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snowblossomreads · 11 months ago

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Day 23: Under the Tree

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: Severus comes home to his living room looking much different than he left it thanks to [Y/n].

Tag(s)/Warning(s): fluff!, decorating for loved one, mentions of childhood poverty, kissing, mostly just cuteness

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Ekkk I'm posting this kinda late after running aroundish so apologize for anything with wacky grammar or spelling haha! But enjoy this cute little fluff with Snape!

"What in Salazer's name-! [Y/n] what is all of this?"

When Severus had left early that morning to attend to some business, his sitting room was under decorated as it usually was all year round. That meant piles of books were littered here and there and on the shelves that lined the wall. His typewriter sat on a little table with manuscripts he had been working on for a while. And piled high next to it, were more books along with his chair that sat next to the fireplace.

Yet, when he had returned and stepped into the room he was startled when he was met with the sight of a Christmas wonderland. Nothing had technically been moved, but things had been added to the space.

Take for instance, the strings of garland that hung on all the shelves and across the fireplace with little holly leaves attached to them. There were also four green and silver striped stockings on the mantle of the fireplace, all of them evenly spaced out from one another.

Also, how could he forget about the tree that was half as tall as the bookshelves? Decorated with little colourful lights that twinkled and would slowly change colours, it also had been wrapped in some gaudy tinsel along with tiny ornaments that hung from the ends of different branches. The tree was insanely bright and much more colourful than most things in the house, and under it were a few gifts wrapped neatly. Before he could look for any more changes in the room, [Y/n] appeared in the kitchen doorway with a bright smile and an apron on.

"Severus!" She beamed as she wiped her hands on her apron and made her way to him with a warm smile. "Welcome back! Do you like what I've done with the place?" She asked, turning around to admire her handy work. "I figured since it's our first Christmas together it should be more festive feeling and I just couldn't help myself. I hope I didn't go too overboard though."

She had thought it a shame that they hadn't decorated for Christmas with how close it was and as it got closer it just didn't feel right to not have something festive looking in the house. So when Severus had left that morning, [Y/n] decided that their first Christmas wouldn't be complete without a tree and some decorations.

So she made her way to Hogsmeade and gathered as much decoration as she could find in the short amount of time that she had to pull what she had in mind. The hardest thing was to get a tree sent over quickly and discreetly. Thankfully it was a handy thing to be such a skilled witch as her as with one little wave of a wand, the miniature tree that she had found easily became a midsize one and large enough to fit all the decorations she had bought.

She had furiously decorated the whole room not stopping until everything was done as she wanted to give him a surprise. Once all the decorations were up, she quickly ran to place the presents that they had bought for one another underneath it. Was it a temptation to take a peek at them, absolutely but she didn't!

"I think I did amazing with the time crunch I had, but you're the wizard I need to impress! Soooo how'd you like it?"

"[Y/n] I-." He started, but stopped in mid sentence causing her to look at him and notice the slightly shocked expression on his features.

He didn't quite know what to say. It had been years, since he had seen the room like this. Alive with so much colour and cheer, that when he thought of it, he actually didn't believe that he had ever seen it so full of life.

As a child, when they decorated, and that was if his parents could afford to, they would only usually have a tiny tree that had already lost a lot of it's needles. The lights were not colorful just a bright white with missing bulbs here and there, and there would usually be two or three things under the tree if anything at all.

So to see so much Christmas in his home, had his heart swirling with emotions that he still had a hard time coming to terms with. It all felt so new that all he could do was sit in silence for a moment as he took in what [Y/n] had done for him.

"Severus?" She questioned, unsure if the silence that was between them was good or bad as he had not yet voice an opinion either way.

She had been nervous about her whole decorating scheme and him not answering her made her stomach twist uncomfortably as she thought she had done something wrong.

"Oh gosh I've messed up haven't I? I debated on telling you but I thought it be a fun surprise," you know?" She babbled nervously, wringing her hands on her apron while trying to explain her reasoning. "I know you don't like your stuff being moved about so I tried to work around it, but I just thought it be nice for a spark of colour to light the place up. Not that I don't like it as it is! It's just-."

She didn't get to finish her rambling explanation because before another word left her lips, Severus had wrapped his arms around her in a hug and his lips were pressed against hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

All of the worry she had about overstepping instantly melted like snow on a warm day and she was kissing him back with the same passion. Arms wrapping around his waist to keep her from falling over at how good his lips felt against hers, she couldn't hold in the moan that left her throat as he kissed her over and over until she was breathless from his affection.

"It's beautiful [Y/n]," he husked in that rich baritone of his as he finally pulled away from her lips leaving her a bit light headed. "Absolutely wonderful. A Christmas wonderland is not what I expected when I came but it is wonderful present either way."

His approval had her heart soaring, while also causing her to relax in his hold now that she knew his silence wasn't because he was crossed with her. Letting out a breath of relief, [Y/n] shuffled in his hold so that her back was against his front and she delicately took his hands so that he would lace his fingers across her waist.

Leaning back, they both gazed at the room for a moment, admiring her handy work at making everything so festive in such a short amount of time.

"Well good," she sighed out as his arms tighten their hold against her as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "I was scared that you were going to hate it but it makes me feel better that you don't. And also I think the lights on the tree are lovely and I would hate to take them down."

"Mhmm, they are quite lovely, but for what it's worth," he whispered huskily in her ear, a sound that made her shiver in his arms. "I think you are the brightest light in this room and in any other."

His compliment caused an involuntary smile to bloom on her lips as she turned around to face the man she adored so much. A tiny smile was on his thin lips when she looked at him, yet it was his dark eyes that were alight that seemed to tell the story of how happy he was.

"Oh Severus I do love you," she whispered as she went to stroke his cheek, causing his eyes to soften at her.

"And I love you, darling, thank you for this," he responded before leaning down and kissing her once more as they were surrounded in their little wonderland.

#severus snape x reader #severus x reader #rickmas #rickmas2023

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arcsnonexistantfandomblog · 1 year ago

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Why Mount Rageous is better than This is the thanks I get as a villain song

!Disclaimers!:

spoilers for both movies possibly, I have not watched every part of these movie.

First let's adress the songs in general.

Mount Rageous

"The song medley is the main focus of the Rage Dome concert that the duo Velvet and Veneer are meant to be singing. They cut short their entrance and instead take to the streets in a run away situation with Trolls Poppy, Tiny Diamond and Branch is pursuit. The song is not just their final concert, in which they will win a Life-Time Reward and be set for life, but a way of taunting the Trolls who are trying to get BroZone back from them. Their fans drive alongside them, creating natural barriers that prevent the Trolls from getting to them and allowing the duo to be escorted in safety. Despite the impressive dance and singing moves while on the run, the song is without its faults (See "Trivia section"). It is a summary of what the two have not only amounted to on their raise to fame, but a nod to Velvet and Veneer's relationship itself. The issues can only be picked up upon by the listener, if they are paying attention to not only what the song is about, but the way the two singers are singing with Velvet's personality leaking into the song itself. It is a medley-style song and is meant to have an encore, but Velvet is cut off before it."

From Trolls.Fandom.Com

Sure the song combines Sweet Dreams (are made of this) and some other songs too [fame, and Watch Me Work] but it ironically becomes a great villain song for them because the viewer already knows that their talents aren't genuine because of the trolls being used to help them sing.

Unlike this the thanks I get, the way the song's genre is used works for the motives and characters in general. The lyrics not only feel very ironic for their goals and motives: but they also give characterization by who is the main singing.

Velvet is someone who is the main villain, not only because her being the one who does not have any moments to 'rethink' what she is doing, but also related of the relationship she has with her brother.

Vener however is more compassionate than Velvet and has some moments where he could have fully dropped out and became a better person. Heck he even gets punished at the end despite him being willing to change for the better and being the one to expose them both.

Basically what I am saying is that the songs they sing make sense for who gets the most of the song: for how each character gets a certain amount of spotlight. Like how Velvet adds lyrics that originally were not there, making veneer more quiet.

I have no cons for this because even without watching the movie and seeing the lyrics for how they are, you can tell who is the one who is willing to abuse the trolls to get their goal. That person is Velvet, as she seems to show no concern for it. Even her parts get louder at the end showing that.

You know the villains kind of remind me of the dazzling's where they have something they use to make their voices so...amazing and captivating.

In Watch Me Work, you see that both sing, and Velvet is still the main singer, but Vener is heard better here too, which shows how the villain song hits differently than the other song.

I also want to note how with their motives, how poppy and catchy the song it makes total sense, and fits their roles so well.

Now enough with this, time to go with Magnificos song...

This is the thanks I get?!

No notes here other than this...

The song takes place while Amaya is trying to get a wish back home with the star and the goat Valentino. It seems to be more like 'venting' in a way. This is all I know as I am going to watch wish with a friend on the 27th.

Alright so, wow the singing is great! That is obvious! I think the song does fine on it's own: it can be catchy but feels repetitive in some parts, I think it is because the composers are bad: not because of 'Ai'. Like... I get that it sounds that way, but they did not get the best composers they could for this movie and like... WHAT

Anyways, let's get to some positives I have with this song. For Magnifico, I think that this displays his personality pretty well, it at least gives him a flat baseline other than how compassionate he is towards his wife. It makes him feel full of himself and ungrateful for the attention he already has from many people who adore him or are willing to work with him.

Personally, the song feels like he is venting about his feelings as well, with how he talks into the beginning...until you get to later when you actually get to the part that feels like him planning and thinking about what he is going to do.

For a particular part the "I let you live here for free, and I don't even charge you rent" makes him feel like he is trying to embed that he wants you to know how kind he is. I mean..even by how he talks about it.

He actually does seem like he could have been a good person based on how some of the movie tries to portray him as a villain, even if some of his reasons are reasonable.

Alright, now cons.

So, just the lyrics and the "pop" in the song NEED DESPRATELY to change.

What he desperately needs is a STRONG song like Hellfire, where the villain has this moment where you can see how they are, their motives, and the strong composing and singing that come from it. The chills down your spine as this song comes on during the movie and makes you FEEL that emotion the villain has, and see them as a person.

Or like poor unfortunate souls where the background music intentionally makes it too where you get the vibe that things are wrong. Or like Friends on the Other Side where the song gets intense intentionally at some parts for a reason.

I think the lyrics could work, it just needs something to freshen it up and the song needs to NOT be so poppy. Like let Chris Pine use his voice for this song and show the power Magnifico HAS. Get the voice low, or high, sing long or normally.

The pop feels off for a guy like Magnifico, he is royalty, and he needs something that compliments it. Or hell do the opposite of At all costs and make it an EVIL lullaby where everything is just twisted.

So Why is Mount Rageous better than This is the thanks I get as a villain song?

It should be obvious, that not only does the song better complement the Goals and character traits of the villains but makes sense with it: but it also has that charm that the other song is missing.

Mount Rageous IS meant to be and is PART of a jukebox musical, so it should make sense for it not only to be a pop song but to reference other songs and make it into its beautiful creation for the villain.

Mount Rageous has the glitz and glam it needs, while This is the thanks I Get is missing its villainous charm and strong composing.

I feel like Chris Pines voice was not used to its full potential for its song, and Mount Rageous is so much better.

Mount Rageous makes This is the Thanks I Get look pitiful in comparison. And the sadder thing is this was for Disney's 100TH ANNIVERSARY MOVIE?! I mean come on man...you could have gotten the composers from Frozen and Lin-Manuel Miranda together[Despite how annoying it is how constantly he pops up], taken actual inspo from the previous songs, and to craft a song that is on par, or one even better.

There is so much missing potential, even the sections for both songs show that...

That is it for this post, thank you for listening/reading. I am going to record this as an audio and post it on YouTube hopefully.

#king magnifico #youtube #wish disney #disney wish #magnifico wish #trolls band together #velvet and veneer #mount rageous #song

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insult-2-injury · 2 years ago

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A Worthy Distraction

Header by my wonderful and talented friend @drawlypsy. Please go check out their work, they're fucking amazing.

AO3 Link NSFW Dottore/femReader, murder couple, dirty talk, fingering, questionable coping mechanisms, over the pants feelies, villains will be villains, trauma

[This is a Genshin OC one-shot I wrote for friends and then rewrote into a reader insert. Some tenses and stuff may be a little wonky here and there, but I think I caught most of it. It is only a tad OC-centric, as reader does have a backstory, but it's minor and shouldn't make a difference. Idk. There's smut.]

