#It's also funny looking at Spring and a Storm/Storm and a Spring | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

layaispunk · 2 months ago

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storm and solace - chapter 1

pre-outbreak!joel miller x oc

series masterlist | chapter 2

series summary: When Elle moves into her late grandfather’s house, she doesn’t expect to develop a slow, aching crush on the quiet man living across the street. Joel Miller is older, rough around the edges, and carrying more weight than he lets on—but there's something about him that feels safe. What starts as passing glances and awkward hellos slowly becomes the one thing she didn’t realize she was searching for: a place to belong, a family.

wc: 1.2k

description: pre-outbreak!joel miller, there's a chance that i also write the outbreak in this series and it will cover some game/tv show events ... will update as needed. eventual smut. joel is 36, tommy is 32, sarah is 14, and elle is 26.

pairing: joel miller x original female character (elle)

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, age gap, references to parental issues, implied mental health struggles, and the miller bros being sexy.

a/n: i am SO excited to share this with you all!! it's been sitting in the drafts for a while ... but this story starts off in spring time so i decided that it's time. I normally write joel x reader fics, so writing about an original charater was new. Elle is a sweetheart, and i hope you love her as much as I do. Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapters! i'll also be doing a masterlist for this series soon

Texas is not usually this warm around spring time, but today, the sun felt unbearable. Elle is standing outside what used to be her grandfather's home, sweat dripping down her neck, as she takes in the little cul-de-sac neighbourhood. Everything is so still and so quiet. “can’t believe it," she muttered, smiling to herself, trying to imagine herself fitting in this place. It was a fresh start - Elle lived in the city all her life.

A few months ago, her grandfather passed away and long story short, this 1 bedroom, 1 story house was all hers. She didn’t have a great relationship with her parents, so moving away to the city for college was good for her mental wellbeing. But college is over, and she couldn’t bare staying with her parents anymore. It was funny, how this happened so fast, it was like the Universe said “i’m hearing you girl!”. As she was driving here, Elle blasted Lana Del Rey’s Honeymoon album, and she couldn’t help but feel like those main characters in movies. The truck she rented for the drive was nearly falling apart, and she struggled to lift the boxes filled with her belongings in front of her house, she wondered if she’d fit in. Elle always felt like an outsider - no matter where she went. Her melancholic thoughts came to a halt when an unfamiliar voice broke through the silence.

"Sorry, ma'am - hi. need a hand with those?" a guy in a worn-out shirt was walking towards her slowly, a smile already on his face. Elle froze for a second, contemplating if she should tell him everything was fine or accept his help. The boxes were heavy, and the heat was leaving her exhausted. She wasn’t very keen on asking for help. She’s quite the avoidant type - never had anybody to lean on, just herself. But she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to make a friend, especially when he looked as good as he did.

His hair was a little curly, and a little damp. His forehead glistened with sweat, and he wore a worn white T-shirt with a faded print she couldn’t quite make out - some old band maybe, and jeans that clung to his legs just right, tucked into scuffed-up boots that looked like they’d been through a couple lifetimes.

He had freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, sun-kissed and easy to look at. But what caught her more were the faint crow’s feet by his eyes - lines carved from years of laughing too hard or squinting into the sun. Something about them made him feel familiar, even before he opened his mouth. She was staring. ”Oh ... hi. I'm Tommy, Tommy Miller, I live-" he paused, glancing back over his shoulder to gesture towards the house across the street. His eyes caught on an older, broad-shouldered man striding toward them, his expression almost frustrated. "Ah shit, here he comes-" he clears his throat. "Well, my brother, Joel, actually lives there." he pointed to the beautiful house across the street with a sheepish grin, nodding towards the man approaching.

Elle blinked, trying to keep up with what was happening. Her gaze averted to Joel, he said?

Broad shoulders, worn flannel sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. His hair was messy, curling just slightly at the ends, with one stray curl falling over his brow like it refused to be tamed. There was a quiet intensity to him … something in the way he stood, like he wasn’t used to relaxing, even in a neighborhood this quiet. His hands were large, rough like he’s the type of man who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it meant taking care of something.

She couldn't help but stare for a few seconds longer than she should have. Are the men in Texas this attractive? ”Sorry about him. I'm Joel. Do you need any help?" Joel's voice was low, steady and somehow polite despite the slightly cold expression on his face. Tommy turned, throwing his brother an exaggerated look. "Dude."

Elle smiled shyly. "Yeah. Hi, it's nice to meet you both. I’m Elle. Elle Barnes.” She took a deep breath. “Um… that would be great, I just need to put these inside. They're a bit heavy." Her voice came out steady, and she quickly glanced away hoping none of them noticed the slight flush on her cheeks.

Elle took a deep breath, trying to take it all in. This was new. She thought it would take her days to build up the courage to make a friend in this neighborhood. She shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling the weight of everything she left behind. She thought about home, if she could even call it that anymore. How she walked away from a life that had unraveled her completely.

"Jesus girl, what'd ya pack in here?" Tommy's voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to reality. Seriously, she needed to stop being in her own little bubble. Elle smiled. "My painting supplies are in that box. Be careful, please." Tommy smiled, feeling a rush creep up to his neck.

He hadn't expected to be this close to her. She was beautiful. Slim, with long legs that seemed to go on forever. Her collarbones were defined, peeking out from the red top she wore - one that just barely hinted at the curves beneath. His eyes drifted down without meaning to, catching the subtle way the top accentuated her figure.

Tommy’s gaze lingered on her worn-in cowboy boots, the scuffed dark brown leather hinting at their age, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d worn them hoping they’d make her blend in a little better here.

Tommy wiped his hands on his jeans as he set the last box down in the corner of the little kitchen, while Joel was looking around, making sure nothing was broken. “Well, that’s the last of it,” Tommy said, glancing around the space. It was ... cozy. The open layout was inviting. In the kitchen, there was a large window overlooking the back porch - her easel could fit perfectly there.

Elle stood by the doorway, feeling a little breathless. “Thank you so much, both of you.” she said sincerely, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I owe you one.”

Tommy stepped closer, a lopsided grin on his face. “It’s nothin’. Glad I was there to help. If you need anything, you know where to find us” He gestured toward the door where Joel had completely disappeared a few seconds earlier. "We should uh.... exchange numbers, maybe? You can give me a call if you need me with anything?"

Elle smiled softly. Friendship. It felt nice. "Yeah! yeah sure." She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and handed it to him, her cheeks slightly red.

“Got it. Don't hesitate to call, alright?" he said, stepping back toward the door.

With that, he gave her a quick nod and disappeared out the door, leaving Elle standing alone in the quiet, box-filled space. She let out a deep breath and looked around. For the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of hope - like maybe, just maybe, this place could be a fresh start.

thankyou so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed the first chapter. i'll try to post chapters weekly (gonna do a masterlist now) 💋💋💋

divider from @fawnlisbon

comment if you want to be in the taglist

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfic #dbf!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character

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tacobacoyeet · 2 months ago

Note

Hello it’s me again

ART X READER

so basically it’s when they’re at boarding school and reader is kinda awkward but friendly but kinda an outcast, art is in like the popular group and stuff with Patrick and reader is ‘friends’ with the group but they all kinda bully reader but like don’t but they do but they don’t, anyways so art doesn’t really bully reader but he always laughs along and stuff ANYWHO one day they’re all lounging around in one of the community room and one of the girls in their friend group goes, “omg did you see her play today at practice, it was so bad” and one of them makes a joke that she was too busy drooling over art and they all tease art and then one of them has an idea that art should ‘entertain’ reader until a certain tournament so they have a better chance of winning, and art reluctantly agrees to it, kinda weirded out by reader in general. So he hangs out with her and then goes back to his friend group everyday to tell them everything and they all laugh about it and now she tries to flirt with him but as time goes on art actually starts to like reader, and really falls for her. Then when the tournament comes around maybe the team looses still because of her and everyone is pissed and then when she walks into the community room it goes quiet cause everyone is talking about it and she just goes into the corner to study while everyone glares at her. One of the girls on the team that are also in arts friendgroup rushes up to art with the rest of his friends behind her and yells at him because he was supposed to butter reader up in order to win and then reader runs out crying because she heard everything and then art reprimands the group for blaming her and him because all they do at practice is ignore her and she can’t get any better if she’s neglected and how they pushed this onto him when she’s really just a really cool girl. Then he rushes out to find reader and then they get into a screaming match but then they kiss and happily ever after cause this is #spring and a #fairytale

I’m sorry this is like my 4th request 😔 I just love your writing style sm

until the tournament | art donaldson x reader

a/n: thank you angel! hope this does your wonderful request justice!!

warnings: bullying, not proofread

The first time you cried at Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, it was over a dropped sandwich and a shoeprint in your lunchbox.

You hadn’t even liked the sandwich that much—turkey, the wrong kind of mustard, bread already going stale—but the weight of someone’s heel crushing through the plastic lid had been enough to set something loose in your chest. It was only your second week, and you hadn’t figured out yet where to sit at lunch or how to tie your shoelaces fast enough after practice or what to say when the other girls laughed about something that wasn’t funny.

So you cried. Quietly. In the farthest corner of the outdoor benches, head ducked like a kid in a storm. The bench was cold, even through your uniform skirt. The wind carried someone else’s laughter like it was meant for you and missed. Somewhere, a whistle blew—sharp and shrill—and it felt like it echoed down the center of your chest.

Art Donaldson saw you, but he didn’t stop. Just looked for a second longer than he probably meant to, then turned away to where Patrick was already shouting something about backhands and protein bars.

That was four years ago.

Now you’re sixteen and you’ve learned not to cry over sandwich boxes.

Now when they laugh, you laugh too.

Even if it’s about you.

Especially if it’s about you.

Now you know where to sit, even if no one ever saves you a seat. You know how to tie your laces faster than anyone else, double-knotted with the frayed ends tucked tight. You know how to nod when someone makes a joke at your expense—just enough to seem in on it, never enough to seem hurt.

You’re not friends with them. Not really. But you orbit the group like a borrowed moon—glowing just enough to be useful, just close enough to be kept. Never quite belonging to their sky, but still tethered by the invisible gravity of routine, of silence, of needing to be somewhere. You know that pulling away would leave a bruise too deep for anyone else to see.

Patrick talks the loudest. The other girls smile with their teeth and pass you looks like notes you’re not allowed to open. Once, one of them asked where you got your skirt, and when you said your mom mailed it from home, they shared a look like they’d just unwrapped a secret. Another gave you a granola bar after drills and said it looked like you needed it—smiling, syrup-sweet, like it was kindness instead of a blade.

And Art? Art laughs along. Always a second behind the punchline. Like he knows he should, even when he doesn’t want to.

Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s looking, he glances your way. Not long enough to mean anything. But not short enough to mean nothing, either.

You pretend not to notice.

And you pretend not to care.

Because at Mark Rebellato, you survive best when you feel nothing at all.

The community room always smells like chlorine and reheated pasta. The couches are sagging, the carpet is worn, and the ceiling fan clicks with every third spin, but no one seems to care. It’s where everyone goes after practice—sweaty, loud, half-asleep with their shoes kicked off and protein shakes melting on the floor.

You sit on the edge of the room like always, notebook open, textbook in your lap, headphones snug over your ears—your walkman clipped to your waistband, rewinding the same scratched cassette you always turn to when the world gets too loud. You pretend to study while your eyes flick across the page, but your ears stay tuned to the noise anyway, letting the music blur the edges of their laughter.

Patrick’s sprawled across the couch like he owns it. Art is next to him, one arm thrown over the back cushion, legs stretched long in front of him. The rest of the group is scattered—elbows and ponytails and empty water bottles.

“Did you see her at practice today?” one of the girls says, too loud. You don’t have to look up to know she’s talking about you, but you tune her out. She either thinks you can't hear her, or she doesn't care if you do.

“She totally biffed that volley,” another chimes in. “Like, cartoon-level wipeout.”

Someone snorts. "She was too busy watching Art."

Laughter breaks out like a ripple. That's when you turn your music up loud enough to drown them out. You don't care to hear them anymore.

“Should’ve asked for his autograph,” someone adds.

“Oh please,” the first girl says, “she’s obsessed with him. It’s actually kind of sad.”

“Hey,” someone else says suddenly, mischief curling around her voice. “I have an idea.”

There’s a pause, the kind that means trouble.

“What if Art hung out with her a little? You know, keep her happy until the tournament. Give us a better shot.”

Art laughs, a short breath through his nose. “What, like—entertain her?”

“Exactly,” Patrick says. “Kill her with kindness. Or whatever it is you do.”

More laughter. A rustle of agreement.

Art doesn’t answer right away.

But he doesn’t say no, either.

The next afternoon, he finds you on the benches near the courts—same spot you always go when practice ends early and the sun still feels warm enough to chase the ache out of your legs.

You’ve got your notebook open, pen resting between your fingers, headphones on again. You don’t notice him at first.

He clears his throat, exaggerated. Twice.

You flinch when you finally look up, pulling one side of your headphones off. “Oh. Hi?”

Art shifts his weight. Leans one shoulder against the fence. “Hey. Just, uh… figured I’d say hi. See what you’re working on.”

You blink. “Homework.”

“Cool. I love homework.” He pauses. “That’s a lie.”

You nod slowly, brows knitting. He’s never talked to you like this before. Not without the rest of them.

“I didn’t know you liked sitting out here,” he says, squinting at the horizon like it's part of the assignment.

You shrug. “It’s quiet.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The silence stretches. He scratches the back of his neck.

You wait. Patient, polite. Wondering if he’s lost a bet or something.

Because it sure doesn’t feel like he came here for you.

Art clears his throat again. “You, uh… played well yesterday.”

You look at him like he’s just said the sky is green.

“I fell. Twice.”

He shrugs. “Happens.”

You tilt your head. “Are you okay?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. “What?”

