during a particularly long war that funnelled resources meant for poorer towns on the outskirts of the city, decimating the economy and potentially even creating food shortages. The main focus of the movement would be class related, but may have some more general hippy style anti violence sub-movements.
Rejection of the promise of eternal life in valhalla and by extension a permanent state of self, with a focus on natural processes of death and the cycles of life (i can see so many weird teenagers being told that they'll be feasting in valhalla forever with their high school bullies, and i doubt that would go down well with them, like "fuck that i would rather literally rot in hel than see any of you ever again"). Aesthetically it would include rotting fruit, the life cycles of animals (particularly insects, which violently change forms throughout almost every stage of life), animal and human skeletons, mushrooms growing from dead and rotted trees, scavenging animals that eat corpses, etc. More hardcore members of the scene may develop a fascination with transformation of the self, and use seiđr to alter their bodies (think extreme body mods but with magic).
The sea!! Asgard is an island!! Theres no way they havent tried exploring the oceans surrounding the entire realm. Fear of and fascination with the unknown, combined with proximity to the ocean, would very likely result in a deep love and appreciation of deep sea life, and much speculation of what creatures and monsters might be lurking just out of sight. Almost certainly a couple of small cults will spring up worshipping some ancient sea monster that definitely exists for sure i saw it with my own eyes it was thiiiis big.
Rust. Any asgardian subculture worth its salt is going to reject gold and everything it represents. Rusting discoloured metals with thick patinas and flaking paint will likely crop up alongside every other point in this list.
Anyway this is all a very long winded way of saying that, by asgardian standards, loki isnt actually a goth he's a poser. He's a rich kid that buys £150 'goth style' clothes from ye olde asgardian punk rave but hasnt heard of bauhaus. He doesnt even care about rust.
#oh god this got so long it's like an actual essay now#ive been trying to write this thing for like 2 months now i just wanna release it into the world and move on with my life#im just gonna post this and immediately go to bed oh god it's half 11 already i have shit to do tomorrow#thor#asgard#asgard meta#asgard subcultures post
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I lob it art omg it’s just PERFECTTTTTT
Idk if you could go into detail (or if you’ve already talked abt it) but how’d you come up with the designs for ur kavetham witch au? They look so cool they make me want to consume them like cake 🍰
ok i think i told the story of how i created fantasy au a few times already but sjkbackc i dont mind
april 2023 i was prefarming for kaveh mats. was during the interdarshan championship update, kaveh was released in the 2nd half so i spent quite some time in the newly dropped sumeru region (realm of farakhkert/gavireh lajavard) to farm mourning flowers and fungal spores
i doodled hthm working hard to farm for kvh and him with the lil fungi and their big hats gave me an idea to draw him with a big hat like a cool witch. thought about it more and came up with a neat idea for a story so yea, my au and witchtham lit was inspired by the fungi while i was in the middle OF DRAWING THIS PIECE AHHA
(i think i said before when i talked about my ocs that i have a "problem" of always coming up w concepts and ideas and stories and whatever super fast. i can like, listen to one track or look at one thing and immediately get an idea for a fully fleshed out story. my brain is almost always full w stuff, its a blessing and a curse bc i cant work on 100 things at the same time. im not srsly complaining btw ok🧍♀️)
me lit the same day:
and boom, doodled the idea out and it turned into a big au now AHHA
i rlly just wanted to draw him w a biiiiig hat and since im a SUCKER for badass witches and like, this very specific, amano aesthetic i have, i came up w smth that is still hthm but smth witchy
at first the idea rlly just was prince kaveh and witch haitham and kaveh being cursed and hiring haitham for his services; them on a journey trying to break the curse and falling in love with each other
over the year i fleshed the idea out more and more, changed their designs a little, thought of the entire story, designed the rest of the party and yea........this au is literally my baby <3 (its almost 4am rn so im sry if my answer is a bit short or rushed, i just wanted to answer it asap without rambling too much bc im always excited talking abt it ajkcbsk)
i love drawing it, i love talking about it, if theres more questions feel free to ask !! 💙
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