The lowdown: reader has anemo vision w/ pyro delusion, has one metal claw hand and PTSD to match

~~~~~~

You lay on your side, sprawled out across an uncomfortable-looking exam table like a cat in a patch of sun, yawning and stretching as you awoke from a short nap. Head twitching to the side, Dottore acknowledged your entry into the waking world with a rigid nod and a tiny quirk of his lips, something that could almost be categorized as a rigid smile, before turning back to the subject on his table.

You shot him a cheeky grin, unruly tufts of your hair falling across your face as you did so. Your socked foot tapped a rhythm onto the metal beneath, warm now with the prolonged heat of your body. Your head thumped back against the metal… Bored. So bored.

Archons, you were just as ambitious as he when it came to testing out new ideas and just as prone to getting lost for hours in the mental process of it all. But he had been at this experiment for days, barely sleeping, hardly eating. Your best friend Ana was off on some secret Fatui mission, his more tolerable clones were deployed in Sumeru, and chatting up the locals was apparently a non-starter. Besides, it wasn’t your fault anyway that the local creperie burned down. And, unrelated, what kind of creperie ran out of fucking crepes?

You were bored. So completely and utterly bored. You sat up, criss-crossing your legs beneath you in order to better watch the Doctor work.

Dottore was a straight line– seemed perfectly content staying in one spot for an entire day, his mind single tracked and obsessive. You, on the other hand, took the path of a crack of lightning, your interests branching and changing rapidly, new revelations branching into new ideas and new ideas springing into new experiments and it was a wonder you ever finished anything at all. You always did benefit from someone who could help organize the near constant fusillade of inspirations in your head.

You used to have someone. Now they were the ghost in every corner.

You needed distractions. And a man possessed could provide no such thing. Your fingers twitched and the pyro delusion warmed on your hip. Then burned. You inhaled sharply, your heart rate picking up.

You blinked away at the encroaching visions that threatened to steal you, usher you inside. The disembodied voices and the ghostly feeling… the familiar mourning of the fiercest kind of love expanding in your chest but with no vessel, no discernible memory to hive it away in. So full yet so terribly out of reach and–

“You’re fidgety tonight,” Prime said calmly and you gasped, your eyes shooting open in time to catch the fire blossoming at your fingertips, having singed a small hole through the thin fabric of your shorts. Cursing, you swatted at the smoke as he continued evenly. “Go take a walk outside if you must.”

You allowed the span of a few centering breaths to pass as your gaze fell upon Dottore’s raven mask laying on the counter behind him. Your gaze darted back to his uncovered features and you found yourself drawn in, and not for the first time. It was a recent breakthrough, one he’d made no announcement of despite the shock when he’d removed the thing in front of you; a promising sign of trust from a man who so lauded in the unsettling air of mystery he exuded.

You fiddled with the mask in your own hair as you observed. The ancient scar that crossed the bridge of his nose and extended up to his right temple, eyes untouched, the rest of his face pale, smooth, and unscathed. The scar that he could easily remove with his scientific prowess yet he kept it just the same. You’d always reckoned it was a reminder of something; a tether of sorts.

And Celestia knows a mind without a tether was a dangerous thing. Yes, you thought, Celestia would know, indeed.

You let out a sudden shriek of laughter, unprovoked.

“Ah, shucks. You’re always trying to send me away,” you chided finally, rolling the singed fabric between your thumb and forefinger. “Besides, it’s the middle of the night, bozo.”

The stiff, weary shake of his head was indicative that he was now only slightly bothered by the plethora of nicknames that you’d coined to get under his skin. Good, you thought with delight, he’d better get used to it.

“I mean, heck,” you continued, throwing up your arms, “who knows what kind of monsters are skulking about out there?”

Dottore’s piercing, crimson eyes latched onto yours and you smiled at the clear meaning within.

Worse than me?

A familiar shock of yearning racked the length of your spine. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, noting the way his eyes flicked to the motion of your lips before slowly drawing back up, almost expressionless. But you knew his little intricacies by now; the indiscernible twitch of his eyelids when you toed the line with him, the drumming of those long, elegant fingers against any available service whenever he was in deep thought.

How he studied you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

You had always been attracted to the dark; where flame cast light upon a brick wall you were drawn to the shadows that slid effortlessly in between, morphing and making their quiet nests within the cracks in mortar. Yes, Dottore was indeed a darkly beautiful thing, you thought, not allowing your gaze to stray from his.

“I was under the impression you could handle yourself,” he said coolly, but the bladed glint in his unflinching stare was bright and calculating, even beneath the eerie shadows cast over his features by the medical lamp above. “Was I wrong to think so?”

Hmph. All work and no play made the Doctor cranky. Your nose twitched and you cocked your head, lips curling coyly.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you said, baring your teeth. “But you’d miss me, wouldn’t you?” You placed your chin in your palm to drum fingers against your cheekbones but didn’t wait for his answer. “So I’ll stay right here. For the good Doctor’s sake, of course.”

You winked.

“For my sake. Of course,” he murmured, examining your wide, inciting grin and the butterfly flutter of your eyelashes. A tiny quirk of his lips betrayed his forced impassivity before he put a pin in the expanding balloon of tension by turning back to the body on the table silently.

You swallowed down the uncharacteristic dryness in your throat.

There were different routes you could take to get your desired result, one that would ease the ache between your legs and provide you a worthy distraction from the ghosts in every corner. You were used to people winding up putty in your hands, pliable and needy; even the self righteous ones. You just had a gift about you, an impulsive need for control in all senses of the word that people just responded to.

Except him.

To have Prime in your greedy clutches would be nothing short of euphoric. But there was something ancient and omniscient about him that made him effortlessly superior to them all, as if he would slip like sand through the fingers of anyone who tried to hold him. He was patient, unhurried; a lone viper coiled atop its rock, full-bellied and confident in his supremacy, so many leagues above that he had all the time in the world.

Your lips twitched. But, so did you now, didn’t you? Cursed with immortality and ironically bestowed the power to alter time; a power that centuries ago you would have used to pulverize the very forces that had granted them to you in the first place. But time just wasn’t enough for you. You were a creature starved. You wanted to devour and destroy each moment now until nothing remained but the burning foundation. And even that must go.

Your mind strayed again and you fought to ground yourself. All must go.

You hissed between your teeth, leaping off the table to take up space beside Dottore, shoulder pressing into his as you studied his bloody work. You viewed his profile in your periphery; his bladed nose, the soft, steel blue curls that framed his face, the slight, disapproving curl of his lips downward as he was jostled.

“Need any assistance?” you said brightly.

“I do not.” His hands began to move carefully across the corpse, but you knew enough about his craft and were observant enough to see that his focus wasn’t on the experiment before him.

“Hm… You want a drink or something?”

“No,” he said shortly, and then as if remembering himself, “... but thank you.”

“Well, you must be hungry at least.” Your long fingers dared to wrap his elbow, fiddling with the rolled up arms of his blue linen shirt before trailing up to his bicep, squeezing. “Goodness, you’re all skin and bones, crazy you can even hold that scalpel like you are. It’s almost like… like… like holding a flimsy little test tube…”

Dottore’s chin dipped, the slope of his nose tipping down toward your mocking countenance, which faltered slightly when his gaze dropped briefly to the two fingers now trailing over the sharp buckles of his arm bands. You hadn’t touched Prime before besides the occasional brushing of shoulders and on the surface, he didn’t seem the type to enjoy such things. Maybe all it took was the right button.

But Prime only hummed, crimson red eyes rising.

“Your actions suggest you desire to take this man’s place.” His voice was soft but rife with danger. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and you cocked your head to the side like a mischievous crow. You seemed to share the same steady breath back and forth as you studied each other for a short moment.

“Suit yourself, old man,” you chirped, conjuring a gust of anemo to tousle his loose, hanging locks of unruly hair before releasing his arm abruptly and in a blur of motion swinging around to his other side. “You’re loads of fun, you know that? Have your harbinger friends ever told you what a dream you are?”

Friends. Maybe there was a segment of him that had what one could call a friend but Prime, you had observed, seemed to have no interest in any social dealings that didn’t involve the business of sinister diplomacy. The only person who came around here often enough was Pantalone, and you could hardly call a wallet a friend.

Not that you had many tried and true friendships besides Ana. There was, of course, the pink-haired stick bug that was a package deal with your best friend and he seemed to be warming up to you a bit, but on the whole, people just seemed to tolerate you. Not your fault. Social skills were a fucking bitch.

“Has anyone ever told you how exasperating you really are?” he retorted and then continued, softly mocking, like he was speaking to a child. “This experiment is a particularly sensitive one that requires a certain amount of space and time to complete. Space and time that you seem unwilling to provide.”

“Provide?” You giggled and leaned in close, voice a low purr in his ear. “You get awfully mean when you’re frustrated, Doctor.” And you swung from him, sauntering away.

On a shelf across the room, a little radio sat playing quiet soul music. With one slow stroke of your forefinger across the dial, you turned the volume up, wiggling your hips to the music as you bent across the counter. But when you peeked over your shoulder, he was paying you no mind. Worse, he was turned completely around, vials clanking as he fiddled with something in the depths of his cabinets. Your sly grin turned into a wrathful frown as you glared.

Taking the radio beneath one arm, you spun around to bow comically low, your free arm splayed out like the spread wing of a bird about to take flight. A gust of anemo slammed the cabinet door in his face and he paused, hand still mid air. Then, terribly slow, he turned, eyes hooded and serpentlike but otherwise expressionless. You waited for his full attention with a feral grin on your face before you flicked the volume up another notch and spun out of the stance.

Your socks slid clumsily across the rubber floor as you moved with exaggerated motions, using the radio as a dance partner, swaying to the egregiously loud music. And to add insult to injury, you sang along, too, belting out the words like you were doing all this to save your own life.

Dottore’s eyes were all that moved as they followed, crimson glowing in your periphery as you twirled. And even if he had raised his voice above the cacophony, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. But his gaze challenged just the same.

You shrugged, turned the volume up to max and watched his eyelids twitch in contemplation before he started to carefully put the corpse before him away, zipping them into a body bag before rolling the table away and into the walk-in freezer. He returned, surprisingly gloveless fingers casually brushing down the front of his pants.

All the while, you danced closer, singing and laughing with frenzied glee, winding up to perform a full running slide toward him. But a small, abrupt twitch of Dottore’s wrist paired with a warning, devilish tick of his lips had you dropping the radio in order to conjure your polearm, spinning it elegantly above your head.

The cogs of a clock rotated before your eyes, a secondhand wheeling at an impossible speed. With practiced ease, you whirled it swiftly back, resetting the clock. You slid to a steady halt in front of him.

The giant needle, half the size of you, that would feasibly have torn into your flesh floated innocently now beside his head, gleaming in the fluorescent light. You searched him with razor eyes, a cocked grin on your face as you reached out with the deadly point of a clawed finger to prop under his chin while the other wiggled beneath the center strap of his harness to pull his face closer. “You weren’t actually going to use that little pin trick on me, were you? I was looking for a dance partner, princess,” you tutted, “not a fight.”

And not taking your gaze off his, you stretched out with your free hand to slowly turn the point of the intimidating needle away from yourself. “Ooh, that is sharp, though!” you remarked. “Very impressive, doctor, I should fashion you up a fancy shmancy corkboard to match. Because you know, I’m nice like that. Now, wanna tell me why you’d go and ruin my good fun?”

“Your good fun…” He hummed regretfully. The finger beneath his chin dug in and he chuckled, a dark blaze of interest in his eyes. “You are right, my dear, I may have overreacted. Well, I am sorry, for all that my word is worth. I simply had the strangest inkling you weren’t listening to me. But now…” The corners of his lips twitched just slightly. “Now you must think me quite uncivil.”

You grinned and met him in the middle of the playing field, the claw beneath his chin falling to round his neck. “You did forget your manners there for a second, huh?”

Dottore hummed, leaning unexpectedly forward and into the grip of your unmoving talons. It seemed every segment of the Doctor favored a nice side plate of anguish, and Prime was no different. They really were just flowers plucked from the same garden.

The talon of your thumb dug into his pulse point and he let out the softest groan, his breath tickling the strands of hair across your forehead.

One of his hands peeled your hold carefully from round his neck, holding it instead against his chest. You swallowed down a secret, hidden delight born of being held by a being who did not often seek out the pleasures of touch. In this moment, he was yours. Your Prime.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Doctor,” you said, “I can think of several ways to atone.”

Clawed hand laced beneath his, your free hand trailed down to his lower abdomen, pausing so as to peer up at him through your eyelashes. His breathing remained practiced and steady but there was no mistaking the muscles that twitched and jumped beneath his shirt as your fingers danced innocently from hip to hip. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes rose to meet yours.

“I shudder to think what punishments a mind such as yours could dream up,” he said lightly.

Too lightly. Too unbothered.

“I’d only give as much as you’re able to take, of course.”

“Ah, of course.”

Dottore huffed out a dark laugh, his free hand rising up to almost tenderly stroke the ticklish outline of your jaw before falling to cup beneath. “I’ve been told I’m long-winded but you don’t give up do you? An admirable trait in some circumstances, I suppose. But you are a horribly impatient thing.”

His thumb pushed into the plush of your bottom lip, quietly admiring the give of it, the shades of red warping under his shifting pressure. “Although I suppose I have been quite busy, haven’t I?” he crooned and you felt a bright flicker of irritation at the implication that your entire time here had thus far revolved around a one-sided pining for him.

No, no. That wouldn’t do.

You had intended on taking him quick once he showed interest, but something bright and oddly delicate within the depths of your chest had you slowing down. Besides, you supposed a bit of teasing wouldn’t hurt.

“Being elbow deep in your funny little corpses all day makes you awful ornery. I just think you could use a break.”

Your hand dropped those final fatal inches, brushing along the front of his pants, fingers dragging a slow, lazy rhythm across the twitching hardness beneath. Archons, he was big. And he knew it, too. Had no reservations about pushing his hips forward and into your grip just to watch your eyes widen.

With a centering intent, you located and swiped across the tip, pressing there to savor the bead of precum wetting slowly through. His grip tightened painfully on your jaw and his own thumb jerked forward, sliding between your teeth. His eyes dipped closed almost as if to center himself, his finger resting on the pad of your tongue.

Dottore’s crimson gaze reemerged and fell transfixed upon the digit you pinched between your teeth before releasing. His voice was surprisingly even when he spoke again. “Tell me what you want.”

“You on your knees,” you said candidly, stroking along his length again, so hot against the palm of your flesh hand. “Some begging would be nice.”

His chuckle was a roll of thunder, sinister and foreboding. “Oh? How forward,” he remarked.

“And just a liiiittle bit of your time. Since like you said, you’ve been so busy. Then we can go back to pretending you haven’t wanted this since the very beginning. Is that so much to ask?”

The slow, wicked curl of Dottore’s lips would have sent anyone else running for the hills, but not you, a vicious thread of want unspooling between your thighs at the sight. To have such villainous lips pressing not only to yours but to your legs, your breasts, your everything.

The thought gave you pause, if only for a moment, a lapse that he took full advantage of as he dragged his palms up your sides with the leisure of a man with unlimited patience, his presence hot and solid, thumbs brushing, swooping purposefully along the outside swell of your breasts before trekking back down to settle on your hips.

“You just want a little bit of my time,” he repeated, nodding, “of course.”

You frowned. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. With a sudden, urgent need to unravel him, you yanked his hips closer with a tug of his belt buckle. “Then why don’t you kneel, hm? Or better yet, pet, why don’t you get on all 4’s for me?”

Dottore’s chest rumbled against yours. “You know,” he said gently, “you were right about me.” Something about his tone had your brows knitting with unease, stomach twisting.

“Was I?”

“I do get mean when I’m frustrated.”

With a single toss of his head, three things happened in sequence.

One, the needle beside Dottore’s head, the one your elemental skill had been holding in place, impaled into the tile behind you with a deafening crack. Two, there was a terrible sound of something whirring to life. And three, a cloud of winged darkness descended upon the two of you.

Ravens. Too many to count. With bright turquoise eyes and mechanical cries. They were jet black with gold stitching; the man couldn’t help but put signature pieces of himself into every one of his creations and these were no different.