“You’re acting kind of weird. Like… unusually nice. No offense.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. “None taken.”

You wait a second longer. Then, like flipping a switch: “Do you want to sit?”

He does. Hesitantly. Like the bench might bite him.

You both stare out at the empty courts. The sun makes everything a little too bright.

“I like your headphones,” he says eventually.

“They’re from 1997.”

“Vintage, then.”

You smile, small and surprised.

He doesn’t expect it.

And he doesn’t know why it feels like he just passed a test he didn’t study for.

That night, in the boys' dorm lounge, Art sits half-slouched on the couch while Patrick paces the room with a tennis ball in hand, bouncing it off the wall and catching it with one palm like he’s conducting a very casual interrogation.

“Well?” Patrick prods. “Did she bite? Did she fall in love with your soulful silence?”

Art shrugs. “We talked. She’s… weird. In a good way, I guess. She’s kind of funny.”

Patrick snorts. “Funny how? Like, funny haha or funny sad?”

“I don’t know, man. She made this joke about vintage headphones.”

The other guys laugh like that’s the punchline.

One of them flops onto the floor dramatically. “Dude, if you end up catching feelings for the homework gremlin, I swear.”

Art rolls his eyes. “Relax. I’m just doing what you guys asked. Keeping her happy until the tournament.”

But when he says it, it feels wrong in his mouth. Like he’s repeating someone else’s line.

Still, he leans back and lets the noise of the lounge carry him, pretending it doesn’t matter.

Pretending it won’t.

The next few days start to fold around a rhythm.

He finds you near the vending machines after practice, offers you the last red Gatorade without asking if it’s your favorite—somehow already knowing it is.

You let him walk you back to the dorms. You make fun of the way he tapes his grip, the dramatic way he groans after drills. He teases you for your annotated notebook margins and the way your socks never match.

It’s easy. Easier than he thought it’d be.

Until you start flirting.

Soft, blink-and-you-miss-it things at first—like brushing your hand against his when you pass him a pen, or bumping your shoulder into his on purpose, laughter tucked behind your teeth.

One afternoon, he catches you watching him stretch from across the court. You don’t look away fast enough.

The next day, he lingers beside your desk in the study room a few beats longer than necessary. You ask if he wants help with algebra. He says no but pulls up a chair anyway.

You compliment his backhand form. He forgets how to respond.

He doesn’t go back to the lounge that night. Or the next.

By the third day, you’re under the bleachers together, sneakers kicked off and the backs of your hands brushing on accident and then not so accidentally. The courts glow in the late sun, soft and hazy.

You’ve been trading favorite songs and cafeteria horror stories when your voice gets quiet. Too quiet.

“It’s weird,” you say, fingers picking at the rubber edge of your notebook. “Being seen.”

He doesn’t answer. Just tilts his head slightly, waiting.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever… tried. Not really.” You let out a half-laugh that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Maybe it’s easier when you’re the joke.”

He watches you a beat too long.

Then nudges your shoulder.

“They shouldn’t get to make you feel like that,” he says, and it’s not loud but it’s sure.

You look at him like you’re not sure how to believe it. Like it’s something you’ve never been told before. Like it's something he shouldn't be allowed to say.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

And it’s the first time he forgets why he started this.

The softness keeps unfolding like pages he never meant to read.

You share your music with him—one earbud each, knees brushing, both of you pretending not to notice how your shoulders keep inching closer. He hates your taste in music. He doesn’t tell you.

One night, he finds you asleep on your notebook in the library. You’ve underlined every third word in pink. He watches you breathe for a minute longer than necessary, then tucks a hoodie over your shoulders and walks away before you wake up.

He starts bringing you extra granola bars. Pretends he “accidentally” grabbed too many. You pretend to believe him.

He starts looking for you on the court before every practice, just to see where you are. Just to see if you're looking for him too.

You always are.

And then the week of the tournament arrives.

Everything at Mark Rebellato gets sharper when the stakes are high. Voices carry farther. Shoes squeak louder. Coaches bark orders like their lives depend on it. Even the sun feels more blinding.

There are extra drills. Extra laps. Extra eyes watching everything you do.

You try to focus—on your serves, your footwork, your posture. You try not to notice how quiet Art’s become.

He doesn’t meet your eyes as often. Doesn’t joke as much. There’s a kind of electricity humming under his skin like he’s stuck between wanting to win and wanting to tell someone he doesn't care.

You ask if he’s okay. He says he’s just tired.

You believe him. Because you want to.

And when you miss a shot during the second round of practice matches, you hear the scoff from one of the girls behind you. You don’t look. But you feel it.

Art doesn’t say anything.

That hurts worse.

You lose in the third round of the tournament. Not spectacularly. Just enough to sting. A wide shot here, a misread ball there. You try to hold it together through the match, through the post-game shake, through the claps on the back that don't feel like they mean it.

No one says anything as you walk off the court.

But you feel it in the way no one looks at you.

By the time you walk into the community room that night, it’s already started. The hush. The way laughter cuts off mid-sentence.

You make your way to the farthest corner with your books. Your hands shake when you unzip your bag. You try not to drop anything.

It doesn’t matter. They’re all watching you. Even when they pretend not to be.

You can hear them whispering. You don’t even need the words.

Then one voice rises above the others.

“You were supposed to keep her together, Art!”

You freeze.

It’s one of the girls—one of the ones who’d laughed the loudest that first day.

“You were supposed to butter her up or something! We said keep her calm so we could actually win this thing.”

And that’s when you hear it. Like the floor drops out from under you. Like every laugh, every kindness, every afternoon on the benches has been rewound and played back with the volume off. You hear it, and suddenly your hands won’t stop shaking.

What it was. What you were.

What it meant.

You don’t look at him. You don’t want to know if he’s surprised or sorry or silent.

You just run.

And when the door slams behind you, Art doesn’t hesitate. He turns to the group, fire catching behind his eyes.

Something inside him snaps—something he didn’t even know was still holding on. Maybe it’s the way she didn’t look at him before running. Maybe it’s how quiet the room went, like they all knew exactly what they’d done and didn’t care. He hears his own voice rise and doesn’t try to stop it. For the first time, it feels good to speak up. It feels like truth clawing its way out of his chest.

“She didn’t lose it for us,” he snaps. “You did. You ignore her in practice, you treat her like a joke, and then you expect her to pull off miracles?”

No one speaks.

“She’s better than any of you even see. And yeah, I talked to her because you told me to. But I stayed because I wanted to. Because she’s smart and kind and actually tries. Which is more than I can say for the rest of you.”

He leaves before they can answer. Before they can say anything that might make him stay.

He runs out after you.

You’re already halfway down the hill behind the dorms, gravel crunching under your shoes, your lungs burning like they’ve turned inside out. You don’t care where you’re going—just away. Away from the stares and the silence and the sound of your own heartbeat trying to climb out of your chest.

He calls your name once.

You keep walking.

He calls it again. Louder.

And then his hand wraps gently around your wrist, not tight, just enough to stop you.

“Let go,” you snap, voice shaking.

“Just—please. Please listen—”

“To what? To more lies? To more of you pretending I ever mattered?”

Your voice cracks, loud and raw and too real in the dark.

“I never mattered. Not to them. Not to you. I was a joke to you, Art.”

“You weren’t,” he breathes. “You weren’t. I didn’t mean for it to start like that—God, I didn’t even want to be part of it—but then you—”

“Then I what?”

“You mattered. To me.”

You laugh. Harsh. It feels like it tears your throat on the way out. “So what? I was your project? Your personal charity case? Did you write about me in your group chats? Compare notes?”

“No.”

“Did you tell them how stupid I sounded when I tried to flirt with you?”

“No.”

“Did you pity me?”

“No!”

The word echoes, punches between you.

He looks wrecked. Hair a mess. Chest rising and falling too fast.

“I liked you,” he says, so softly you almost miss it. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. But I did. I do.”

Silence rings.

He takes a step closer.

“You made it easy to be real. And I didn’t know how to handle that. I was stupid and scared and—”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” he says again. His voice is breaking.

“I thought you saw me,” you whisper.

“I did,” he says. “I do.”

And then he kisses you.

Not soft. Not delicate.

It’s desperate. It’s messy. It’s the kind of kiss that only comes after too much silence and too many lies and everything finally, finally snapping.

And somehow, it’s the only thing that feels like the truth.

You don't pull away.

Not when his hand cups your cheek. Not when his forehead rests against yours, breathless and trembling. Not even when he says your name like it’s something he’s still learning how to say right.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The quiet wraps around you both like the dusk settling in.

Then, softly:

“I meant it,” he says. “All of it.”

You nod, but it still takes a minute for your voice to come back. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“But I’m really glad you chased me.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips. “I’d do it again.”

You link your pinky with his without thinking. It feels small. It feels steady.

And under the stars, beside the gravel path behind the dorms, with hearts pounding and eyes still red—you let yourself believe in something soft again.

Just this once.

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl

#a writes #ava's asks #art donaldson #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson angst #challengers fic #challengers #challengers movie #patrick zweig

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multiheadcanons · 2 months ago

Text

WHAT THE MERCS CONSIDER WONDERFUL WEATHER

scout: scout is at his happiest when he first sees snowfall. and he is at his saddest when he watches winter leave. scout loves the snow. he feels like a kid again, and he acts like one, too. running and diving headfirst into snowbanks, dipping his bare feet in icy cold water. standing outside in a tshirt and shorts, big smile on his face. the snow will have him ready to face the day. he’s okay until the wind starts blowing. then he is immediately ready to go back inside. and his affinity for snow does not translate to rain.

soldier: soldier is an optimal fighter in all weather conditions. but he likes when it’s muddy. this man is a pig. he will strip to his skivvies and go lay in mud. especially if it’s hot outside. he also likes hurling mud balls at the enemy team. it’s funny when they slip on it and fall. and then he’s coming in with the shovel. soldier has one (1) designated mud pit that he is allowed to put water in from the base and roll around in it. the team even turns a blind eye during the summer months, when it’s absolutely wretched outside.

pyro: pyro is only hype for one weather event— rainbows. spring is their favorite season with the amount of precipitation, and the absolute bounty of prismatic light that comes from it. and with the grass seeming so lush after a fresh pour, pyro is incredibly pleased with their surroundings. the rainbow is just the cherry on top of a beautiful picture. they absolutely do not like the fact that the rain is one of the only ways to get a rainbow. it makes their job very hard.

demo: anything that is marginally wet and between 52 and 73 degrees fahrenheit is the optimal weather. you will absolutely see demo outside, enjoying the chilly air. and he likes the air palpable. the kind where you can taste the oxygen around you, when it’s tangy and it hangs thickly on your tongue. where moving through it feels like pushing through brush. he’s out there. he’s living in it. rain or shine, he’s out there, soaking in the moisture of his environment. makes him feel like a fish.

heavy: heavy loves a cold, clear day. not just chilly, cold. no higher than forty degrees fahrenheit. days where the sun feels fake because it's just so cold. cold, clear days that turn into icy, clear nights. sometimes he can convince engineer (and usually they get pyro in on it, too) to start a bonfire, and they'll sit out there in the cold, and drink a beer or two, and stare at the sky. sometimes other members of the team will come out, and toss something in the flame, and sit in the heat for a moment. but it's usually just them three. and they thoroughly enjoy themselves in the ice of the night, artificially warmed by the booze, and thoroughly warmed by the flames before them. they can stay out there until two in the morning before they're willing to put the fire out and return to the base.

engineer: the literal nanosecond that the radios start talking about storms and tornado warnings, you know this country bumpkin hick ass backwater ass flamin-hot-cheetos-neck ass yeeyee down the I-40 ass man is out there, beer in hand. we all know this, right? we know that he’s out there with a camera looking for the formations, right? this man is literally getting blown sideways by the wind. he’s clinging to a porch pole trying to keep himself grounded. and every time the lightning strikes, he’s whooping. until it gets too close. when he was younger, he used to hop in his truck and chase the storms. he’s a little too old, and a little too smart for that now, but he’s certainly not gonna go “shelter in place” either. he can look death in the eyes and come out of it unscathed. he’s not scared.

medic: in the early spring, when you're not quite sure if it can even be called spring yet; he wakes up early enough in the morning, and he walks outside with a cup of coffee, and he stands in the chill of the dawn, and he looks up at the sky, absolutely crystal clear, and he can still see the stars as the sky begins to glow a dim pink... he gets a feeling. a feeling in his knees. and he knows from the feeling in his knees that there will be precipitation. and, in about three hours, he is proven right, as the temperatures plummet, and clouds roll in, and a light mist begins. this dreary, wet, almost muggy if it weren't for the consistent chill running down your spine, miserably dogshit weather... is the doctor's favorite weather to be in. he's wearing just enough layers that he doesn't have to add anything, the misted rain feels good on his skin in the heat of battle. he is, in general, enjoying himself in this weather.

sniper: sniper thoroughly enjoys the dry heat of the summers in new mexico. it's lovely. almost reminds him of home. it is greatly beneficial that sniper has an insane heat tolerance. sniper doesn't start making comments about the heat until the weather is in the triple digits. then he lets out a long sigh, and starts fanning his face with his hat. otherwise, he just starts shedding layers until he feels better. he will not complain if there is any form of a wind blowing, as long as it's consistent. his tolerance for the heat will be even higher if he has wind and some shade. he just loves sitting under a tree on a hot, sunny day. he can fall asleep easily.

spy: it is not often that he gets this kind of weather, but there are days. in the transitions of the wetness of the ground, and the chill of the air, a fog begins to descend. and this fog is thick, and disorienting, and it’s perfect for spy. these are his ideal fighting conditions, hell, his ideal living conditions. in the brisk air, he can simply cloak and disappear in the clouded thicket. and he never seems to be frightened, or nearly as disillusioned as his teammates in the moist grey haze. he moves in silent confidence through the fog. and you just won’t know he’s there until his knife is in your back.

