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mingirn · 1 year

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tell me it's love

mark lee x reader

genre: smut, some angst and fluff

warnings: dry humping, cumming untouched, childhood best friends to fuck buddies, unrequited love, hidden feelings

word count: 3.6k

notes: first nct fic kinda nervous. there will be a part 2 to this i already have most of it written i just got scared it’d be too long LMFAO

”Do you like it better like this? Or, wait- like this?”

Mark is sitting on his floor in front of the full-length mirror he’d demanded help from both you and Johnny to put up. He’s messing with his hair, it’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut and this is a new routine. He’ll sit in front of the mirror, arranging his bangs to lay across his forehead, or pushing them back, parting his hair in the middle and on each side, asking for your opinions.

”Mark,” you sigh. ”You keep asking this, but then you still wear your hair like you always do anyways.”

”Yeah, but… it looks stupid, doesn’t it?”

You haven’t even bothered to look up at him. You don’t need to in order to predict what he’ll look like, it’s the 4th night in a row now and you’ve seen it all. Instead, you keep your eyes on your book.

”If it bothers you so much, why don’t you cut it?” you ask.

”And ask Yuta again? After last time? It took me three months to grow that tragedy out, no way!” He breathes out something between a sigh and a groan and slumps down on the floor with a thud.

”Then stop complaining.”

Mark protests with an overblown sigh, but offers no rebuttal. Your focus shifts back to your book now, getting lost in the plot while Mark lies in silence on the floor. His dorm room is nicely lit, glowing warmly from his night lamp and a few fairy lights he’s got set up. The campus has that usual 10 pm quiet, and you know you should drag yourself back to your own dorm room soon but Marks bed is just so nice and soft, and your book is just getting good, and it is Friday.

”You got any space for me up there?” Mark asks, already making his way up and without waiting for your answer he’s climbing onto the bed.

You huff a little from the sudden disruption, but this is also pretty much routine, and Mark quickly finds a resting spot for his head on your shoulder.

”Still the same one?” he asks, as if it isn’t obvious.

”Yeah. If you’d stop distracting me, I might actually be able to finish it sometime.”

It’s Marks turn to huff now. He lays in silence next to you for a while, though it's all but peaceful. Mark always fidgets, he just always seems to be buzzing with something. There are these pressures and expectations packed tightly under his skin and a brain that never seems to shut off. It's Friday, he's got two days of rest ahead of him, yet you know he's probably already going through the schedule for next week in his head.

"Mark," you say, softly and silently.

"Mm?"

"You're squirming."

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes, sounding more like he's sighing. He runs his hand over his face, as if to reset, then sighs again.

You ponder for a moment. Then you speak, "Remember when we got drunk like two weeks ago? I threw up in your bathroom and afterward you read to me to keep me from freaking out."

Mark hums.

"What if- do you want to lay in my lap? You could read to me, and I'll play with your hair. Maybe it'll relax you," you suggest.

"Mhm, yeah, that'd be nice.." he murmurs. He lets you scoot yourself up to make space for him, with the way you're sat against the wall. He lays the side of his head down on your thigh, grabbing your book and bracing it against your leg so that he can easily turn the pages.

"Should I just start here?" he asks.

"At the second paragraph," you tell him.

He clears his throat and starts reading. The back of his head is turned towards you, like this you can brush your fingers through the thick of his hair. Mark sounds sleepy, his voice is low and warm, sounding very soft as he reads out loud. If his hair didn't feel so nice in your hands you think you could fall asleep right here, lulled by only his voice.

His hair really has gotten long. It's been a long time since he's dyed it too, there's some brown left at the tips but most of it is his natural color by now. You card your fingers through it, pressing at his scalp and feeling him melt in your hands.

This is what you like best, you think. Times like these, when it's quiet around you and it feels like no one exists but you and Mark. Like this, like the warmth of his cheek against your leg, the soft strands of hair between your fingers, the sound of his voice filling your head.

Your eyes start to drift a little, first following the sight of his dark hair falling from your hands, then down to his neck, then over the expanse of his shoulders. You rarely let yourself do this, to just look at him. You've convinced yourself that letting your eyes linger on him for more than a few seconds would tell on you. Like he'd be able to look into your eyes and little confessions would float in your irises, that he'd know just from looking that you're in love with him. With his back against you like this you feel shielded, you can let yourself look.

He’s wearing a thin shirt with a wide neckline, it almost hangs off of his shoulders and you’re struck with the need to just touch him. It's like a silent bet, you dare yourself to move your hand down just a little. The tips of your fingers ghost down the back of his neck where his skin is fully exposed. Mark twitches, and you get scared for just a moment, wanting to pull back, worrying that his body is alarmed at your touch. But you keep your hand in place, and he lets you.

His skin is warm under your hand, and there’s still a sliver of bare skin underneath your hand, so you trail your fingers down, all the way to where the hem of his shirt is hanging.

Something in the room shifts. Marks voice stutters and he sucks in a deep breath of air. You can hear it hitch in his throat, and you expect him to ask you what you're doing, for the illusion to break. But he does nothing, just squares his shoulders to lean into your touch.

You keep it light, dragging your fingertips up and down his back, staying outside of his shirt. It's thin enough that you can still feel the heat of his body through the fabric. You can also feel the way his ribs rise and fall with each breath he takes, how it's becoming faster.

Suddenly, Mark stops reading. He draws another deep breath, and from what you can see of his face you notice his eyes fluttering shut. There's a long silent moment where it feels like time stands still. The only thing that is happening, the single action taking place while the rest of the universe stops is Mark turning towards you.

And surely he must know, then. He's looking into your eyes, and doing nothing to avert from them. In absolute silence, he grabs your hand and lays it on his chest. You wonder if the universe has resumed moving yet, or if time is still only yours and Marks.

Mark closes his eyes again, and he squeezes your hand. His instruction is wordless, but you understand it nonetheless. Touch me, he urges.

You gather the courage to move your hand down, coming over the muscles that make up his chest. He’s almost feverishly warm, and you can feel his chest move with every labored breath. You've never touched him like this before, flattening your hand over his stomach and moving over every little inch of his torso. You're really taking him in, learning what he feels like, how defined his muscles are, how broad his chest is.

Marks mouth falls open, and he lets out a low, quiet moan. It heats you, like this hot flash that shoots through your body and makes your chest tighten. It's so bright and hot that it knocks the wind out of you.

Moving solely on instinct, just this thoughtless and desperate urge, the sight of his parted lips has you trailing your hand up his chest, and then along the column of his neck to end up at his mouth. You tap the pad of your pointer finger against his lips once, to test the waters. Mark pouts, chasing your touch. You abide, tracing your finger over his bottom lip and feeling his hot breath against your finger.

”You’re so pretty, Mark,” you tell him. You're not even thinking. Your hands move on their own and so does your mouth.

His eyes open again, so heavily lidded, and for a moment you think he’s about to say something. That maybe his eyes will sharpen and he's going to snap out of this illusion. Instead, he sits up. His gaze is focused on you and there still isn't a hint of hesitation or distress in his eyes.

”Please,” he pleas, only that.

You pat his shoulder, ”What, please? What do you want?”

”I want to kiss you.”

Mark blinks, looking down at your lips as he says it. You should probably stop to ask him if he means it, if it’s just a heat of the moment thing, but he’s so beautiful, and so eager, and his eyes still have not left your mouth. You just lean forward, connecting your lips with his and Mark kisses you back in an instant.

Whatever first kisses are supposed to be, you're sure this isn't it. In the books you read they describe the fireworks, the instant passion and how their lips just meld together. With Mark it's clumsy, he makes contact with the corner of your mouth and pulls back too quickly, then kisses you again before you've regained your breath. You can feel your heart pound in your chest and you swear Mark can hear it, and you wonder if his heart is doing the same. The very tips of your fingers feel cold, your entire body is filled with a heat so warm it's paralyzing and all you can think about is the fact that Mark is still kissing you.

He's not pulling away. He kisses you, again, and again, and again. It makes your heart surge, the fact that he isn't scared off by how awkward it is at first. The possibility of what that means rushes through you like a wave but you forbid yourself to ruminate on it now.

Whatever first kisses are, this isn't it, but it's infinitely better.

Marks hands come up to your neck, curling around the back of it so that he can pull you impossibly close as he parts his lips, swiping his tongue along yours. You have to part for air but he hardly lets you, with the way he keeps his lips just close enough to be ghosting yours.

"Touch me," he whispers into the kiss.

You’re not exactly sure where he wants you, but he releases a satisfactory hum when you trace your hands down over his chest. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his breath come out hot and short against your mouth. Spurred on by the moment, you trail your hands even lower to lift the hem of his shirt to touch his bare hips. He gasps at the contact, and a whine builds in the back of his throat, so quiet that you’d be unable to catch it if he wasn’t so close.

He's right above you, closer than he's ever been before and he guides you to lie down. He's laying on top of you now, pressed against you so that you can feel him everywhere. Your hands are frantic under his shirt, rushing to feel every inch of him. Quiet moans continue to slip past his lips the more you touch him, and you wish to swallow them all up.

”Take my shirt off,” he mumbles, barely parting from your lips to speak. It's already hiked up his torso, all you need to do is bring it over his head and your hands tremble when he sits back to let you take it off.

You watch him, breathless, as he sits shirtless in front of you. His hair is messy, ruffled by the shirt and he shakes his head to get it to fall pretty again. Mark leaves little time for you to take in the sight of him bare before he's kissing you again, this time far more passionately.

Somewhere in the haze of it all you've spread your legs, and Mark has positioned himself between them. His hands are as rushed as yours, moving over your thighs and the side of your ass, squeezing at your hips, feeling you everywhere he can. Mark whines, letting out these desperate sounds into your mouth that only quiet down when you wrap your legs around his hips and press him against your body.

Everything about it is needy, neither of you can get enough. Marks hands are everywhere, tangling his fingers into your hair, caressing your face, cradling your jaw, wrapped around your neck. It's like you're making up for all the time you haven't had each other like this. A million touches laced into this one hand on his naked torso, so many words spoken in this total silence.

Mark pulls away, moving to trail kisses over your jaw. A spot in the junction of your ear and jaw makes you gasp once he kisses it, and Mark smiles. He lets out this satisfied chuckle, and there's still a smile on his lips when he puts his mouth on your neck again. He sucks your skin into his mouth, letting his teeth grace ever so slightly against your neck. His mouth feels so good on you, it has little gasps and moans spilling from your mouth. Embarrassment makes you silence them as best you can, but Mark seems dedicated to making you even louder.

He starts to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping sometimes to suck your skin into his mouth. He falters by a spot right above your collarbone, just where your shoulder starts, where he sinks his teeth into the flesh. Your body just melts, and you feel weightless, only whispering out his name under hushed breaths.

"Hm, you okay?" he asks, breaking away from the kiss. He comes up to your face again, close like before, where his breath tickles your mouth.

"What?" you ask, before you realize where his concern has come from. "Oh, yeah, yeah. More than okay. You?"

"Me? I'm okay," he laughs. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your fingertips have still not returned to their normal temperature. It's still the same Mark looking back at you right now, the one you knew as a child, the Mark you've spent every milestone of a lifetime with.

The way he looks at you is new though. His eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth, it makes him look dazed in a way.

"Do you.. do you want to?" He doesn't finish the question. He moves towards you ever so slightly, still focused on your lips. He barely waits for the little time it takes you to rush out a 'yeah, yeah, please' until his lips are back on yours and his hands return to your body.

Something inside of you clicks, bringing you back to reality instead of the swimming fantasy in your head. You become aware of the weight of him above you, and the fact that his lips taste like buttercream chapstick. You can feel his hands on you, fingertips chancing to go underneath your shirt. It has taken until now for you to realize that his hips are pressed against your own, and with your legs wrapped around him, he's so close, so fucking close that through all the layers of clothing, you can still feel that he's hard.

Just the feeling of it has your legs squeezing around him, without really meaning to you push yourself against him. Your stomach swirls and tightens and your own arousal builds as Mark starts grinding himself against you.

”Oh my god, what the fuck," his breath shudders, words spoken into a kiss.

He's not even making direct contact with you but it still feels so fucking good. Marks hand is under your shirt now, his soft fingers tracing your naked skin. His touch feels so good on your body, and he's starting to angle his hips in just the right way, so you can feel his dick right where it feels good.

His voice is hushed and strained, pulling away from you to rest his head in the crook of your neck while he moans your name. You're probably making too much noise, the walls are thin and you worry that anyone walking by would be able to hear the noise inside Marks room. It's only a fleeting thought, easily silenced by Mark groaning, deep and low, so that you can feel the vibrations in his chest.

"Mark, Mark," you whine. He lifts his head and looks at you, but his hips keep moving. "Kiss me, please."

He leans in for a clumsy kiss, his mouth clashing with yours. It's messy, all tongue and teeth, but you can hardly care when his hips rut against yours and his breathing is becoming more jagged. You wish he'd keep kissing you, but when he pulls back and only looks at you, it doesn't matter. You're too enamored by him, watching every microexpression on his face and reveling in his beauty, and what that means for your friendship is something you’re not willing to unpack now.

It feels almost infinite, cosmic in a way, this very second that Mark stares into your eyes. His lips are parted and his eyes are still heavily lidded, there's a blush dusting his cheeks that's spreading all the way down his neck and chest.

"Baby," he gasps, leaning his forehead against yours. His hips stutter, getting faster and needier. He stutters, "Fuck, I'm- I'm gonna cum."

Words shouldn't do this much. His voice shouldn't be enough to make you feel like you could cum untouched but it is, and he keeps mumbling your name the closer he gets.

It's all a haze, your head is just filled with Mark, Mark, Mark and his voice seems to fill every space within you. You can't tell if you cum first or if he does, it's only moments before you're both grabbing onto each other and it feels like there isn't enough air in the world with how breathless you both become. Mark puts his lips to yours, too distracted to kiss but desperate enough that he needs you close.

You feel it out to your very fingertips, and it takes a second for the ringing in your ears to stop and for the air to return to your lungs. Mark is slowing his hips down, riding it out, and he finally kisses you.

The kiss is far too tender and careful for a moment like this. He’s so gentle, just brushing against your lips at first. His hand comes up to the back of your head, burying in your hair as he pulls you in even closer. You drag your hands along the sides of his torso, then curling around his shoulders in a hug.