A sudden, predatory step forward by Dottore sent you pedaling away, movement stalled by the backs of your legs hitting against the flat head of the embedded needle, too low to sit on, too wide to skirt around. Instinctively, your fingers found a stabling purchase in the center strap of his harness before you could topple backwards as he drove forward still.

In a terribly awkward mimicry of a ballroom dip, you hung off him, head whipping to the side to ward off the flurry of winged creatures that swept viciously past your faces like an ocean riptide. Spinning, they.painted an almost ethereal backdrop of black wings behind him for but a moment before they fell in a swirling formation around the two of you.

A tempestuous wind, one that matched the power and complexity of your frenzied mind, built with a vengeance around your feet as you swung your sharp gaze to his. Your taloned hand gripped into the blue linen of his shirt as you found an awkward balance, teetering backwards still, knuckles digging punishingly into his chest as you glared up at him.

“This isn’t fun for me,” you complained. “I’m not having fun.”

“Pity.” A thick laugh at your expense flowed like a dark lullaby from his chest as he addressed you with a sharp-toothed grin, ignoring the anemo tantrum even as his hair swept wildly across his face.

“Do you like control?”

“Yes,” you wheezed up at him, neck straining from the effort of holding your head up to glare at him. “I do. I really, really, do.”

“As it happens, so do I.”

“Oh well boo you, you absolute bore. You know, I was wondering where you kept that backbone.”

Both time and an unquelled fury had afforded you the capabilities to destroy a village with a single spin of your polearm. You both knew you could level the playing field if you wanted. And quite literally, too. But despite the terrible yearning to pin him into the nearest wall, to see him come apart at your hands, the storm remained strangely controlled. Even as you clung to him while he explored the notches of your spine gently, the movement clashing with that familiar lilt of cruelty with which he spoke.

“What was it you were searching for, hm?” he crooned. “For me to shirk the integrity of my research just for a meaningless dalliance? You seem to quite fancy the notion of vexing me into compliance, seeing how you’ve been trying to get this spine of yours bent over one of my exam tables for how many weeks now? You spoke of punishment earlier, well I’d like to subvert that notion entirely. Of what use are you having around at all if you only seek to meddle in my work?”

“Four,” you said simply and then in the following silence supplied, “four weeks I mean. And you’re in no position to be tossing around death threats. Not with those arms.”

“Aren’t I?”

Punishment came in the form of his fingers withdrawing from your spine, instead languidly dragging around to your lower stomach. Crimson eyes observed your reactions carefully as he slid a wriggling middle finger across the thin fabric of your shorts, mapping out and nestling between the hidden folds there. His eyes darkened with hunger at the intoxicating sound of your breath hitching. He pressed upward with the pad of that finger, carefully avoiding where you needed his touch most, circling your clothed entrance and basking in the heat emanating between your thighs.

“Shall I proceed?”

“Shall I proceed?” you mocked in a gruff voice. “What is this, open heart surgery? Pass me the scalpel, Doctor.”

“That could be arranged,” he responded, voice tight.

A quiet whine loosened from your throat when his arm slid around your lower back to better support his endeavor as he pressed his thumb into your clit. In a launched counterattack, you slashed four thin strips into his shirt with a flick of your wrist, then hoisted yourself up to his ear by wrapping the back of his neck.

“You want to look at my brain, too?” you said breathlessly. “You can finger fuck that, too, if you want.”

The arm around your back tightened painfully. He continued his exploration of the shape of your cunt, picking up a slow rhythm with two fingers circling your clit. The hand on your tailbone dragged up until it tangled into your hair, holding you there in the crook of his neck while he turned to whisper against your cheekbone.

“I wouldn’t put such temptations into my head, pet.”

“Nothing that wasn’t already there.”

“You are dangerously drawn to the profane, I’m afraid. Hm. What to do, what to do… I think the only way to silence such a perverse mind is to deprive it of what it craves most, wouldn’t you agree?”

He paused in his ministrations.

You were sure the glare you yanked back to sear him with could've taken out a small village. “No. I would not.”

Dottore chuckled low, but the tone was something you’d never heard, so tattered and almost restrained. Your eyes flicked down to the space between them and you smirked when you saw just how restrained he really was. He snatched your jaw and pulled your focus back to him, squeezing into the meat of your cheeks when you bared your teeth at him.

“You’re not incorrect, though, I have weighed the merits of studying such a specimen as you.”

“Ooh,” you grinned. “Intimately?”

He turned your face to the side to examine. “By and large, people are just a complex sum of their parts but you…”

You’re a person of jagged, scattered pieces I haven’t quite figured out yet.

“-You’ve been useful to me thus far. But all things fade and my patience wears thin.”

The murder of ravens dove back toward you with the command of an unseen signal and you closed your eyes and giggled as talons caught in the mask in your hair, knocking it completely off your head. But when the cold strike of metal wings slit into the sleeve of your shirt, slicing a thin crimson line across your shoulder, your eyes narrowed onto his with a deadpan, lethal focus.

“Do you want to know what happens if you keep pushing? Hm?” His fingers retreated until they splayed across your lower stomach instead.

“Do tell.”

“The bite of a single raven is painless when compared to, let’s say the bite of a scalpel against unsuspecting skin,” he murmured and his lips curled into a razor smile in response to the shiver that drove down your spine even as you vowed not to react.

“But just imagine in that creative head of yours… the onslaught of hundreds of tiny blades clipping away at flesh. Talons tearing into skin, muscle, perhaps even bone, reducing you to nothing but your base components in none but an instant. A deplorable thought, isn’t it.” The birds dive bombed again and you vibrated with the strangest kind of fever, your eyes fluttering shut as you teetered with the adrenaline, the hypnotizing lull of his voice as he spoke of Death.

Death. That big old thing with wings. Shy and sweet - that shadowed creature that flitted just there at the corner of your eye. Always there, gone no matter how swiftly you turned to look. Soft and unforgiving, a small comfort, as light as the feather of a single raven. That’s all they were, just feathers across time.

“Open your eyes.” You did with a whine, locking onto Dottore with a furrowed brow, your hands trailing up to bury into his shoulders, recentering yourself with reality. “After all, those would go first, I’m sure. Ravens are inclined to burrow, build their nests in high places. Ah, perhaps I’ll put your skull on my bookshelf. What a pretty sight that would be,” he crooned. His thumb swept up and smoothed across your brow almost comfortingly, circling down to rest on the crest of your cheekbone. Your head buzzed and a deadly impatience gnawed at the place his hand rested unmoving on your belly.

“It is a pain beyond the bounds of human comprehension, to die in such a way, at least from what I’ve borne witness to. Is it Death that you crave? I wouldn’t allow a creature such as yourself a tedious end, you know. No, you deserve something more… remarkable.” With an uncharacteristic bout of submission that had his head cocking in satisfaction, you allowed his hand to wrap your neck, the experimental squeeze like a trigger, your hips rolling needily into his.

“So I’d beg you the question, what comes next?” he asked. “What happens if you continue to push and push?”

Dottore’s erection dug into the soft of your stomach when you pressed forward, your palms rising to cup his face in wonder. Your eyes followed the track of his swallow.

Such a beautiful distraction he was.

“Oh, Dottore… Oh, please, Dottore,” you sang out like a damsel in distress before lightning quick, you wrenched his head to the side to hiss in his ear. “So poetic. Romantic, even. Death by a thousand cuts and all that. Listen, I’ll tell you what happens,” you panted, a pyro fervor rising quickly to the surface of your skin. “Birds or no birds, if you don’t make me cum, I’ll call every last scrap of power you so sweetly bestowed upon me just to incinerate this place to nothing but the ashes of your hard work. What a fucking waste that would be, hm? No punishment quite like the consequences of your own actions is there? Oop! Hello karma, let me introduce you to my good friend the Doctor!” You tittered when the muscles of his jaw clenched beneath your grip.

“And then, Doctor, when we’re both standing here in the rubble of this archon forsaken place, I will go out of my way to abuse the laws of time just to make sure you suffer over and over again and then I will burn you, Prime, I will burn you if you don’t move your fucking fingers right now-”

The rest of your sentiment was cut off by a fist clenching into your hair, tearing your lips away from his ear and crushing them against his own. With a shattered groan, he poured his frustration down your throat while he did exactly as you requested, picking up an intensely fast rhythm against your clit that had you clawing at his biceps, startled from the sudden friction, your squeal of surprise swallowed whole by the violence of his kiss.

There was nothing gentle about the way he moved against each you, hips grinding a relentless rhythm, lips bruising yours as he nipped and licked, hand fisting so tightly in your hair you swore he’d take a good bit of it with him if he ever decided to remove himself.

And nothing could have prepared you for the peculiar sensation - an uncharacteristic feeling of being completely unsure of what came next. Of being knocked completely sideways whilst never feeling more balanced. Like there was a pulsing thing in your sternum running parallel to your heart, some melancholy sensation that centered and secured.

That tethered.

Wind howled around them. Birds cried. And somewhere, somewhere in your addled mind, there was quiet.

Pleasure recycled from your mouth and into his as he drove you toward a climax that came fast but ferocious in its intensity. The borders of your vision faded until all you could do was wrap your arms around his shoulder and hold on as you shook against him, a high pitched whine spilling from between your lips. And his crimson gaze, glazed and almost desperate, remained open to study the way in which you unraveled; how your eyes screwed shut, your fingers finding purchase in his own hair, tugging it terribly hard to prove some semblance of control over him even as you came apart with nothing but his fingers.

Time, with no assistance, seemed to stand still as you came to, your nose pressed into the soft crook of his neck, arms still wrapping his shoulders. Papers were scattered, tables overturned. Some ravens flew still, riding the leftover anemo current above, while some perched, eyeing the two of them with a cold, mechanical disinterest.

A song played on that little radio somewhere, broken and skipping but still pushing through as he swayed back and forth.

“Are we… dancing?”

“Quiet.”

Soft wings brushed across the hollowness in your chest and you nuzzled further into him without much thought. Holding your breath, you dragged your fingers down his chest, intent to undo him in the same way, his cock still hard and insistent against you, but he swatted your fingers away. Once, twice.

“Hey. You haven’t even-”

“Be quiet.”

“Why do you get the lead?”

Dottore didn’t say a word, but his weary sigh tickled the back of your neck and you fell into the silence that comes with newness.

“Did you know ravens usually work in pairs to acquire their food?” you said suddenly.

There was a long pause. “...I did.”

“Hm.”

You said nothing else, and if he noticed the unsubtle way in which you stole back the lead, he didn’t say a word.

#dottore #il dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #dottore genshin impact #mdni #dottore smut

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rea-grimm · 1 year ago

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Proposal - Phoenix Ace

Ace loved you with all his heart and wanted to propose to you for a long time. However, he didn't want to do it just like that, because he wanted it to be something you wouldn't just forget and remember.

You were sailing the Grand Line and it was one of those rare calm days when there was a slight breeze, it was pleasantly warm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Additionally, you docked at a new island that looked like it was cut out of some view. And all these circumstances gave rise to the fact that Ace decided to carry out his plan.

During the day, you noticed how the crew members disappeared from the ship one by one. All of them had something planned on the island. Even those who stayed on the ship at all times went for a walk.

After all, you were on a new island after a long time and it was nice to feel solid ground under your feet again. You went to explore the area by yourself in the morning.

The evening was slowly approaching when Ace invited you to fly around the island. Of course, you agreed to it. You loved when he took you in his arms and lifted you into the air. Feeling the wind in your face and being so close at the same time.

Ace took you into his arms tightly and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You knew he would never let you go, but more than once you encountered treacherous strong winds. The phoenix flapped its wings and soared into the air with you.

You flew high, above the topmast of the ship, and you still know. You headed over to the island enjoying the view and the warm weather.

You also missed a flock of colourful birds. You had an amazing view of meadows, forests, tiny villages and the river that divided the island into several parts.

As it slowly grew dark, fires began to appear on the ground. At first, they seemed entirely random, but the more they appeared, the more they began to resemble a symbol from a bird's eye view.

The fires formed the edges of a giant heart that could only be seen from your vantage point. That alone made you very happy, and you had no idea it was just the beginning.

Ace headed with you to a high hill, from where there was a view of almost the entire island and especially the fiery heart. He carefully landed with you and helped you to the ground.

On the hill stood a single-branched old tree that was just blooming and its slowly falling petals decorated the ground below you.

A blanket was spread out on the floor with the picnic basket you saw at Thatch's in the kitchen. In addition, torches were prepared around, which added to the atmosphere.

"What are we celebrating?" you asked him as you looked around enjoying the view.

"Nothing so far. I just wanted to show you how much I love you," he replied and shifted his wing a little. "Would you like a sandwich?" he asked and went over to the basket, from where he took out sandwiches, which were so full that the filling was coming out of them.

You got the impression Thatch didn't do these. You sat down next to him and took one.

"Did you do it yourself?" you asked him. Phoenix was taken aback by your question. His mouth was full and even though he swallowed it quickly, he only sheepishly nodded his head in agreement.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously and you saw him lower his wings.

“They're delicious,” you smiled at him. You could see that he was relieved and how he puffed his wings with pride.

While you were eating, the sun had set almost below the horizon, providing minimal light. Also, you had those torches there, even though Ace could light up the whole hill with his feathers. You leaned closer to him and watched the sunset together.

Just before the golden disk fell over the horizon, the phoenix rose to its feet, its back to you, searching the pockets of its shorts before finally finding what it was looking for. With that, he turned to you and got down on one knee. He took your hand lightly and looked into your eyes.

“Y/N you are the wind in my sails that keeps me going and every day is an adventure with you. You are my greatest treasure and I love you with all my heart,” he said sincerely before pausing. "Would you do me the honour and marry me?" he asked you, taking out a small box with a ring in it.

The metal ring looked like it had plucked a feather from its wings and turned it into gold. You were at a loss for words. You had no idea that this was his plan and it touched you.

When you told him your answer, he put the ring on you, which fit like a glove, and kissed you.

However, this was not the final of all his efforts. He had one more surprise in store for you. He created a ball of fire in his hand, which he then threw into the air. The orb exploded in the sky, creating a floral motif for a moment before dissipating.

As if it was a sign of something bigger, he started shooting more and more fireworks from the fiery heart. Ace sat down next to you and pulled you close so you could watch the spectacle together.

Then when it got cold, he covered you with his wings to protect you from the cold.

Ace Masterlist

#portgas d ace #phoenix ace #one piece #one piece x reader #ace x reader #Monster Piece

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kyuuppi · 2 years ago

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Pairing: Wanderer x Reader (gn)

Contents: established relationship; fluff; Wanderer uses demeaning names for Reader (but still loves them); soft Wanderer; bad at feelings Wanderer; consumption of fish

Word Count: 1.4k

Scaramouche would have never imagined that he would be here.

Then again, there were many aspects of Wanderer's life that Scaramouche would have never imagined. Like this moment now, bustling around the tiny kitchen of a cozy apartment and impatiently glancing at the clock every few seconds. He stirs away at a bubbling pot of pasta to ensure it doesn’t burn on the bottom but remains warm enough to serve when you finally arrive.

Speaking of which where the fuck are you, you promised you’d be home early today— he had made sure of it before you left this morning. But’s already half past six and you’re usually home by six fifteen so you probably forgot and now his plans are ruined and—

The obnoxiously familiar jingle of keys followed by the squeak of the front door interrupts Wanderer’s thoughts. His shoulders slightly droop with relief as he turns off the stove bringing the pot over to the neatly arranged dining room table to finally plate the meal.

“Took you long enough,” Wanderer says as if it were a proper greeting. And perhaps for him, it may as well be.

As usual, his sharp words fall off your back like water, much too used to his pissy attitudes by now, several years into knowing each other and nearly a year into a romantic relationship.

“Sorry,” you huff out as you finally shrug the heavy tote bag off your shoulder.

“I ran into Tigh on the way back from the market while I was picking up some new books,” you begin to explain as you shuffle into the dining area.

“He said he was looking for spices Collei requested for her new recipe. Oh, have you ever had her pita pockets before? I know you’re picky about food but they’re actually really good and I think you– whoa … what is this? ”

Your story is cut short as you finally seem to take in the setting before you. As your eyes dart across the table your mouth falls open, appearance akin to that of a goldfish. If he weren’t so uncharacteristically nervous, Wanderer might have laughed at you for how dumb you look.

But instead, he silently places the emptied pot in the sink, uncaring of the intimidatingly large pile of dirty dishes—he’ll get to those later.