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman

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nocasdatsgay · 2 months ago

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Beauty and the Beast

(A Spring Time Affairs Prequel)

Pairing: None | Word Count: 1028 | Rating: Gen | Master List | Read on Ao3

Summary: Someone is in the Manor. Tamlin Leaves his woods to investigate. For @tamlinweek Day 2 Dark Spring.

A/N: I wrote this in 2 hours. @mika-no-sekai-blog you had me spiral with asking what happened later and instead I ended up with what happened first. (Also check out her Tamlin fics. AMAZING)

Gen Tag: @ysmtttty @hieragalbatorixdottir @thisblogisaboutabook @daycourtofficial @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed

Tamlin knew someone had entered the old manor.

He knew when anyone stepped foot into spring. He had not lost that ability despite what others had thought. He knew when the eldest Vanserra entered his grounds, bringing the Witch and the Night Court General. Yet what did it matter?

He prowled through the forest, still shifted. The bright leaves had grown dark in their shade of green, the grass and the weeds growing wild. The sun barely shone through anymore. His eyes had long adjusted to it, making it harder to leave the forest where he roamed in the noon of day.

Why he went to the manor to investigate the trespasser, Tamlin didn’t know. He winced as the trees thinned, light getting brighter the farther out he went. It was almost blinding when he reached the field. With a shake of his head, he focused his gaze to the ruins of his home. He approached, admiring the force that was the Mother herself, the way the vines covered the manor walls and windows. His mother’s rose garden had spread over its enclosure through the cracks of the stone paths. He stopped before the manor, his home, now a tomb waiting for him when he was ready to die.

It’s funny how he wished he’d died long ago and yet-

A breeze blew, gentle unlike the storm welling inside him. The door creaked where it had been left open. Anger welling in him, his paws echoed on the cracked stone steps and as he entered the manor. He caught the smell of something citrus and sweet amongst the rot and musk. He followed it, lumbering up vine covered stairs to the second floor. He let out a growl as he wandered the hall. The fae was close by, had to be.

Another open door when he turned down the hall. He stepped lightly over the broken glass from the frames that used to line the hall. It didn’t matter if he cut himself. Why was he even here? But he reached the door, nudging it open further. He planned to roar to startle the fae who dared trespass. Instead the fae startled him.

This room was a courtier’s. The furniture was covered in dust and vines. The double doors at the end of the were open, leading out to the small balcony. He crept forward. A female stood on the balcony, looking out to the gardens below. The sun shone bright against her blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, gently rustled by the breeze. Then she turned. She twirled a rose in her hand, blood red like the dress she wore. It was Autumn fashion, too heavy for the warm Spring air. He knew exactly who she was. Tamlin snarled when her light eyes connected with his own.

“Lord Tamlin,” she curtsied in the doorway.

“Get out.”

His hoarse voice sounded weaker than he intended. She stilled, gripping the rose tight in her hand, the smell of blood instant in the air. This girl was a fool.

“Get. Out.”

“Lord Tamlin, respectfully no.”

She showed no sign of fear. He roared and while she flinched, she didn’t move or winnow away.

“What is wrong with you girl?” He growled. “Do you wish to meet death?”

“I wish to come home,” she said softly. “Lord Tamlin, I cannot stay in that rotten court any longer. The villages are gone. I had hoped the manor was untouched but-“

“You will not find a home here.” His claws clanked against the wooden floor while he crept closer. “Leave.”

“Lord Tamlin.”

He tilted his head, some of the matted fur in his mane pulling taunt.

“Leave.” He commanded.

She fought it. She closed her eyes and squeezed the rose stem again, blood running down her wrist. The flower brightened, her magic seeping into it.

“I am not the only one who wants to come home.” She said it with pain in her voice. “Please, Lord Tamlin. Let us come home.”

“And who, Lady Flora, is foolish enough to want to return to this ruin?” She opened her eyes in shock. Was she shocked he remembered her name? “If it is your things you need, get them. Do not come back.”

He turned to leave. He did not think he had any pride left to be wounded. Yet he felt it.

“My family,” she called out. He stopped but didn’t turn. “My family and others. My father and several others in Autumn have talked. To offer aid to rebuild if we can return.”

“Do they think they will gain my favor?” He turned and growled. “Do they think I will offer them riches? They are fools.”

There was pain in her eyes. She stepped towards him, flowers blooming under her feet as she walked. She stopped in front of him, shoulders squared.

“This is my home. My court. I do not care if it is you or the next High Lord of Spring that allows me entry. I will come home.”

“You threaten me, girl?”

She had the audacity to shrug. “What is a threat to a beast? You would have killed me by now if you wanted.” He snarled again, his pride wounded further. She continued with a slight smirk, “you forgot how stubborn I am, Lord Tamlin.”

She stepped close. Too close. He should have left. He should have used his power to force her out. Instead he stood still. She reached out with the rose and he didn’t move as she tucked it in his mane, near his horns. When was the last time anyone had touched him?

“I will be back with my father in three days time whether you’re here or not. You can be the beast in the woods or the High Lord that welcomes his court back home. That is your choice to make.”

She winnowed away leaving a smell of citrus, floral, and iron in the air. He shifted into his fae form, the rose falling to the ground. He did not feel ready to greet his court but maybe, he thought as he picked the rose up, maybe he didn’t have to be.

#tamlin week 2025 #tamlinweek2025 #tamlinweek2025D2 #dark spring #spring time Affairs #a prequel #Tamlin #tamlin acotar

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exololyunho · 6 months ago

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make you see god

masterlist

wc: 5.1k

summary: your dad had always warned you nothing good would come from relations with navy boys, but you were never one to listen

warnings: kinda e2l, drinking, this fictional mingi would be a red flag to me but its fiction so its hot, sexualizing the US military, oral sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, mingi picks the reader up, kinda rough sex, very minor sacrilege but its probably only offensive if you're super catholic, role-play??, tentative daddy kink but 'daddy' is never mentioned, reader does call him 'father' but I promise it's not as weird as it sounds

an: I wrote half of this over the summer when I went through a phase where all I could think about was glen powell so I watched like all of his movies and this was the result. I am aware this is very much a summer fling fic but it's cold where I am and the summer vibes feel fun. also sorry I've been gone so long but since I last posted I moved across the country, broke up with my bf, got a cat, got better antidepressants and got diagnosed with adhd so I've had a bit going on lol. I probably won't be posting often but once again I am soft launching a return. kinda. shits complicated

taglist: @staytinyinmybpack @jeonride @becky4733107-blog @ignoretheskies

Being raised by your dad and his navy buddies had taught you many things. Chief among them being not to mess around with navy guys. And to never surf at dusk. Of course you never learned your lesson.

It was during a surfing session at dusk that you met the navy man who would rock your world.

Sitting on your board, you took in the gentle rocking of the small waves as you waited for the swell that would carry you into shore. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow over the water. It was serene, peaceful, a gorgeous warm summer evening.

Until a shout broke through the air.

“SHARK!”

Immediately you drew your legs up on the board, frantically scanning the water around you. The only sharks around Miramar were white sharks and that meant almost certainly losing a limb if not your life. When your eyes failed to find the telltale dark shape, you turned to look back at the shore.

Standing there, chuckling at his shitty joke, was a man. It was too far to make out the details, but from what you can see he was tall and lean, wearing a white short sleeve button down and khaki shorts.

“Just kidding!” he yelled. To say you were unamused was putting it lightly.

With a sigh, you decided to call it a night, having not seen any surfable swells coming your way anytime soon. Putting your feet back into the water and pivoting your board back towards the beach, you paddled in.

Reaching the shore, you unclipped your ankle tether, gathering your board under your arm and storming up the man.

“Did you think that was funny? Everyone knows you don’t do that,” you glared at him. Up close you could see this man was a lot more handsome than you’d expected. His eyes were covered by aviators, but his jawline was strong, and his smile was cocky. His clean cut appearance and the way he carried himself gave you an inkling that he had military training

“I thought it was a little funny,” he quirked his head, nodding at you. “What were you doing out there?”

“Surfing, dipshit,” you moved past him. “Don’t do that again.”

“Are you going to at least tell me your name?” he shouted after you.

In response, all you offered him was your middle finger.

Working at the Hard Deck was a great job. It got tedious at times, dealing with overbearing and overly flirtatious sailors, but it was overall great. You loved bartending, loved meeting new people, loved eavesdropping on ridiculous conversations, and loved the lively atmosphere.

As with every usual night, you were enjoying your shift. You’d made friends with a few spring breakers, serving them tequila sodas and making plans to meet the girls at the beach the next day.

The night was still young, so you balanced chatting with them while pouring beers and shots for the other patrons. The music was loud and so was the chatter.

Until a new group walked in, wearing service khakis. When the other patrons spotted them, they went quiet for a moment, raising their glasses in appreciation. You watched them make their way in, indifferent, as all it meant for you was more beer to pour.

Your mood suddenly changed as you made eye contact with your prankster from last night. Rolling your eyes, you returned to polishing the glasses before you.

“Hey surfer girl,” there he was, standing before you on the other side of the bar. Without his sunglasses, you could see his brown eyes looking back at you with a glimmer of something that had the dual effect of making your stomach flutter and making your fists itch to hit him.

“Hey asshole,” you kept up your work with the glasses, averting your eyes from his.

“So welcoming,” he placed a toothpick between his absurdly straight teeth.

You sighed, setting down the glasses. “Can I get you something?”

“A friendly conversation and your name would be nice,” his eyes looked over you.

“Sorry we don’t serve that here,” you braced your hands on the counter. “How about a beer?”

“That’s a start,” his grin was blinding.

You rolled your eyes again, grabbing a freshly cleaned glass, pouring him the shittiest beer you had on tap. You placed the glass in front of him. Neither of you said anything for a moment, him staring at the glass, you staring at him expectantly.

“Weren’t you going to ask what beer I wanted?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you going to pay me?”

“Makes no sense but here,” he threw a card on the counter. “Close me out, would ya?”

“It’s $2.50 with a military discount, you don’t have any cash?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, picking up the card and dangling it lazily between two fingers. He waited for you to take the card, and after a moment of glaring at him, you snatched it. Quickly running the card, you returned it to him.

“Anything else I can get you?” your tone was dry.

“Your name,” he responded, taking a small sip of his beer and grimacing.

“Yours first,” you countered.

“Priest,” he grinned.

“That’s your name?”

“It’s my call sign,” he looked smug.

“I wanted to know your name, not your call sign, douchebag,” you picked up another glass to polish.

“Give me yours first.”

“Nice to meet you, Priest,” you gave him one last smile before turning to serve another guest.

“Hey!” Priest called after you. “Your name?”

“Next time!”

Next time came sooner than you had expected.

It was the following day, you were with the two girls you’d met the night before, relaxing on the beach, your board next to you. The three of you were making small talk about the books you were reading mixed with questions about your backgrounds.

“So, Y/n, did you grow up here in Miramar?” the blonde, Yeji, asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted before you could.

“So your name is Y/n, then.”

A shadow fell over you, forcing you to remove your sunglasses to face Priest. It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless and as much as the man annoyed you, you were very appreciative of the view above you. His chest was chiseled, strong and muscled, but lean. His thighs were equally as strong and toned, covered by navy blue swim trunks that hung low on his hips.

“My eyes are up here, babe,” he was grinning, his own eyes flicking over you.

Leaning up on your elbows you grinned back. “So are mine, Priest.”

“Touche,” he took his own sunglasses off. “Who are your friends?”

“This is Yeji and Lia,” you gestured to the two girls.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Priest gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Y/n, you wanna take a walk?”

“No not really,” you lowered your sunglasses.

“I’ll buy you a daiquiri.”

“What makes you think I like daiquiris?”

“Everyone loves daiquiris.”

“Fair enough,” you took his hand, letting him help you up. Grabbing the oversized button down you used as a cover up, you threw it on. “Watch my stuff?”

“Sorry, babe but we’re heading out soon,” Lia looked between you and Priest apologetically.

“No worries,” Priest grabbed your tote bag and surfboard for you. “We can leave it with my friends.”

“You think I trust your friends?” you put your hand on your hip.

“Just cooperate for once in your life,” Priest rolled his eyes.

“You’ve known me for 3 days and you just learned my name.”

“Let’s fix that,” Priest grinned down at you.

“Fine, fine,” you waved him off, then waved to the girls. “See ya.”

The two of you started down the beach, Priest holding your bag and board. A few hundred feet down the beach, you stumbled on his friends. A bunch of men, all toned and laughing as they tossed around a football.

“Guys, this is surfer girl,” Priest called out to them. The seven men before you all turned, waving hello. “Introductions can wait. Watch her stuff?”

“Sure,” one of them called out and Priest dropped your stuff on a towel.

“Come on,” he took your hand. Priest was dragging you along, but he only made it a few paces before you were jerking your hand out of his.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” he started chuckling. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I'm following you for a free drink.”

“I like to think that my company also has something to do with you following me,” he slowed his pace to match yours.

“Presumptuous,” you stared straight ahead, refusing to have to look up at him.

Priest grumbled something under his breath, but you weren’t listening. Instead you were focused on the beachfront bar you were rapidly approaching. It was tacky, decorated with tiki torches, fake coconuts, and plastic leis. The bartender was wearing an open Hawaiian shirt.

“Aloha and welcome to Miramar’s premier Hawaiian style beach bar!” Priest made small talk with the man as you scanned the menu, picking out the most expensive drink you could find since it was on his dime.

“I think I’ll take the Ultra Aloha,” you gave your best smile to the bartender.

“Coming right up, pretty lady,” he turned his focus to Priest, his smile dying. “For you?”

“The same,” Priest was pulling out his wallet.

As the blender whirred away, you turned to him.

“So where did Priest come from?”

“Oh come on now,” he ran a hand through his black hair. “I can’t give away all of my secrets on the first date.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I thought I told you I was just here for the free drink.”