"Mark," you try to say, muffled by his kiss.

"Mm, what?"

"We have to get cleaned up," you speak, sort of quietly. Part of you somehow believes that there's a barrier to be broken, like if you raise your voice something will exit the room and take this moment with it.

Mark lets out an exaggerated groan as he rolls off of you. The room is still dimly lit, just like before, the sky is still dark outside and you don't understand how everything is exactly the same when you aren't.

"Hm," he thinks for a moment. "Are you.. staying here, or?"

You suck in a breath. Something about the way he asks it feels kind of loaded. You've slept here before, next to him in this very bed, but something about the tone of his voice makes this feel different.

"Why?" you ask.

"Just cause, like, you'd need to borrow something to sleep in."

"Are you saying you'd make me walk to my room like this if I didn't want to sleep here?" you ask, faking upsetness. "This isn't only my cum, you know."

He looks over at you, at the little wet spot on your sweatpants that matches the one on his own.

"Jesus, yeah, sorry!" he laughs breathily, throwing his arm over his face. The whine in his voice is gone by now, but he's still being playful. Nothing in his tone conveys that he's upset, or that regret has set in. You need to stop dwelling on it though, or the deepest parts of your mind will find something to latch onto to ruin this. You can't think about it, any of it, it’s going to mess you up and you know it.

There's a moment of silence where your eyes fix on the ceiling. You steal little glances to the side, at Marks bare skin. You had just been touching him, your fingertips must be imprinted on some parts of his skin. Right now, the only part of him that is touching you is his pinky against yours. He moves it, just a little, like a twitch, and strokes it over your finger.

"So.. you're staying?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm staying."

#queueing this to post while i sleep #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct smut #nct imagines #mark lee smut #nct scenarios #[🗒] mine #[📎] mark

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baizhuu · 24 days

Text

strawberry flavored sun

warnings : switch!camboy!theo, fem-bodied reader, squirting, masturbation; mentions of weed, sex toys, gooning.

a/n : y'all want a part two? (& i'm trying out a new layout pls lmk if u like it!)

whenever you got the notification that "sunyangie" was starting his live, most times, you would drop what you were doing, crawl into your bed & grab your favorite bullet vibrator. you would cast your phone screen to your tv like you were some type of perverse, corrupt gooner. however, when it came to your favorite camboy, you were.

it just seemed like your mind slipped into mush when you watched him. you would wrecklessly spend your money to make his cock ring vibrate against the base of his shaft. you would watch the way his precum leaked out of his pretty pink tip. his expressions, his eyes rolled back and puffy lips spread, gasps and wanton moans coming from his mouth.

you had basically memorized his streaming schedule, and you always found time to watch one of his streams. you found yourself in your bed, his stream up on your tv and with your vibrator pressed up against your clit at least twice a week. every monday, wednesday, friday and sunday, you found yourself completing tasks sooner than you would on any other day, just because you knew that in the back of your head, sunyangie was streaming today.

you were layed back on your bed with pillows stacked up just enough for you to see the tv, the volume low to not alert any neighbors of what you were doing, and soft music playing as you waited for him to start the stream. your vibrator and new pink dildo that you had gotten earlier today were layed out next to you.

you looked up at his stream and as soon as you did his face popped up on screen. he was absolutely glowing in the luminescence of his sunset lamp and fairy lights. the dainty silver chain hanging around his neck was glimmering in the dim lights and, the camera angle was low enough for you to see his face, down to just above his thighs. his pink hair framing his fave perfectly, hands resting on either side of his thighs as he was checking to see if people had joined.

he gave a bright smile and waved. he greeted the chat; voice soft, low and sultry, "hello guys, how have you all been? i've been okay! sorry i missed monday's stream, something came up."

he seems calm, but as you inspect him further, the erection in his pants is anything but calm. as he's reading the chat and getting ready to start, you watch him palm himself. you rub yourself through your panties at the same speed, wanting to keep in time with theo.

as he's reading through the chat, you feel as if he's looking at you, you feel so incredibly turned on and flustered at the way he's skimming through the messages that flood in. his eyes are slightly red and low from what you can tell, as if he just smoked a joint (and he probably did for all you know.)

"are you ready to start?" theo asks, pulling his hard cock out of his grey sweatpants, squirting a bit of lube into his hand. as he spreads it along his tip he hisses, "fuck.. it's cold." with his eyes screwed shut and his hand slowly working up and down on his veiny shaft, you slip your hand into your panties and decide on rubbing small, leisurely circles around your clit.

you hear a soft giggle come through your soundbar and you open your eyes to see his eyes open, with his plump bottom lip between his teeth. he grabs the pink and white cock ring from his desk and holds it in view for the camera to capture. "let's have some fun." he purrs out.

you whimper at the sound of his smooth voice, grabbing your vibrator and pulling your underwear off.

you watch as theo pushes the ring down towards his balls and grabs his new hitachi vibrator. "hmm.. i got this new toy today, shall we try it out?" he has a smirk on his face while glancing at his chat going crazy, being spammed with positive answers.

you decide to donate 10 dollars, sending a message, along with making the pink ring around his base vibrate. you see his hips jump out as he lets out a whimper, he reads out the message as his voice slightly shakes. "please use it? okay.. does it turn you on to see me like this, (username)? i've seen you in here a lot.." he chuckles and tilts his head.

you gasp and your eyes shoot open at him reading out your username, you've been in his chat before but you didn't think he would remember you. you decide to type in the chat, using a few of his channel points to highlight your message, "i love watching you, you're absolutely gorgeous yangie." typing out a quick message, short enough for your horny brain to process.

he smiles at your comment and thanks you, typing something into his phone quickly & then turning his vibrator on at the lowest setting. he presses it to the underside of his tip and sucking in a sharp breath at the new feeling. "shit.. oh- that feels amazing.."

you see his stomach contracting with each gasp and moan he lets out, his forehead starts to glisten in the dim light of his bedroom. as he runs the toy up and down his cock, he starts to get a little more used to the odd feeling.

he turns it up onto the second setting, throwing his head back and whimpering as the vibrations get stronger. he's rolling his hips as his shaky hand holds the large white toy in place.

"damnit- guys.. i don't think i'm gonna last too long.. hah-" theo is already panting, whimpering and moaning. he's a mess already and it hasn't even been ten minutes into the stream.

he pulls it away and decides to take the cock ring off "need to cum- 'm so needy today.." he pouts as he places it on his desk and continues with his ministrations on his dick, his free hand coming up to rub against his chest and play with his nipples.

you're working the dildo into your sopping cunt, moaning out with him. if someone were to hear you, it'd sound like something straight out of a porn video.

you push the dildo into your pussy at the same pace as his hips on the screen. fast, yet not rough. you hold onto your chest with your other hand, also playing with your hard nipples.

"fuck- fuck!" he moans out, stuttering as he turns up the setting on his toy once more. you can tell he's about to finish, his eyebrows are knotted together, eyes tightly shut, he has blush dusting his cheeks. "please.. so close.. gonna cum, gonna-" he cuts himself off with a moan as cum shoots from his tip. it paints his stomach, and the head of the vibrator; even going up to his chest.

his back arches out of his chair and his legs shake as he rides through his heavy orgasm, slightly overstimulating himself.

you cum at the same time as him, tears prickling at your eyes and your thighs clamp down on your wrist. the hand on your chest moves up to your hair and runs through it, as you moan and heavily breathe, your fingers now moving to work at your clit as you squirt and convulse around the dildo. your orgasm leaking down your ass and onto the bed.

as you start to come back down from your peak, you glance back at your screen and see theo shutting the toy off and putting it down to scoop the white substance off of his stomach. he shows the camera the cum on his fingers before he licks it off, making a spectacle of hit fat lips wrapped around his fingers. he opens them to show you his tongue circling the digits in his mouth.

"mmm.. sweet.." he says after he pulls them out of his mouth, licking his lips.

after a minute or two of basking in the afterglow, and speaking to viewers, he wraps up the stream, smiling and wishing the chat farewell, apologizing for the shorter stream.

as you exit the site and put on a random youtube video, getting ready to clean up, your phone dings with a notification from your instagram.

you decide to check what it is and you see a message request & follow from.. theo-?

#p1harmony smut #p1harmony #p1h theo #p1harmony theo #theo p1harmony #theo smut #theo p1harmony smut #kpop smut

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italoniponic · 2 years

Note

Can I request hcs for Trey Azul Deuce Floyd and whoever else you want. Everyone has such pretty eye colours but mine are nearly black you can't see the actual brown unless you shone a light directly in it. Can I request them discovering that and falling harder for the reader it's like a secret in plain sight only they know

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

Notes: Hi, anon!

Let me tell you first that you have beautiful eyes. From where I come from, having brown eyes is pretty common and my mom makes similar complaints about her own eyes too but hey, every eye has something very special to it bc of the person that has them. And you never know, maybe someone sees your eyes and thinks “wow, they are so dark! that’s so cool” or something like that. I mean, I’m the type to say that lol

I didn’t knew who to exclude because I don't do more than 3 characters and Trey and Azul already appeared in other requests… but you said “whoever else I wanted” so I chose Lilia to replace them. He has one of the wildest eyes out there so maybe it’s a good match. But! I’ll still use Trey and Azul for a part 2 of this in the future, for sure. I’ll do the same for the anon who also asked for Trey in the “sick stubborn reader” story. I’m planning a whole special project to this bc I simply cannot let anyone behind it seems lol

Thanks for the request <3

Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Floyd Leech x gender neutral reader / fluff headcanons / reader has dark brown eyes

Cherry's Harvesting 🍒 Masterlist

Your Eyes Have Enchanted Me

It was an ordinary afternoon in Diasomnia and Lilia had taken you to his room to show you some special souvenirs that he collected during his many travels over the years. Among all, there was this lamp from a distant land whose light could illuminate an entire street block. Lilia turned it on and inevitably, the lamp lit a powerful light before your eyes;

And that's when Lilia noticed something in your eyes as he turned to see your reaction. Your eyes, usually so dark that they almost looked like ebony, revealed their true color: brown. But you were starting to blink so much that Lilia put out the lamp and saw your eyes darken again, as if nothing had happened;

Lilia stared at you for a while, enchanted and silent. Awkwardly, you ended up explaining to him what happened and although you treated it as something simple, Lilia was truly moved by that secret of human physiognomy. His eyes — which you considered quite unique — were sparkling the whole time you spoke;

Then Lilia followed up the days chuckling to himself alone, marveling at the knowledge you shared with him. Only with him. As if it were possible, he fell in love with you more. Either because of the accidents of fate or because you would like him to know that, Lilia was in the clouds, floating higher than usual. As a gift, he decides to create for you a magic lamp whose light doesn’t end up blinding your eyes too much and so you could also better see your own dreamy eyes;

When very young, Lilia didn’t like his own eyes. His race was small and lived near the valley of the little nature fairies who were frightened by the “blood-thirsty” appearance of the family Vanrouge’s eyes. If Lilia had not met the young King of Thorns — Malleus’ grandfather — and, through their friendship, elevated his clan to a status of respect, he would never have passed this obstacle of his youthful years. His gloomy and intimidating appearance, which signaled warning for the smaller fairies, could then be the sign of an even greater fear in the big fairies;

It took some work and Lilia put together notes, mechanisms and technology from various other sources — like Trey from the science club and online friend Gloomy Samurai who was almost the “god” of mechanics — to create the lamp for you and your beautiful human eyes. When everything was ready, Lilia showed you the final result and you watched its effect on your eyes through the mirror in your bedroom. Eventually, you noticed Lilia's gaze on you;

Everyone in the Valley of Thorns and nearby regions, home to all kinds of fairies, has something special about their features. If for fairies, such characteristics are analyzed in detail because they denounce something of that fairy’s nature in particular, for humans it is another kind of exotic, fascinating and curious feeling. Lilia explained all this to you;

“But your eyes are the most beautiful thing made by human genes,” Lilia concluded. You turned your face to the side, flustered with his words. That world had really fantastic things and was actually quite different from your world where varied hair colors are obtained by artificial paints. There were a lot of people in school with wonderful hair colors and eyes. But then to say that yours is the most beautiful thing...?

When you were going to try to ask Lilia for more explanations about this, you were cornered again by the way he was looking at you. You, on the other hand, analyzed his eyes. Red raspberry-colored eyes, intense, with a sharp vertical iris that made your stomach tremble, worried. Your natural instincts conflicted between fear and admiration of the beauty of those eyes that look at you with the same admiration;

From then on, Lilia always quoted your eyes when he was going to compliment you. Be it their ability to hide the most beautiful of brown tones, be it the beautiful, beautiful shade that shone with your deepest feelings. It was just fantastic for him and you didn't quite know what to say. But his admiration was quite captivating;

Lilia even made a song about your eyes, their secret hidden between the lines of the lyrics and the poetry that surrounded the feelings of his heart. Not that anyone had understood much because he sang everything in the most hardcore rock metal style humanly possible. “Lilia must be talking about the eyes of a very powerful being for such respect and dedication,” was what Malleus said and that made you laugh a lot.