With quick strides, he returns to the dining table, taking a seat in front of one of the two plates of steaming rosé pasta, violet eyes seeming to glow in the dim candlelight as he shoots you an expectant look.

“What does it look like, dumbass? It’s a candlelit dinner,” Wanderer sneers, “now hurry the fuck up and eat before it gets cold. I put a lot of effort in this shit, y’know.”

As Wanderer stabs a picks up a bundle of spaghetti noodles with his chopsticks you seem to finally regain your wits, forcing yourself to move and take a seat as you glance between the crystal vase at the center of the table, filled with deep red dendrobrium accented by thin branches of sakura bloom, the dancing flames of the osmanthus-scented candles placed strategically around the room, and the generous helping of what appeared to be cod roe pasta with rosé sauce plated on the finest china you two owned–a housewarming gift from Zhongli. It most certainly is the epitome of a candlelit dinner if anyone had ever seen one.

Wanderer tries to look unaffected as he digs into his own dinner but he finds himself tensing as you promptly take your first bite. You hardly even chew it before your eyes close in bliss and you moan out words of praise that make his chest burn with something akin to pride.

"Your cooking is always so amazing,” you proclaim.

"This is nothing special. Any fool could make a decent pasta," Wanderer shrugs off.

He hopes his ears don’t look as red as they feel as he hurriedly shovels more pasta in his mouth just to have something else to focus on. Praise was something he had always sought–whether from his creator or a nameless mass of devout followers. It made him feel powerful, above all others, like an archon .

And yet, somehow, praise from you felt completely different. Your praises sent a flutter through his chest cavity that he was sure should not be physically possible. Rather than feeling stronger than anyone else, your praises made him feel just strong enough . Just worthy enough to exist, to atone for his sins, to stand beside you. And he thinks the most disturbing part of it all is how satisfied he is with just that. A vengeful, artificial god who once dreamed of ruling all of Teyvat now equally happy just being by your side–what a strange joke.

"But," you hesitantly start, breaking Wanderer from his self-reflections, "what's all of this for?"

His reply is simple, "today is the day of that silly holiday mortals celebrated in your world, isn't it."

You nearly choke on a noodle at the implication.

“We're celebrating Valentine's Day ?"

Wanderer shoots you an annoyed glare at your incredulous tone before abruptly pulling away from the dining table and approaching your side instead. You’re still seated and gaping at him like an idiot with a pair of chopsticks in your hand, a clump of noodles limply hanging off of them.

"Of course,” he answers smoothly, “we're a couple now, aren't we? And you're quite lucky because my generosity today does not end with dinner."

Wanderer kneels down on one knee before you, a sight no one in Teyvat or even worlds beyond could have ever imagined possible for the egotistical puppet obsessed with the notion of reaching godhood.

But Wanderer was no longer that vengeful Balladeer anymore. He is merely a wanderer, living as a mortal alongside the person who was somehow able to capture his nonexistent heart and give his life a newfound meaning filled with simple joys he never thought possible. And now, he can only hope to return just a fraction of the happinesses you have given him in the form of a little black velvet box.

You audibly gasp when he pulls the small box out of his pants pocket, holding it out in front of you and opening it to reveal a silver ring. In the center of the thin metal band sits a decently sized diamond, accented with small amethyst gems that sparkle under the flickering candle light and remind you of the eyes of the man himself.

"Before you get the wrong idea–this isn't a proposal or anything," Wanderer grumbles, avoiding eye contact as his cheeks flush.

"it's just…a placeholder. I'll give you the real one in a few years."

The last part is mumbled in such a low tone you would have missed it had you not been seated right in front of him.

Slowly–just long enough to have Wanderer’s stomach churning with his anxiety and second-guessing his every decision–your brain catches up and a slow grin splits across your face.

"Thank you, Kuni... it's beautiful," you whisper, eyes watery.

The use of his original names seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Wordlessly, Wanderer stands from his kneeled position, plucking the small piece of jewelry from the box and taking your hand with an unexpected gentleness.

He slides the cool metal on your finger—the fourth finger of your left hand.

For a moment, you both admire it in awe. He can’t help the first thought that pops into his head, the thought that it suits you.

Like was always meant to be there.

Like how he was always meant to be here, with you.

"I love you," you murmur.

When he turns to look at you, he finds you already staring up at him, all soft smiles and twinkling eyes, as if he had personally hung the moon in the sky. As if he was the most important person in your world. As if his worth far exceeds anything he was created for and anything he imagined for himself thereafter.

Wanderer doesn't say anything but he firmly squeezes your hand and brushes his thumb against the new ring on your delicate finger.

A placeholder.

#better late than never LOL #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenario #scaramoche imagine #scaramouche scenario #wanderer imagine #wanderer scenario #kyuuppi.event

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anniemika · 2 years ago

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Under the Christmas lights

Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

NSFW CONTENT!

Summary: Your fiancé’s been overworking himself lately, so you decide to surprise him in more ways than one.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: cursing, premature ejaculation (he can’t help it lol), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie

.....

Those damned Christmas lights.

Standing on your tippy-toes on one of your kitchen chairs, you’re trying your best to hang a tiny sequence of lights above your living room windows. The whole apartment is sparkling in different colours, including the Christmas tree you’ve been playing with for the past 2 hours. It smells like apples and cinnamon all around, thanks to the delicious pie you baked earlier today. And even thought it’s still the end of November and your home already looks like a whole Christmas shop, you just couldn't wait to decorate yours and your fiancé’s new home.

Eren has been working a lot as of late. The down payment for your apartment cost you almost all of your savings, and he’s felt the need to work overtime because of that. Not to mention the wedding you’ve been planning for the past couple of months, that only added further to your money worries. You’d told him that you’d wait as much as needed, that it didn’t need to happen so quickly, but Eren had promised you, and that meant more to him than anything else in the world.

But still, you felt so bad for him. You’d told him that he needed to rest and stay home more, but the guy never listens. You kind of understood, because your home was still pretty new and it didn’t have that homey feeling just yet. So, you decided to take things into your own hands.

Your apartment didn’t have a lot of things, only the essentials, so you decided to gather all the Christmas toys you could from your old places, you even called your mom and Carla to ask them if they could gift you some of their old ones that they didn’t need anymore. Of course, they gave you the prettiest ones they owned, because they were just amazing like that.

You started at about 8 o’clock, just after Eren gave you a goodbye kiss as he left for work. It was 6 in the evening now, and everything was looking as perfect as it could, except for those damn Christmas lights you were too short to be able to hang.

The sound of keys dangling comes from the hallway, and you enter panic mode, losing your balance, tripping over your chair and falling right onto the floor. You let out a loud “Ouch!”, hearing the door to your apartment slam shut as your fiancé quickly rushes to the living room.

“Baby, are you oka- whoa.” Eren stops in his tracks, his pretty green eyes looking around the room in awe.

“Surprise..” you chuckle weakly, wincing from the way you fell on your foot.

“Shit, are you okay?” Eren hurries to you, his hands finding your shoulders, eyes searching your body for signs of injury.

“I’m fine, just twisted my ankle a bit.” You smile up at him, and he helps you stand by hooking his hands underneath your shoulders.

Eren’s eyebrows adjoin together in worry, “You could’ve broken it. Does it hurt bad?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You giddily say, staring up at him, awaiting some kind of reaction. Tilting your head, you flash him a cheery grin. “Well..?”

Eren blinks down at your sparkling eyes, then moves his gaze to the decorations gracing your small, but cozy living room. He stares in astonishment, smiling, “Baby, this is..” losing his thought, he catches a certain toy sitting prettily on one of the tree’s branches. “Oh my god, where did you find this?”

He gestures towards a small rain deer with sparkling antlers, a toy Carla gave you, letting you know that it was his favourite as a child.

“Where do you think?” Your cheeky voice rings in his ears.

“You’re amazing.” He says it softly, like a whisper almost, as he continues to eye all you’ve done to your new beautiful home. “It’s beautiful.”

“Right?” You wrap your arms around his torso, “Now it looks like a home.”

“Anywhere’s a home for me if you’re there, but.. this definitely helps.” He squeezes one of your arms, his gaze on the golden star positioned at the top of the tree.

“I know you’ve been stressing about money lately,” you turn him around to face you, “but Eren, we’ll be fine. I’m starting my new job next week, and I don’t want us to rush anything. I want us to enjoy this new step. And about the wedding..” you intertwine your hands together, a gentle smile forming on your lips, “I’m so happy you want it just as much as I do, but let’s take it one step at a time.. okay?”

Eren looks at your pretty face, wondering what he has done in his life to deserve someone as pure and as loving as you. After a few seconds, he lets out a defeated sigh. “Okay. You’re right.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him, “I should slow down a bit. I’m sorry.”

“No, baby.” You pull away to cup his handsome face, “Don’t get me wrong. I know you’re doing it for us. And, I’m so grateful to you for everything. It’s just that you need rest, too.” you move your face closer, brushing your lips together, “And besides.. I’ve missed you.”

It was a chaste kiss. Just a light touch of your lips. But it set something inside Eren, something that accompanied by the way you said you’ve missed him, turned everything into flames.

He clashes your lips together, hands pulling you so close, it’s like he wants you to become one. “I’ve missed you too.” He says before he envelopes your lips together again, “so fucking much, I-“ he can’t even finish saying the words before he pushes you against the wall, your surprised whimpers travelling to somewhere below his belt.

“Eren-“ you try, but he doesn’t let you finish. So, you give in to him, into his touches, his kisses, the way he erases any other thoughts you might have in your brain. He removes your white sweater dress in a matter of seconds, leaving you in only your fluffy knee high socks.

“Fuck, you dirty girl,” he smirks, pinching one of your nipples as he rakes your body up and down, “you’ve been walking around like this all day?”

You bite your lower lip, lust shining in your eyes, “Mhm. All day.”

“Waiting for me?” He presses his knee between your legs, your pussy grazing the fabric of his jeans.

“Yes.” You moan the word out, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Let me see.” He kisses you as his fingertips land between your legs, giving your clit a light stroke. The grunt he lets out when he feels how wet you already are is enough to make you sway your hips against his hand. “You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, dripping wet already.”

“I want you to fuck me, Eren. Right now, put it inside me.” Your hands go to work at his belt, and if this was any other time, he wouldn’t allow it before he’s made you cum in his mouth, but he’s pretty sure that if he’d do that now, he’d finish before he could get to be inside you. You haven’t fucked in a week and a half, he yearned to feel you as fast as possible.

“Turn around.” You loved it when his voice acquired that commanding tone, it aroused you more than anything. You listen, turning against the wall, and pressing your face and tits firmly against it. Eren curses under his breath when he takes in the image of your plump ass, landing a slap on it that makes you yelp. “Spread your cheeks for me.”

You oblige without question, pulling your cheeks apart, the anticipation burning you alive. Hearing the zipper of his jeans, you bite your lips and let out an involuntary moan.

“I know baby, me too.” Eren frees his unimaginably hard dick, the precum on his tip making a thin string that lands on your hardwood floor. He quickly spits on it and pumps it a few times, then positions himself at your entrance. The moment his tip enters you, a string of curses follow, and he pulls it right out with a chuckle. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Then we’ll go for round two.” You push yourself back into him, and you both moan so loudly, it’s like you’re fucking for the first time. You fuck yourself on his cock as Eren stands and watches with his eyes ready to pop, mouth agape at the way your pussy swallows his dick.

“Come on, baby, cum inside.” You whisper, and Eren has to land one hand on the wall from how fast his orgasm hits him, a grunt so loud bursting from inside his throat, it makes your walls flutter. He has one hand on your tit, his body curving as he presses his forehead into your hair, trying to fill his lungs with air. You’re connected to him until his cum starts to spill on the floor, and you chuckle from how much it is.

“I’m not going another week without fucking you, ever.” His breathy voice caresses your ear, and you gift him a little wiggle of your ass in return.

“It’s okay. You were tired.” You turn your head to peck his lips, but he takes the chance to push his tongue inside your mouth.

“Well, I’m not tired now.” He turns you around and throws you over his shoulder, your giggles echoing through the room. He gently throws you onto the couch cushions, then stands up to remove his jeans and shirt. The moment he does and showcases his toned body, you lick your lips.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Your fingers travel between your legs, circling around your clit, eyes focused on him.

“Looks like I’m about to marry a real minx, huh?” Eren laughs lowly, then takes the hand you have on your pussy and licks your fingers clean, moaning from the taste.

“I’m gonna eat you out so good after this.” He climbs in front of you, grabbing your calves and positioning them on his shoulders, “but first..” he grabs his already hard dick and starts massaging your clit with it, “I need you to cum on my cock.”

He pushes in, and you hiss, head falling back on one of the pillows. You sink your nails into Eren’s leg, biting your lips to the point of blood. This position has always made you feel like he’s trying to rearrange your guts.

“Look at me.” He kisses your ankle as his hips crash into you, making your body jolt up and down from the force.

You set your eyes on him, widening them as he speeds up even more. Eren loved it when you gave him that look, he’s thought about it many times during the past couple of days at work, and it made his dick hard every time. Especially when you scrunched your brows together, looking so innocent while getting fucked out of your mind, he wanted to ravish you.

“Want me to rub your clit?” He asks, eyes dark, staring down at you like a hunter would his prey.

“Y-yes.” You’re barely able to talk with him fucking your pussy this hard.

“Yes..?” You know what he wants, and usually, you’d act like a brat, but right now, you’re too far gone for that.

“Please,” you whine, “please, Eren.”

That little word does wonders to him, his thumb finding your clit instantly. It’s so sensitive, you shudder the moment he touches it, and with the way his cock slams inside you and pushes against your g-spot, you know it shouldn’t be long.

“Fuck, it’s gonna be hard.” You whimper, looking down at where you connect with him.

“Yeah? You haven’t touched yourself lately?” He tries to sound composed, but just that sentence could make him lose his mind.

“Not for a week.” Which meant, ever since he last touched you. You’d been busy too, preparing for your new job, shopping for your apartment, you didn’t have time for that. “Shit, Eren, I can’t-“, you slap your hand against your mouth, the strength of your orgasm bubbling up inside you.

“Yes, you can.” Eren applies more pressure on your nub, his jaw ticking when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head, “Let go, sweetheart.”

Maybe you could’ve held it in a little longer if it wasn’t for him and that nickname. But when it all registers, your body begins to squirm, legs trembling from the fire your nerves spread inside you, his name repeatedly leaving your lips like a prayer. Your eyes water from how strong it is, from how Eren hits all your spots while your clit pulsates from your orgasm.

“Holy fuck, I can feel it.” He let’s go of your legs so his body can fall onto yours and kisses your lips, swallowing your desperate moans.

When your muscles finally relax, brain turned into mush, Eren decides to lay next to you on the couch where he enters you again, fucking you sideways.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, his palm pulling your face closer and turning it so you can lock eyes with his, “I love you so much.”

He says those words as he continues to hit your cervix, never for once slowing his pace. You grab his wrist with both hands and squeeze, hoping that he can feel just how much you need and adore him too. “I love you too.” You whisper back, and it’s right then when Eren closes his eyes and speeds his movements, cumming inside you for the second time tonight. He moans into the skin of your neck, his hands squeezing you tightly as his hips stutter inside you.

After collecting your breaths, you turn to peck his cheek, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you more.” His breathy voice sends tingles across your skin, feeling the pulse of his heart against your chest.

You lay like this, with your fingers tangled inside his now loose hair, playing with some of the strands. Eren’s arm is wrapped around you, his other one behind his head, looking at something in the distance, “You really thought you could put them all by yourself?”

You follow his gaze to the half-up, half-scattered across the floor Christmas lights, “Hey, I would have if it wasn’t for you scaring me!”

Eren’s chuckles travel through your skin in the form of goosebumps as he kisses your forehead, then moves from his position. “Don’t worry, I’ll put them up. But..” He lays on top of you again, beginning to lay kisses on the side of your neck, his knee finding its way between your legs so you can spread them, “I’ve made a promise first.”

.....

A/N: Guys, this was supposed to be a scene from a story I wanted to write long ago, that I might still write someday, but I really wanted to post this thingy now! And, at the start it was supposed to be just fluff, but….. anyway, hope you enjoy it🥰

#eren jaeger smut #eren smut #eren jaeger fluff #eren fluff

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redheadspark · 1 year ago

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can i request 3 from the actions list with jack russell from wwbn? thanks xx