“You’re the one who called me presumptuous,” the bartender set your drinks on the counter, taking the $40 from Priest. “Keep the change.”

The two of you took the drinks, walking away as the bartender called after you. “The change is 50 cents!”

You followed Priest down to some chairs nearby, slowly sipping your drink. It was actually pretty good. So good, you couldn’t taste the rum over the pineapple. Dangerous.

“What were we talking about?” he asked as he sat in the chair. His legs were spread tantalizingly. Seeing him like this made you so mad for a reason you couldn’t put your finger on. Something about how lazily and confidently he looked over the beach before you, the casual confidence with which he held himself. What was really getting to you was the way his tongue played with the straw of his drink.

Shaking yourself out of it, you cleared your throat. “We were talking about how you thought this was a date.”

“Ah yes,” he nodded sagely. “Two people, getting drinks, talking alone on a beach, getting to know each other. Not a date.”

You snorted, gesturing to the quite busy area around you. “First of all, we’re not alone, there's a million other people on this beach. Second of all, we are not getting to know each other, you won’t even tell me your name.”

“You wouldn’t tell me your name either, I had to find it out from other people,” he shifted to face you. “So, in exchange for buying you a second drink, can we cut the crap? I think we can both agree that I clearly find you attractive, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you feel the same about me, and I want to know more about you.”

You were quiet for a moment, taking in his words and thinking over yours carefully. You moved to look at him better. “What’s your name?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” his grin was wider now. “It’s Mingi.”

“Mingi,” you repeated with a smile on your face. Taking a moment, you started sucking down your drink, rushing to finish it.

“In a hurry for that next drink?”

“Sure,” you finished your drink, handing him the cup. “Mingi’s a nice name.”

With that, you were standing up, and walking away from him.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

Turning and walking backwards, you lifted your middle fingers. “To surf!

It was a week before you saw him again. A Thursday night to be specific. It was your day off, yet here you were, sitting at the bar of the Hard Deck, chatting with your coworkers between them serving other patrons and you sipping on your vodka cran.

Your night was peaceful. Not quiet, with the music playing and the few other patrons chatting, but still peaceful.

Until, once again, your peace was ruined by someone sliding into the barstool next to you. Glancing up, you weren’t surprised to see Mingi sliding into the seat. He was dressed casually, jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t look quite as cocky as he usually did. In fact, he looked almost irritated.

“Rough day?”

Mingi snorted, and ordered a beer. “You have no idea.”

He took a long drink. “Made worse by you running away from me last week.”

You glanced at him. You hadn’t felt bad before, but seeing him so frustrated now made you feel slightly shitty. “I’m here now. Wanna talk about what’s got you in a mood?”

“I didn’t think we were close enough for that. You know, since you ran away when I said I wanted to get to you?”

“I get it, I get it,” you waved your hand. “So what’s wrong?”

Mingi sighed. “Shitty instructor.”

“Wait, you're still in flight school?” you looked at him quizzically.

“Kinda. It’s complicated but I graduated a while ago, top of my class by the way, but a bunch of us got recalled for extra training. Top secret mission, y’know? If-”

“If you tell me you’ll have to kill me?” you smiled at him.

His cocky smile was back. “Exactly.”

You laughed, finally willing to admit to yourself that you were starting to enjoy his company.

“So, if I buy you another drink, are you going to run away from me?” he arched an eyebrow.

“I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink,” your eyes met and both of your smiles started to fall, the tension building between you.

Before it could build anymore, you cleared your throat. Looking away, you ordered both of you a new round of drinks. As the bartender poured them, you glanced back at him.

“So, where’d Priest come from?” new drinks were placed before you and you eagerly accepted the glass.

“If you were to ask me, I’d say it’s because I could make you see god,” Mingi’s smile was salacious, his eyes dropping to scan over your cropped t-shirt and daisy dukes.

You swallowed hard. “And if I were to ask anyone else?”

He took a gulp of his beer. “If you were to ask anyone else, they’d say it was because I fly recklessly. Make the guys I’m flying with need their last rights.”

You were silent for a minute, taking in his words. “Why?”

He looked at you, clearly confused. “Why what?”

“Why do you fly like an ass?”

He chuckled, watching for a moment as you took a sip, waiting for him to answer. “I fly like I do because it gets the job done.”

“You don’t worry your buddies won’t have your back if you put them in danger?” your eyes scanned his face over the rim of your glass.

A faint smile graced his lips. “Our missions are important. And sometimes they call for drastic measures.”

You hummed in response, still focused on his face. You could see his face shift ever so slightly with what could only have been memories of past missions.

“So have they ever needed them?”

He quirked his head, not quite following your chain of thought. All you could do was hope that this hot man before hadn’t actually killed someone because of his own reckless nature.

“Needed their last rights.”

He laughed again, but it wasn’t nearly as joyful. “Not through any fault of mine, thankfully. I’ve lost people, sure, but I’ve never been the reason.” Mingi took a deep drink. “As much of an asshole as I can be, and my call sign aside, I don’t think I could live with myself if it ever was my fault.”

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes away from his face to fiddle with the two tiny straws in your glass.

Mingi clearing his throat drew your eyes back up. “Do you want to get out of here?”

At your raised eyebrow, he backpedaled. “We can just take a walk that’s totally fine but I-”

“Yeah,” you interrupted. “Let’s get out of here.”

Your back slammed against your closed front door. Mingi’s lips were on yours the moment the two of you made it inside your apartment. A combination of the furious kisses and the sudden impact of your back into the door had knocked the breath from your lungs, but not a single cell in your body wanted to pull away from Mingi.

He was intoxicating. He tasted faintly of beer and something indescribable that was just him. His lips were soft, his tongue insistent, and his hands wandering over every inch of you was exhilarating.

Eventually, you did have to come up for air, pulling away from him to let your head rest back against the door. Mingi didn’t miss a beat, his mouth migrating to your neck, nipping and sucking and kissing across your pulse point.

Your left hand was grasping the front of his shirt and your right was on his back, feeling the flexing of the muscles there as he held onto you as if you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second.

Without missing a beat, his lips still attacking your neck, his hands slid to your thighs, picking you up in one fluid motion. A gasp escaped your lips as he settled your legs around his waist, perfectly situating you to feel exactly how hard he was under his jeans.

The pressure of that length pressing right between your thighs combined with a perfectly targeted bite to a sensitive point on your neck had you releasing a breathy moan.

Mingi’s lips parted from your neck as he now looked up to face you. One of your hands instinctively went to tangle in his hair as you crashed your lips onto his again. The force had his mouth dropping open as you took your turn to entwine your tongue with his. The two of you were aggressively fighting to see who’d come out on top.

You had thought you were winning until it was Mingi’s turn to grab your hair. He pulled your mouths apart and the act had you clenching around nothing as his face nuzzled into your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he spoke in a low tone. “Where’s your room?”

“Down-” you were cut off by his hips grinding into yours. Painting, you pulled yourself together enough to answer him. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

Mingi immediately pulled you away from the door, his steady hands holding on tight as he seamlessly navigated your small space. He damn near kicked your door down, slamming it open before he was tossing you onto your bed.

You let out a startled yelp before laughing. Scooting farther up your bed, you gave him your best bedroom eyes and spread your legs, suddenly remembering his call sign.

“Forgive me, father,” your lips curved into a faux pout as you made your voice as sultry as you possibly could. “For I have sinned.”

Mingi stopped for a moment before he put his head in his hands. For a moment you feared you’d made a mistake. Until you saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. He managed to compose himself, crawling towards you on the bed until he was situated between your spread legs on his knees. He still looked as if he was trying to hold it together.

“I don’t know if that was the corniest or the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Both of you were trying to hold back laughter, but his hand making contact with your thigh sobered you up. His long, nimble fingers stole your attention away from the joking atmosphere.

“So how should I repent?” your teeth bit into your lower lip as you laid back to pull your shirt over your head, revealing you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Mingi’s laughter disappeared as well as he took in your breasts.

His lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned over you, laying a kiss between your breasts, his eyes meeting yours. “I think 3 orgasms should be enough to forgive your sins.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips found one of your nipples and your hand once again found his hair. His own hand rose up, those long fingers playing with your other breast.

He savaged it with the same vigor he had attacked your neck with earlier. His teeth left small nips all around as his tongue soothed the bites. You were panting, holding him tight to you with your eyes closed.

Leaning back slightly to admire his work for a moment, Mingi quickly switched his focus to your other breast. He lavished the same treatment, leaving small marks all over.

When you were thoroughly decorated in hickeys, he finally sat back up, admiring you splayed out before him as you caught your breath. As he stared, his hand came up to grab his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head.

Now it was your turn to ogle, thoroughly enjoying his broad muscled chest and a light dusting of hair that trailed down his abs and disappeared into his pants.

You were broken out of your trance as his hands came down to pop the button on his jeans and then your shorts. Recognizing his goal, you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull your shorts and underwear down in one fluid movement. He flung them across the room.

Once you were naked beneath him, his hands fell to your thighs. They slid up until they reached your hips. Mingi slid himself down the bed until he was on his stomach, face level with your core.

His hot breath fanning over you was enough to have your breath hitching and body tensing as you waited for him to touch you where you so desperately needed him. But he didn’t move, his eyes locked on yours.

Both of you were frozen for what felt like a century, until he was suddenly moving forward, parting your folds with his tongue. The exhalation of relief that left you quickly morphed into a moan as his tongue found and circled your clit. You were so distracted by the bliss of finally feeling the pleasure you’d been hoping he’d give you that you didn’t even notice his hands moving.

One hooked under your thigh, finally coming to rest on your stomach, right above your pelvic bone. The other slipped a finger inside of you. You were practically dripping at this point.

Mingi’s tongue never stopped working tight circles around your clit as his finger quirked up, stroking along your walls in a way that had your legs shaking while you gasped out moans and whimpers.

He slid a second finger inside you, alternating between scissoring them and swirling them around inside you. The pressure in your abdomen was tightening more and more every second. Your hand was fisted in the sheets, your head thrown back, breath coming quicker and quicker.

Mingi could tell you were close. He kept the same rhythm on your clit, but focused his fingers' attention purely on your g-spot, applying more pressure.

You were right on the edge and then you tumbled into the best orgasms you’d ever had. Your whole body tensed and your moans were silenced for a moment as your muscles clenched around him before whimpers were escaping you as your hips jerked and your breath came in shaky spurts.

Mingi hadn’t let up with his fingers or his tongue, keeping your high going until your body was trembling and you were pushing his head away. He relented, pulling back and wiping his mouth.

Your eyes were closed as you laid there, panting, legs still twitching as you tried to recover. You could have sworn you blacked out for a moment when he kept your orgasm going.

“That’s one down,” Mingi’s smug tone had you opening one eye to glare at him before it slipped shut again.

“I think any more might kill me.”

In response, he grabbed your hips, jerking you down the bed and pulling your legs over his thighs until your core was pressed to the front of his boxers. He’d pulled down his jeans at some point while you were recovering.

You could feel the heat of him against you, the hardness of his cock pressing into you as he subtly ground his hips into yours.

“I think you’ll probably live,” his hands slipped from your hips to grab your ass.

“I highly doubt it,” you shook your head, then a smile crossed your face. “At least you’ll be here. I can get my last rights and finally have a hope of going to heaven.”

He smiled, but was quickly pulling down his boxers. “I told you I could make you see god. I just hope I can do it without actually killing you.”

You would have laughed, if not for the fact that as he finished removing his boxers, his dick finally came into view. He was bigger than you’d thought he’d be. He wasn’t horrifyingly big, but he looked long enough to reach the deepest parts of you and thick enough to stretch you out enough that you’d be feeling it tomorrow.

Mingi tracked your gaze focused on his cock and grinned. “I think it’s time we finish your penance.”

His words had you swallowing as he guided his length into you. God damn were you right. He was moving slowly, but you felt every inch of him sliding into you, stretching you and filling you in all the right ways.

When he bottomed out, you were expecting him to give you a minute to adjust, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to not move at all. He stayed seated all the way inside you as his fingers moved to your clit.

“What are you-” you cut yourself off with a whimper as his fingers began moving in quick circles.

“We’ve got to get you to three orgasms,” he leaned over you, his lips once again connecting with your breasts. “And I am so hard, I won’t last if I try to get you through two by fucking you.”

His teeth gently bit down on your hard nipple.

“That, and I really want to be able to focus on how fucking good you feel when you cum on my cock.” His voice was low, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Already you were so close. Still sensitive from the orgasm you just had, his fingers were pushing you right up to the edge once again. It was all you could do to cling to his strong arms as your back began to arch and your legs tightened around him.

Mingi kissed up from your breasts to your ear. He took your earlobe between his teeth before brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Cum.”

And you did, thankfully, not as intensely as before. But still, you cried out as you held on to him, your hips twitch up on their own and your muscles contracting around him.

“Fuck,” Mingi groaning in your ear had a high pitched moan leaving your lips.

This time, he didn’t prolong your orgasm for too long. He gradually slowed his pace before pushing himself back up onto his knees.

“Thats. Two.” he punctuated each word with a thrust. Your head dropped back, the feeling of him finally moving was ecstatic. The slight upward curve of his length dragged across your g-spot every time he moved in and out.

“God, fuck, I think I could watch you cum all day,” he was settling into a rhythm that combined power with deep, slow thrusts. The force of each inward push was moving you up the bed. Mingi’s solution was to simply drag you back down to meet every one of his movements.

Each time your hips met, your skin slapping together combined with your moans and his low curses and grunts. It was music to your ears as you lost yourself in the sensation.

His thrust gradually grew in speed as he got closer. You were still a ways off from your third orgasm and he could tell. You yelped in shock as his hand on your hip shifted so his thumb could softly brush over your clit.

“I-I can’t” you stuttered out.