Deuce and you were on campus in the late afternoon, on top of the lawn near the Mystery Shop, chatting and spending time together. It was all going normally until Deuce noticed how the sunset light hit your face, making your very dark eyes reveal a beautiful shade of brown;

Because Deuce was staring at you intensely for a while, you ended up coming to the conclusion of what he was observing without him needing to say anything. “My eyes are so black, you must have even doubted that they are brown actually,” you said, laughing a bit. Deuce didn't think this was a weird thing, though he kept blushing by staring you over and over without the slightest subtlety;

Deuce returned to his dorm room still thinking about what happened. He kept this precious event in his heart, happy to have witnessed it. He didn't tell Ace about it. If you spoke to others, it wouldn’t be a problem. But he wanted to keep that feeling that he knew, maybe before everyone else, a special thing about you;

Deuce tried to think of something romantic to talk about with your eyes, becoming more delighted with you every day. He talked to Jack without telling him exactly what happened, and although it was obvious that he wanted to talk about eyes and you, Jack thought of some good advice to give. Once he saw a couple comparing each other's eyes to food and this should be quite simple to do. Deuce found the idea fantastic;

He bought a box of chocolates from the Mystery Shop and prepared a whole speech about the difference between the colors of chocolates, that even the darkest of chocolates is not necessarily bitter and is extremely expensive and appreciated — according to what he studied the night before. But when you sit on the bench and again, the sunlight came to meet your eyes, Deuce forgot everything he had prepared;

Deuce has never been one to personally cling to things like eyes but he likes the fact that he has his mother's eyes. It is a simple thing, however it makes him feel connected to a very special person for him. Even if that's not your case, Deuce still thinks there's something very wonderful about the subtlety of your eyes color;

Since then, Deuce has always been attentive to your eyes when you pass through places with a lot of light or darker ambiences, watching the subtle facets of brown tones appear and disappear as if playing in your eyes. It's so interesting to him and even if you don't quite understand what he likes so much, his smiles warm your heart;

Once, you commented on Deuce's eyes and how beautiful it was the peacock-green shade he has. It's electric, fresh and hopeful, just like him. But — partly because he didn't know how to answer your compliments most of the time — Deuce assured you that you also have beautiful eyes and that they are even more beautiful because it is yours;

One day, Deuce gave you a small keychain that he found in one of the village’s shops. Coincidentally, the pendant was of the suit of Spade and had a very beautiful and glossy black color. “Now, look at this!,” he said and getting close to you, he took the pendant up high and you saw the sunlight reflect some shades of bronze inside;

“Diamond-senpai was commenting on these double-colored keychains on Magicam and… I...,” speaking of changing colors, his face began to turn quite red. “... I remembered you.” Your hands trembled holding Deuce's little gift, you were trying to control yourself. Deuce was so cute at times that you just wanted to hug and squeeze him with all your might;

It took a while for others to notice this effect that light had in your eyes, if only because they simply thought the dark and intense color of your eyes was normal. But during this time, Deuce and you acted as if they kept an important secret, and, at least for you two, it was. And one thing you could be sure of: Deuce would always find your eyes the most beautiful in the world.

It was a simple afternoon on the basketball court. Floyd and you were lying on the floor, talking and passing the time since he had lost interest in playing and wanted to spend time with you. But at one point, Floyd sat down and noticed how the ceiling lights along with the Sun made the brown of your eye appear;

Floyd found this incredibly curious and ended up going over to you a bunch of times, trying to understand how it works. When Floyd realized that you were getting a little uncomfortable — and his shadow didn't help the light get into your eyes — he stopped. You explained what it was all about;

From Floyd's expression, you came to think that maybe he didn't understand anything but, in fact, he understood it very well. Several merman and mermaids in the Coral Sea have special abilities or features because of the species of fish from which they descend. In the case of the Leech twins, they were born to a couple of eels where Mr. Leech has golden eyes and Mrs. Leech has olive-colored eyes, which blended into their two mischievous children;

Despite understanding your explanation, Floyd had a very unexpected attitude about it. He commented on the fact that he had heterochromia and because of that — in his mind — you two became more alike because you also had special eyes. It wouldn't quite be how you would classify your eyes but Floyd seemed so happy with this “similarity” that there was nothing else to do;

Floyd had been thinking a lot about your eyes ever since, completely in love with you and becoming obsessed with the fact that humans can have these small, subtle abilities. You laugh at the way Floyd treats your dark brown eyes like a superpower. You’re just an ordinary human and, in your opinion, there are other people with more beautiful eyes. Floyd is one of them;

Floyd doesn’t comment on this with anyone, excited by the fact that only he knows this about you. But he likes to torment Jade and Azul over the fact that he knows some of your secrets and they don't, which makes Azul insanely curious. Riddle is also the target of these taunts but, he thinks that “because it's Floyd " should be no big deal and looks at you with pity when you pull Floyd somewhere else;

Floyd once commented to you about the eyes and characteristics of various fishes and other marine animals, going in full detail about the colors of each, to your surprise and pride. The way Floyd's eyes sometimes shine when talking from home is very endearing. His right eye lights up like gold and the left eye vibrates with emotion, like an olive about to be born in its tree;

Suddenly Floyd went silent because he ended up being distracted by the way you were looking at him, the darkness of your eyes curious and enchanting like a treasure ship in the bottom of the ocean. “You have beautiful eyes, Koebi-chan,” Floyd smiled, leaning the side of his face on his right hand, squeezing his own cheek. He seemed quiet, those rare occasions he stays in place;

You are invited more often to the Mostro Lounge. All because Floyd likes the way your eyes reflect the lights there, even in their blackness. The sparkling and light colors of white, violet and blue have a very special effect on your eyes;

On one of those visiting days, Floyd made a special request for you just to compare your eyes to beluga caviar which looks black but is actually dark gray when shown in another light. You didn't know what caviar's fame had in Twisted Wonderland, but in your world it was something very expensive and rare to find — that's what you told him. Floyd shared the caviar between you two and ate it fast and carefree like it was a cracker, a simple afternoon snack. You laughed at his antics;

You both lie on the basketball court together again. It was a day off from the club and Floyd managed to get Jade to steal the court’s keys for him. There you got over your first experience and once again, Floyd saw the way the light plays with the colors of your eyes, trapped in an endless fascination, which is very unusual by his standards. It must be because it is the eyes of his beloved Koebi-chan.

#twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff headcanons #twst fluff #twst scenarios #cherry's writing #cherry's harvesting

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angelcactus · 1 year

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First Meetings

The first story of my Dad!Sam au! This is when Sam meets Fred and Bright under unfortunate circumstances! (5 pages later and its done!)

@just-tami-here @gavinsdeviant @nonbinarycringe404

Tw- Child harm, Quinn is an overall creep, blood.

Halloween was supposed to be a fun day.

Candy, costumes, occasional scaring. That wasn’t on the list for two kids, however. The old abandoned park Wonderworld was a gold mine for those who were obsessed with the supernatural. There were rumors, like most haunted places, rumors about disappearances, people going in and acting different when they left, the usual.

Wonderworld was at the edge of town, pretty far away from the neighborhoods that were bustling with laughs and screams. The lamp posts’ light bulbs had buzzed out a long time ago so the path was much darker than it should've been, giving it an eerie and lost feeling.

“Why are we doing this again?” Fred looked around, making sure he didn’t step on any loose rocks or sticks. He was nervous, hands shivering in his pockets (He promised it was the cold but it was from his nerves).

“I heard that this place is haunted and I wanna see if it's true.” Bright grinned, they tugged the boy along, shining him with the flashlight briefly then returning to the front of them. “Are you afraaaaaaid Freddy?” They tease, scrunching their nose as they stuck their tongue out through their teeth.

“Bright I don't know if we can even be out here, what if we get in trouble by May?” Fred said, looking back. The lit neighborhood was too far to see clearly. All he could see though was the dark silhouettes of trees and unlit lamp posts.

May was their caretaker. She was fostering them until there were good homes for them. It was difficult to get homes for them because they were a “Joint Package” (that's what Bright called it). They were inseparable, they weren't siblings but how they interacted you would assume they were.

“May won't know if you don’t tell.” Bright stopped walking and looked at Fred, arms crossed. Fred frowned and rolled his eyes. “You gotta pinkie promise me you wont tell.” Bright held out their pinkie to him.

“Fine, I pinkie promise”. Fred grumbled and locked their pinkies and shook on it. Bright smiled and took his hand, pulling him back along the path. Their flashlight shone on twigs, stones, and some occasional rusted metal.

The duo stopped as the flashlight lit up the broken down ‘Wonderworld’ sign. Some letters were missing and others were either holding on or barely holding on by a loose screw. Fred swallowed quietly, squeezing Bright’s hand.

Wonderworld itself was surprisingly lit up. Tiny lamps and fairy lights illuminated the park giving it a wondrous and happy mood. Bright turned off the flashlight and tugged Fred into the park.

“Do you think ghosts live here?” Bright looked at the lights in awe. “Maybe they're the ones that turned them on oooooo” They giggled, wiggling their fingers at him pretending to be a ghost.

“Bright stop.” Fred giggled quietly, pushing them jokingly. Bright rolled their eyes and smiled.

“See, this place isn't so scary.” They looked away for a moment, eyes fixating on something big and broken. “Look, that's Surge! It's the roller coaster that killed a bunch of people.” Bright walked towards the coaster.

Surge was the biggest and ‘scariest’ roller coaster in all of Wonderworld. It wasn’t as scary, broken and immoble; however, it was intimidating on how tall it was. Bright was like an ant compared to the behemoth that was Surge.

Fred stood next to Bright, looking at their face as their eyes scan over the railings. It was too big to look over thoroughly but they couldn't help being entranced by the loops and hills.

Fred tugged on their hand, “C’mon, I see a merry-go-round and it's not as scary as this thing.” Bright blinked, their seemingly strange trace was broken.

“I call any pegasus!” They grinned and turned towards the direction of the merry-go-round, giving themselves a head start. Fred stood for a moment, still processing what they said.

“Wh- Hey no fair!” He giggled and ran after them. Fred touched the merry-go-round railing first, signaling him the victor. Bright knelt over, hands on their knees and panting hard.

“You,” A breath. “Won.” They coughed for a moment and stood up straight.

Fred was too busy climbing the railing to hear the sound of something falling in the distance. Bright turned around, hands on the railings.

“Did you hear that?” Their eyes scanned over the previous scenery.

Fred landed on the ground, “Oh ha ha. You're just trying to scare me, well it isn't gonna work.” he said, stepping onto the carousel platform. Bright shook their head and hopped over the fence.

“I thought I heard something but it was probably the wind or something settling.”

“Mhm, nice try this place is empty and you cant scare me.” Fred crossed his arms, Bright just rolled their eyes and hopped onto one of the fake animals, a giant rabbit.

“I'm completely serious! It was like a woosh and a crash.” They said, kicking their legs. “This wasn't as fun as I thought, you wanna go home?” Fred walked around one of the fake horses, his fingers trailing the chipped paint. He nodded and jumped off the platform followed by bright.

They started to walk towards the entrance, Bright's eyes still fixed on the old coaster.

“Two little field mice, with no burrow to hide in.” A voice appeared behind them, presumably out of thin air. The voice was smooth and calm. Bright turned their head and grabbed Fred's hand tightly. There was a man behind them, following them, how long had he been watching them? Bright turned their head forward. The man said something but neither Bright nor Fred caught it.

“I said. What are you two doing here?” The man appeared in front of the two, there was a slight hiss in his tone and his eyes were almost black. “Don't you know, Field mice, that this place is dangerous?” The man walked closer. Bright swallowed, keeping Fred behind them in case something were to happen.

“You-you were just behind us- how did you do that?” Bright pushed down their fear, well as much as they could. The man chuckled, deep.

“If I say magic will you believe me? What am I saying? Of course you believe in magic, you're children.” The man laughed, Bright swallowed thickly. Their hand reached back, looking for Fred’s.

One squeeze. Two Squeeze.

Fred knew what that meant. It meant run.

Bright set that code up years ago. When they would do something they knew would get them in trouble with May, Bright would grab Fred’s hand and squeeze twice and they would run away. It was a silent code but they both knew what it meant.

And right now it was needed more than anything.

The man in front of them was circling them like a vulture, slow and calculated. His words were dark and bitter like licorice. Bright’s eyes darted towards the entrance of the park. If this stranger took a couple steps behind them then they could make a run for it.

The stranger was almost behind him, Bright could barely see him in their peripheral vision and in that moment time slowed down. Bright’s grip tightened on Fred’s hand and they ran. They ran to the entrance of the park, the fairy lights and lamps lighting a small path for the two.

Bright looked behind them, the stranger was gone. With another whoosh the man grabbed Bright’s other arm, disconnecting it from Fred’s. Their flashlight rolled onto the ground, breaking the glass and bulb.

“You insignificant brat!” The man said, throwing Bright onto the ground, their shoulder hitting a rock making them cry out. The man stood straight and stepped on their other arm.

“You two are nothing but pests, just a couple of field mice that were too far from home.” He pressed his foot down hard, Bright pushed at his leg. No budge. “Curiosity killed the cat and now the cat is going to kill you both.” He stomped down and Bright’s arm snapped with a crunch. They screamed out, curling toward their broken arm.

Fred watched in horror, Bright’s arm broke so easily under him. He looked over at the broken flashlight and dashed towards it. Anyone could tell you that Fred had the worst arm for throwing but in this second he did not care.

Fred was a bad thrower, but it was the only thing he could think about in this singular moment. He swallowed and threw the broken flashlight as hard as he could. It hit the stranger– right on the temple. The stranger staggered back, his foot releasing Bright’s arm. The man touched his temple and looked at his fingers, a small trickle of blood fell from his skin.

“You little shit.” The man looked at Fred, his eyes completely black. Fred turned to run but he was caught in the grasp of the stranger. The man sank two sharp fangs into his forearm. Fred screamed and kicked until his body felt heavy. He couldn't move and everything in his body hurt.

The stranger dropped Fred to the ground, he laid limp. His eyelids were so heavy but he knew they had to stay open.

“Not enough to satiate me, but good thing there are two of you.” The man wiped his mouth and turned to Bright who was cradling their broken arm. He walked to Bright, turning them onto their back. Bright screamed and kicked, hitting at him with their slightly injured arm. The man rolled his eyes and sank his fangs into their forearm– the same place as Fred.

Bright cried and begged and hit until they felt dizzy and weak. Their eyes fluttered shut.

–

Sam was doing his normal patrol, looking at the lights, looking at the park, looking at Surge. It was all the same. There wasn't really anything new with the park. Until there were screams to close for comfort. He perked up, looking in the direction of the scream, it was too high pitched to be an adult.

And that worried him.

Sam sped towards the sounds and stopped in front of the worst sight he had seen yet. Two children laid on the ground, one completely drained and the other was underneath the culprit.

“Quinn.” Sam growled, like his name was venom. Quinn pulled his fangs out of the second child, letting them fall onto a rock that was already covered in blood.

“Samuel.” The man laughed, wiping his mouth with his hand. “Care to join me? I found two appetizers just running around your park.” He grinned, his fangs were extended and ready to cause damage.

“Get out, you know you arent aloud ‘round here.” He glared, stepping towards him. Quinn put his hands up in defense.

“Fine fine, I'll go. These two are already drained so have fun with cleaning up.” Quinn smiled, bowed and disappeared from the park. Sam ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the two children, they laid unmoving and weak. There was no way they would survive the night, hell they wouldn't survive 10 minutes.