A/N - Hey! I'll keep this one nice and short, thanks for requesting!

Obsessed

Summary - Who knew that a werewolf would be obsessed with Halloween

Warnings - Just some cute fluff :)

“Darling?”

“Oh, one second, Amor! I’m in the kitchen and I’m almost done, is something wrong?”

“No…not really. I’m just….surprised,”

Having a somewhat decent day at your office job, you were looking forward to unwinding for the night with Jack, getting some more time with him before he would go off on another Monster Hunting Job that was in Europe. But the last thing you were expecting to see, or even interact with at all, your little apartment decked out head to toe in Halloween Decor.

But how could you be surprised, given he fact that Jack was obsessed with the Holiday.

Being a Werewolf himself, he knew most of the myths and facts about Halloween and thought of it as an amazing holiday to celebrate. You never minded it yourself, but it was intensified with Jack when you tow started dating. Once late September and October came through, Jack’s mind was was the color of orange and black, on the crazy and insane sweets he would buy at the store, and without a doubt, the classic horror movies from the 30’s and 40’s. He lived and breathed Halloween, it always brightened his mood during that time of year.

When you two moved in together, Jack was already thinking of the decor that he would use in the small space. You both were already cramped, given your office job that plenty of things to take home and work on and his Monster Hunting equipment would be sprawled out all over the place, you had to wonder if Halloween decorations would even fit in the living room.

Jack made it work, along with the kitchen, bathroom, and even the bedroom.

Sure enough, there were plastic skeleton heads in the coffee table bowl, black candles that were massive already lit on the candle holders that looked like tree branches, and even the cocktail trolley had signs that said “Witches Brew” and “Lycranthropy Headquarters”. You had to admit, it all looked great. Nothing cheesy or nothing too scary or horrid, but perfectly placed in the right spot.

“Ah! I wanted it to be a surprise for you before you came home!” Jack came out from the bedroom, a few more decorations in hand as he saw you looking around the living room with a massive grin, “I must have lost time. How was work, Amor?”

“Oh, good. Nothing crazy yet,” You admitted as he walked over to give you a sweet kiss, “Jack, this looks awesome! I could have helped you, you know,”

“No, I like doing this, it’s a bit calming for me before I leave for my job,” He replied as he made his way over to the kitchen. You followed, smelling a sweet aroma near the stovetop. A Dutch Oven was filled with boiling water, along with slices of apples and cinnamon sticks along with cloves.

“Smells divine,” You said to him as he pushed some of the apples around with a wooden spoon.

“Ah, my mother used to do this to fill the house with the smell of Autumn,” he explained, “I figured we would use this in our tiny apartment to officially being in Halloween,”

“Well, I wish to thank her to showing you how to do this,” You hummed as him as you kissed his cheek, “You ready for your trip?”

“Bags are packed and ready to go,” he reassured him as he turned down the heat very slightly on the stove, “Now, go take a shower and unwind a bit, I’m gonna order some food and we’re going to watch a classic tonight,”

“Which one?”

“Wolf Man, of course,”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Hearing Jack chuckle, you made your way over to the hallway that led to your bedroom and master bathroom, rubbing the back of your neck to ease some of the tension that was still there from work. The sweet scent of the Autumn Aroma was floating everywhere in the apartment, letting the stress melt away and bringing in the warmth that you knew would come in Autumn. It made you thankful that Jack found pleasure in the little things, whether it was him making your home a sacred place to unwind and relax in, or doing activities that made him feel happy and joyful in the harsher times of his life. Jack’s heart was worth more than gold.

And it showed, even in his Halloween Decorations.

But of course you were surprised to see the skeleton hanging on the bathroom door when you walked in, you screaming from the sight and sighing heavily. That’s when you heard his voice from the door.

“Sorry, Amor! I’ll take the skeleton out of there!”

The End.

Halloween Prompt Session

#jack russell #jack russell x reader #jack Russell x you #fanfiction #writing #marvel #werewolf by night #werewolf by night fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #mcu #mcu pahse 4 #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic writer

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cutelittleriot · 10 months ago

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Return to origin band together Chapter 4 part 2

Poppy quickly follows Branch who is alot faster on all fours than she thought. Thankfully she managed to find him but he isn't doing too good.

At the moment he is just sitting down his face on his knees and his arms wrapped around his tail. As much as he hates the limb it's a good thing to hold onto when sad or overwhelmed.

She quietly sits beside him. She knows that Branch is completely overwhelmed right now but she knows that what he said at his brothers needed to be said. She doesn't say anything and just let's him try and collect himself.

After a few minutes he is sort of calm,that explosion,that...everything that happened....it felt good to finally get that off his chest. "Poppy......is it bad that I wanted to be a family with my brothers again? I know they all have lives of their own now but still" He asks.

She gasps at the question why would he even ask that? "Branch of course it's not bad. You just wanted to be together with them again. There's nothing wrong with that" She reassures him. She wants to touch him but with his state right now she isn't sure that he would appreciate touch right now as it might overwhelm him.

Soon Branch gets up,Poppy thinks he is going to head back to Rhonda but he keep going straight. "Wait Branch what are you doing?" She asks. "I'm going to go save Floyd.Alone. I didn’t need them growing up, and I don’t need them now" He simply replies.

He sees that Poppy is still following him though "What are you doing?" He asks. "What do you mean? I’m coming with you" She replies there no way she's going to let her boyfriend go off on a rescue mission alone.

"Why bother? Aren’t you gonna leave me eventually anyway?......Everyone else does" He replies as his ears lower in sadness. Poppy gently takes his paw "I have been by your side from the moment we met. I have been with you when we went to go save my friends from the bergens,when I went gray you were there to help me bring my colors back. You protected me from being turned into a rock zombie. I was there when you were transforming. And throughout all of this you've been by my side too. Let's give eachother some credit here" she says smiling.

Branch sighs, he hates it when his negative thoughts show their ugly heads. He's right Poppy has been there for him for so much. "Right,uh I’m sorry. Thank you" He says smiling. "You’re welcome.And I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.To save Floyd." She says as their tails entertwine and they press their heads together. Branch wonders how he managed to land such an amazing woman.

The moment is cut short when they hear the sound of a tricycle. They see one coming up to them and to their surprise it's Tiny Diamond riding it. "Woah! Tiny! You’re coming too?" Poppy asks surprised. "Hey, what can I say?

I was moved by Branch’s speech and his sad, sad drawing. Now, let’s roll." The duo hop onto the tricycle even though they both have a feeling they would get there faster if they ran on all fours. But soon the trio make their way to Mount Rageous.

Meanwhile a certain married bergen couple are riding back from the water park on a motorcycle.

"Wow Grissy,I’ve never seen anyone get kicked out of a water park like that" Bridget says in awe. "All right, for the record,it was the water slide that ripped off my trunks" Gristle clarifies. "Yeah and it was so hot" Bridget says before she catches the smell of something familiar and delicious. "Wait Grissy do you smell that?" She asks as she keeps smelling. "Yeah I do it smells like" "French fries!" The couple says in unison as they stop the motorcycle. Little did they know what was about to happen.

The couple begin to walk throught the course not knowing of the many pairs of tiny eyes that were following their every move preparing to strike.

They soon come across a pile of fries on the ground but before they could even process it a giant clown head lights up. "Who goes there?!" It booms at the two who scream in fear and surprise. The mouth opens up and out comes a bunch of small colorful balls.

"Are those golfballs?" Bridget asks in confusion. They then uncurl themselves revealing to be trolls. "Oh their just trolls look at how cute they are" Bridget says as she coos at their apparent cuteness. Then through a series of events they both end up on the ground covered in sticky hands and wrapped up in tickets.

"Wow Grissy, I didn’t think we’d both find ourselves tied up on this honeymoon" Bridget says as she looks at her husband in shock.

Again very sorry for the very short chapter but the next ones will be long so that's why I'm doing this super short ones rn to get them done.

Fun fact when trolls touch their foreheads together its a show of love can be either romantic or familial.

#trolls #trolls 3 #branch #poppy #broppy #return to origin

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toastybagel-fanfiction · 11 months ago

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home for christmas

okay so this one’s really short but i had an idea for a little drabble this year just to post on tumblr! i hope you guys like it hehe☺️

Scott didn’t really do the whole Christmas thing, especially after moving out of his childhood home. As a kid, it had all been corporate parties and photo shoots and boring dinner parties where people he barely knew would sidle up beside him and claim that “I knew you when you were this big!”

That was what Christmas became. It was stress. It was performing for an audience. It was opening gifts and realizing that he and his sister got all the same things.

Vincent had shown him another side to the holiday- one that didn’t involve sitting through church just because one of his mom’s friends invited them.

With Vincent, it was a day that they spent quietly together as the snow peacefully fell outside. It was shopping trips together where they would each drop little hints as to what they hoped to see under the tree. The day itself was one that Scott wanted to last forever.

This year was unusual; typically Vincent was the one to set up the christmas tree, decorating it entirely by himself while Scott was at work.

Now, it was two days before Christmas and Vincent was at work.

Scott felt an itch that he had never felt before, carrying himself to the storage closet, where the faux tree was stored for most of the year. He pulled it out, setting it up in its usual spot beside the TV stand.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing when he wrapped the string of lights around the plastic branches, simply mimicking what he had watched Vincent do in years prior.

Before he knew it, he was dragging another box out of the closet, a string of garland in one hand and a star in the other, carefully placing the star on the top branch of the tree and watching it light up.

He was strategic in placing the ornaments- fragile ones near the top, no similar ornaments beside each other, and ensuring that the front and the back of the tree had an even spread of decoration.

After he placed the last ornament on the tree- a tiny photo of Scott and Vincent from their first anniversary- he stepped back.

It was far from the perfect, corporate Christmas trees of his childhood, but that was what made it so amazing: it was a tree that only Scott and Vincent could create.

Then, he rested.

His sleep was abruptly interrupted when Vincent came home.

Seeing the tree- realizing what Scott had done- he immediately knelt down beside the chair that Scott was curled up in, kissing him delicately on the forehead.

Scott’s eyes fluttered open.

“Welcome home, Vince,” He yawned.

Vincent’s fingers were woven into Scott’s hair when he pulled Scott forward just enough to press their lips together.

{thank you for reading! happy holidays!}

#fnaf #purplephone #phone guy #fanfiction #purple guy #phone guy x purple guy #purple guy x phone guy

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inkspecter · 2 years ago

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Today is like to attempt to discuss the rather nebulous tag of #clown husbandry in the hopes that more people will take an interest in this hobby. After an interview with the pillar of this humble community, @clownology4dummies I feel qualified to discuss both clownology from the context of the hobbies as well as present the topic to baffled newcomers.

This blog is intended as both an introduction for outsiders peering into our curious circus tent as well as a guide for first timers and advanced clown collectors and breeders. Please enjoy and if you have any corrections for me please don't hesitate to comment!

What is Clown Husbandry?

To begin with, let's look at the tag from a removed perspective. Clown Husbandry is a tag that involves collectors of clown characters. Anyone who know even just a little about historical clown should know that the art depends heavily on crafting a unique and colorful character. Character here is the keyword as art of clowns are rich with strong personalities and carefully thought out design.

People you will find operating within this tag either collect clown dolls and figures or they are artistic individuals that create clown "ocs" (original characters). Often times they are both as clown figures and ocs are both a joy to write about, draw, and to photograph.

Lastly, clowns in the context of this tag usually don't refer to traditional clowns; they aren't people who dress up as clowns. Rather the dolls and drawings are usually a unique species of creature that can be thought of as an elemental of clowning. This is an important note as many posts discuss care details and talk about clowns similar to breeds of animals. While they are intelligent and look like real clowns that are people, these clowns are delicate creatures that require dedicated care.

Think of the figurine branch of clown husbandry as a less dull version of the 1980s "pet rock" trend. Rather than try to imagine a rock needs care, enthusiasts give life to already colorful and imaginative dolls and collectable.

How to Enjoy Clown Husbandry

The best way to get started with this tag is to explore posts already on tumblr. In short order the style of posting becomes obvious; users show off their drawings or photos of their figures and talk about the characters similar to an exotic pet. Clowns in this context are alike specialty dog breeds as they require differing amounts of exercise, entertainment, special diet and so on. There is even advice on which "breeds" are best for beginners.

As a lifelong artist and someone who's been writing about a Clown oc for the past three years I deeply enjoy the art in this tag. It's amazing and heartwarming to see others create and enjoy clown ocs. Even more though, as someone who grew up in a house full of antiques I'm delighted to see people become interested in collecting these often overlooked tiny art pieces.

Clown collectables are found in just about every corner of the world. Due to the popularization of coulrophobia and the availability of clown art, more and more these pieces are abandoned or trashed. It's a tragedy as clowns play an important role in the human subconscious and moreover these antiques are beautiful and often are handmade. It fills my heart with joy to see so many figures and dolls find their forever home with collector enthusiasts and it's a trend I hope grows steadily.

How to Get Started with Clown Husbandry

Beyond exiting the delightful and silly posts that are already put there, consider joining the hobby yourself.

Making a Clown OC

If you are thinking about making a Clown oc, consider starting within the context of a game such as Dungeons & Dragons or another ttrpg. This will give you an immediate way to interact with your character beyond just doodling them.

If you're looking for tips on creating a character, it's always to start in reality. Clowning has a rich tradition of character creating which involves design elements, skills, and behaviors. Clown Ethics is a great start, although the rules laid out form a basic guideline more than strict laws. Beyond this, consider watching the Ringling Bros "How to be a Clown".

Starting a Clown Collection

As noted, clown art is just about everywhere. However in more modern times audiences have drifted away from appreciating classic comedy. As a result, many pieces are vintage if not genuine antiques. Some even hold significant value as they are crafted by famous artisans. As a result, it's quite easy and fun to start a clown collection.

Treat yourself to regular adventures at junk stores and antique malls. You're sure to spot a colorful little friend hiding in amongst the clutter. Look for styles and designs that appeal to you and start adopting these tiny treasures. Soon you will have a unique and joyful troupe of your own.

The best figures to collect are ones that are less likely to be destroyed by interactions. Dolls with only a few porcelain pieces are ideal for moving around and photographing. The smaller the better if you want to try a travel or lifestyle photo series. You'll be able to pop your own into a carry bag and take them with you.

If you're after more rare prices, consider obtaining a safe storage spot first. I mentioned the need for a hutch previously in my post about "Pedigree Clown Breeds". Quality clown sculptures are just as pricey as any other antique so they should be put on display rather than handled.

In closing, clown husbandry is a delightful hobby that involves appreciation for tradition, antiquing, and art. I hope this post inspires you to collect and draw clowns. If you decide to take up the hobby, please be sure to use the #clown husbandry tag so we can all enjoy your wonderful photography and characters!

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happyinjection · 2 years ago

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♠️♥️High Card Short Story 1 “Mint Soda and Cafe au Lait Float”♦️♣️ (3/3)

Once we are done with work, let’s head out to our favorite pub, “Crazy 8”~

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1530021332561170432?s=20&t=lLB3b2CH1n76STg9Xa0uNA

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

Crazy 8 was a long-established pub located right next to the Old Maid branch of Pinochle Automobiles. Rumors had it that they had been in business for nearly 30 years.

The dimly lit interior was fully furnished with wood. The counter was gold-plated, reflecting the light. It gave off the atmosphere of an authentic Irish pub. Behind the counter, a neon lamp in the shape of the pub’s name glimmered.

“Yahoo, Master. I’ll have my usual ♪”

Chris rested his elbow on the counter, leaning forward as he called out to the manager of the pub on the opposite side. His name was Douglas.

“It’s you guys again.”

Douglas had a muscular build and cleanly shaved head, as well as an intimidating air about him.

“Even if you said that, Master, I’m sure that you’re happy to see us, your dear regulars, turning up often around here~ By the way, Finn, what are you having?”

“Beer.”

“You’re underage! Order something non-alcoholic!”

“Just kidding. I’ll have my usual soda.”

The bartender didn’t give a reply, but he immediately turned and walked away to start preparing our orders. Chris, who had picked a high stool to sit in, crossed his slender legs as he waited. I sat down next to him.