“Yes you can,” he slowed his thrusts ever so slightly, leaning over you. “Gotta finish your penance, yeah?”

You laughed, only for it to be broken off into a moan as he leaned back up, increasing the speed of his thrusts and the rate at which he rubbed your clit. Your body was tensing up again, the pressure building up alarmingly quickly.

“Mingi- I-”

“Do it,” he grunted, thrusting even faster. “Cum. Cum on my fucking cock. You can do it. Cum for me.”

And you did, one last time. Everything was so intense. The sensation washed over you, an all consuming wave of pleasure that quite literally had tears falling down your face. Your vision went white and you felt like you were floating.

Mingi continued thrusting into you rapidly, prolonging your orgasm, although he did thankfully take his thumb off your clit to spare you some overstimulation.

You were just starting to come down when Mingi was finally moaning out his own release, spilling deep inside you. His hips stuttered and his head hung as he rode out his own waves of pleasure.

Both of you were panting heavily, but he stayed inside you for a few moments after he came.

Finally, he pulled out of you. He flopped down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his side. You happily snuggled up to him, resting your head and hand on his chest and throwing a leg over his.

The two of you basked in the silence.

Until you broke it. “So, am I forgiven for my sins?”

Mingi was silent for a moment.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Three might not have been enough.”

You lifted your head to look up at him incredulously. He met your gaze with laughter before he pulled you into a kiss.

#cultofdionysusnet #kpop smut #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #mingi smut #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #mingi fanfic

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gunsandspaceships · 7 months ago

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MCU Timeline: Thor

This timeline is based on the actual data from the movie and other directly connected movies (The Avengers and Thor: The Dark World) and not on Fury's Big Week (see the reason here).

965 AD - The last great war in the Nine Realms. Frost Giants from Jotunheim attack Midgard. Odin's army battles them in Tonsberg, Norway. He loses an eye, but defeats them and takes The Casket of Ancient Winters and Loki, son of Laufey, king of Jotunheim.

~11th century AD - the last time Lady Sif and The Warriors Three visited Midgard.

The main events of the movie take place in November 2011 (see explanation at the end of this post):

Shortly before November 20th - Loki anonymously shows Jotuns a secret passage to Asgard.

~November 20th:

Day-Evening - Thor's coronation ceremony is interrupted by the Jotuns breaking into Odin's Vault. The Destroyer kills them. Thor, Loki, Lady Sif and The Warriors Three go to Jotunheim. Thor starts a fight with Jotuns. Odin takes everyone back to Asgard and banishes Thor, stripping him of his powers.

Night - exiled Thor ends up in Midgard (Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, somewhere near Santa Fe) where Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, and Darcy Lewis accidentally hit him with a car. On top of this, Darcy uses a taser on him and he wakes up in the hospital (though not for long).

In Asgard, Loki learns that he is a Jotun and the son of Laufey. Odin falls into Odinsleep.

~November 21st:

Loki "temporarily" takes the throne of Asgard as the only remaining successor.

Early morning - events of "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Thor's Hammer" one-shot. Somewhere near Flagstaff, AZ.

Note: locations were determined by the distances on the sign from the one-shot.

Morning - locals find Mjolnir near Thor's landing site. Thor runs out of the hospital. Jane hits him with her car again.

Around noon - Coulson finds Mjolnir. S.H.I.E.L.D. builds a "fortress" around the hammer. The scientists give Thor clothes and food. S.H.I.E.L.D. takes Foster's, Selvig's and Lewis' equipment and all their data.

Note the warm clothes that all the characters wear (except for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but they always wear suits even if it's freezing outside), the bare trees everywhere, the brown grass and bushes, and the tangerines (their season is late fall - early spring).

Evening - Thor and Jane head to Mjolnir's location.

Night - Thor storms the "fortress" around Mjolnir, but is unable to lift the hammer. S.H.I.E.L.D. places him under arrest, and Coulson attempts to interrogate him. Loki visits him and informs that Odin is dead and Frigga does not want Thor to return. Selvig takes Jane back to their base, but then returns to rescue Thor with a fake driver's license.

Why it's late November: Look at the "DOB," "Issued," and "Expires" dates. They all say November 21st. That's a little weird. We also know that this DL is fake and that it was somehow made by Selvig, Jane, and Darcy on the same night. There will be another fake ID in Iron Man 2 with a date tied to the actual date of the events. Based on these little clues and other things that scream "late November", I would take a chance and guess that this day in Thor is November 21st.

Selvig and Thor talk and drink at a bar. Selvig asks Thor to leave town, but gets drunk and Thor carries him to Jane's van. Jane and Thor spend a PG-13 night together.

Loki goes to Laufey with an offer to let him kill Odin and take the Casket.

~November 22:

Despite Selvig's request, Thor stays.

Lady Sif and the Warriors Three arrive in Midgard.

The battle with the Destroyer. Thor sacrifices himself and dies. Odin sees this, and Mjolnir flies to Thor, now worthy, and brings him back to life.

Notice the store with Christmas decorations in the background.

Loki brings Jotuns to Asgard and then kills Laufey. Thor gets there and fights Loki, who is trying to destroy Jotunheim. Thor destroys the Bifrost to save Frost Giants. Loki falls into the remains of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge.

Early 2012 - Dr. Selvig is invited to work on Project Pegasus (S.H.I.E.L.D.-NASA study of the Tesseract).

Fury's Big Week note: as we can see, the movie tells us in every way that the events take place at the end of the year, and not in late May - early June.

Why 2011:

In The Avengers, Fury mentions that the events of Thor happened "last year." He says that on May 4th, 2012, so "last year" is 2011.

All the clues in the NASA location scene in The Avengers tell us that Dr. Selvig and Clint were there for no more than a few months: Selvig did not have enough time to complete his calculations, did not reach the testing phase, and had not enough time to get closer to Barton. This means he started working on the Tesseract in 2012, not earlier.

Before this, a month or two (not too much, not too little) had passed since the main events of Thor, as evidenced by the way Fury and Selvig talk about it in Thor's mid-credits scene.

It's hard to imagine Loki or Thanos going more than a year without action.

In Thor: The Dark World, Darcy says that Thor was last "gone for two years," that is, if we count from the fall of 2013 (events of Thor: The Dark World, where Thor reunites with Jane), we get the fall of 2011, the exact period we've established here.

MCU Timeline: The Infinity Saga

#marvel #mcu #the avengers #thor #thor the dark world #mcu timeline #jane foster #erik selvig #darcy lewis #loki #odin #phil coulson

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thewandererh · 1 year ago

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🩺✨TW // medical concepts (tubes, ivs, veins), noose mention (cj storm and a spring lyrics)

(personally icky and squeamish on the medical concepts myself due to my health history, but im trying to conquer my fear by drawing them!! baby’s first IV drawing <33)

@calamarispiderart @calamarispider

I drew some fanart of calamarispiderart’s very cool hms guys in my sketchbook 👀. ive been dubbing them the ‘crazy concept calamari crew’ or something of the like. been having a hyperfixation ever since i found their tumblr last week :]. so earhm,, hope you enjoy!!!

.-.

‘’ spoiler image!! this is what stuff will be centered around ,,

.-.

ok art time

slowly listening to the full cccc album my myself :]. im very much in the fandom, just might not get all the references. mind is my favorite guy (everyone else is awesome too) so that might reflect here haha. calamari’s mind neck was so interesting to draw, i had the idea it can retract-ish and hide away in his weird fluffy coat. they all look so cool 😭😭

oH and a little extra whiteboardfox doodle wouldn’t hurt anyone. i wondered why the tubes on his neck were there, and came to the conclusion maybe theyre to substitute bloodflow because his neck is broken and blocked :0!

kind of funny because i first discovered calamari’s art amidst the aftermath of some twilight sedation i had (related to my ✨gut issues✨). discovered both calamari’s (i think) and spook on twitter’s (definitely) art after that whole procedure when i was home and watching turning red, love that movie,,, makes me cry. kinda funny i’m returning to calamari and spook’s arties at the same time after discovering them both at also the same time a while ago. was it october? wow.

anyways uhm…sending virtual hugs calamari!! i know this crew might be a bit old-ish (i had to scroll to find them) but i hope you enjoy it. time to do laundry ok bye

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guardian5tiger3 · 1 year ago

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Tarot pick a group ....

Anything that comes up.

1. 2. 3.

One

You guys are what people call lovers of life. A lot of you are really into some form or forms of art. A lot of you are really wise, open minded , really psychedelic type of individuals know it or not. You have a fresh way of looking at things a lot of the time and other people may feel that way about you all. You're definitely something a lot of people and really what the world needs . It's like you would be something missing and things would be incomplete without your uniqueness. :)

Oddly I got something about fried food maybe some of you work in a restaurant but really I'm getting the energy that you should treat yourself like you love yourself and fuel yourself with love when it comes to anything you take in and just generally the energy you put yourself in and feel. I'm picking up a really light nice energy. So I'm getting a quote from Alan Watts . Oddly I can't find the quote I'm thinking of .. but I saw one that said " waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be. "

I seriously can't find the quote some of you should look into Alan Watts and what he talks about. Generally, though, I'm getting you're searching for something maybe consciously or unconsciously and the universe wants to motivate you to continue to do that and I'm feeling a lot of refreshing energy, so if you open yourself up and allow any energy the universe is trying to gift you that. I heard "a peace of mind" and felt in my third eye really calm. And I see a bird with its wings open now. So there's some information or knowledge or wisdom or something and you will find it just stay on the path that you're on and focus on any good vibes around and within you. Spring time also is looking good for you guys a few of you might be moving also seeing about someone adopting a dog if you thought about that this is saying you should or maybe you already know you're gonna idk. For most of you though look forward to spring I see seeds you planted growing metaphorically which is totally with the season, and good surprises and just really good happy fun light energy. Especially!!! If the winter was kind of rough. Even if you just didn't have fun with the weather if you live where it snows. Or any personal struggles with that being a metaphor for that, I saw a heavy snowstorm, so , yeah. :)

Two

I've been getting a lot of weather symbolism so far and I saw like a rain storm for you all. I also got two cards about conflict, in general. So if you can relate to any tense , irritating energy, anything negative going on this is for you . Even just negative vibes especially with other people or for some living situations even for someone something to do with a kid in your life so it really depends and of course is gonna be specific for everyone what it might be. Seems like you've been trying to stay stable and "hold your own" best you can while also trying to go with the flow in terms of regulating your emotions according to the situation at hand. I just got three nines in a row, 999. That can tell you this is all coming to an end around this time or soon ok. Really picking up queen energy too ..? This is kind of strange but I'm picking up on the energy of treasure like you'll have a surprise or gift or something good from the universe like a present cause of this stuff and just y'all being good people thru this stuff and everything as best you can and being very stable for the circumstances or in general, but I initially got it worded and presented like, treasure. Like pirates or something which is funny cuz I just got a pirate sword tattoo haha. I'm also channeling old cartoons for some reason, like Tom and Jerry specifically, the old ones, like when you were a kid chilling Sunday morning watching the cartoons with your bowl of cereal or whatever. That's a vibe a lot of people share having to be able to experience. I rocked with wacky races and Scooby Doo lol. Among others ..Maybe something you're manifesting now goes all the way back to your childhood, somehow that's a hint. I'm also getting candy and heard sweettooth y'all better be careful with all that or find alternatives so to not damage your teeth ok. And if any of you are eating cuz you're bored ok straight up I heavily got play video games lol. I can relate to that. Also going for walks. Some of you need to drink cold water and make sure you're focusing on hygiene in any way. And for anyone feeling like life is bleak or boring or whatever or unexcited I would say stick to a routine and keep yourself busy for now, things always change no matter what that's a rule of life, and something might come to you one day that's a good idea for something to do, a new adventure, hobby, maybe you volunteer somewhere cool or anything really, it seems like you'll just have an idea eventually.

Three

39, 41,14,13 ,15 all might be significant. Maybe something about math and how math works.....? Wtf... Ok....y'all might talk about the matrix or get references to that. Also a lot about nature especially.... During the day. Also about camping. And ....parks? Depends on who you are. Andddd 16. Right I don't know if this all adds up to something or what I've never been super great at math so... Or maybe something is straight up building up to something ...? Lol. Lot of riddle like energy in this. I got humpty Dumpty . Y'all WTF is this . ? This is so specific and doesn't make a lot of sense to me but what I just channeled was like a group of people or at least two chilling like campfire vibes and sharing something to smoke and just hanging out kinda..... Idk if you want a time like that you can manifest it or some of you already have vibed like that idk. Cuz I saw multiple instances around a campfire and not but mainly at night or in the afternoon ,also sitting on steps outside. I guess you guys in your lives right now it's a lot about synchronicities and ... Going with the flow...? I keep picking up on Dora. The explorer. Anyway y'all seem like ok if your lives are all stories at the end of the day and you're in the middle of your journey but it's like a dope journey ,like embrace whatever adventures you're on and all the obstacles you face cause you have a destiny at the end of it. And by end I don't mean the end end I mean once you meet the ending of this your life will go on, after the happy ending (didn't mean to say happy ending but I added happy. :) . ).... Are you guys just confused in life cause I couldn't tell you what any of this means but hey if it resonates than I guess this is your confirmation youre on the right path.

I'm really picking up that the amount of fun you have at this point in your life at any given moment is mostly up to you. I think there's some points in time in the past and future that are destined to be certain vibes. Like looking at the stars or you have a altercation with someone or whatever you know but , I heard "in the meantime" like, for most of the time you can kind of decide to have fun, make things fun, you're free to do whatever you want. Some of you need to hear and absorb that. You are free. So make the most of that. Whatever you feel in any given moment.