–

Sam carefully shut the door behind himself. Vincent was leaning against the door, William was by his side.

“They’ll be ok, they’re sleeping right now and that's all they can really do.” Sam felt fuzzy. He had turned both of the kids and the Meridian was kicking his teeth in. He felt awful, the way their bodies were so limp and lifeless when they should have been excited and energetic. He was surprised he was able to turn them both, then again no one really knew about turning children.

After he turned them he called Vincent. His head throbbed and his heart hurt, Quinn was a monster for this. A downright despicable monster.

“And that's all they should do,” William said, taking Sam’s hand gingerly. “You gave them a second chance at life.” He said gently “I am removing your ability to invoke them, they don't need that power difference.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you, sir. What are we gonna do when the bloodlust wears off?” he questioned, looking at the door.

“That will come later– for now they need care, and guidance. I'm hoping those two things you can provide?”

“Yes sir, I can provide that.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted dad!sam au #redacted sam #redacted quinn #redacted bright #redacted bright eyes #redacted frederick

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nyashykyunnie · 3 months

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˗ˏˋ Solo Leveling Oc: Sung Kiwoo◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕂𝕚𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

╰┈➤ ❝ [ A Child of Beauty and Glee; The Prince of the Blue Waves.] ¡! ❞

There was a deafening silence around me as I drifted in cold and motionless waters. The sound of a humpback whale interrupted my moment of solitude, so I opened my eyes, only to be met by the empty waters with the sun peeking from above.

It was a beautiful sight.

With the song of the whale drifting all around me— I felt at peace.

…

I sat up, startled and shaken for some reason. The door clicked, and my brother entered.

His jet black hair was unkempt and lazy gray eyes peeked behind them. His initial nonchalance switched to a worried expression as he went over to me.

"Did you have a nightmare again?" Suho asked as he sat on the edge of my bed and placed his hand up against my forehead. "Well, you're not running a fever, that's good."

Ah, right, nightmares.

I was prone to them for some reason. I've always had terrible dreams containing beasts that couldn't be processed by the human mind. They wouldn't do anything, but their empty stares frightens me all the time. In the worst cases, I would wake up running a fever after having those dreams.

"...Not a nightmare" I finally replied. "It was just… Whale songs."

"Whale songs?" Suho cocked up an eyebrow and removed his hand. "Which whale?"

"Megaptera Novaeangliae." I said as I rubbed my eyes.

"English."

"....Humpback Whale."

Suho then just shrugged and ruffled up my bed hair even further before saying with a smile, "At least it's not a bad dream. Now take a shower, mom made pancakes for you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be down in a bit. You can eat without me" I told him as I got off of my bed and started fixing the sheets.

"Not a chance, baby brother" Suho teased and I threw him a disapproving look.

"I'm only an hour late born after you!" I protested at him, "So don't call me a baby!"

"Sure, sure,..." Brother waved his hand dismissively and approached the door. "Baby brother"

I clicked my tongue, obviously offended at the time baby. I'm going to be 18 soon so how come he still refers to me with that term?!

Sigh.

Well…

I looked up, observing the white walls decorated with various marine animals. One side of the room had a net hung up with shark stuffed toys and starfish, beside it were three jellyfish lamps. Another wall had blue fairy lights with the shapes of various whale species and some stingrays. My desk meanwhile had various little clay jellyfish and whale sharks and a decorative mini blue whale wood carvings. My shelves contained various marine biology books and some law books too.

Okay, I get it. This room is for a baby. But at least my room is well decorated compared to my brother's bland room!

I kept grumbling about incoherent things as I took a shower and wore my uniform. I kept muttering until I went downstairs to where my mother and brother were waiting.

"Kiwoo" My mother greets me with her pretty smile, washing away the tantrum I was throwing because of Suho. "Goodmorning, dear. Come sit down, mom made sure your pancakes are extra fluffy."

"Thanks mommy" I smiled warmly at her then sat down at the table next to my brother. "Is dad out early for today?"

"He's investigating a major case" She replies as she gives me my warm cup of milk along with my plate, making me feel excited at the sight of it. "So he had to leave early, he did tell me to remind you both to be good in school."

"Yes, yes" I said half-heartedly as I started nibbling my food and drinking milk. "Ah… So yummy."

"...You know you're too old for milk and pancakes." Suho playfully nudges me and I shoved a fork-ful of pancake into his mouth.

"Shut up, man" I laughed at him. "Milk is good for a growing boy."

"Baby," He said it like he was correcting me.

"I hope you stub your toe today" I retorted.

"I hope it's you instead," Suho smirked.

"Knock it off boys" Our mother chuckles and pinches our cheeks to make us behave. "You're supposed to watch over each other."

"But he keeps calling me a baby!" I expected her to scold Suho, but instead she snorted and looked away. "Mom!"

"Well, you technically are the baby of the family" She grins prettily again, making me feel more mocked.

"I won" Suho snickers with a smile.

"..."

After a while of playful bickering, we finished up our meal and bid our farewells to our mom. I gave her a kiss on the cheek before following Suho outside the door.

We were a pair of odd brothers really. Rather than discussing school and games— We were instead informing each other about our hyperfixations. While my brother talked about bugs, I rambled endlessly about jellyfish and cetaceans.

It went on like that until we arrived at school.

We were both deathly bored with everything, we didn’t need to talk to each other to know that we were both very sleepy and tired. Suho glanced at me from the corner of his eye by the time the lunch bell rang. So with a sigh, I begrudgingly followed him towards the hall and out into the school.

“Hyung, you better get me a can of juice” I grumbled as I followed him to the back of the school where we could hear the smacking sounds of someone getting hit.

“Yeah, yeah” Suho rolled his eyes as we turned the corner and found Jo Sung-ho getting beat up pretty badly.

“Make it quick” I yawned lazily and leaned on the wall as my brother said some stuff I didn’t bother to understand.

I watched his swift and precise movements that resembled our father but not really. We were both trained by him, and of course the both of us would imitate his fighting style. We’re not quite there yet though, especially me. Although me and my brother are twins coming from the same parents, Suho was far more clever and sharper. I was different, I was slower and took more time in trying to understand things. I’m even stupid enough to the point that my brother needs to explain some jokes to me, if not, it would normally take me an hour or the next day to finally understand jokes.

I was shameful as a child from the Sung family.

Rather than feel proud, I felt so bad for my family who had a kid who had trouble understanding social cues.

Suho finished up the mess and helped Sung-ho up to his feet and told him some stuff before going back to me and slinging his arm over my shoulder.

“Did I make you wait, baby brother?” Suho grins widely as we started walking to where the vending machines were. “Hm, you’re a little down huh? What’s up? You’ve been awfully quiet and you haven't even balled your fists and shook them.

“...Please don’t talk about my stimming like it's a cute thing” I looked at him in a bit of a disapproving way, feeling embarrassed that he is mentioning my habits.

“But it is?” He muses while ruffling my hair. “Don’t be so down now, hyung will get you bunggeoppang after school.”

I nonchalantly nodded my head at his suggestion.

Was today interesting? No. Not one bit. It was a burden even, every teacher already gave the outline of lessons that will be covered for the semester. Normally, students would ignore this and just go on with their day, probably go to the internet cafe or party with friends somewhere. But I had to study them in advance because I’m stupid, I suck at studying. I am bad at understanding things, that’s why I have to do advanced reading back home as soon as I can.

But it seems… That my brother has fallen asleep. He’s in front of me, completely knocked out cold and gone to the world. He looked silly sleeping like this with a drool slightly coming out of his mouth, so I gently wiped it off.

Looking at him from this angle, he really is the spitting image of our father. From the shape of his nose, the thinness of his lips, the way his hair behaves; he really looks like dad, except he had our mother’s eyes. I admired Suho alot, after all, he has an innate talent for martial arts and he inherited dad’s cunning personality and many other aspects from him.

And for that, I am jealous of him.

Do I hate my brother? No, no. Damned will I be if I ever did. I love Suho, so much so that I am willing to bloody my hands for the safety of my older brother.

“Woonie?” Suho sat up, his messy black locks falling over his gray eyes. “Ack… I think I played too many games.”

“Yeah?” I cocked up an eyebrow at him. “Did you have a weird dream?”

“Yes… Dad was in it” Suho rubs his eyes. “I was just so… Bizarre.”

“I see” I stood up and held my hand out to him. “Wanna head home early for today?”

“Y-yeah–” His words were cut off when a girl opened the door and glanced at us.

“Why are you two still here? I’m locking up” She said in a confused tone as she glanced at us. “I’m bout to lock up the rooms”

“Can we join you?” Suho asked.

“Suit yourself”

We then grabbed our bags and proceeded to follow her out of the classroom and helped her lock up the other rooms. I kept glancing at Suho who looked baffled and in a daze.

Just how bad was his dream? Normally it would be me who has a ton of weird dreams and terrifying nightmares. Surely my bad luck with that stuff didn’t pass to him, right?

Even after Suho and her little game of rock-paper-scissors, he would suddenly glance up at the sky as if he felt something. Well I would be lying if I didn’t feel something odd too.

I would have asked, but I also felt a slight shift. There was an unfamiliar scent that lingered. Something in the air suddenly changed, like a small burst of air suddenly washed over the air. There was a tinge of an unpleasant scent.

But we both just ignored it and proceeded to make our way back home. Though I insisted that my brother just forget about his promise, he stubbornly brought me a box of sweets. I couldn’t deny him anymore, so I just sighed and accepted my faith and carried the box back home.

Suho was just so out of it, he was in a complete daze during dinnertime and seemed to be contemplating whatever the hell happened earlier afterclass. I didn’t want to press him any further about what happened, so we just went into our separate rooms.

As always, I sat down immediately on my desk after a quick shower. I started with the hardest subject, which was of course, Calculus. I focused on the subject for five minutes until I felt a strong gust of wind beside me.

There was a huge, blue wall in the shape of an oval, it produced a foul stench. It whirled, humming as it slowly sucked the air around it.

Part of me wanted to run, wanted to scream for my brother.

But most of me,... Wanted to go in.

Somehow, someway, that ‘thing’ feels familiar. Like an old friend from a distant part of my buried memories.

It felt like it was calling me to go back home.

I stood up, walking towards the thing and running my hand along it, watching that limb of mine get sucked in. Before I knew it, I was inside.

The walls were damp and heavy, everywhere was dark. Only the light of the blue torches illuminated the path. It appeared like a tunnel of some sort. It was creepy, but I didn’t feel scared– No, not one bit of me was frightened.

“What would dad do?” I mumbled as I took a torch from the wall and walked around.

I kept a steady pace until eventually I came across a section of the tunnel with weapons hanging around. I placed the torch down and ran my hand around the various weapons.

For some reason, they had weird status windows hovering in front of them.

“A game?” I tilted my head, “How neat.”

There were a number of different weapons to choose from. Greatswords, axes, claymores, shields, bows, lances... And my most favorite weapon of all, daggers. My brother sees these weapons as cowardly. But I always found these things fascinating, I always had a weird magnetic pull towards them. The daggers are just so pretty, fine hilts and black blades with crimson red edges– So I picked those two up.

Light, just as I want my weapons to be.

**Whoosh**

I tilted my head to the side instinctively, the wall in front of me having an arrow. In a split second, I immediately started bouncing back.

Large and imposing figures at least 8 feet tall, bodies made of metal– Knights. 20? No. At Least 50 now that I took a proper look at the back.

Just what the hell are these damn knights doing here?!

“Not playing nice, are we?” I flicked the daggers in my hands for a proper grip. “I’ll bury your damn heads 6 feet under”

So I pushed on my heel, charging head first towards the giant things with the intent to murder.

They didn’t smell like humans, for some reason I could tell.

I stabbed my dagger under their chins, with others, I crushed them by giving them consistent and brutal blows.

Level Up!

“???” I panted, looking at the status window in front of me which had some numbers.

Name: Sung Kiwoo

Level: 5

Fatigue: 15

Job: NONE

Title: NONE

Mp:15

Strength: 15

Agility: 15

Sense: 15

Vitality:15

Intelligence:15

Remaining points: 8

“So it really is like a game…” I said as I rolled my shoulders and cracked my knuckles. “I need to be extremely careful, I don’t know what will happen if I die here.”

As fun as this thing was, I was worried what would happen. This is an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar sceneries. Everything was eerie and dark, whatever these knight things were– They are after me and they want my blood.

And for that, I need to be out for their blood too.

I’m just trying to survive after all.

I still have a family waiting for me to come home.

Bloodying my hands is just a necessary thing to do for the sake of my survival. I’ll do what I need to do.

I pressed on, leveling up everytime I took down more knights. I stripped off my dress shirt, leaving only my tank top after the wave of hollow knights stopped.

“That’s one big door.” I mutter as I glance up at a giant door.

It looked old, with the cracks and the cut off patterns all around it. I traced my fingers around it, feeling the embedded patterns.

Something is in there.

And that something was strong, I could tell with just the way my heart was thumping and the feeling of my blood pumping uncontrollably.

I took a deep sigh, opening my eyes before ultimately pushing it open.

The room was dark, almost pitch black if it weren't for the blue torches lighting up the area weakly. But that wasn’ what I was worried about– No, no. Not that.

At the far end of the corner stood a throne, and upon that throne sat a figure with a body of black flames so to speak. It looked like a knight, with how casual and lazy it looks, I felt like it was taunting me with its stance. The knight then stood up and took a hold of it’s claymore standing by the side.

I prepared my stance– ????????

“Huh? Huh????” I sat up exasperated, looking around in a panicked manner before feeling my chest up. “What?”

‘Did that knight just murder me?!’ I thought, scratching my nape before getting up and looking around.

“Isn’t this where I started?” I looked around me, seeing the familiar patterns “Ngh… Not again, I don’t wanna deal with those bloody knights.”

….

I woke up again, still in the same spot.

“Oh, come on!” I groaned, laying down on the floor again and kicked my feet up in frustration “That damn thing is so powerful, what the hell am I supposed to do?!”

That knight is way too fast, it’s godforsaken claymore puts me at a huge disadvantage with my short-ranged weapon. As much as I love daggers, it’s not cutting it out for me. Of course, it could be a skill issue but if that’s the case then I’ll be getting nowhere! I need to do something, I want a weapon that is both short ranged and long-ranged.