“Finn, are you hurt anywhere?”

“Oh. My fist hurt a bit from when I packed those punches, but it was no big deal. Shouldn’t I be asking about how you’re doing instead?”

“Not at all ♪ I don’t even need to eat my Fudgees.”

After a moment, two coasters were being slide out onto the counter. And then, a glass filled up to the brim was put on each of them.

“You guys should not come here in the first place if you’re not going to drink alcohol.”

That said, Douglas placed Chris’ favorite drink, the cafe au lait float, in front of the latter, before turning his back on Chris instantly and without courtesy.

“Master, even if you’re spitting such mean words, you’re always giving us freebies. For instance, the float is bigger than usual today. Isn’t it amazing that he never made a big deal out of these kind gestures~”

Chris put his thin lips against the straw and began sipping. “Hn~ you see, it is similar to Vietnamese coffee, in the sense that it has condensed milk poured in. Definitely rich in calories~”

“Ew, it’s like you’re piling something sweet on top of something even sweeter.”

I stuck my tongue out in digust, frowning. As I was about to sip on my own drink, it suddenly came to my attention. In the soda, there were a number of tiny leaves floating around. Furthermore, a slice of lime was stuck at the rim of the glass.

“What is this? Isn’t it different from what I asked for?”

“Mint, huh. Then it must be virgin mojito. This is another special service from the Master, so make sure to drink it gratefully.”

“Vir… what was that? But I, hate veggies. Including greeneries, leaves, and the like.”

“Mint is not a veggie, though.”

“I see. Fine, I’ll try to drink it, why not, I’ll try.”

I put the straw in my mouth while stealing a glance at Master. His back remained turned on us as he was wiping on a glass. It followed that he turned on the TV installed near the ceiling using a remote control.

“Mnn! Who could’ve guessed that this drink tastes absurdly good?! Thanks a bunch, Master!”

With his gaze fixed on the TV, Master resumed wiping on the glass using a towel. Meanwhile, I downed my whole glass of mint soda in one gulp, slurping it noisily up to its final drops.

“Seconds, please!”

“Keep your pace slow.”

“Bossy, ain’t ya? I can drink however much I want.”

“Gah, what an insolent brat. Well, whatever. Speaking of, you did a great job today. Even though you claimed that you were simply doing it as a hobby, I have to admit that you’ve got some skills in boxing.”

“Our opponents were just lacking. I could say the same about you, I mean, you were the one displaying that flashy combination of Muay Thai and god-knows what other martial art techniques.”

“I was somewhat forced to learn them after I joined Pinochle, that’s all there is to it. Afterall, I’d rather not become drenched in sweat.”

“Eh, but you should absolutely teach me sometime.”

“Did I hear that right, are you looking forward to get all sweaty with me?”

“You’re being creepy again.”

“Reporting from Gibbs Street, earlier this afternoon…”

Interrupting our conversation, the voice of a reporter blared out from the TV, dropping the name of a street which sounded familiar. It also seemed to grab Chris’ attention, as he immediately spun on his high stool to get a better view of the TV.

“An incident just occured in which a group of mafia were attacked by unknown assailants. According to the police who arrived at the scene, someone is believed to have intervened in a drug transaction between the mafia. The items were stolen from a museum, with the market price of—”

“…”

Chris and I stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Um, Chris……. isn’t this a bad sign? But we won’t be showing up on the headlines, will we?”

“High Card” was a secret organization operating under Pincochle Corporation. The true identities of its members must never be revealed to the general public, and anyone who’s not involved in the business was forbidden from knowing the existence of X-playing cards.

Tiredly, Chris laid his wrist across his forehead, sighing.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t expect that gem to possess such a high value.”

“I-I didn’t do anything, I swear! It’s their own fault!”

“Finn, we’re completely innocent. We don’t know anything. We didn’t do anything. Isn’t that so?”

True, true. I rapidly nodded in agreement.

“I will submit my report to jii-san and tell him that we were not involved in anything. And then I’ll call it a day and go home right away. It would take time, but this whole incident would get swept under the carpet, eventually. Uh, and, just for the record, do not ever let Leo catch a wind about this.”

“…Sounds like it’s gonna be a big pain in the ass.”

“I hope that would solve the problem. For now, fingers crossed…”

Chris raised his glass of cafe au lait float. I copied his movement with my own refilled glass of mint soda.

“Good work today…….”

When we clinked our glass together, both of our hands were still shaking so pathetically that a clattering sound could be heard.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. I love the High Card gang and I found it very unfortunate that while it is meant to be a multimedia project, I can’t seem to find the translated versions of any materials (beside the anime) anywhere (if this is against copyright, I will take it down). Hopefully this small TL would help international viewers gain better understanding of HC universe and characters. The author of these SS himself said that he hoped fans would have their “so that’s what it is!” moments when they watch the anime after reading his short stories. So with that in mind, let’s enjoy High Card together~

#highcard #high card #finn oldman #chris redgrave #short story #hcss #translation

51 notes · View notes

linkysmommy · 2 years ago

Text

Father and Son

Characters: Lincoln Aquino (main focus), Matthias McQuoid, Silvia McQuoid, Abel Flint Word Count: 5394 Warnings: Emotionally abusive parenting, trauma A/N: For ILAW Day 2, favorite characters, this favorite character being Lincoln Aquino (previously McQuoid). I was planning on doing some more with this fic, but I never got around to it and figured I may as well post what I have. Fun fact, this fic was actually written to explore Lincoln and Matthias's relationship in the past, and inspired the chapter 15 flashback scene! Tagging: @ila-appreciationweek

Hearty laughter echoes throughout the polished dining hall. A chandelier glitters overhead and classy orchestral music plays from a nearby stereo. And the dinner table is occupied by good food, good drink, and four people. A father, a mother, a son, and a friend.

“I love this boy!” Matthias says, his voice booming across the table as he claps Abel on the back.

Abel smiles sheepishly and scratches behind his ear. “It’s just a historical theory.”

“One that most people don’t even understand when studying it in graduate school,” Matthias says. “You’re an intelligent boy, Abel. Never be ashamed of that.”

“Thank you, I’ll try.”

Abel practically glows as he takes another bite of the pork adobo Silvia prepared for dinner. But across from the table, Lincoln slouches in his seat, looking anything but pleased.

Matthias and Abel don’t seem to notice, but the crease of Silvia’s brow as she looks over at her son shows that she does. She always notices him, even when no one else does.

“So,” Matthias says as he pours himself another glass of wine. “Tell me, Abel. How are your classes going? I trust that you’re making sure Lincoln isn’t getting into much trouble.”

Lincoln rolls his eyes and Silvia, noticing his reaction, shakes her head disapprovingly at her husband. “Matthias.”

“It was a joke,” he says with a chuckle. Silvia looks back at him, unamused, and Abel clears his throat awkwardly.

“Well, uh, yeah, classes are going well,” he says, glancing over at Lincoln. Lincoln just glares down at his plate. Whatever good mood that had once been present is gone, replaced by an uncomfortable tension. “By the way, Mrs. McQuoid, the food is amazing.”

Silvia smiles warmly at Abel. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate that.”

Without warning, Lincoln abruptly stands. “Yeah. Thanks for the food, mom. I’m going upstairs.”

“Oh, I’ll finish then too—“ Abel starts, but Lincoln shakes his head.

“There’s no need to rush, Abel. I’ll be in my room.”

Matthias frowns as he watches his son leave. But really, he only has himself to blame.

***

My mother claims there was a time when my father believed I was perfect. When my tiny baby feet and quiet coos were his pride and joy.

She claims he used to say, “That’s my boy. That’s my beautiful boy who I love.”

She means it as a comfort. But all I hear is that he only loved me before I was actually me. Once I became myself…

I was no longer perfect to him.

***

Ten years ago

Lincoln’s short legs struggled to keep up after his father as he followed him through the forest. At seven years old, he had already seen more and experienced more than many grown men. And tonight, he was going to see more. To do more.

He was finally going to make his father proud.

“We’re almost there, Lincoln,” Matthias said. “We’re almost there.”

Nervous anticipation fluttered in Lincoln’s gut. Today was the day he’d been looking forward to for years. It was the day he was finally going to get a power of his own, just like his father.

They reached a small clearing in the woods and Matthias stopped. A stream ran alongside the clearing and the grass was littered with wildflowers and tree branches.

Matthias turned to Lincoln with a warm smile. “We’re here. Are you ready?”

Lincoln nodded. “I’m ready. What do I do?”

“Don’t worry, son. I’ll show you.” Matthias knelt in front of Lincoln and took his hand. His fingers were long and slender compared to Lincoln’s tiny stubby ones. He pulled a pocket knife from his shirt pocket and flicked out the blade. “Now, this will hurt a little bit, Lincoln. Can you be strong for me?”

Lincoln nodded. “I can be strong.”

Matthias pressed the tip of the knife into Lincoln’s palm, just hard enough for the skin to split. Pain shot through Lincoln’s hand and he bit back a whimper.

Be strong like Dad, he told himself sternly.

Matthias pocketed his knife and patted the top of Lincoln’s hand. “Well done, son. Not a sound. I’m proud of you.”

Lincoln nodded his head proudly. “I’m strong,” he said.

“Yes you are,” Matthias agreed as he got back to his feet. “Now Lincoln, repeat after me. From blood to earth, from shadow to dust, I pledge myself to the Power and the Power pledges itself to me.”

Lincoln took a shaky breath and with his high boy’s voice, repeated after his father.

“Good,” Matthias said. “Now drip some of your blood into the river.”

Lincoln obediently held out his hand and dropped the blood into the river rushing by the clearing. And the moment his blood touched the water, something strange happened.

The river began to glow cyan; the current became faster. Misty blue tendrils reached out of the water, reaching toward Lincoln.

Nervous sweat trickled down Lincoln’s neck and he backed away from the tendrils. “Dad? What is this?”

“It’s alright, Lincoln!” Matthias said. His voice was laced with excitement as he watched. “The ritual is accepting your offering! Stand still and don’t move.”

It was hard to obey when all he wanted to do was run. The tendrils were terrifying and made him feel sick, but Lincoln forced himself to stand still.

I need to make him proud, Lincoln thought over and over again as the strange Power-fused tendrils wrapped around his body. I need to make him proud!

His head began to spin and he felt dizzy. Every cell in his body told him to run, but he stayed rooted to the spot. He stayed until the tendrils drew back from him and dissipated once more back into the water.

He felt different. He felt strong, but weak. He felt enlightened, but confused. And when Matthias rushed to his side, pride glowing in his eyes as he said, “Now that’s my boy,” Lincoln couldn’t stop himself from collapsing to the ground from exhaustion.

When Lincoln awoke, it was beneath a wad of blankets on his bed. He sat up too quickly and his head immediately began to spin.

“Ouch,” he mumbled, pressing a hand up against his forehead. When his dizziness settled, he pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of bed. His hand ached and when he went to scratch it, he realized it was wrapped in a white cloth. And suddenly, everything came back to him. The forest, the ritual, the strange tendrils that rose up from the stream…

“That wasn’t actually a dream,” he whispered to himself. A grin split across his face and he ran for the door. He needed to find his father, to ask him what his power was—

But the moment he threw open the door, all he heard were raised voices.

“What do you think you’re doing with him?” Silvia yelled. Lincoln couldn’t see her, but he knew that voice. That was the voice she used when she was very, very angry, and she almost never used it. “He’s seven years old, Matthias. Seven years old! He doesn’t need to be dragged into this Power-obsessed world, not yet. And he’s obviously not ready! Look what happened to him! He’s been unconscious for almost an entire day now. Let him be a child.”

“I’m not going to apologize for giving him the life that I wish I’d had,” Matthias retorted. His voice was softer and smoother, but it was tight. He wasn’t happy either. “Lincoln has a potential I never had. He could someday be greater than me. He could be greater than any witch or Power wielder out there! Don’t you see? I’m doing this for him, Silvia. You should’ve seen how strong and brave he was. He wants this more than anything.”

Silvia sighed in frustration. “You really think this is what he wants? You think that’s what it is, and not that he’s desperate for his father’s approval? Anyone who truly knows you knows how much the Power means to you, Matthias. Your passion is part of what made me love you. But you can’t force that on other people. You can’t mold Lincoln into what you wish you’d been. You need to let him decide for himself who he is.”

Lincoln peeked out around the edge of his door frame and looked down the balcony to where his parents stood in the foyer.

Matthias shook his head and turned away from Silvia. “I love you, my dear, but I suppose there are some things that even you will never understand.”

“I understand that if you keep trying to form Lincoln into a better version of yourself that you’re going to lose him forever. And when that happens, you won’t be able to say I didn’t tell you, because I’m telling you now.”

Without another word, Silvia turned her back on Matthias and climbed up the stairs. She stopped abruptly when she saw Lincoln standing in his bedroom doorway.

“Lincoln! Oh sweetie, you’re awake!” Silvia fell to her knees in front of him and swept Lincoln up into a warm, engulfing hug. She smelled like she always did, of lavender, citrus, and home. Lincoln hugged her back, because there was absolutely nothing better than hugs from his mother.

When she finally pulled away, Lincoln shot her a goofy grin. “Did you know that I have special powers now?” he said. “Dad got them for me!”

Silvia’s smile faded. “Yes. I heard. How do you feel about that?”

“Excited! Maybe I’ll be like Superman now. Or Dad! We could fight bad guys together I bet. You think Dad will be really proud of me?”

Silvia brushed the hair out of Lincoln’s eyes. “I think that Dad will always be proud of you no matter what you do, honey. Powers or no powers, your daddy and I love you so much. You’re our perfect little boy, okay?”

“Oh. Okay!” Lincoln shrugged and then pushed past her to run downstairs. “Love you Mom I gotta talk to Dad!”

“Careful, Lincoln! You were just sick. Take it easy.”

“I will. Hey Dad!” Lincoln waved at Matthias who was still standing in the entryway. “Do I have powers now?”

Matthias shot Lincoln a crooked smile. “That’s my boy. And yes. Yes, you do. Once you’re feeling better, we’ll find out what they are, alright? But for now I need you to take it easy so you can feel better. And Lincoln? Know that I am so very proud of you.”

And those simple words made Lincoln’s heart swell.

***

The Present

Lincoln lies sprawled out on his bed as he stares at the lazily spinning fan above him. A family dinner shouldn’t have to be like this, he thinks. But every single goddamn word that man says seems like it’s specifically targeted at me, to make me feel like absolute shit.

It’s not an uncommon way for Lincoln to spend his evenings. Because Abel is over tonight, Lincoln has refrained from blasting angry metal music from his bedroom speakers, but the rest is typical: brooding in his room, thinking about how awful Matthias makes him feel, wishing he hadn’t ever gotten this stupid power in the first place.

Tap tap. Knuckles rapping against his door pull him out of his thoughts.

“Who is it?” Lincoln calls out, a bit more testily than he intended.

“Now is that any way to talk to your mother?”

“Sorry, Mom. Yeah, you can come in.”

The door creaks open and Silvia steps into the room. She looks more like Lincoln than Matthias does, with her warm brown skin and straight black hair. And she understands him more than Matthias does, too.

She crosses the room and pulls out Lincoln’s desk chair to take a seat. “So,” she starts with a cheeky smile, “your art teacher called me today.”

“What? Why?”

“She wanted to tell me how talented you are and she thinks you should submit some of your art to an Oregon state art show. She thinks you have a good chance of having your art accepted. That kind of thing looks good on college applications, you know.”

For a moment, excitement bubbles up inside of Lincoln. But almost as soon as it’s there, his excitement fizzles out.

“You know dad doesn’t give a damn about this art stuff. If it’s not about the Power it’s not important,” Lincoln says. He turns away from his mom to stare despondently at the Nirvana poster hanging above the foot of his bed.

“That’s simply not true, sweetie,” Silvia says. “Now, I know your father can get a little… one-track minded about the Power, but he and I will always support you no matter what you choose to do.”

Lincoln snorts. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“Lincoln…”

“Dad barely has anything to say to me since I told him I refused to use my power anymore. And the way he talks to Abel makes it obvious he wishes I were like him. Not some screwup who can’t do anything useful with the Power and who gets Bs and Cs in school and whose greatest dream is to work at a tattoo shop.”

“Hey.” Silvia’s tone is serious and firm. “Don’t ever call yourself a screwup again, understood?” At Lincoln’s silence, Silvia repeats herself even more firmly. “Lincoln, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln says quietly. “I understand.”

“You are not your father. You’re Lincoln McQuoid. And you’re the only person who can decide what path in life will make you happy. Maybe it’s true that Dad wishes you cared more about the things he’s passionate about, but regardless of any of that, he loves you Lincoln. And I do too.”

At Silvia’s words, Lincoln can’t help but smile. “You’re a pretty kickass mom. You know that, right?”

“Oh, I know.” Silvia reaches out and gives Lincoln’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “Where do you think you get your kickass-ness from?”

Lincoln laughs. “That’s so not a word. But to answer your question… I definitely get it from you.”

***

Ten years ago

“It’s not working,” Lincoln said miserably. “Maybe the ritual didn’t work. I don’t have any powers like Superman or Wonder Woman.”

They’d been working nonstop since the ritual and Lincoln missed an entire week of first grade, yet Lincoln’s power still hadn’t decided to reveal itself. Lincoln was starting to think he wasn’t strong enough after all, that somehow the fact that this wasn’t working was his fault.

They were standing behind the garage. Forests and trees expanded in all directions behind them and birds chirped overhead. The mansion rose high above the ground, its stony exterior seeming cold and foreboding today. The pool cleaner hummed nearby, and the home’s generators buzzed in the distance.