Also , in the meantime is a song by spacehog, me being me I'd say listen to the whole album it has a few of my favorite songs on there personally, but yeah that's a great song so I do personally recommend it , too. Also I heard space song, space, traveler. Maybe I'm picking up on song names and don't know. I know space song is obviously a song but idk about traveler or space so idk. If you know a song like with those words it's significant. For some reason I wanna say, have a good day, lol. I hope this makes sense if it was meant for you. :) . Y'all definitely get a happy ending. So worry less and enjoy the moment it couldn't be more clear to me if you resonate with any of this, you definitely get a happy ending and it'll all be more than ok. Just roll with it. ;) 💗

#pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #tarot reading #pac #tarot pac #pac tarot

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randomlifex · 1 year ago

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Sunshine and storm

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Go Kyungjun x fem!reader

Plot:the sun shines and the storm doesn’t understand why he likes it, but when his clouds will cover her rays, he’ll do anything to make the sun shine again

Warnings:bad language

Please notice:in this timeline Seun hasn’t died yet so there’s no game going on

This story is a request

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The spring weather was approaching, the temperature rose and birds had finally begun to sing all day long.

“What a great day! -you exclaimed, hugging Seun, your friend- and in a few weeks cherry flowers will blossom! Finally my favourite colour will be everywhere again!” you clapped

Seun smiled, putting her book on the desk, then she watched as you sat next to her:

“How can you be always in such a good mood?” she asked

“How can you not be when it’s spring! It’s the season of blooming. Birds sing all day and animals come out from their hibernation”

“You make me nauseous” Kyungjun popped out from nowhere,sitting with Seungbin right behind you. You rolled your eyes hopelessly:knowing how he was, you didn’t expect him to appreciate the cute little things of life

“Man you gotta smile more, you’re always so angry. The situation is getting serious” you mumbled as the teacher came in

“You don’t wanna see me angry, do you, Snow white?” he hit the back of your head with a pen, making you groan in pain, then he shifted into the “I don’t care about the lesson” mood,texting…or at least that was what you thought.

The truth was that Kyungjun spent the whole class staring at you. He had been doing so a lot in the past weeks, shifting his eyes away only when you noticed it. He didn’t know why, but there was something leading him to you, even if he hated it, and acted like the meanest person on earth (not that he was nice, but he had never put you into troubles).

He wasn’t used to it, nor to your constant happy mood; and since those feelings were unknown to him he would find any reason to come for you, even when you were doing nothing besides being a nice teammate.

That day your team had been pretty unlucky:the teacher had decided the members on her own, meaning that if you had to play with good athletes like Hyunho and Kyungjun himself, who was the captain, you had to put up also with those, like Sungpyo and Yoonseo, who were terrible at PE.

She got called out lots of times by everyone, but to Kyungjun the real problem was Sungpyo; or better, he was the victim whose ass was supposed to be constantly beaten in order to scare everyone and get great results.

Hyunho tried many times to stop the bully, but he eventually got kicked out due to a so called “litigious behaviour” ; so, in order to calm everyone down, you tried to spread positivity, like you always used to do.

“It’s okay, next time we’ll score something”

“It can happen, I made mistakes too”

“Don’t think about it and let’s have fun! It’s about having a good time, not winning”

You were dispensing smiles and comfort as you saw that someone was actually on the edge of tears, but Kyungjun got even more mad:

“Ya! Yn! -he called you in the middle of the first break- what the fuck are you doing?!” he was yelling, his eyes burning like fire

“What…what do you mean?” You asked, a little bit scared

“What do I mean? Do you think that’s how you make a shitty team work?!”

“I’m just trying to be positive…they’re all stressed out…” you justified yourself

“Really? -he laughed- are you fucking kidding me?! “Trying to be positive”…bullshit. Do you know what you can do with your stupid positivity? Go home and stay there. Idiot” he scoffed

“But…”

“No buts. You’re getting on my nerves. What’s so funny to be constantly smiling and laughing? Uh? Come on tell me! Be serious for once, and let the captain be the captain. Go to the back lines, you suck anyway in the front” he shrugged his shoulders, pointing to the back of the field.

You looked around you, realising that everyone was staring, the your eyes rested on Kyungjun:

“You know what? -you were holding your tears back- fuck you and this stupid game! Get a new player to cover your shitty back lines. Asshole!” you yelled, running away to hide in the first empty classroom you had found.

Kyungjung looked at you:something inside him shattered as soon as he realised you were terribly hurt. “Did I…did I cover the sunshine with my clouds?” he asked himself, feeling guilty as hell.

You spent the whole lesson crying in a corner of the room, next to the blackboard, suffocating your sobs in order to not be found by anyone. You didn’t want people to see you in those conditions, you had promised yourself to be always happy to make everyone around you happy as well. Your friends used to call you “sunshine” for a reason, and you loved it, just like you loved keeping up your good mood. Why Kyungjun had to ruin everything? You hated him. He was always so mad, so mumbling, so rude…was it so hard for him to relax at least once? And if it was, who allowed him to ruin everyone’s mood? No one!

The more you thought about it, the more you felt sad. You kept seeing his angry face, and his yells wouldn’t stop resonating in your mind. You brought your knees to your chest, hiding your face in the cloth of your tracksuit…until you heard someone.

A hand rested on your leg, squeezing it. You rose your head, seeing Kyungjun kneeling in front of you.

“Go away” you scoffed

“You need to see something”

“I don’t want to. Leave me alone”

“It’s urgent. Come on” he grabbed your arm, forcing you to follow him to the backyard.

“I swear to God if it’s something stupid…” you weren’t even able to finish the phrase as wonder got your mouth to open wide

“You tell me if that’s something stupid to you” Kyungjun said, carelessly.

You didn’t know what to answer, you were too busy staring at the flowering cherry blossom in front of you…the first of the season.

“When did you find it?” you asked, grabbing the boy’s arm

“Yesterday, during the break”

“Why didn’t you show it to me?!” sadness had already left your body. It took nothing to make you happy, Kyungjun thought, but he was okay with that. He didn’t want to see you crying ever again.

“I wanted to, but I forgot. That’s just a stupid tree after all…” he shrugged his shoulders, hiding a smile

“That’s not! -you started jumping- that’s the first cherry blossom of the season!!” you then exclaimed, taking a bunch of pictures.

“You good now?” he asked, still cold. His facade was hard to fall.

��What do you mean?” you blinked

“Are you okay now? You were crying…”

“Yes, I cried cuz you’re a rude asshole” you crossed your arms, giving him your back.

Kyungjun stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder:

“I crossed the line…” he talked

For a second you were surprised…was he apologising for the first time in his life?!

“But you got me angry there. Don’t do that again” he scoffed, letting you go with a path on the shoulder.

Of course he wasn’t, not openly, not that time, but you knew his intentions when he showed you that tree:he was aware of the fact that he had fucked up, and was trying to fix things in his own way.

“I did not made you angry…you were born angry” you said, sticking your tongue out.

Kyungjun didn’t reply, he simply put his hands in his pockets and walked away; but, once again, he was smiling behind your back.

#night has come #night has come kdrama #night has come x reader #night has come kyung jun #go kyung jun #go kyungjun x reader #cha woo min #cha woomin x reader #kdrama #grumpy x sunshine

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expirisims · 7 months ago

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A New Outlook on Life

Oh, Boy! Another new baby and some more stalking followed up by some rebound canoodling! Andrew, get it together dude!

With town drama out of the way, it's back to our actual household!

Just a little skill building to start the new day.

And a whole new lighting mod! I know I hinted at this weeks ago, and here we finally are! I started testing out different lighting mods for the remainder of my time in St. Bernie. I've been using Fresh Cut Day by @brntwaffles with @gelinagelina's Lighting Tweaks, but had been toying with the idea of using different lighting for different world play throughs.

Up first is the BEAUTIFUL Sims 3 Beta Lighting Mod by @boringbones. Seriously! It looks like I have some Reshade or HD mod going on, it is so clear and bright and the shadows are absolutely gorgeous!

Along with testing new lighting mods, I installed Tree and Plant Replacements (also by boringbones); Reworked And Improved EA Lights by simsi45; More Light Coming Through Windows by Blyss; the Electrical Storm Mod by @mathmodder; and TS3 HD Texture Series-Terrain Pack by @greenplumbboblover.

And here we are! It's a sunny spring day, perfect for a trip to the town plaza to meet up with Gerald!

I can't get over how crisp everything looks!

Hey! We're outside in the sun and you can ACTUALLY see Simili's face! She's not all washed out or too dark to distinguish! I haven't gone for Reshade or Gshade yet, because my main focus is gameplay and I've always been a little afraid that keeping either of those programs going in the background would cause my usually smooth gameplay to stutter or crash so for me and my screenshots, this lighting mod is seriously game changing. I couldn't stop zooming around looking at everything!

Simili has been waiting for a while here...where is Gerald?

Of course it did...Well, this doesn't exactly bode well for their relationship, now does it?

Guess it's back home for Simili...I wonder what was so important for Gerald anyway?

Oh look...protesting healthcare in the ocean...seems a logical place for that! Facepalm...

At least he's got principles I guess, maybe he's concerned about how much the medical bills will be for the birth of that baby...Still doesn't explain the location, but you know...Sims...

I went to see what was going on at the City Park. How adorable! Pablo is teaching little Stevie to talk! In his pajamas, that I discovered from this point on he was always wearing LOL! And who's that? Guy Summersville and one of his dogs playing drums dressed as a robot? Again with the Sims logic! Bahahaha!!

Oh wait! I hear some commotion!

Who is that!!?? Never a dull moment in St. Bernie!

O...M...G!! Bahahahaha! A burglar and a mime!!?? Why is this so funny to me?!

Nothing like a couple of random townies brawling in the park! This, right here, is the beauty of an open world with story progression! I don't even know who these two are and neither Simili, nor Barky was even here today! This is just what was randomly going on in the park while my sims are doing whatever they're doing! Same with the protest Gerald was attending! This is the best part of TS3, there is ALWAYS something going on somewhere in town!

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revalition · 8 months ago

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OCT 15 - ENDURANCE Take the blows. Don’t let the world kill you.

Endurance!! I don't love him, but that's okay. He's just not as interesting to me as the others, and spearheads the fascist questline. that definitely does him no favours. but I do cherish all the skills nonetheless, including him

Quotes under the cut!

endurance fun facts from my spreadsheet:

- swear score of 8 - damages and heals an equal amount of morale - says "we" more than "I" (almost double) - Endurance says "sorry" just once, when you're about to die

the heart attack endurance quotes are really really sad. which makes them excellent. but it's too painful for me to look at and I want to be able to use these posts as references so they're being omitted!

anyway, endurance quotes!

endurance definitely directing the blame back up to the intellect group here haha

this is so funny to me. endurance begrudgingly letting you have both kim and dora in his hypothetical aerostatic

I wasn't sure if I should give this one to endurance or PT, but I really like it. lovingly adorn him in a ceramic shell

your stomach doing his job well

uhm, is that how it works honey?

what is wrong with this skill?? (so, so many things)

see, there's 'what's wrong with him' said with utmost affection, like when I look at electrochemistry. and then there's without the affection. that's the version endurance gets. sorry my guy

(if you have your badge he confirms it's not your birthday haha) just the idea of harry asking one of his own skills if it's his birthday...

this heartwarming dialogue about being sober! I'm pretty sure it's not implemented in the game but I love it all the same.

this is a godly endurance check for some reason?? (maybe it's a fail? I can't tell on Fayde...)

endurance no! they're all idiots...

hghh endurance ew

this is too funny. tutorial agent not you too...!

this is so totally not here just because volition said it (picking "wait, get who back?" immediately damages volition btw, poor bby) ultramarathon is such a funny nickname. fitting enough, I suppose.

endurance is so stupid...

also endurance compromised!

amazing. ty endurance. I'm sure that's making Harry feel better

alternate:

YOU - Oh my god, I'm going to die! ENDURANCE - Yeah, probably, one day. But not this very minute.

endurance knowing what a focal epileptic seizure is and where it's occurring and then just going i'unno when asked if it's dangerous... why is he like this.

also you're *probably* going to die one day? cmon buddy

instead of asking why, you can also say:

YOU - Don't you sass me. Get on with the story.

hehe. Zone of Irredeemable Catastrophe! :(

of course your gut does, it has to do with gary... savvy having no interest in it is wonderful

as always much love for this infra-materialism book shutting down everyone's methods of thinking (except inland's)

running reservoirs haha. extremely rare polite endurance

I *think* I understand what he's trying to say... Volition has it right. Sometimes you need to be unmade to heal.

stupid endurance...

seagull dialogue has to be in here cause it's awesome. the body remembers... (also endurance saying good boy??)

first endurance line is the antipassive (failure) and the second one is the success. I don't think he's super impressed...

this is so random, just in the middle of talking to klaasje on the first day. uhm good job endurance...

what a normal, straight thing to think! all the skills chiming in on the smoker is so funny to me

don it and live!!

I have two screenshot spots left so here are my WIPs :)

he's just in the background in the banner one (the second one). I think he came out pretty cool in the spring storm one though (first one)

that's it! endurance is my least favourite of the fys skills by a landslide. I'm very excited for the rest of them :)

#skilltober #de endurance #de skills #disco elysium #rev art

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redheadspark · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can I request "pulling them on their lap" with oliver wood please? Thank you! 💗

A/N - YAS! I do like this for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Rogue

Summary - Who knew a rogue bludger would bring two should closer together.

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“Oi, Fred! Watch where you launch that thing!”

“That’s what your mum said last night when I was—Oof!”

“Next time I’ll aim for ya head!”

Fred cackled chucking the thrown towel back at him as Oliver was walking away from him, tossing the towel back in his duffle bag on the bench. Since it was a bright Winter morning, some of the first snow of the year already melted though a new storm was due to come through in the Scottish Highlands that night. Since it would mean a frozen Quidditch field that would take a week to thaw out, or deep into springtime. Oliver wanted to take advantage, even with it being the off-season for Quidditch and Gryffindor already won the Quidditch Cup for the year.