A sword would be good, but I don’t like the stats of the swords I saw.

A lance is passable, but I don’t want it.

I pondered for a while before approaching the weapon hallway again and picked out a pair of daggers, with the intention of trying out something

“Where are you, where are you?” I murmured as I looked around before ultimately yanking something off of the wall. “Bingo.”

I then sat down on the floor, holding the long and cold chains. I honestly don’t know why there are plain chains amidst the line of great and giant weapons. But maybe because it has quite good stats? Either way I’m glad it's here.

I made small holes at the edge of the hilts before inserting the ends of the chains I had opened before forcibly closing it. I stood up again, wrapping the chains around my arms.

“Oh? Their stats had mixed with just tinkering them like this?” I hummed, before shaking my head and then looking up at the horde of knights marching towards me. “Good,”

I pressed on my heel, launching myself towards the creatures with outrageous speed.

“You bastards are gonna help me test out my new toys.”

Level Up!

I don’t know how many levels I climbed with how much I lost myself in battle. I panted, standing atop of a pile of corpses from the hollow knights I slayed. I had some cuts here and there. My fatigue was up to 80, but why is it that I don’t feel that tired? The more I breathed, the more I felt alive and hyperaware.

“Now, it’s your turn” I looked up at the tall and condescending door.

Now that I think about it, it seemed to glare at me. As if these doors had a pair of eyes judging every fiber of my being. Was I afraid? No. Why should I?

Those eyes should be fearing me instead with how I’m gonna lay that thing behind those doors to rest.

I opened the door, and of course that knight was waiting for me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” I pressed on my heel again and charged forward. “I wanted to make sure I’ll beat you this time”

The knight seemed a bit flustered at my sudden advances as it jumped back the moment I striked towards it’s stomach. I threw my dagger towards it, the blade circling arm– I flicked the chains, causing a reaction that hurled the knight onto the ceiling.

But I knew that it wasn’t enough to beat that thing.

And surely enough, it started hurling towards me again.

We shared intense blows, sparks and flames sizzled out with each impact shared along with static bursts of electricity.

That knight is still way stronger than me, of course it is. Compared to that thing—I know I'm at least a hundred years way younger to actually expect I would win against it easily.

But I guess that is what made it more exciting. The fact that I am facing something ancient and unknown. It's making my heart race uncontrollably and I feel more excited to beat it. The adrenaline is pumping, I feel alive. My fatigue is at 90 but why the hell does it feel so good right now?

I don't know how I did it, but I managed to swiftly dodge the knight's sword blast thing before closing in on the opening and stabbing my dagger up its chin.

Of course, it dispersed in an instant like a bubble bursting into nothingness.

"I WON!" I yelled out, jumping on my feet excitedly while swinging my arms happily. "Holy crap I actually did it!"

Level Up!

"Uwaahaaa!!!" I kept jumping as more dings ran into my ears. "Come to me you sweet little thing!"

I celebrated widely.

But for a brief moment, I recalled that knight's dying face. It looked at me… So tenderly? It felt like it was a father looking at its child at some point. Maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. Either way, I jumped around in pure bliss until another oval white and blue thing appeared.

“Is it over or am I going home?” I tilted my head curiously. “I wanna go home and eat cake…”

I take another heavy sigh before entering the thing again.

What greeted me was the intense blaze of the buildings, the sight was like I’m inside the hottest place of hell. It was rather amusing to see really, the ruins were all quite pretty to look at. My attention then goes towards a three headed cerberus, a cute creature to be honest. When I had my mythology phase, it was one of my most favorite creatures aside from Jörmungandr.

But why did it’s face pale when it took a good look at me? As if its three souls got knocked out of it.

“Bye?” I said to the Cerberus, which caused it to flinch and whimper while scurrying away.

I rolled my shoulder again, before continuing forward.

As I pushed through the hot blazing flames and took down monsters back-to-back, I remembered what my father had told me: “Don’t expect too much, Kiwoo. The reason why you’re always so disappointed is because you set the bars at an unnecessarily high standard.”

I should have listened to my father.

Because damn it am I so pissed right now because of how boring and bland monsters thrown at me were. I had expected more monsters to be like that knight I defeated. It’s so infuriating that it’s suddenly so easy to beat everything.

But I know better than to lower my guard, the moment I slip up cause me my doom. If this was an ordinary game– Well, it still is a game, but the point is, if I die right now, I might be a real goner. So I still need to stay vigilant no matter how easy things are right now. This might just be a rest period for me to relax to prepare for the next stage which would undoubtedly be a far more intense one than that knight.

It’s still frustrating me though, I’m leveling up slower than usual and it pisses me off.

I eventually climbed all 100 floors until the final oval thing.

The moment I went in, my chains shot out and wrapped around the demon in front of me. I hurled the creature towards me.

I raised my dagger, about to plunge it down the demon until it shrieked.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She(?) shrieked and I immediately stopped.

"????"

“Hahaha… You truly are of monarch bloodline, you didn’t even struggle as much even though you don’t have any shadow soldiers.” The demon girl speaks with a nervous smile as I uncoil her from my chains. “You two really are alike, managing to make it this far with just a few attempts at tremendous speed. Time truly passes by so fast”

‘Monarch? Shadow Soldiers? You two?”

“Excuse me?...” I cocked my head to the side.

“Nothing, nothing ” She shook her head. “I am Esil, daughter to the demon clan.”

“Kiwoo.”

“Such a pretty name” Esil says, her eyes having this glimmer in them that I found quite unusual since she is a demon. “Ah, right, we also have a banquet–”

“Sorry, I can’t go” I shook my head, trying to be as polite as I could with the demon girl. “I’m too young to drink and I don’t like the smell of alcohol along with being in a crowd.”

“Ah…” She frowns, but smiles right after. “Of course”

“I’ll try to come next time, if I ever come back. I can’t promise you though”

“What a shame…”

“Before I go,” I then point out at the portal thing “Can you tell me what those things are?”

She nodded eagerly.

I listened to what she has told me, to what the monsters are and the purpose of these gates. It was really like a game just as I had suspected, it was quite surreal. Well, everything that happened up to now is like a dream. Skill, stats, all that stuff– It felt like maybe I’m having a psychotic episode and that this is all just in my head. I wanted it to be that way on a surface level.

“I’m heading off” I say, politely walking past her. “I’ll see you later, auntie Esil”

Auntie?

The words had slipped out of my mouth and I couldn’t control it, it was as if it were a habit to call her that even though I don’t exactly know who she is. But regardless, that slip up I made seemed to have pleased her, since her features softened and looked more human.

I gave her one last smile, before entering the gate.

As soon as I entered the thing, swarms of ants would lunge themselves towards my direction. I knew better than to be distracted while in the middle of a fight, but truly, I cannot help but wonder what my brother would feel if he saw these massive creatures. He always had a fascination for bugs after all.

“I’m starting to miss my hyung” I mutter to myself as I open the tall doors in front of me. “I wonder if he is sleeping well right now”

**Sniff** **Sniff** **Kieekkk**

Right in front of me was a much larger and more humanoid looking ant with wings. I wanted to try and remember its specific species but… Why is it crying?

It pushed itself towards me, striking with such speed and precision I almost lost my footing. But my reaction was quite fast, so I managed to somehow keep up.

…. Why is it still crying?

Ahjussi, you’re really making me feel bad with those tears…

It’s like I’m watching someone have the worst case scenario of mental breakdown, I can’t tell if it’s happy tears or sad tears. Has my brother ever mentioned anything about ants crying? No, I’m sure he never did. Can bugs even cry? Maybe I should ask him.

“Kieeekk… I lost again” It says before pathetically plomping down on the floor like a pancake.

“H-hey” I tried calling out but it’s body disintegrated into the shadows beneath it’s mentally-broken mind and body. The dings of my level going up in large numbers rang on and on for a bit as a new gate whirred.

“I hope you feel better” I really felt bad, I really did, so I patted the floor where the ant disappeared to somehow make it feel at ease.

Was it a stupid move? Of course.

Will I do it again? You bet.

And so I head to my next destination, growing tired because of the continuous adrenaline rush.

I thought I would really be resting now, but now I’m in front of titans standing tall like skyscrapers. Giant orcs and dragons. DRAGONS.

Oh how I wanted to leap up in the air and celebrate like a madman right there and then but I wasn’t even given a headstart as the beasts jumped at me all at once!

What the hell is with this realm anyway? Why is everyone jumping at me left and right? Have I wronged anyone here in some way shape or form? I mean yeah, I’m basically an alien here but god, can’t they at least have mercy and let me breathe even for just a while?!

God they just keep coming one after another, I swear the beasts all looked different but somehow everything is starting to look black and purple at the same time! Is my head going even madder when I’m already losing my mind this much?

“Huh, what was that?” I blurted out randomly as I sent a blackened soldier flying.

I wanted to take a breather, I really did, but suddenly there was an unexplainable pressure on my body. It hurt.

It hurts

IT HURTS

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS!

I was on the floor, glued to the soil as gravity pulled me down further.

“You, it’s you isn’t it?” I looked at another creature that was wielding a staff flying in the air.

I need to beat that thing.

“Crap.”

The various mouths of dragons fling about opened their jaws, charging up incoming attacks that will surely end me if I do nothing

‘Hahh…. You really wont let me rest, huh?’

A burst of energy would come through, I broke free of the pressure somehow and lunged towards the dragons, effectively killing each one with relative speed. As their corpses fell one after another, I hanged onto a ledge, breathing heavily.

Then, that orc mage… Whatever it is– pointed it’s staff towards me and blasted a massive fireball. I dodged it narrowly, with a huge explosion coming behind me.

“!!!!!” If that thing had hit me I would have been an overcooked fried goldfish.

Why is everyone and everything around me trying to murder me?...

‘Focus,... Focus, Sung Kiwoo!’ My father's voice would boom inside my head.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, at ease, deep breaths.

“Huu….” I sighed for a moment

“Control, I need to control myself more, speed and strength aren’t enough” I gritted my teeth. “Focus, Kiwoo!”

Another burst of energy would come forth again and I charged towards him.

It was a blur, everything was too fast and I felt like I’m about to faint. But I knew it wasn’t over when I slashed that orc in half. Another presence would come forth, I felt light headed as the giant shadow started mumbling stuff. I couldn't even feel my legs when we fought.

And before I knew it, I said: “You, where’s the master?”

“...” The shadow looks at me, his sword stabbed on the floor as I pointed a dagger on his throat.

“Is your master a shadow too like you? Will it refer to me as little monarch too?” I asked, glancing up at the sky to find a dragon circling in the sky like a hawk. “There you are”

As magnificent and elegant that dragon made of mist was, I was glaring at the figure perched on its back. Sensing my acknowledgement, it leapt up in the air and aimed for me. I lifted the flat of my blade, blocking its foot.

The attack was heavy, causing my feet to sink and create a crater. It leapt up in the air again and landed gracefully in front.

“Wait, you’re a woman…” I muttered, looking at her figure donned with an outfit like she was a saintess.

Her face was hidden under the shadow of her hood, making her look more angelic and pretty. As if I was in front of a goddess.

“N-noona” I call out, stammering and causing her to flinch a bit. “Can you get me out of here? My parents and brother must be really worried about me now. As much as I like the thrill of fighting, I think my disappearance is causing them a lot of pain.”

She froze, I could tell with the way her pretty lips quivered and trembled. It felt like she was contemplating. She was hesitating. I didn’t say anything for a while and let her ponder before ultimately charging towards me.

I swallowed down, blocking her incoming attacks that were incredibly devastating

She was so fast and nimble, that raw strength she landed on me was so heavy I swear my bones must be shattering with every blow.

But… She was beautiful.

Every strike is calculated, she charges forward when I go on offense and redirects my attacks so that it would backfire on me. Her blade stings me but hell, I wanted more cuts. I wanted to learn more. Even though my body is already pushed to its limits and I feel like I’ll die any second now– I wanted to see her movements more, it was like she’s a flower dancing so gracefully amidst the hammering blizzard. It’s like I’m watching a ballet performance in a ruined theater.

I would bleed from every part of me, I was leaking a pool of blood, and at the end... I was on the floor, kneeling while the tip of her blade was pointed on my throat. Her robes fluttered so prettily that I could only stare at her.

“Noona, can I be like you?” I ask absentmindedly. “Can I be beautiful like you too?”

I felt the blade tremble on my neck and she dropped her blade before hugging me.

“You silly child, why are you still like this even though you’re such a big boy now?” Her voice was familiar.

“Mom?”

“Too early, you’re still too young, you need to remain oblivious and sweet.”

“H-hey wait, Mom–”

But either way, I was thrown into a gate from god knows where and I jolted awake in my bed sweating and hyperventilating.

“.....”

“I played too many games that my dreams are all messed up” I mutter, ruffling my hair in confusion.

That dream was too confusing that I immediately headed into Suho’s room without thinking. As expected, he immediately opened the door the moment I knocked.

“Kiwoo, it’s already midnight why–” I cut him off

“I’m not gonna sleep alone tonight, can I stay here?”

“Nightmare?”

“No?... It was just wild, I need some comfort”

“You too I guess”

No words were further exchanged as I crashed onto his bed and Suho followed by sitting at the edge. I thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore because going through that hell is making me a bit anxious.

But in the end, I was dreaming again.

Once more, I’m drifting along the waters. It’s cold but comforting. The whales are singing for me again.

“My ocean is empty”

…

“I wonder if I grow a little more, will this abyss be full of life? Can I turn it into a lush coral reef? Will fish of various species swim around with apex predators around too? Will cetaceans appear here? Dolphins leaping up in the air and with more whales singing and clicking for me? I want to dance above the waters…”

“ I want the ocean to be my stage and the marine life as my audience,... I want to be beautiful.”

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #kiwoo sung #⋆˙⟡♡☁️— kyuu kyuu's ocs #a self indulgent fic

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vergina-spva · 8 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Aww thank you! ❤ I chose 5 fics with different main ships, because I think they all deserve love (and also they really are some of my favorite fics - I've written for more ships, but not all could make the cut)

Title: The Way to our Heart

Main ship: Heat/Shachi/Wire

Super short summary: canon-compliant soulmate AU where whatever you write or draw on your skin, also appears on the skin of your soulmate, including tattoos.

Rating: Explicit (for smut in the last chapter).