All of these sounds, all of these sights, were a distraction to Lincoln’s young mind. Anxiety weighed down on him. He was never going to get this to work, was he?

Beside him, Matthias ran a frustrated hand over his face. “Don’t compare yourself to those childish superheroes, Lincoln. You’ll be far greater than them.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Let’s try this one more time.” Matthias squatted in front of Lincoln so they were the same height. “We don’t know what you can do yet, but the Power obviously blessed you with something. So I need you to focus.”

“I’ve been focusing.”

“Well obviously not hard enough!” Matthias’s voice was suddenly rough and his mask of patience shattered to reveal swirling anger beneath it. Lincoln flinched back a step, but almost as soon as it was there, his father’s anger was gone. Matthias sighed and reached out, taking Lincoln’s hand. “I’m sorry, son. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. But I know you can do this, alright? I know you can.”

Lincoln nodded warily, but his little hands trembled ever so slightly with uneasiness.

Matthias ruffled Lincoln’s hair. “Close your eyes. Feel the warmth of the air. Listen to the sounds surrounding you. Focus inward. Try to feel the Power deep within you. I know it’s there, Lincoln. You just have to find it.”

So Lincoln did as he was told. He closed his eyes… he focused on the warm sun beating down on him… he focused on the sounds of birds chirping and tree leaves rustling and the pool cleaner whirring… and then he tried to feel whatever power was hidden somewhere inside him. He thought about how he felt hungry, because he was supposed to have eaten lunch an hour ago but Matthias had been so focused on the Power that he seemed to have forgotten about it. He thought about how his toes felt hot and stuffy inside the socks and tennis shoes he was wearing.

He thought about how he wished he could find his power already so that he could stop doing this and go watch some cartoons. And then he thought about how guilty he was that he was thinking that instead of focusing, like his father had told him to.

Lincoln squeezed his eyes shut tighter and ground his teeth together. Focus… he told himself. Focus…

And he did focus. He focused for so long that he lost track of time. He focused until all he could think about was how loud his stomach grumbled. Finally, he felt a hand on top of his head.

“Alright, that’s enough, Lincoln,” Matthias said. His voice was thick with disappointment.

Lincoln looked up at him hopefully. “Did it work?”

Matthias shook his head with a frown, and Lincoln’s heart sank. “Don’t worry,” Matthias said. “We’ll try something else. I won’t give up on you.”

In that moment, the words were a comfort to Lincoln. He hadn’t failed his father, not completely. But within a few years, those words would come to mean something else to Lincoln.

I won’t give up on you is what his father had said. I won’t give up on me is what he’d meant.

A few hours later, Lincoln was splashing about in the pool while Silvia reclined on one of the poolside armchairs.

“Look at what I can do, Mom!” Lincoln yelled before giving a rather unimpressive attempt at an underwater backflip.

Nonetheless, Silvia smiled and clapped when Lincoln’s head popped up out of the water. “That was wonderful, sweetheart!”

Lincoln grinned from ear to ear and began to backstroke across the pool. As he swam, the door to the pool yard swung open and Matthias stepped out onto the deck. Silvia’s smile faded and she looked away from him.

“You’re rewarding him with pool time?” Matthias asked as he took the chair beside Silvia.

“Yes. He’s having a great time. Can’t you see?” Silvia gestured at Lincoln who had reached the opposite wall. His excitement dimmed when his eyes landed on Matthias.

“Hi Dad,” he said with an uncertain wave.

Matthias nodded at him in acknowledgement. “Hello, son.” He turned back to Silvia. “He still hasn’t gotten in touch with the Power. I know it’s there, Silvia.”

“You’ve kept him out of school for a week, Matthias. I know you love the Power, and I know you’re passionate about it, but there’s more to life than this! He needs to go to school. He needs to learn and to make friends. I’m not against him learning to use the Power but if that becomes more important than everything else in his life? If that weakens your relationship with him? Then yes, I’ll be opposed to it.”

Lincoln was pretending to not listen as he threw a water-soaked squishy ball up into the air over and over again, but he was. That was the thing about parents. For some reason they always thought that whenever they talked about adult things, kids wouldn’t hear it. But Lincoln always heard, and he always listened.

“This is the most important thing in my life,” Matthias said. “It should be the most important thing in all our lives, Silvia. You may not fully understand now, but someday, I promise you that you will, my love.”

“Will I?”

“Yes. You know what my dream is. For the three of us to always be together. And I promise, that’s what I’m going to make happen.” He stood and leaned down to kiss Silvia on the top of her head. “I love you and Lincoln with my entire being.”

A reluctant smile pulled at Silvia’s lips. “I know you do. And I love you too.”

“Then you’ll trust me to do what’s best for us?”

Silvia looked up at Matthias in consideration. After a long moment, she nodded. “I trust you, Matthias.”

Matthias smiled at her in relief, and then turned to Lincoln in the pool. “Lincoln?”

Lincoln immediately dropped the ball into the water and looked over at his father.

“Would you mind getting dressed and coming with me? I want to try one more thing with you to awaken the Power. If it doesn’t work, we’ll take a break from it, alright?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Silvia cut in. “But if you want to, then you should.”

Lincoln looked between his parents and then finally nodded. “Okay. I’ll go with Dad. I want to have powers anyway.”

Matthias grinned. “Perfect. Now hurry and get cleaned up.”

Soon, Lincoln was dressed in pajamas and sitting cross-legged on the dirt ground beside the stream that he’d dropped his blood into in return for power. Matthias was sitting beside him, seemingly unbothered by the way his expensive custom-made suit pants were getting dirtied and stained from the ground.

“So… now what do I do? The same thing as before?” Lincoln asked.

Matthias shook his head. “No, Lincoln. We’re going to try something else. It’s something that some… old friends of mine used to do when their power wasn’t awakening the way it was supposed to.”

“Okay.”

“It’s going to be a little uncomfortable, and it might hurt a little bit. But I promise you that you’ll be okay and this is all just so you can have the best, alright?”

Lincoln’s stomach twisted with nervousness. “It might hurt? Like when I had to cut open my hand?”

“Not exactly,” Matthias said. “It’s more in your head. Maybe you’ll feel some pressure there. Do you trust me?”

Lincoln immediately nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” Matthias said with a warm smile. “Now do what I usually have you do. I’m going to provide some outside assistance.”

So Lincoln did as he was told. He did what he always tried to do—sense the Power inside him. He closed his eyes and focused on the world around him, he tried to become one with it. And as he did, a strange feeling crept into the base of his skull. At first it was nothing more than a distant pressure, but after a few moments the feeling began to spread from his head to his fingers to the very tips of his toes.

Lincoln groaned as the pressure spread, becoming more and more uncomfortable. Perhaps this was the Power? He cracked one eye open to see his father kneeling across from him, an ancient-looking book open in his lap as a light glowing light emanated from his fingers.

“What—what’s that?” Lincoln asked, his voice shrill with fear.

Matthias’s gaze jerked up from the book and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think about me! Focus on what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“But it hurts, Dad. It hurts!”

“I told you that it would hurt,” Matthias snapped impatiently. “You told me you could handle it. Can you handle it?”

Lincoln sniffled and wiped at his watering eyes. “I… I think so.”

“Good. Because I know you can do this, and I’m not letting up until you have your power.”

Lincoln closed his eyes again, trying his best to ignore the painful pressure that was spreading through his entire body. He tried to focus on the power—whatever that even meant—so he could make his father proud. That was all he wanted… wasn’t it?

“AHHH!” Pain shot through him and he fell forward, his elbows digging into the dirt. His breath was ragged and labored. It felt like his entire body was compressing, like his arms and legs were being ripped apart.

“It’s all in your head, Lincoln,” came Matthias’s voice. “I know it hurts, but you can pull through! People have gone through this dozens of times before and it always makes them stronger.”

“I can’t…” Lincoln whimpered as tears squeezed from his eyes.

“Yes you can! I know you can.”

All Lincoln wanted was to go home, to curl up in bed, for his mother to hold him and tell him everything was alright. He wanted his father to stop doing whatever he was doing, to leave him alone. But as the fragmented thoughts started to float around his head, a new sensation awoke within him.

It was something that buzzed warm and strong in his core. The new feeling seemed to chase away the pain until Lincoln felt like he was floating. Lincoln sat up slowly. He held his hands up in front of himself and cautiously placed one hand against a rock that was resting in the dirt beside him.

The moment his hand made contact with the rock, something strange happened. It was like a million different intersecting stories were all making their way into his mind all at once. There was so much information, so much history, it was too much for his child’s mind to handle. The rock slipped from Lincoln’s hand and his hands flew to his head, gripping on either side as he screamed as if that could force the pain away.

“Lincoln? Lincoln!” Matthias tossed the book aside and knelt in front of his son. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“No no no no no…” Lincoln repeated over and over again. It was too much, it was far too much…

Matthias wrapped Lincoln up in his arms and held him close against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into Lincoln’s hair. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry.”

When Lincoln’s head was clear and he could finally speak, he pulled out of his father’s embrace. “I think it worked,” he said softly.

Matthias’s eyes widened. “Your power awoke?”

“Yeah, but…” Lincoln’s lips tugged downward and once more he felt like he was on the brink of tears. “It hurts, Dad. It hurts so much.”

“What hurts?”

“Seeing everything. It hurts.”

Matthias’s eyebrows lifted. “Seeing… everything?”

Lincoln nodded solemnly. “When I touch things, I can see where they’ve been. I can see what they’ve seen. But they see too much. I can’t do it, Dad, I can’t.”

“I understand,” Matthias said, but something dangerous sparkled in his eyes. “So you can see the histories of objects by touching them? That’s the gift the Power gave you?”

Lincoln gave an uneasy shrug. “I guess?”

“Then it would appear that you are blessed after. Yes, you are very blessed indeed.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to master this power, Lincoln,” Matthias said. “You’re going to learn what makes this family so special.”

Lincoln’s stomach tightened with fear and he suddenly felt sick. “But I told you. It hurt. It was too much. I don’t want to do that ever again.”

“You say that now, my boy, but once you get through the worst of it, I promise you that it’ll be worth it. A gift from the Power is a rare thing. You must be grateful for it.”

Lincoln nodded, but he wasn’t so certain. And as his father held his hand and walked him back to the car, Lincoln felt unsure. Unsure that he was grateful for this power, unsure that he wanted to strengthen it, and unsure that his father was right.

***

After that day, some things were forever changed.

“Do you trust me?” he had asked. In that moment, I truthfully answered yes. He was my father, the man I looked up to more than anyone, the person I wanted to become. Of course I trusted him.

But after that day, that trust was gone.

For good.

***

The Present

A few minutes after Silvia leaves, Abel joins Lincoln inside his room. He takes the seat at Lincoln’s desk, which is littered with pens and piles of papers covered in artsy designs.

“Hey, Linc,” Abel says.

“Hi.”

Silence blankest the room, the only sound the soft whirring of the fan overhead. After a long moment, Abel finally speaks. “So. That was an interesting dinner, I guess.”

“Sure,” Lincoln says.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can do whatever you want, Abel.”

“Okay.” Abel leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he contemplates his next words. “I know you’ve had… issues with your dad. I mean, it’s obvious and I’ve known for a long time. But the thing is, I don’t know why.”

“Because he’s an asshole, man.”

Abel chuckles. “I mean, I’ve gotten that much. But like, don’t hate me for saying it, but every time I talk to him he seems really nice.” Lincoln’s eyes narrow and he throws Abel a glance verging on furious. Abel quickly adds, “Not that I think he’s a nice guy! I’m just saying, I obviously don’t see the same side of him that you do.”

Lincoln lets out a humorless laugh. “I’ll say.”

“Look, Linc. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But in case you do ever feel like you need to talk to someone about anything… you know I’m here, right?”

A small smile pulls at Lincoln’s lips. “Yeah. I know. It’s just, my dad and I don’t get along. We haven’t for years. He wants me to be someone I’m not, and he can’t accept that I’m not that person. So when I see him treating you like a son…”

“Oh god…” Abel says, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m not mad at you.”

“What exactly did he do?”

Lincoln sighs and turns to look at the posters on his wall. “It’s complicated and weird. But all you need to know is that I hate that man, and I have good reason to.”

“Okay. I believe you. So do—”

“Abel,” Lincoln interrupts. “Can we talk about something else? I’d rather not have that bastard on my mind right now, you know?”

Abel nods. “Okay, yeah. No problem. Let’s talk about something else. Um, are you excited for the senior prank this weekend?”

A grin stretches across Lincoln’s face. “Hell yeah I am. Your idea for turning the entire school into a beach party was pretty genius.”

“I just got it online, but thanks for saying so anyway.”

“Now the real question is if you think Avery will be impressed by all of your preparations,” Lincoln says with a smirk, and Abel’s face flushes pink.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.”

“I don’t!”

“Do too.”

“Okay, maybe I do know a little bit.”

Lincoln sits up, grateful to have something else to think about, even if it’s just for a moment. “Then we’d better knock this thing out of the park.”

#it lives within #ilw #playchoices #my fic #lincoln aquino #lincoln mcquoid #matthias mcquoid #abel flint #silvia mcquod #ilaw

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prismaticpichu · 2 years ago

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A few weeks back the amazing @altocat shared some awesome ideas she had for her gem of a fic A Monster’s Threads that didn’t quite make the cut. I was so so intrigued by one of the ideas… for some reason. I dunno why I was. It’s a horrible, horrible prospect and goes against everything I stand for as a floofy writer.

Alas I wanted to give it a shot bc the inspiration bug bit me! I was super trepidatious to share bc the subject matter is… bizarre. Dark. But hopefully it gets the point across quickly ;3 It’s pretty short and not the most fleshed out bc unfortunately the mojo gotta little lost towards the end, but I really didn’t want it to rot alone in the files! Consider it a tiny surprise gift (many question marks bc this seems like affliction more than anything). Hopefully the sidelined idea was brought to reality in somewhat of a neat way.

Caution for iffy/macabre subject matter. Enjoy!!

The room was an empty, gaping space in the building. No windows lined the walls, no flowers arranged, no benches, no audience. Light only cast down from the fluorescent shapes that camouflaged into the ceiling tiles above, buzzing with the throb of electricity, a callous and mocking dirge humming against the otherwise viscous silence that clung on to everything in range. It felt like some kind of twisted supply closet; they shoved it away, swept it aside to keep the rest of the image clean.

The only thing there was, was the casket elevated on a small platform in the heart of the room. Sephiroth breathed in the thick, acidic silence with fragility, like his lungs could chip, emerald eyes never tearing away from the wooden cage that trapped the remains of his first ever friend inside.

The remains…

It trapped a husk, a shell, some vessel without thoughts, without feeling, without a rhythm in his chest for him to hear. And he was straining with all his godforsaken heightened senses to find one--to prove that they were wrong, that he was alive, that it was a nightmare. That he wasn't alone in this lonely supply closet.

But he heard nothing, and he was.

No... that wasn't the full truth. There were others here, surrounding him, somewhere, some hazy silhouettes skirting the room through the fog: Tseng, a batch of other Turks, Heidegger... Zackary.

Sephiroth allowed his eyes to drift left, just an inch. Zackary was standing beside him. He was as tethered to the casket as he was, lost in another world, numb, detached, except the stone on his face was crumbled into anguish; his eyes bled, brimming with tears as he took in his own rattling breaths. He was grieving.

Sephiroth used that fragment of his vision to study him. There was a narrow X branching along the edge of his clenched jawline, a visible vein, the pockmark still hued with a raw shade of crimson made even brighter under the flickering lights overhead.

It was the symbol of their fight; a memento; a sign of a battle that should have never been given in to. Should have never been won. Should never—

Killer.

Sephiroth blinked for the first time in minutes, taken aback by the cutting word that tore into his mind. He hadn't been consciously thinking it, hadn't conjured the thought up. It ambushed him beyond his awareness.

But it wasn't wrong.

The thought refused to leave him, to filter out, like a poisonous insect clinging onto the broken shards of his psyche and stringing them together again, the world making sense again. At least for now--at least in the moment he was marooned in. His emotions had somewhere to funnel to, clotting around the single word—scar, person—like a tumor. And then he let himself slip.

He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the boy.

Zackary caught scowl in the corner of his own vision. It was slight at first, like he pretended not to notice, his attention bound by Angeal's stolen presence. But as he continued to glare, as more of his own attention bled away from Angeal and onto his apprentice, the more the flames grew, and the more they lapped at the strings keeping Zackary's gaze fixed. They burned through it, swallowing it, until the heat became too strong to ignore.

Zackary turned to him, and Sephiroth watched as the stone crumbled into something unreadable, then shaped into shock, then that shock whetted into something sharper. Zackary turned to him, and glared back.

He was angry with him...?

Him

HIM?