After convincing his team that they would have a light practice, mostly to stay sharp on their brooms and to basically unwind after coming back from the holidays. He was glad his team wasn’t giving him pushback when it came to a light trading session, in fact, they are game for it. Mostly because it was a good excuse to get out of studying for the spring session that had just begun.

“Hey! You forgot your jumper, Angelina!” Oliver’s attention was caught with the sound of your voice, seem-jogging up to the field with your roommate’s jumper in hand and flushness in your cheeks thanks to the cold. Oliver’s heart quickened, seeing you smile at him as you approached him and gave an awkward wave. It was no surprise to his team that he had a crush on you, from some time actually when you were introduced at an afterparty from a recent Gryffindor Victory a year ago. Angelina was your close friend, though you were more of a bookworm and barely touched a broom yourself. But you loved the sport all the same, a big fan and supporter of your House team, and would come to every game to root for your roommate.

“Oh, hey Oliver! Sorry for disrupting practice, Angeline forgot her jumper and I know she practices in this one,” You explained, showing the worn Gryffindor Quidditch sweater within your fingers. Oliver just jumped, seeing you bundled up in layers to brave the cold but you looked simply lovely. Especially with fresh snowflakes in your long thick hair that was already in beautiful braids.

“No worries, thanks for bringin’ it for her. I know she forgets sometimes,” He admitted, though he heard boots crunching in the light snow and grass over to the pair of you, you both seeing it was Angelina walking over to you with her own grin.

“I heard that!” She lightly scolded Oliver, though she took the jumper from your hands gently, “Thanks! Let’s get some candy at Honeydukes after practice, I heard there’s a really good new candy that’s chocolate and it changes flavor when you eat it! Oliver, wanna come?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna intrude with ya and—“ Oliver was about to say to Angelina, but you cut him off.

“I don’t think you’d be intruding,” you reasoned, though you were not trying to sound a bit too desperate in wanting him to come. Not even Angelina knew you had a crush on the Quidditch Captain for some time, thinking of him as handsome and a great player of the game. He was also quite funny, you find his sense of humor unique and comical apart from other humor you’ve heard in the past. But there was something about Oliver that drew you to him, whether it was his drive or the spark he had within. But you were intrigued with him.

“Yeah, come on Oliver. You should live a little,” Angelina said in a snort as she threw on her practice jumper before skipping off with her broom in hand. You were left alone with Oliver again, who was flushed a bit from your asking him to come with you and Angelina.

“It’s been a bit since I’ve been at Honeydukes,” Oliver admitted, seeing you grin widely with a bounce on your feet.

“Oh, you’ll love it! They’re making fresh Pumpkin Pasties for the New Year, and the new chocolate they have is apparently delicious! I tried it last week, and mine went from tasting like chocolate to peppermint!” You were explaining in excitement, Oliver hanging on your every word. He would listen to you talk about Potions if you were going to, he simply loved hearing your voice and how you would describe all that you loved. He wished he had that enthusiasm apart from Quidditch.

“Watch out!” Both you and Oliver look at the same time, seeing a bludger flying in your direction at a fast rate. Fred Weasley, the bat in hand, looked in agony as Angelina screamed out. Your eyes went wide in horror and shock, frozen in your spot since the ball was so close to hitting you right in the head. But Oliver was quicker, grabbing you by the elbows and yanking you towards him. You both fell onto the bench, you perched on his lap and Oliver’s arms were around you as the bludger zipped past you both and slammed into the ground so hard it broke the grass.

“Merlin, Fred! You trying to kill my roommate?!” Angelina roared as the rest of the team flew down to hoop off their brooms, yet neither you nor Oliver were thinking of them. You both were staring at one another, Oliver’s arms around your waist and your hands clinging onto his practice robes as your eyes were wide on one another. It almost felt like you two were in a bubble with one another and trying not to let it burst. Oliver could breathe in the soft perfume you were wearing, and you could smell the leather on his practice pads along his arms and legs.

“Ya…ya okay?” Oliver finally asked in a croak, you nodding your head rapidly as he finally had a soft smile on his lips.

“Fine…fine thank you, Oliver,” You sheepishly said to him. Of course, the moment was cut short as Angelina bee-lined over to the pair of you as well as Fred, who looked so green in the face while Angelina helped you out of Oliver’s lap. Inwardly, Oliver missed your warmth, how he could count the freckles along your nose, and the sweet perfume on your neck.

“You alright?” Angelina asked you, giving her a reassuring smile as you nodded. She sighed, then whirling around to smack Fred in the arm, “Git! Learn how to be a Beater for once!”

“I’m sorry! Honestly!” Fred said to both yourself and Oliver, who was reluctantly getting up from the bench and trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, “This Bludger is daft I tell you! I need to tell Hooch!”

It was safe to say that practice was cut short, which was fine by Oliver since he figured a trip together into Hogsmeade would be a good way to spend the rest of the day. But he never forgot that moment with you in his arms, perched in his lap and looking at you as if he was some kind of hero for saving you from a nasty slam from a bludger.

Both you and Oliver would laugh about it years after getting married right out of Hogwarts, then reciting the story to your son and daughter when they would ask.

The End.

February Prompt Session

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

#oliver wood #fanfiction #writing #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x female reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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stargazer-sims · 3 months ago

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Journal Entry #15 (part two)

previous // next // story index

__________

Victor

The Festival of Snow is about… snow.

That probably seems kind of obvious, and maybe even a silly thing to celebrate when you consider that anyone living in Matsumori can see snow three hundred and sixty-five days of the year if they want to, but we get a lot of tourists from all over the world and some of them have never seen snow before. I’ll bet my friends Kalani and Alana, who I met on Kainani Island, have never seen snow in their lives.

Personally, I like celebrating snow in summer because I’d never seen snow in the summertime before I came here. The part of Canada where I’m from is cold in late autumn, winter and early spring, but it doesn’t have the elevation for summer and early autumn snow. Back home, our mountain does get snow earlier than the valley does, but I doubt Granite Mountain has ever had snow in July.

The Festival of Snow has every kind of snow-related activity you can imagine, including sled races, ski races, snow and ice sculptures, snow person contests, and lots of free winter sport lessons. There’s also food, music, games, and a spectacular fireworks display at night.

One of the fun things about Matsumori is our town mascot, Arashi. Yes, she is named after the mountain Arashiyama. The kanji for her name means ‘storm’ which is kind of funny to me because she’s basically a kawaii version of a snow leopard and is the least stormy-looking character I can imagine, with her purple boots and sweater and an adorable pom-pom hat with holes for her cat ears to poke through.. She’s affectionately referred to by locals as Arashi-chan, so that should give you some idea.

Arashi’s image is everywhere, on buses and billboards and on the sides of buildings. There’s a cat café in town called Arashi’s Corner, and there’s even a statue of her in the public square at the foot of the recreation area. Someone in costume as Arashi comes out for all the festivals, and sometimes she greets tourists and townspeople alike in the public square even when there isn’t a special event going on. One of the big traditions is to take a picture with her and ask her to bring you safety and good luck on the slopes.

Mom and I encountered Arashi-chan on our way to enter the snow person contest. Naturally, Mom wanted a picture, so I asked somebody nearby if they could take a photo with my phone. They happliy agreed, so now Mom and I have a cute souvenir; a snapshot of Arashi with an arm around each of us and the slope of Arashiyama in the background.

Mom and I are definitely not artists. I wish you could’ve seen the snow person we made for the contest. They looked like they’d had a very bad day, and needless to say, Mom and I didn’t win a prize. We had a good time though, and it made me think of winters back home when we’d build funny-looking snow sculptures of ourselves and our dogs in the back yard.

After the snow person contest, Mom and I headed back to the square to catch up with Yuri. Before our photo opportunity with Arashi, we’d run into Yuri’s little sister Shirayuki and some of her friends, and they’d dragged him off to play games. The last I’d seen him, Yuki and another little girl were pulling him by the hands while a third girl was running ahead of them and shouting at them to hurry.

I’m not sure Yuri was in any shape to hurry, to be honest. After the whole rock climbing thing last weekend, he didn’t get out of bed for two days, although he was fortunately alert and well enough to work for a handful of hours each morning. He was up and around again on the third day, but the massive bruise on his hip that he’d gotten from falling off the rock didn’t look any better and he was moving like someone three times his age. By the end of the week he was better, but then we all went skating at an outdoor rink yesterday morning and we took Mom to see the local shrine in the afternoon. Yuri was so exhausted by the time we got back that he went to bed immediately, without even having dinner. I did coax him to eat a tiny breakfast this morning, but I suspected he was mostly running on caffeine, pain meds and willpower.

My prediction is, tomorrow will be when the consequences of our nonstop week will really hit him. I doubt he’ll be sitting up in bed and typing on his laptop, and I expect my Monday will be entirely spent taking care of him. Luckily, I only work four days a week at the moment, Tuesday to Friday, so at least I’ll be around when he’ll need me.

As he’d disappeared into the crowd with Yuki and her friends, I could hear Yuki chattering excitedly to him about how she was trying to talk their parents into letting her get a puppy, and she hoped to meet Arashi-chan and ask for some extra good luck. It’s a good thing Arashi’s lore says she’s magical because I think it’ll probably take some serious wizardry to convince Kenji and Rei Okamoto to adopt a dog.

As we re-entered the public square, I took a moment to look around. The whole area was decorated with all kinds of banners and paper lanterns, and it looked super festive. Around the outside, people who were much better at art than me and my mom had constructed these enormous snow sculptures. There was even a gigantic ice statue of Arashi.

We found Yuri sitting on a bench with his little sister. They had their arms around each other, and it looked to me like Yuki might’ve been holding him up. He looked absolutely done.

“Hey!” I called out as soon as Mom and I got close enough. “Yuri, did you lose your fan club?”

“They went off to a free skiing lesson,” Yuri said.

“You didn’t want to ski, Shirayuki?”

“Nope,” she said. “I wanted to hang out with my favourite big brother.”

“I’m your only big brother,” Yuri pointed out. He looked up at me. “How was the snow person contest?”

I grinned. “Fun, but we’re terrible at it.”

“Victor’s only slightly terrible,” Mom said. “I’m utterly hopeless at it.”

“You’ll have to take me over there to see all the entries later, so I can judge for myself,” Yuri said. “I doubt either of you are as bad as you think.”

“No, we definitely are,” Mom said. She sat down next to Yuri on the bench. “You look cold.”

“A little,” he admitted. “I could use a hot drink.”

“Shirayuki,” I said. “Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll see if we can find something nice for Yuri? Hot chocolate or tea or something.”

"Okay,” she said. She jumped off the end of the bench and straight into my arms. “You can carry me, Victor. Yuri isn’t strong enough to do it.”

“I think he’s strong enough,” I said. “He’s just really tired today and needs to rest. Right, Yuri?”

Yuri gave me a grateful look. “Yuki, maybe if you ask Victor nicely, he’ll get you some hot chocolate.”

“Sure,” I said. “Is hot chocolate what you want too?”

“I really want sage green tea,” he said.

“Got it. Mom, do you want anything?”

“Hot chocolate sounds great, please and thanks,” Mom said. “If you’re going for hot drinks, I’ll stay here and keep Yuri company until you come back.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed. “Ready, Shirayuki? If I carry you over to where the vendors are, then you have to return the favour by helping me carry the drinks back here. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That sounds fair. And you can just call me Yuki, you know. You’re family.”

I’m glad at least somebody from your house thinks so, is what I almost said, but quickly decided Yuki really didn’t need to be burdened with her parents’ prejudices or her older sister’s jealousy. She’s a sweet and pure soul just like her brother, and I have almost the same instinct to protect her as I have to protect Yuri. She might not understand why her parents and sister don’t like me, or maybe she would, but I didn’t want her to have to think about it.

Instead, I said, “Thanks. I always imagined my little sister would be just like you.”

My little sister.

My sister, Caroline Isabella Grace Nelson, would be twenty-two now if she were alive, and I wonder if she really would have been like Yuki when she was a child. I would’ve loved to have someone at home to play with growing up. I think about her sometimes and try to picture us playing soccer and climbing trees and running around with our dogs.

The Caroline in my imagination is vibrant and kind and beautiful, and she has Dad’s auburn hair, luckily missing out on the weird genetic defect that’d turned mine completely silver like an old man’s by the time I was thirteen. Caroline would be in university now, or maybe travelling the world and falling in love. Trying to find her way, just like me.

Of course, all of that is wishful thinking. The last time I’d ever laid eyes on Caroline, she was waving at me and Mom from her booster seat in the back seat of Dad’s car, strands of wavy auburn hair already sneaking out of her pigtails, and purple plush elephant clutched in the hand that wasn’t waving.

Be safe, Thomas, my mom had said to my dad. She’d blown a kiss to him, and I blew one to Caroline because six year old me thought that’s how you were supposed to say goodbye to people you loved when you weren’t close enough to hug them. I hadn’t known that it would be our very last goodbye. To this moment, I’m thankful my dad and sister knew they were loved on their final day.

I pulled my thoughts back to the present when I realized Yuki was poking me. “Victor! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”

“We’re supposed to be getting hot chocolate, remember?”

"Right,” I said. “Mind if I put you down for a second? You’re too heavy for me to carry in my arms all the way over to the food stands.”

“Oh.”

“I can give you a piggyback ride instead, if you want.”

“Yes, please!” she said. “Piggyback rides are my favourite thing. I already asked Yuri, but he said he couldn’t.”

“I know,” I said. “But I’m sure it’s not because he didn’t want to. You know he can’t always do everything he’d like to do.”

“I know,” Yuki said.

“Maybe he’ll be able to another day.”

“Know what I think?” Yuki said, once she was settled comfortably on my back and we were trotting off in the direction of the vendors. “About Yuri, I mean.”

“I can’t even guess. What do you think?”

“I think he’s really brave.”