Any side ships: KidLaw, KilGuin, and KidKiller, but they are all minor side ships.

Title: Of Gods and Heroes

Main ship: Izou/Smoker

Super short summary: Mythology AU where Whitebeard and his sons are the gods who rule over the earth, and Smoker is a human hero and leader of his village Logue Town. When tragedy befalls Loge Town, both his, and Izou's live take an unexpected turn.

Rating: M (for violence and character death)

Any side ships: Hina/Smoker, and a hint towards Marco/Ace.

(I just really love this AU and would love to write a Marco/Ace fic in this AU, but I just... don't have any inpiration for a story for them 😂)

Title: Alabastan Nights (sorry not on AO3 yet but I have plans to put it on there. Maybe I can do that this and/or next week 🤔) - EDIT: first chapter is now on AO3!

Main ship: Marco/Ace

Super short summary: Arabian fairy tale like AU. Ace is a lonely thieving streetboy, until he obtains a mysterious lamp and meets some interesting people. Some of them might even be more than interesting. (and not the least bit important: Genie Thatch!)

Rating: T

Any side ships: Tiny hints of Izou/Smoker and Nami/Vivi.

Title: The Stars that Guide Us

Main ship: Shanks/Buggy

Super short summary: After a drunken fight, Shanks learns something about the stars. He'll always remember it. (Canon-compliant - at least the first 2 chapters, last one is in the future)

Rating: T

Any side ships: Nope. It's super a super short 3 chapter fic focused solely on them.

Title: Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Universe (You are all One Piece fans, don't complain about the length of this 😂)

Main ship: Killer/Penguin

Super short summary: (I linked the whole universe because it really all ties in together.) Killer is the son of Kid, and Penguin is the son of Law. Main story is a high-school AU (a get-together, first times, and coming out story), but there are parts that take place before that, and parts that take place when they are adults. Over all, this is just a really light hearted story, not a lot of angst or anything.

Rating: EXPLICIT - be warned for underage sexual scenes in the main story (they are 15 and 16 and horny in that one), and pretty kinky stuff for the adults bits (will get even kinkier in the parts to come 🙈 They are still pretty horny 😂)

Any side ships: Kid/Law is a major side ship in this universe, and even has a few smaller fics in it focused on them.

A few smaller side ships: I guess you could say there's a bit of Killer/Bonney in the beginning (but reluctant 😂), a hint of Bartolomeo/Cavendish and Coby/Helmeppo, and later on there's Perona/Bonney/Hawkins. And also.... nope, not gonna tell you about that one yet 😛 There's also Killer/Penguin adding some to their sexual encounters when they are adults, but that's purely sexual, not romantic.

This last universe is still ongoing, but there is enough for you to read already! (and within the universe most fics have been finished)

#my ffs #ask #cal-cium-the-nerd #opfanfic #one piece #fic rec #sorry this got a little long!#but thanks so much for the message!#I spend over an hour on this post 🙈 oops

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silverstarfics · 11 months

Text

It’s not midnight in the UK yet so technically I’m still on time. Also, I didn’t have access to my laptop until literally 10pm so I wrote this very quickly. Anyway!! It’s asexuality day so I was not going to miss it!

@thunder-pride

AO3 link

At age thirteen, everyone suddenly seemed to transfer from little kids into fledgling adults. In other words, their interests miraculously transformed overnight from dragons and mermaids and other such innocent games to… well, each other. Some experienced this change in focus early, others a little later, or, in Gordon’s case, not at all.

He blamed the fact that he’d been on swim teams for practically his entire life and so seeing semi-naked bodies wasn’t a novelty. He just didn’t care. While others were obsessing over who had kissed who and which upperclassman was the cutest, he was fixated on improving his turn during relays. He assumed that the feelings would magically arrive one day in the not-so-distant future. Like, say, his sixteenth birthday.

Only they never did.

Which wasn’t necessarily an issue until his girlfriend started putting her hands where he really did not want hands going and their subsequent messy breakup became the talk of the school. Daisy was determined to emerge with her reputation intact and so spread rumours regarding his lack of interest in anything below the waist. Unfortunately, there was little teenagers loved more than gossip. It spread like wildfire. And so, faced with the realisation that his non-existent feelings were not a commonplace experience, Gordon was hit with the terrifying possibility that there was something wrong with him.

The only blessing was that the story unravelled on a Friday, giving him an entire weekend to rest and recuperate in the darkness of his bedroom with his phone left on airplane mode. He hadn’t accounted for John’s presence, namely because John was supposed to be halfway across the country at Harvard but had chosen this week of all weeks to come home for a visit. So, if Gordon had hoped that his new status as a recluse would go unnoticed, he was very unlucky. John wasn’t the most socially adept guy, but he was pretty damn good at reading his brothers.

So, now they were here, tucked into a booth at a tiny roadside diner. John had given their father some excuse about getting Gordon some driving experience now that he finally had his learner’s permit and they had promptly fled before Jeff could question them further. It was approaching half-ten at night and so the place was mostly empty with the exception of a truck driver nursing a black coffee in the far corner.

Gordon kicked his sneakers under the table and drew his feet up to sit criss-cross. John took one look at his Finding Nemo socks and gave a fond sigh. Around them, lights flickered and glowed, filling the place with a low-level electrical hum. From the highway, the diner mimicked a beacon – packed to the brim with unusual lanterns, patterned lamps, fairy lights, neon signs and even rainbow LEDs around the rim of each table.

It was a mess of colour and Gordon loved it. He watched the reflection across the red-and-white tiles, curling into his corner of the booth to rest his head against the window while John scrolled through the holographic menu. The various sights and smells were almost enough to distract him from the issue at hand but then the memory of whispers and stares resurfaced in a nauseating wave. He curled his arms around his stomach and willed time to run in reverse.

“Okay, start talking.” John sent their order across to the kitchen and sat forward to give Gordon his full attention. His expectant look softened as he noticed Gordon’s nervous fidgeting. “Did something happen?”

“Um…” Gordon tugged the cuffs of his hoodie over his knuckles. “Maybe.” He yanked at a stray thread and tried to ignore the way his fingers were trembling. “It’s… Can you, uh… Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I can’t make that promise unless you swear that whatever’s bothering you isn’t a threat to your safety.”

“What?” He tore his gaze away from the tabletop to stare incredulously. “John, what the hell? What do you think I’ve been doing?”

“It’s you,” John pointed out wryly.

Gordon returned his focus to his frayed hoodie sleeves again.

“No, I’m not in trouble. Not like that, anyway. It’s…” He couldn’t get his hands to stay still. “So, um. Daisy and I broke up.” He looped a drawstring around his thumb and tugged absently. “Actually, she dumped me and then said a bunch of shi- stuff. She said a bunch of stuff. And now everyone else is saying stuff.”

John’s eyes narrowed slightly. His voice remained gentle but there was an undertone of protective fury which promised repercussions for anyone who had ever said a bad word about his younger brother.

“Can you elaborate on stuff?”

Gordon gave a loose shrug. “Just, um, I dunno. That I’m, um, weird because I don’t want to, like, uh, go further with her.”

“Okay,” John said simply. “So, you’re not ready for that yet. Not many are at your age. You’d be surprised by how many people lie about having relations.”

“Don’t say relations, jeez. How old are you? You sound like a fossil, Johnny.”

“Thanks,” John deadpanned. “You can pay for your own fries now. And hey, how many times do I have to remind you not to call me Johnny?”

Gordon shook his head with a faint grin which swiftly faded. “It’s not just about being ready.” His voice came out humiliatingly small. “I don’t think I want to do… that. Not with anyone. Ever.”

John shrugged. “Then don’t.”

“What- I- John. What’s that supposed to…? It’s not that easy!”

“It’s exactly that easy. If you don’t want to sleep with anyone, don’t.”

Gordon swiped a sleeve across his eyes angrily as his vision blurred. “But doesn’t that mean there’s something wrong with me?”

John drew a sharp breath. “Gordon. Hey, look at me for a second?” His gaze was searching, more earnest and softer than Gordon could ever recall John being with him. “There is nothing wrong with you. Okay? I promise you.”

“You swear?”

“I swear on Mom.”

Gordon found himself momentarily speechless. There was a brief pause as their milkshakes and fries arrived. He took great delight in the curly straw in his chocolate milkshake – and it was telling of just how worried John was when he made no comment about childish behaviour – and had inhaled almost an entire third of the fries before John ventured,

“Have you ever heard of the term asexuality?”

Gordon took another long slurp of milkshake and shook his head.

“Asexuality means you experience little or no sexual attraction. You’re not alone, Gords. An estimated one percent of the entire population are asexual.”

“That’s a really low percentage.”

John plucked a fry from the basket and chewed as he mentally calculated. “It sounds that way, but it’s actually a lot of people. The global population is approximately nine point eight billion. That makes ninety-eight million of them asexual. It doesn’t seem such a small proportion now, does it?”

Gordon ducked his head to hide his face and busied himself with the fries. “So… there’s nothing wrong with me? It’s okay to not want… that?”

“It’s perfectly normal.”

“Oh.” The rush of relief was so strong that Gordon nearly choked on it. He blinked furiously while John pretended not to notice and surreptitiously slid a tissue within reach. “That’s… huh. So, I’m… I’m asexual?”

John shot him a fond look. “I can’t tell you. That part’s up to you. But if you are, it’s nothing to be ashamed of and you’re not alone. There is an incredible community of people just like you.”

Gordon summoned a damp smile. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“Again with the Johnny? Really?”

“Oh my god, fine. Thanks… space-case.”

“Okay, c’mon. Let’s head out. Bedtime for squids.”

“John.”

“Nope. We’re leaving. I’ll even pay for your fries… on one condition.”

Gordon jogged to catch up with him. “Which is…?”

It could have been the lighting, but John’s smile seemed suspiciously evil. “I’d like a list of every kid who made fun of you.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Johnny.”

“Oh, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

#i wrote half of this on my phone whilst having a minor meltdown in a field #so if it's completely terrible i'm very sorry #i tried #there are probably many errors but i'll fix them tomorrow #also i had to learn for this fic that the projected global population for the 2050s is 9.8 billion like?? what?? that seems insane to me #anyway #time to post this before it actually does hit midnight #thunderpride #thunderpride 2023 #thunderbirds are go

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inthememetime · 2 years

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Since you're back to writing horror, are you going to start doing the horror/scary writing tips again? Asking for a friend.

So, I did promise monthly updates...and then got distracted writing a romantic comedy of all things. I'm sorry!

Some things I end up using a lot are foreshadowing and Chekov's Gun, which are pretty closely linked with plot twists, so I'll go over how that relates to horror, audience engagement, and how to avoid punishing clever/invested audiences under the cut.

Let me know of anything you'd like to see next!

Foreshadowing and Chekov's Gun

There are a lot of blogs with GREAT tios and definitions of both of these terms, so l'll just use my short & sweet version.

Foreshadowing is any hint that the creator puts out or the audience picks up on. These hints can be unintentional or intentional, and can lead to something or nothing. Foreshadowing is a great way to keep audiences engaged and interested. After a certain amount of 'what's going to happen next? I can never tell!', there is an inevitable 'ugh, this thing is so random, nothing makes sense'.

Foreshadowing helps you avoid that by putting hints about something in Act 2 or 3 in Act 1, so things do make sense. It can still be a surprise, but just because an audience knows X is going to happen to character 1 doesn't mean they know the ramifications for the other characters- or the mcguffin they're always after.

Chekov's Gun, simply put, is the idea that if you bring special attention to item, it will be important to the plot (or a character) later. Who wants to read 3 pages about some dumb curtains or a dress? It's a pit I used to fall in frequently- I would get so invested in describing what I saw, sometimes on things that had nothing to do with the plot, that readers would get bored and leave.

Chekov's Gun helps avoid that. And it can be any item- not just a gun. Let's look at the paragraph below.

The room was lavishly decorated; carved wood moulding on the baseboards and ceilings covered in gold shone dimly in the light from stained glass reading lamp. The desk was beautiful mahogany, carved with fine panels depicting old fairy tales. That made the plain, unmarked case stand out further; a closer look revealed it contained a bottle labled 'Arsenic'.

So in that paragraph, we've set up a few things. One, our character is in a really fancy place. Two, they notice patterns well. And three- somebody has a bottle of arsenic!

If that arsenic serves a plot purpose, no matter how small, congratulations! You've used Chekov's gun. If it is never used, never referred to, then why bother mentioning it? And why give it the same amount of attention you did anything else?

That leads us to part 3: audience engagement and punishing the audience for being engaged. Do you remember the show Lost? If you don't, you aren't missing much. They'd set up a plot, work towards it, and as soon as a fan guessed it, change directions immediately. It was frustrating! I remember figuring it out- and then feeling like I'd been slapped because all the notes my friends and I took weren't worth anything; instead of moving the plot along, they switched it completely to something new.

Then, once we figured out season 2, guess what the writers did? That's right. I never bothered with season 3. It lost my engagement because it punished me for being engaged.

I'll use a comment on one of my own fics for example: "I KNEW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I WASNT PREPARED!!!

That's good! You see, the real trick isn't shocking your audience with what happens. After the first twist or two, they'll start figuring out what you're doing. The trick is how you do it.

Is your character secretly a serial killer? Maybe they've figured that out- but they haven't figured out who the killer is going to go for next, or why, or what law enforcement is doing. There's lots of ways to surprise them without punishing them.

Hollywood tells us we have to have the twist ending or twist villain. Do we? Sometimes that's great! But sometimes, especially in horror, the build-up is where you have to put your emphasis. If you don't build up, or you build up to something disappointing, that punishes an audience.