It infuriated him for reasons beyond what he could grasp--for reasons he didn’t want to grasp. It was obnoxious. Unfounded. Unforgivable. Angeal was dead. He was dead, killed by those two hands slowly balling into fists at Zackary's side. Those hands had taken Angeal away from him; they took the fragile hope he sacrificed his career and well-being for and shattered it. The mission was not to kill him; it had been to bring him back to safety... to him. That had been the plan. That had been their only objective. It was what they had wanted.

And he...

He...

That insect was finished with its job, had made everything make sense again, and now lunged out of him with its work left behind. Sephiroth's lips curled into a snarl.

"Traitor."

The single sawlike word was the only thing to disturb the silence, cleaving through it like a knife. It cleared the fog, too, and Sephiroth was suddenly very aware of the plethora of staff that actually surrounded him. They had all been lost in it, now revealed, and they were staring at him and the way he was snarling. He didn't care. He didn't care.

Let them stare. Let them STARE. It didn't take away the truth, make it less real.

The haze in Zack's eyes evaporated, shooed away by the flames that overtook his expression instead. The boy's expression boiled over the limit, his fists clenching further until he heard a tear.

And then one flew right at him.

Sephiroth staggered backwards, fist embedding into his skin with unrelenting force. The pain only flared for a moment. Then it was lost.

Sephiroth didn't know how far he lost himself; the fog billowed around him all again, only that it blinded him now, obscuring his mind and world in livid shades of red. He lunged at the boy, and he lunged at him, a flurry of punches and and kicks and scratches erupting until they were sent rolling on the ground. They grappled like wolves, the hazy cries of employees muddled as if they were underwater.

"STOP!" A hand was on him, grabbing his coat; Sephiroth threw it away. He used the hand to land his fists into Zackary's cheek, repeatedly buffeting him, striking, pounding, digging his knuckles into that godforsaken scar.

Zackary seized his wrists, struggling like the opposite end of a magnet to keep him from reaching him again.

So much was flashing through his eyes; so many shapes, memories, colors. Red. White. Black. Orange. All in a tempest, engulfing him in the past.

"I should have let Ifrit kill you." His elbows trembled against the resistance, teeth bared in a rabid grid of white. “I would have brought him back. Them both."

Pink rivers cascaded down Zackary's cheeks, the rest of his features a masquerade of smeared crimson. Sharp cries tore from his lips as he bent his elbows in the opposite direction, like pulling a stubborn lever.

“THE HELL WITH THAT!" he roared in between the howls, words choked. "YOU PROBABLY DROVE THEM AWAY! ALL YOU CARED ABOUT WAS PROVING YOURSELF RIGHT!" He broke his arms away. "And you know WHAT? You were RIGHT. Are you happy? Are you HAPP--"

Sephiroth seized him by the collar, hoisting him off floor, splattered and tainted. He couldn't respond; his chest was heaving too hard, lungs too constricted, almost as much as his eyes--two threadlike needles set ablaze, boring into the mistake in his hands.

"Sephiroth, DON'T.”

It was Tseng's voice; he barely heard him. All he could hear was the air cutting as he flung Zackary across the room—flying, flying, flying.

And crashing.

It wasn't only Zackary that came plummeting back to the ground; the casket was knocked off its platform from the impact, an echoing clatter of wood exploding as it crumbled to the ground beside them. The coffin rattled. The ground vibrated. The latches unlocked.

And its contents spilled out.

Angeal's body lay sprawled along the metal, unmoving, pale. The husk's arm stretched towards him, fingers splayed. And his face... looking at him. Through him. His head was turned, lolled his way.

Ashamed.

The room fell deadly silent. Nobody moved, nobody talked, caught in the moment's thrall of shock.

Zack collected himself from the ground, peeling his viscid hands and knees away, splinters embedded in his palms… and he gaped at the corpse sprawled in front of him. He was struck just as silent. Numb. Unmoving.

That was, until he turned to Sephiroth, and his visage completely broke.

“You’re… you’re a monster…”

He ran out of the room with his eyes closed.

#writing #fic #a monster’s threads #I STILL LOVE THESE GUYS I PROMISE 😭😭#ffvii #crisis core #zack fair #sephiroth #angeal hewley #if I find something else I will try and countervail this

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bobbinacrossafricatake2 · 6 months ago

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“Unforgiving” Skeleton Coast

May 20, 2024

Having had a day of big game yesterday that was unexpected, today was a more unique adventure to the Skeleton Coast. It was pretty hot yesterday afternoon, and with no A/C we were both worried about sleeping. But the silence (save for the roaring lion that only Jill and the staff heard), the darkness, and an air temperature that cooled down quite nicely, we both slept like the dead. Still, alarms went off early; we rallied, gathered laundry (for one of the benefits of safari camps), got our stuff together and MacDonald collected us at 6:30 for breakfast (no roaming by ourselves in the dark). Quite yummy, as expected, with cooked options and a nice buffet. Coffees, oh yes.

Off we drove with Jo, Robert (our new best friends), Esther, our lunch cook for the day, and Max. The drive was fascinating. In the early light before full sun, the colors were flat and muted with even shrubs and trees seemingly in camouflage. It was fun to listen to Max’s banter with Esther, and he was great at stopping to look at random things. One example: who needs calcium supplement pills when there is dried out hyena poop (only bone remaining) to be had at the side of the road? After a bit, we got to the same riverbed we followed yesterday, but continued along it much further toward the Atlantic. Here, as the sun rose, again the textures, colors and shapes were amazing. The cracked dried clay of the riverbed curls up into the likes of chocolate curls on a cake. The wind makes squiggles in the sand that are like art. Max spotted some tracks in sand built up at the edge of the riverbank, and we stopped, got out of the vehicle, to see the beetle tracks and subtle designs from a spider. Max explained that the spiders make tunnels into the sand to keep cool during the hot days. Then he proceeded to blow away a bit of sand showing the front door, and he opened it by lifting up a tiny flap that was the front door to the spiders den, created from spider saliva and silk. Totally cool. ‘Gotta love nature! He carefully replaced the front door, as guides are immensely respectful of wildlife.

The banks of the river are pretty high, a result of the rushing water that comes only every few years. Periodically, there are scrambles of branches where the current slammed them into a tree or rock and there they stayed. We stopped for birds, flowers, a few giraffes nibbling on branches, an oryx with a baby (adorable). As we got further along, the river spread out, banks became lower and dusty greens started to creep into the browns, rusts and tans of the drive thus far. This is when we were told to put on our seatbelts and the serious bumps began. Talk about the proverbial “African massage” this journey took the cake. The vehicle bounced, tipped, steadied itself and bounced some more - all the way to the ocean! It was oddly soothing, even trying to stay upright, and each of us nodded off a few times! Windows up, at one point the sand cloud got so thick that Max had to stop for it to clear. Yet further on, we stopped to watch a few black back jackals hunting rodents, leaping and running! Truly, Max was a wonder, knowing just when to let us nod off for a few minutes, when to point something out, when to stop the car and let us out for a stretch or a closer look, and when to share his amazing knowledge of the desert. The next transition was to dunes. We stopped this time to let air out of the tires, and carried on. There were areas of purple - yes, with beautiful patterns from the wind, and the purple layer being from granite sand. Riding the dunes was somewhere between exhilarating and terrifying. As we got close to the water, we stopped to view an “oasis,” a water hole with a bunch of birds where an underground river/natural spring popped up in the middle of the dunes. We wander off a short way to observe and a little white tuxedo’ed beetle (black and white markings) chased Jill around. Max picked him up and, of course, knew everything about the little creature! It was quite windy and as headed back the short distance to the vehicle, our footprints were already almost gone from the wind blowing the dunes. Not sure how this happened but at one point Max stopped and the next thing we knew, Jill, Robert and Sarah were singing our national anthem, after which Max sang the Namibian anthem. The apt, memorable line was about “contrast in beautiful Namibia.

We made it to the coast, where we stopped for a break at a National Park office and small museum about the Skeleton Coast. Known for being unforgiving due to the currents, fog and rocks, it is a graveyard of ships and whales that were caught unaware! The museum consisted of animal bones, riggings from ship wrecks and stories of significant wrecks. We went down to the shore with huge waves and an enourmous and totally stinky fur seal population. Thousands for as far as the eye could see. They were fun to watch for a bit, especially the babies, awkwardly hoisting their little bodies around on the rocks. The amazing thing was to the hundreds or thousands surfing, bobbing up and down and having themselves a grand old time in the water. Indeed there were seagulls and birds of prey around to feast on the inevitable carcases of seals among the molt-covered rocks.

We went back to the office/museum compound where Esther had a lovely lunch of corn and miso soup and paella ready for us. She apparently does this almost every day during her six weeks on! Conversation was lovely and lunch was good. We learned that our 2:00 PM plane back would be delayed,so off we went to see a shipwreck - yay!

The shipweck was from 1976, a South African fishing boat called the South Coast. It was a mass of tangled,mangled metal strewn about the shore. Must have been a harsh end. It was good to get a feel for why indeed this landscape is unforgiving.

Finally, with a little more time, we headed south to the mouth of the river (currently blocked off),where a bunch of flamingoes were feeding in the water. One wouldn’t have known we weren’t in Florida!

Back at the airstrip, we boarded our plane quickly and got home in no time! We blogged and reviewed photos for a bit then headed to our briefing from the research team here. Cheetahs! Yay. They’re such wonderful creatures, and our guy was so totally enthusiastic about understanding them better. He even considers the vulture/cheetah in his research. Loved it!

We then had a lovely chat with Lizelle, the duty manager for tonight, around the firepit - everything from commiserating about knee issues, to healthcare, to customer service to tourism. Fun to get a local’s perspective. Dinner was wonderful, pulling Jo and Robert’s table over to join us. The evening was much cooler than last night, and totally enjoyable. The fact that Seb almost ate a moth with a sip of wine - details, details…

Back in the room, fans to cool, mosquito nets to protect…life is good.

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sidhewrites · 1 year ago

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Chapter four! Most of this is taken from the previous version of the project, but it's the last bit that's been prewritten. Everything here on out will be brand new.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I bring two coffees just in case.

I don't know what Lucy likes, so I get one with just a little cream and no fancy add-ons, and a mocha frappuccino with all the add-ons, just in case. I could drink both, if it came right down to it, but I didn't want to leave Lucy without one just in case she changed her mind. I'm also armed with a backpack of stuff. Snack bars, a tiny radio, a small speaker, and Josie’s dowsing rods, just in case we get caught.

It was a perfect night for ghost hunting. The clouds were nearly gone, just a few still rolling across the sky and a thin mist obscured the ground. A cold breeze pulled dry leaves off branches and tossed them carelessly across the ground. Lucy is nowhere to be found, but I arrived a few minutes early as it was. The Archivists themselves are still waiting for the last few members of their team to show up, and I make my way over to the grave where we first met to wait.

It’s a weathered stone, probably at least a hundred years old at this point, and, in this low light, that the words are too worn away to make out clearly. Josie would probably know who it belongs to, but I resist the urge to turn my phone on and check if she’s sent any messages. I tell myself it’s not just because I don’t know if I even want to talk to her or not, and, for once, that’s actually true. The light could attract unwanted attention, and the plan tonight is to not be noticed. Just to be extra safe, I’ve got a dark jacket on with the hood up over my pink hair, so I blend in just a bit more with the background.

I am secret. I am stealth. “I am the night,” I mutter as hoarsely quietly as I can.

“Is that so?”

This time, I manage not to shout Jesus Shit as I fall on my ass in fear as Lucy stands over me, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"Hi," I say.

"Evening." She grins down at me, more than a little smug. I'd be irritated at her if it wasn't admittedly so funny.

"Hi," I say again. I'm very eloquent.

Lucy gives me a look, and lowers herself to the ground next to me. "So, what's the plan?" Lucy asks.

"I figure they're gonna start filming after about half an hour of setting up, I think? Deliver some of the scripted lines, get some spooky B-roll."

"You know quite a bit about their methods."

I shrug. "I took a few film classes." I was by no means an expert, but I had an idea of what to expect. Then I look at her again, and realize, "When did you get here?"

I startle, falling forward and swallowing a yelp of surprise. Instead, I smile, turning around to see Lucy standing behind me, nearly invisible in the deep shadows of the tree. “When did you get here?” I whisper, realizing just how tall she is. I’m already short, five feet and two inches on a good day, but she seems to be pushing six feet, even when accounting for my view from the ground.

“Some might say I never left.”

“Okay, Mary Shelley.” I stick my tongue out at her, prompting Lucy to giggle, and I hold one of the coffees out. “Brought this for you, just in case you’d need it. Oh --” I pull it back and hold the other one out instead. “Or this one. I don’t know if you prefer it sweet or black, so I got both.”

“How very kind of you, though I hope you didn’t burden yourself too much in getting them. I can’t drink coffee, I’m afraid. Maybe you could have them both?”

“That’s a horrible idea. I’ll be vibrating ‘til next week. I’ll do it.”

“You, ah -- you don’t have to?”

“Nah, I’m gonna.” I chug.

“Amazing.” Lucy does not sound amazed.

Once I down a good amount of the first coffee, we turned our attention to the crew. They're almost done setting up and taking one last inventory of the tools on hand. They look fairly satisfied with their setup, though the sound operator still has second thoughts about the leaves on the ground stirring in the breeze.

“Alright, Luce, how do we wanna start?” I list off the items in my bag as the team goes over their own filming schedule and glance off into the distance with some frustration. I guess in Haunted Archivist Standard Time, 10:00 is actually 9:30. Sure enough, a small group of people emerge out of the darkness -- the last two members of the Haunted Archivist team, and the last person I wanted to see tonight.

Mr. Gno looks even older than usual at this hour. Admittedly, I ought to have been expecting it. The team needed someone to let them in the gates and to sign off on various filming permits, but it didn't even cross my mind until now. Why didn't he have one of the other groundskeepers work tonight? Or one of our two office admins?

At least he's clearly having fun. As the group gets closer, I can hear him try out different voices and personas. Apparently they'll be interviewing him for some of the background segments of the video, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing as Mr. Ngo puffs out his chest and says, "Howdy."

The rest of the group laughs as well, which does endear them to me a little. He's a kind man who deserves to be appreciated, and, also, the best cowboy.

"Thanks again for helping us out tonight," the manager says. "This is gonna be a huge hit."

"Always happy to help out a couple of young'uns lookin' to rustle up some ghosts ... buckaroos."

I have the best boss.

Besides me, Lucy is laughing as well, a hand covering her mouth to keep quiet as well. She notices me looking, and fights to regain her composure. "I'm looking forward to hearing his interview. They seem to be almost ready. Let's do the same."

I nod, trying to focus on making a plan. “I know they like to just kind of talk into the air and analyze audio later. Not much we can do there, but I think we can hijack their communicator thing.”

“Communicator thing.”

“You know, the thing. It, like, listens to the air waves and the computer translates that into actual words. It’s called, um…”

“Spirit box.”

“No, that’s the one with the radio, isn’t it?”

“There’s multiple types. Trust me, I’ve seen my share of investigator teams. These ones are a sight more sophisticated than the early spiritualists, to be sure.” Lucy’s smile grows. “They have the teddy bear.”

I follow her gaze, and, sure enough, the team is bringing out and testing the light up bear. It’s to attract playful spirits and measure vibrations and static charges in the air, but I might have bought one just to have something that lights up when I hug it. I’m a mature adult, and I make good choices with my life.

“Let’s see if this works.” I raise the EMF generator, and point it in the direction of the bear. Slowly, feeling very slightly James Bond-y, I press the switch and turn the dial gently. Sure enough, the lights start to glow a bit brighter, just enough to be noticeable, and the team gasps collectively.

Lucy and I duck down again, fighting to suppress our giggles as the team gathers around the bear, all talking at once. Who was it, is she here already, I wasn’t expecting this sort of activity --

“We should start filming now,” the manager says, half-breathless already, and everyone rushes to comply.

I clamp down on my laughter and look up at Lucy. She’s closer than I had expected her to be, and I’m grateful we’re both trying to be silent right now or else I’d probably say something stupid, like wow you have really long eyelashes.

Instead, she probably mistakes my distracted gazing into her eyes as some sort of intelligent silent communication and nods. I nod back, and raise the generator again just as the camera operator, “Rolling.”

Lourdes faces the camera while Mick holds up his EMF reader and follows the sources of the sound. "This is amazing," she whispers. "We were expecting some activity tonight, but nothing like this. We hadn't even turned the cameras on when this thing started going."

If I remember correctly, there’s usually at least five hours of unused footage to go with the half-hour video they end up with. Almost automatically, their usual closing plays through my head -- And monthly pledges get one hour of deleted content, so click the link on your screen or in the description to --

The stupid music they play is going to be stuck in my head all night. I would probably do a stupid little dance to it if someone asked. I really hope Lucy doesn’t ask.

tag list:

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

#writeblr #graveyard lesbians #gl chapter #writing #mystuff #writers on tumblr #wlw fiction #supernatural fiction #original fiction #spilled ink

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