“You know what? I think so too,” I said. “What makes you think he’s brave?”

“Because he doesn’t feel sorry for himself when he can’t do stuff. I think a lot of people would just give up because it’s too hard and they’d be all sad and depressed about it, but Yuri isn’t like that.”

“Sometimes he does get sad and depressed when he can’t do stuff,” I told her. “It’d be surprising if he didn’t. But, he doesn’t let himself stay that way.”

“Yeah, and I know why,” Yuki said.

“Oh?” I inqured. “Why’s that?”

“Maybe this isn’t the whole reason, but mostly I think it’s because of you.”

“Really?”

“He used to be a lot more sick before he met you, or… maybe not more sick, but like, he didn’t care as much about getting better whenever he didn’t feel good. I don’t know. It’s like how all the trees in the valley look dead and gross in the spring, and you think they might not come back to life, but then it stops snowing and the sun comes out.” She paused, as if giving all of that time to sink in, and then concluded, “Yuri is the tree and you’re the sun.”

“That’s…” I began, and then had to pause for a moment myself. “That’s pretty insightful, Yuki.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Mama says I’m perceptive. That means I notice stuff about people.”

“You’re right, and you know what? You’re just like your brother that way. Yuri notices stuff about people, too. That’s why he’s the sun to my winter tree.”

“You really love Yuri a lot, don’t you?”

“I love him more than anyone else in the whole world,” I confessed.

“Are you going to marry him? Because, if you do, I want to be in your wedding and wear my princess dress.”

I laughed. “No, we’re not getting married. We’ve already got exactly what we need, and a wedding or an official piece of paper from the government wouldn’t change a single thing. But,” I added, “If you really want to wear your princess dress, bring it over to our house sometime. Yuri and I will dress up with you, and we can have a fancy banquet and ball in the dining room.”

“Can we really do that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Awesome!” she exclaimed. “When I’m staying at your house while Mama and Papa are away in the city, I’ll remember to bring my dress.”

That was news.

I did my best not to sound like I’d been caught off-guard. “Did Mama and Papa already talk to Yuri about you staying with us?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Mama said I was going to. I can, right?”

“Of course you can,” I said. “But your parents have to ask us first. That’s the rule.”

I’ll definitely have to discuss this with Yuri later. Today hasn’t been the calmest day of our lives, but I feel like this was something Yuri wouldn’t neglect to mention to me if he’d already known about it. In turn, that makes me think he knows even less about it than I do. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to Yuki staying with us, but I’m equally certain that he would not be at all impressed by his parents blithely assuming they could impose on us like that.

Yuki, like most kids, didn’t stay on the same topic for long. By the time we bought hot chocolate and tea and found our way back to where Mom and Yuri were waiting, she’d already moved past the topic of staying at our house. She told me about her plans for when the current school holiday is over, enthused about her favourite boy band Sugar Valentine, and gave me a whole monologue about the previously mentioned puppy.

Yuki sat on Mom’s lap and Yuri sat on mine while we enjoyed our hot drinks. I caught Yuki glancing at Yuri and me every so often and smiling like she knew a secret we didn’t. She is one seriously cute kid, and I was hoping her parents would do the responsible thing and ask us if she could stay, because I really wanted her to. I could already anticipate how much fun it was going to be.

Yuri seemed to perk up a bit after cuddles and hot tea, and he suggested to Mom that they go look at the festival art exhibit since it was indoors and therefore in a warmer location. I’m not really all that into art, so I opted to go with Yuki and play in the snow instead.

We made snow angels, and then we went to get cotton candy — white and purple like Arashi-chan — and after that we decided to try our hand at some of the games.

My favourite game was one where we had to throw snowballs and hit a target. Yuki was delighted by how good I was at it, especially when the prize for hitting three targets in a row was a stuffed animal. Thanks to my good aim, Yuki ended up with a blue plush dragon, and after managing to land a snowball on five targets in a row, I also won an Arashi-chan plushie that was almost as big as Yuki. She seemed to find it hilarious when I told her I was going to give it to Yuri as a surprise present.

We took the giant plush snow leopard to the car so I could have my hands free for other games, and Yuki insisted we should sit it up in the back seat and put a seatbelt on it. We liked how that looked, but it didn’t seem like enough to us, so we squished its paw through the handle of a travel mug, spread Yuri’s red fleece blanket over its lap and propped open a snowboarding magazine.

“Wait till Yuri sees this!” Yuki said gleefully. She couldn’t stop giggling about it all the way back to the festivities.

By the time we were done making our rounds of the rest of the game booths, it was beginning to get dark, and the festival was coming alive with lights. Yuki and I wandered around admiring the snow and ice sculptures.

“Which one’s your favourite?” I asked.

“Dinosaur!” she cheered.

The brontosaurus was impressive, I’ve got to admit, but my favourite was a three metre tall snowflake carved completely from ice. The same artist had carved a human-sized bouquet of flowers that glittered like jewels in the multicoloured lights shining on them. I made a mental note to ask Yuri if he’d seen that one in particular, and if he hadn’t, I needed to bring him to view it because I was positive it’d be something he’d appreciate. He loves flowers and sparkly things.

Yuki and I were gazing at the illuminated Arashi ice sculpture when Yuki’s parents turned up. To say they looked unhappy to discover their daughter with me would’ve been the understatement of the year. Like, If looks could kill, I would’ve been super extra dead under Kenji Okamoto’s glare.

He greeted me like we were strangers, “Nelson-san.”

I bowed low, as custom dictated. “Okamoto-san.”

Yuki, as perceptive as she is, seemed totally oblivious to her father’s mood. She ran toward her parents, holding out her dragon. "Mama, Papa, look! Victor won this for me!”

Mrs. Okamoto smiled, but the expression didn’t go any further than her lips. “I hope you thanked him.”

“I did,” Yuki said. “And guess what? He said that when I stay with him and Yuri, we’re going to dress up in fancy clothes and pretend we’re at a ball.”

“I might even teach her to dance,” I said.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” said Mr. Okomoto. He was looking at Mrs. Okamoto, not at me, and I got the distinct impression that he and his wife did not agree at all on where Yuki should stay while they were away.

Yuki was spinning around as if she were already on a dance floor. “You may call me Your Royal Highness, Princess Shirayuki.”

Mrs. Okamoto caught her daughter as she twirled past. “It’s time for us to go home, Princess Shirayuki. Please say goodbye to your friend.”

“Bye, Victor,” Yuki said. “I can hardly wait for my dancing lesson.”

“See you later, Your Royal Highness,” I said. “The two princes at the castle will be awaiting your arrival.”

“Nonsense,” muttered Mr. Okamoto. “Yuki, we’ll be discussing our travel plans later. I’m still not convinced that we shouldn’t bring you with us.”

“Papa, the city is so boring!” Yuki wailed. “I always have to stay in the hotel, and there’s nothing to do. And you already said I was going to Yuri’s house, and—”

“We will talk about this later,” he repeated sternly. “Let’s go.”

I watched them walk away with a sinking feeling in my stomach, hoping that Mr. Okamoto wouldn’t really punish his daughter by making her go on their business trip with them, just to prove some ridiculous point. I couldn’t help wondering if he always behaved this way toward Yuki or if he was just trying to assert his authority in front of me. If it was the former, I felt sorry for her. It hurt to think that anybody’s parent would treat them like that, and it was especially painful to know that not one, but two people I love have to endure Kenji Okamoto’s particular brand of parenting.

As much as it made my heart ache to watch Yuki with her parents, it also made me infinitely grateful for my amazing, compassionate, generous mom. Things hadn’t been easy for us when I was growing up, but I never had to worry about whether or not I was loved and valued. I always knew I mattered and that I was important to her.

You matter too, Yuki, I wanted to tell that precious little girl. If your parents can’t show you, then Yuri and I will make sure you know how loved and important you are.

#writing #WAVYrevisited #victor nelson #yuri okamoto #shirayuki okamoto #sapphire writes

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anticidic · 6 months ago

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45 + dazai/ango for the ask game!! in the spirit of going insane abt them (-> hiii this kavi @blackwaves )

#45: Once Upon a Time — Kamelot

Tell me once upon a time I close my eyes and see myself reborn Righting the wrong I won't stay to stand in line And wait for God to shine all over me I wait for the storm I am you and I know that you heard You and I are the last at the end of the world Then we talk, we run, and we hide Then so what, the human race suffocates?

A gray rain fell on Yokohama. The city soaked in it, cold and dripping.

“What’s it like—carrying the weight of all you’ve done and continue to do, knowing you’ll die just as alone as he did? Knowing he died because you couldn’t say no to the government pulling your strings?”

The question made Ango pause and grip the bouquet tightly. For a moment his eyes screwed shut, deep in thought, and he let out a tired sigh. He straightened up, the flowers dangling uselessly at his side, and he blinked away the rain that slid down an eyebrow. Dazai was a blurry mess of watercolors, and for once he had no urge to polish away the droplets from his glasses. It was better that way—he couldn’t see the rigid, almost pained, expression Dazai aimed at him.

But he felt it. A deep-seated anger draped in ancient sorrow. They were the same in that regard. Between them: little white lies that blew up in their faces, dancing around the past that loomed over them as they remembered the laughs and clinks of glasses under the low lights, a single damned photo up in flames.

It was a nervous shadow cast into the world by him, eating away at reality.

Ango was a mess of apologies, and Dazai sensed that this wasn’t the first time. Made up of years of regret, so inevitably it would come down to this. What did he expect? What did either of them expect? This kind of reality was saddening and infuriating all at once, but his present anger was so hushed and listless, he could barely tighten his trembling hand.

“I already accepted what I’ve done, and I’m well aware that nothing’s really changed between us.” Ango turned back to the gravestone and lowered his head, away from Dazai’s prying gaze. “I’ve had over four years to come to terms with that, Dazai. And I don’t need you reminding me every chance you get.”

“You do it to yourself,” Dazai shot back. “What’s funny is, I haven’t reminded you. This…is the first time I’ve actually brought it up. But I remind you every time we meet, don’t I?” He took a step closer. Then another. The soft earth squished, and he combed his fringe back, shaking the rain from his hair. The cold soaked through his coat and a slight shiver ran up his spine. He could take it. “But here’s the thing: it’s not just you. It never has been just you alone. It’s us both.” His eyes wandered to the flowers, dripping. Sad. A muted splash of color on this terrible spring evening. Even the weeping willow that towered over them with its shivering branches looked more alive. “It’s just sentimentalism, Ango. I can afford to be sentimental. I can also afford to lose.”

Teeth gritted, Ango got down on one knee before the gravestone. He avoided the carved S. ODA initials and set the flowers down in front of it. He mouthed words similar to a prayer, but quickly realized even praying would not turn back time. Things went the way that they did, and he accepted it with great, wide, welcoming arms even as it crushed him having the fingers pointed at him again and again. What would pacify the wrenching feeling in his gut?

Time after time. He had gotten used to it. He did.

But he was also well-versed in lying and couldn’t tell apart his own truths from those he force-fed others. It was just part of the job. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but there was always a villain in someone’s story. And he just so happened to be Dazai’s.

“There’s only now and the future. We cannot live in the past where he remains stuck, because…” Another shuddering breath left Ango’s lips, and he stood up again. “Because he wouldn’t want that. For you. That’s what matters, doesn’t it? You are unburdened by your dark past and have better people surrounding you. I’m still a part of that past, and while things have changed between us that might never recover, I don’t begrudge you.”

Dazai let out a strained laugh and approached Ango, the two merely an arm’s length apart. He narrowed his eyes and looked ready to snatch the glasses from Ango’s face and break them. Instead, a tiny smile played on his lips.

Tiny, mean, and tortured.

Red stained Dazai’s eyes and Ango noticed circles beneath them.

“I want you to hate me. I want you to curse me every time I put you in the hospital and every time I make your life purposefully harder. But you don’t. You still help me out. Help us out. The city. You’re just a government slave doing the dirty work no one else wants to do because no one wants to be the enemy of the people and I wonder, when will you say enough is enough?”

Words of regret. They spoke of shame for the hatred that was carried in the heart for so long. The hatred that seemed to be such an easy, righteous way out. And now? The aftermath of the fury was sadness and the understanding that vengeance was never just.

Ango looked away and removed his glasses to flick away more rain. “I can’t answer that question. It’s precisely because I have to make the most difficult choices that the burden is best left to me. I wiped your record back then knowing that if word got out, I wouldn’t just be put away but be a traitor to the entire country. No one sensible who works for the good of people would want to be an accomplice to a criminal, right?” Glancing back at Dazai, his expression softened slightly. “That’s how it’s supposed to look, at least. We catch bad guys like you. I do because you’d be labeled almost as dangerous as Chuuya with your crimes to the Special Division. But now you’re simply Dazai Osamu, detective of the Armed Detective Agency. You save lives.”

Closing the distance between them, they exchanged silent glances before Ango smiled. A genuine smile. One of relief and like a little weight had been lifted from his chest. Because Dazai was where he belonged—free to circle the skies after escaping his cage. It should’ve been the three of them like this, but Ango also accepted that any way he helped Dazai would not be graciously accepted, but one fact remained: Dazai kept coming back.

The worst pain would’ve been total, utter rejection. He withstood Dazai’s glorious assault knowing that despite the rift between them, they did not become strangers.

“Take care and send the agency my regards. I’m glad we could meet again like this,” Ango said and walked off, but he stopped shortly after. “I’ll look forward to it again next year on this same day. It’s the worst day of all, but we share it.”

Spotify Ask Game!

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd ango #my writing #anticide writes #spotify ask game #asks #cloaked #i'm sorry this is late sdfghjk i wasn't ignoring u i just had Obligations #but omg this song is also so fitting for them they make me want to ugly cry they're so messy and chaotic and UGGGHHHH but it's always Them #i need them to mourn and talk it out but will they ever? NOPE

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