#inthememetime #not lotr #horror writing tips #writing tips #build-up #plot twist

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galindafication · 11 months

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welcome to london, GALINDA UPLAND! did anyone ever tell you that you look just like ARIANA GRANDE? well, no matter, we hear that you are TWENTY-FOUR and working as a KINDERGARTEN TEACHER. we also hear that you currently HAVE your memories from WICKED and have a tendency to be DELIGHTFUL as well as NERVOUS.

will correct people if they call her 'glinda' instead of 'galinda'. the 'gah' is very important to her

has twin daughters named ellie and farrah, both named after her best friend elphaba and ex-fiance fiyero (their father). they're four years old and are mini galindas. very polite, but also very curious

when fiyero left her, she found out she was pregnant a few weeks later. she had no way of contacting him, nor did she know how to do so, so she was unable to tell him that he was going to be a father. she was upset with him for a long time for leaving her, but he'd been extremely faithful and loyal to her, even with his feelings for elphie. she decided she couldn't stay mad forever, and she knows that you don't choose who you fall in love with, so she made her peace and just wants them to be happy together. the curse brought her to london when she was still pregnant with the twins, so they have never been to oz but have been begging to go

is a kindergarten teacher and loves her job endlessly

can appear a bit oblivious

her signature color is pink, but her wardrobe is a variety of pretty, light, pastel colors. the twins usually wear pastel colors or pure white

loves video games

collects fairy figurines, witch figurines, and crystals

always wearing perfume

has a large collection of smell good lotion (and yes, she uses all of it)

loves anything vanilla flavored

has a ridiculous amount of cups. mostly cute water bottles, but it's way too many, but she DOES use all of them, she rotates between uses

loves to color. maybe it's childish, but it gives her something to do and it's always been one of her favorite activities

has lots of fidget toys. she loves clicky, clacky and crunchy sounds, so she has quite a few that she likes to mess with at home

has two refrigerators! one is for food, the other is solely for drinks

her house has to be cold year round. it helps her breathe better, and she likes to be cozy, so if she or the girls get too cold, they just wrap up in sweaters and blankets

always doing some sort of project or craft. if it's something simple but fun, she adds it to the curriculum for her kindergarteners

she calls all children munchkins. she refers to her students as "her" munchkins. she calls her own kids witchlings

has her own language. she speaks ozian, so some words are different. float / floating = floaticate / floatifying. confused / confusing = confusicated / confusifying and so on so forth

always has snacks on her

has an emergency bag that she keeps with her at all times. it stays in her purse. it's got bandaids, antibacterial cream, a tourniquet, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, pads, tampons, pantyliners, pain medication, a few portable chargers, a flashlight. she keeps it very organized, too. each thing is in it's own ziplock bag so it's easy finding and nothing is rattling around loose. she also keeps water bottles with her

has quite a few pretty light up things. a moon that lights up different colors, a light up lava lamp, light up salt lamp, cute stuff like that

is one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet

can get pretty nervous if she doesn't know what's going on around her

loves making new friends and meeting new people

makes lists. lots and lots of lists. they're all over her house

can fall asleep anywhere

loves to read

likes learning new things

her favorite mode of transportation is her magic pink bubble

will never say no to ice cream or coffee. in fact, her favorite ice cream is coffee flavored

she's not one of those "don't give me advice if i didn't ask for it" people. she appreciates advice. and she doesn't mind parenting advice either. she may have been mommy for four years, but every year is her first time raising witchlings at that age, so she'll take all the advice she can get. yes, even from non-parents. she doesn't believe that only parents can give good advice or ideas

#wal: intro

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littlehen · 2 years

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Top 5 artworks :)

Kohler’s Pig – Michael Sowa, 1995. It looks like one of those sultry, sticky summer days when you can tell a storm is brewing and you simply cannot get comfortable. The water looks deliciously cool and inviting. The darkness of the pond contrasting with the bright diver. The anticipated delight, as the little pig is just about to make a big splash. And in the back of my mind, there’s that old wives’ tale that pigs can’t swim because with their sharp trotters, they would cut their throats. I do see this as a joyful image, but I like that ambivalence too.

A Dark Pool – Laura Knight, 1914. That almost lilac-coloured sea contrasted with the punchy orange of the figure. The way the breeze moves her dress. The way she stands there with such calm dignity, meditative, like a Greek statue. This one is also a mix of joy and sadness – this pool isn’t particularly dark, but there was sadness in Knight’s life at the time. She and her husband had been happy living in Cornwall, ‘a carefree life of sunlit pleasure’, entertaining friends and feeling inspired to paint. But in 1914, Knight’s friend Florence died by suicide, and for the world, WW1 was on the horizon. This painting is a snapshot of a moment of beauty during a tumultuous time.

Surprised! – Henri Rousseau, 1891. This is one of those paintings that comes alive in the gallery, a photo can’t really represent the way he rendered the rain with thin streaks of varnish. You can just feel the whooshing of the wind with those bending, outsized leaves. It’s almost like there’s a spotlight on the tiger, it’s lit up by that distant crack of lightning. I like the way the tiger isn’t naturalistic, but more like a motif from classical Indian art. It makes it seem like an exciting scene from a storybook. Rousseau created his wild pictures based on nature he saw in parks or zoos, or read about in books, giving them this surreal, imaginary quality.

Uprisings – Kozyndan (Kozue and Dan Kitchens), 2002. This is just such a charming take on Hokusai’s Great Wave. A cheeky, playful conversation between east and west, between the iconic work and a contemporary spin on it. In the original there’s that towering wave poised to come crashing down, and here it’s all wriggling and tumbling bunnies. This is part of a series called Seasons of the Bunny which all riff on well-known ukiyo-e woodblocks. Bunnies are multiplying as seafoam in this one – in the others, they become blossom or falling leaves or snowdrifts. More like fairies or shinto spirits than actual rabbits. Where the Hokusai is roiling and dramatic, this has a certain dreamy tranquility.

The Dress-Lamp Tree – Tim Walker, 2002. Walker mostly does fashion and celebrity photography for magazines like Vogue, but this one – without any models in it – really encapsulates what’s magical about all his work. It’s whimsical and pretty and strange and dreamlike and theatrical. His photographs often have a sense of decay or ageing, of time passing. There was a breeze in the air that night, and Walker had to shoot with a long exposure because of the very low light. It was extremely difficult to get a shot where the dresses weren’t blurry. So this picture is a fleeting instant of perfection.

#thank you for the ask!#what a great question #noticed some themes in my preferences that I hadn’t realised before #ask games #art #illustration #photography #bunnies #michael sowa #laura knight #henri rousseau #kozyndan #tim walker #tw suicide mention #littlehen #fav

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moonlightreal · 2 years

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Fate season 2-5

Last time of Fate: Tales from Elemental Academy…

A villain was revealed!

A character died!

A character revealed their sexuality!

A character woke up in another character’s bed!

Episode 5: Are You a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?

Pretty clear he’s a bad witch but then this show is nothing if not full of baffling mixed characterization.

Also I think we found part of the missing episode! There was a news that Fate was cut down by a whole episode right before release. I bet the flashbacks of Andreas’ death were cut from a longer scene to save length. I wonder if they also cut some earlier Stella/Beatrix scenes that would have made their shippyness feel less sudden and weird.

But let’s get into it!

Bloom has suck out of school to meet Sebastian! But he didn't show. She calls him up and we see that he’s in a room with light coming in the windows. As he tells Bloom he can’t make it, he pokes at a dead moth on the windowsill in a clear message that he’s evil. Bloom says she can’t keep sneaking out and he needs to meet her already! But he blows her off.

The air shimmers and a bunch of trucks and specialists appear. Bloom was trying to lead him into a trap! He didn’t fall for it.

Sebastian has been hopping around Solaria and drained six more fairies of their magic. Then we see where Sebastian really is. It looks like a church, with an amazing sculpted ceiling, and it’s got desks and a pegboard of pictures—and people! The people are dressed in dark clothes and a bunch of them wear knit caps and coats indoors and have funny little table lamps on tripods. It’s a very “rebel camp” vibe.

Rosalind voiceover says Sebastian will soon be stronger than she is, and “we have to stop him before he’s stronger than Bloom.

Sebastian goes to another room, takes off his shirt and sits down over a chair. A scraper oozes up and bites him in the back and pumps magic into him. Sexualized. Gross. Then the camera pans up and we see a bunch more scrapers on the ceiling ready to deliver even more magic!

Opening!

Bloom, Stella and Aisha walk through school talking about why the trap isn’t working. They point out Sebastian has no real reason to sit down with Bloom. Aisha doesn’t like seeing Rosalind use Bloom as bait and Stella snarks, “Unappealing bait!” Bloom says she knows Sebastian wants to talk to her and best case they catch him, worst case they get answers. Stella: “Is that really the worst case you can think of?” Bloom points out that Sebastian knows how to get Musa’s magic back and that’s what matters.

Their outfits are a thing. Stella: bright blue shirt and tan trenchcoat. Bloom: Halloween orange sweater and brown leather coat with sheepskin trim. Aisha: bright blue shirt, brown overalls with some kind of pattern of large ovals, and a brown and yellow jacket.

Outside they find Beatrix, looking normal and wearing her hat again, getting a package out of the mailbox. There really is a package from Stella’s mother! Stella wrote asking for forgiveness and a favor; it’s something from the royal archives. Beatrix is interested to know what’s in it. The girls side-eye. Beatrix says, ‘I’m an orphaned magicless fairy relegated to chore duty to stay at this school. A little secret might brighten my day” Stella says she’ll tell her later.

Stella: we can trust her.

Bloom: She’s Beatrix.

Stella: You trust Rosalind.

Aisha: You both have terrible judgment.

Heh.

Then Bloom says Rosalind has been on their side from day one and because of her Musa was able to stay at the school. Because Musa lost her magic she’d normally be kicked out? didn’t we work out it was temporary since she was only bitten once?

Musa is in the greenhouse with Terra, who is wearing some silly looking magnifying goggles to check on the tiny scars the scraper left on Musa’s arm.

Riven and Grey come in to get some willow bark. Wait, if the Otherworld has hydraulic power and fluid mechanics wouldn’t someone have worked out how to get the useful chemical from willow bark and turn it into asprin? That’s what lots of medicines are, just people notice plant make better→isolate chemical that make better→synthesize chemical and package in measured dose→same effect as plant but easier and safer.

Flora is trying to make a remedy for blood witch puppeteering. She’s bothered by how they “can take over someone’s body, their agency” which is the first bit of woke language in this season and coming from hippie Flora it works. Flora also has half her curls down and half up in little mini curly Sailor Moon buns. Adorable. Say what you will about everything else in this show, the cast is great at what they do and cute as blazes. Riven flirts and Flora asks Grey about Aisha. After the kiss Aisha’s been focused on the mission I guess, not him. Terra says Musa’s got magic rehab to do but the boys say Silva wants to see her for another debrief. He oughtta come to the infirmary then!

After they leave Terra asks Flora if she spilled the secret, but Flora says of course not, that’s for Terra to tell when she’s ready.

Outside Riven says there is actually no debrief, he just wanted to save Musa from magic rehabilitation, which seems to be breathing exercises and yoga that Terra invented herself. Wouldn’t there be magic doctors who’d have figured out magic rehabilitation before this? Or is this the first time fairies have ever lost their magic? Musa thanks Riven for the rescue and the other rescue when Riven hauled poor passed-out Musa back to school. Riven goes to swing swords and Musa asks if she can come, as a way to avoid checking in with Rosalind. Riven says sure, they can spar.

In Bloom’s room she and Sky lie on her bed. Sky bailed on training today. Because he’s just had a horribly traumatic experience and should be seeing a therapist! I’m sure Rosalind does not hold with therapists. Hang on, also Sky killed someone. Why is he not worried about getting arrested like the last guy to murder Andreas? Anyway they talk about the trap and Bloom says they have to offer something to lure Sebastian out. Her only idea is “cool shoes?” heh. Sky suggests the blood witch book they got from his house and asks if Bloom remembers and jokes about the mission and the fire being the only memorable things that happened that day. Nice joking, not mean joking. S’cute. They kiss and things look steamy but Bloom says “you can’t avoid what happened to Andreas by focusing on me” and then Sky has to leave for guard duty anyway.

On the way out he passes Aisha doing homework in the main room. When he’s gone Bloom comes out and the two girls talk a little. Bloom says Sky is not fine and asks if Grey pretends too and Aisha says she’s less open with her feelings than he is. Then Bloom says she decided to offer Sebastian the book. Aisha is sensibly against giving the evil blood witch more evil secrets.

Then Aisha pulls out what they got from Stella’s mother: a convergence crystal from the Solarian archive. Lets fairies combine their magic. It’s a big chunk of multi-pointed quartz. The theory as Aisha explains it is that fairy magic is like a battery. Musa’s has been drained but it’s still a battery. She just needs a jump start! It’s dangerous but not more dangerous than meeting the baddie. Bloom points out that meeting the baddie only puts Bloom in danger. Aisha interrupts to say she messed up by leaving everyone at the pub, leaving Bloom to handle everything. Now Aisha’s back and she can help!

Oh Aisha, you and Bloom are both stubborn as bulls and think you should take responsibility. This’ll go well.

Outside—night shot of the castle—Sky sits on the back of a truck and drinks from his flask as he remembers begging his father not to murder… his father. And then having to kill Andreas.

A door opens somewhere and Sky calls out that it’s the middle of the night. He assumes it’s other specialists up late but the suspenseful music says otherwise. He draws a knife but that doesn’t save him… from getting grabbed by a blood witch! Sky is now being pupteered!

Daylight, and Rosalind stands over Andreas’ grave. He has a large and computer generated headstone with his name and the words “Champion” and “Alfean” carved into it. Rosalind is using earth magic to add a third word: “Father.” Bloom walks over and says it’s a beautiful stone. Rosalind says it’s from a quarry in Eraklyon near where Andreas grew up. She also says she thought of inscribing it “miserable sentimental fuckwit” but that wouldn’t fit. Ok, I snickered. Rosalind then says Andreas would’ve liked that. Bloom says it sounds like Rosalind really cared about him and that she thought Rosalind would have a “Rosalind-style outlook on death. Cold and unemotional.” But Rosalind says she’s buried a lot of friends and hates deaths like this that don’t “serve a higher purpose.” But Rosalind doesn’t want to skip training, she needs Bloom in top form. “Sebastian has already taken one person I care about. I won’t let him take another.”

So is this show trying to do that thing where the baddie is shown to be evil and then they humanize the baddie and they’re not a baddie anymore? Am I supposed to be rooting for Rosalind and I’m just not getting the signals? Because I’m just confused. Dunno if the show is bad at sending messages or I’m bad at getting them.

Rosalind has been presented as a villain for a few episodes then came the revelation that the scrapers aren’t hers. But she still basically cackled and rubbed her hands at the idea of expelling students, was fine with sacrificing Beatrix and is clearly manipulating and using Bloom. She seems responsible for Beatrix’s unorthodox upbringing that led B to murdering Dowling’s secretary. Also she killed Dowling, was fine with sending hunters to try to kill Silva, and nuked Aster Dell. Rosalind seems to enjoy being cruel. But her goal seems to be to use every available resource to save the Otherworld from the Burned Ones and now the Blood Witches. So she’s a sort of tough ruthless antihero? She seems to see herself that way and the fact that Bloom trusts her suggests the show may agree.

I wonder if Rosalind would have been different if Dowling’s actress had stayed for season 2. Maybe after she left the writers had to shift Rosalind over to do the good mentor role along with the villain role?

Sebastian is using Scrapers to steal fairy magic for him to use himself and has murdered Ivy and the poor puppet he sent to talk to Andreas, and puppeteers people including getting Andreas killed. He would’ve been pretty young 16 years ago but if he was at Aster Dell he might have been with a group that kidnapped baby Bloom and Beatrix from their families. His personal goal is revenge on Andreas for bullying him and smashing his face, understandable. But the larger goal of the Blood Witches is… what? I don’t think we know yet. Revenge on Rosalind for nuking Aster Dell would make sense but nobody’s said that yet. I wouldn’t be completely surprised if the show tried another turnaround and presented the Blood Witches as a persecuted minority forced to do evil to survive while people like Rosalind and Luna hunt them.

By my reckoning they’re both baddies!

Over in the suite the girls are pulling back the carpet to make room for Musa’s convergence ceremony. Which is the first Musa heard about it.

But first Terra has an announcement since they “haven’t all been in the same room for a few days”. She’s super shy and awkward and it’s cute. Eliot Salt is a good actress. She tells everyone she’s gay and has sort of always known but is now sharing that part of herself. “so kindly adjust your perceptions of me accordingly. Ok, we need to move this carpet!” Awkwardness and vulnerability played well! And then Stella comes over and hugs her and then everybody piles on and it’s very sweet. Yay, a scene of them being friends! Yay Stella being friendish! Stella says they are now all terra’s official wing-women and Musa jokes that they’ll snag her a lady and Terra says that’s a “heteronormative paradigm I’m not sure I ascribe to” which works when it comes from Terra better than when it comes out of everyone randomly. Just limit the number of characters who talk like they swallowed my SW310: Systems of Oppression textbook please, Fate!

Also, the clothes in this scene feel like they were given some thought.. Bloom is wearing a sweater that sort of has a lightning bolt design, makes me think Harry Potter. Stella is in this ridiculously preppy blouse with a vest and a silk scarf at her neck over plaid pants. Someone gave thought to how “princess” would look in this world that has such confused worldbuilding and gave Stella a unique style and color palette. Flora is in a belly-baring top that’s a different color but the same shape as the actual Winx would wear, with supertight conffetti-colored pants. Aisha’s just in a sweater but has a pendant with an aqua stone. And Terra is in a shapeless faded sweatshirt that looks like the stuff I wear for pajamas since they’re too worn out to be clothes anymore. Which I guess is a statement that her character is more about comfort than fashion but if I were of a suspicious turn of mind I could suspect she gets less thought to her costumes because of her size.

Then Terra says this isn’t a coming-out party it’s a Musa’s-magic party and Musa says can someone please explain this and the camera pans on Terra looking really happy.

But first, let’s see what’s happening in Rosalind’s office! Which has been updated to read Headmistress Ms. R Hale. Rosalind has a last name. I can’t think of any Winx connection.

Rosalind and Silva are discussing something when Sky comes in. Silva asks Sky how he’s doing and Rosalind interrupts Sky’s answer to say he was on guard duty because Silva vouched for his trustworthyness. Sky says he’s super trustworthy and asks what’s going on. Sky is being puppeted remember, and Sebastian’s doing a rubbish job; Sky’s super robotic.

It seems that someone broke into the east wing and looked through Silva’s files of battle plans. Now the blood witches know how our secrets! Rosalind thinks Sky fell asleep and let them sneak in. Sky swears he didn’t see anything. Rosalind positively drools with enthusiasm to squeeze the truth out of the teenager she suspects, but Silva defends Sky and lets him go.

Back at the ritual! Musa holds the crystal and asks how dangerous this ritual is. Aisha says they’re “mainlining raw magic here” but she has faith. Terra’s got… a rock? She says she’s trying some mineral magic but the thing she’s holding is big enough that if it’s a rock it’s a very lightweight rock.

The girls sit on pillows in a circle and summon their elements. Bloom makes her usual flame, Aisha summons a littl;e tornado of water. Terra levitates the rock between her hands. Flora makes tiny vines grow over her hands which is quite a cool effect. Stella summons a ball of light and her eyes go creamy yellow which is a neat look on her. And then they… level up their spells! Bloom’s got fire in her hands and a crown of flame on her head, Aisha has a little thundercloud, Stella has this mini black hole? Mini eclipse? it’s awesome. And Terra is compressing her rock into a diamond! They close their eyes and concentrate on sending their magic to Musa and… nothing. It doesn’t work.

Aisha suggests they need more power, like the Dragon Flame if Bloom thinks she can control it. Bloom is confident. Everyone stands up and Bloom conjures a ball of glittery purpleish fire. She sends it towards the crystal Musa is holding and everyone else sends their magic too. It’s working! They can feel the power of their magic! But Musa is not feeling it, or if she is it’s freaking her out. Ashe says hang on, and then “I said, stop!” and drops the crystal, breaking the flow of magic.

Bloom asks what happened and Musa says “it wasn’t working” and heads for the door. Aisha says it was working but Musa flees leaving the others confused.

Terra says, “why are you still holding onto magic?” and Aisha and Bloom say they aren’t. Terra says “Good. Bit worried there.” What does that mean? Did Terra think they weren’t using their full power to help Musa or something else?

Anyway te crystal that is now full of everybody’s magic sparkles portentously. Sure would be bad if the Blood Witches got it… or Stella decided to give it to Beatrix…

Aisha is upset her plan didn’t work. Bloom immediately jumps on her saying it was a good idea, but since it didn’t work how about we bargain with Sebastian now? Aisha wants to know Bloom’s plan for snitching the book from Rosalind’s office and Bloom’s plan is to get Beatrix to do it since Stella thinks Beatrix is on their side now.

And Stella has gone to take Beatrix a drink. Poor Beatrix has been assigned to check the records of every student by calling their homes, to make sure everybody is who they say they are. Cold-calling and endless paperwork! Horrible! Also she said she’s made a hundred phone calls and has a hundred more to go, so there are two hundred students at this school. Stella offers to help and Beatrix immediately asks “what do you want?” but B lets Stella sit next to her and hands over a folder.

B reminisces about last year. She was the scary one, the powerful one. And now she’s groveling to Rosalind “just to stay involved.” Stella says nothing wrong with playing the game. She groveled to her mother in a letter. To get… something? B says she thought it was to get the crystal but Stella implies it was for something else, to be involved. Did she get the gem off in a scene that was cut for time? Stella says she’s playing good little princess now. And Stella does have a favor to ask, which clearly hurts Beatrix’s feelings.

Out at the stone circle—hey, they rebuilt that set for season 2!--Silva and Rosalind are talking tactics. Silva is confidant that Beatrix’s record checking will find the mole. Rosalind wants to do more, and Silva’s worried it’ll alarm the students. Rosalind says “You’re full of opinions” and Silva counters that he shares his unlike Andreas. And Rosalind says she’s not Miss Dowling and if Silva doesn’t get some information from last night out of Sky, she will. And she says “I just hope when I finish he can still form sentences.”

So, Silva stabbed Andreas trying to save a village full of people and now Rosalind threatened to lobotomize his kid. That’s… I dunno. I do wonder if there was a cut scene of Silva or Ben Harvey saying that Rosalind had changed since it’s hard to imagine them working with this lunatic for years.

Inside Sky finds Beatrix sitting in a window. He says he’s here to bring the book to Bloom. Beatrix says “I thought you’d apologize for killing my dad.” and Sky, or rather Sebastian, says Andreas was his dad and was about to kill Silva so he had no choice.

Beatrix says because of that everyone’s going to let Sky off the hook. But Beatrix won’t. Does B know what went down? It’s the blood witch she should be out for revenge on. But she gives Sky the book and walks off.

Rosalind is doing something lightningy at the stone circle.

And Sky did give the book to Bloom. Maybe he copied the pages first so Sebastian has them already and the book’s not good as a bargaining chip. Bloom’s going to Earth to meet Sebastian, since that’s the world he likes. She walks through the barrier around the school but just after, Rosalind’s magic finishes and the barrier goes solid. Bloom can’t get back in.

Through the barrier they have a conversation. Sky doesn’t say it but he doesn’t want Bloom to go. She makes a pointy remark about him never talking about his problems and says that she’s stronger than Sebastian. A lot stronger. Sky says the reason he doesn’t talk about his problems is that she’s the solution. Aaaaw, romance! Except is that Sky talking or Sebastian? I assumed once controlled always controlled but can a blood witch turn it on and off? They put their hands up on the barrier for a romantic moment and Bloom says she’s got this. She heads off.

She does not seem worried about getting back in so maybe she knows a way.

Musa has met up with Riven for sparring! she’s wearing a black longsleeved shirt and skintight red overalls with purple ovals on her chest that are actually not overalls because the shirt is separate. Musa has the most incomprehensible outfits of any of the girls. She’s also got a staff! She takes some swings at Riven and he blocks with his arms, which do not look armored but maybe they are. He gets the staff away from Musa pretty quickly and says she’s not a specialist, she could get hurt. But she fights back with punches and kicks. It’s sexy, because choreographed fighting set to music is always sexy. It looks like they had fun filming this.

It also occurs to me that Musa’s thing in season one was that she couldn't turn her power off, she was always picking up everyone’s thoughts. Should she be feeling relieved that it’s finally quiet inside her head? Or freaking out that it’s suddenly quiet and she doesn’t know how to handle the solitude? Something?

But then Aisha’s thing last season was that she was bad at magic and self conscious about it and that plot point vanished along with Terra’s mix of self conscious and competent. Bloom kept her “destiny ridden protagonist who makes bad choices” and Stella works because “child abuse survivor who uses bitchiness as a coping mechanism but is trying to be an actual good person” can cover her jerk moments and her nice ones.

So this sparring must be the Musa/Riven stuff we read about? Some of it anyway? Terra comes out and shoos Riven away so she can talk to Musa. Musa walks off. Terra follows. Musa says she’s tried of talking and “Terra-robics” How many magic rehabilitation exercises did Terra make her do? I feel like a scenes were cut here too because Musa is way more done with this nonsense than what we’ve seen.

Musa says, “I’m happy you’re living your truth but that doesn’t make you an expert on everyone else’s so can you just mind your own business?” And Terra says “Not about this!” and keeps following Musa, who keeps walking away, as I cringe so hard I’m practically on the other side of myself. Come on Fate, you just had a scene where everyone was acting like friends and now you give me boundary-ignoring Terra? The whiplash! Terra calls stuff like, “You can whine and call me overbearing and annoying but I’m not gonna stop until you get your magic back!” Which I can see Terra is trying to say “We won’t give up on you.” but this is the stalker way not the friend way to deliver that message.

Then Musa sinks up to her ankles in the ground so she can’t walk away anymore.

Riven comes to the rescue telling Terra that seems like a bit much. But Terra says she didn’t do it on purpose. Her magic’s all mucked up!

And we’re back in the dorm with textbooks open. Aisha explains that since the ceremony wasn’t completed they’re still connected to the crystal and “Low-key channeling, constantly” and her eyes and Flora’s light up.

There is a knock on the door and it’s Grey, wanting to talk to Aisha without the roommates listening in. Aisha says she can’t right now and Grey asks if he blew it with her. She reassures him that it’s just a crisis, not something he did. They kiss and the crystal glows Aisha’s blue color. Which is a nice deep blue, I think they made it darker than season 1. Aisha says that’s the solution to one of their crises. She shuts the door and Grey stands there looking thoughtful.

He did just see the magic crystal. I wonder if he’;s a baddie. \he seems normal but the previews did say all the new characters have a deep dark secret. Sebastian sure did but Flora’s only secret seems to be that she likes meddling in everything and looks cute in Sailor Moon buns, so who knows.

Flora says, ‘If you let him in a little more he’d understand why you have to shut him out.” But Aisha says they’re fine. And she has the solution! Channel your magic into the crystal and it’ll go back to normal. Easy for them, but Bloom’s gone off to meet the baddie with her Dragon Flame off the Leash! But not to worry, there’s one episode to go so she can’t kill ‘im yet.

Bloom is on Earth at a truck stop diner. Her eyes are flaming occasionally. Quiet music plays as she looks around then in through the diner window at Sebastian ordering food in the diner. She goes in and sits down. Sebastian ordered a chicken fried steak, even though he doesn’t know what that is. So there is one bit of Earth culture the Otherworld didn’t copy! Sebastian talks happily about how he loves “First world kitch” and a diner is the epitome of that.

And then he puppeteers everyone in the diner to put their knives to their own throats. And he points out, “You should hate me” and lists the things he’s done. He says he’s a scourge to fairykind but still Bloom came, “Make that make sense.”

Bloom says she does hate him and wants to see him in jail, but she needs him to get Musa’s magic back. The diners lower their knives and go back to eating like nothing happened. So Sebastian can turn it on and off and people forget after! Explains Sky. Bloom offers the book but guesses Sebastian can’t actually give Musa’s magic back. But he can tell Bloom how to do it. Then he waves the “Or, I could tell you about your birth parents” thing. But Bloom wants to know about Musa’s magic.

She slides the book over and Sebastian opens it. He says all the answers are actually in the book.

Which seriously, did they give the book away without copying every page? You are too dumb to live. But nobody else could read the book, and Sebastian can. He says it was his father’s book. Dad was a collector of “blood witch relics” during his lifetime. They lived in Aster Dell so all the relics got nuked. And dad “was obsessed with the dragon flame.”

But that’s all Sebastian says about that. Magic return options: 1, get a scraper to pull the magic out of Sebastian and stick it back into Musa. 2)murderize Sebastian and all the magic goes back where it belongs. Bloom asks why he told her that and Sebastian isn’t worried. She’s not gonna kill the guy with the answers. So they’re stuck.

Bloom says that’s it and gets up and walks out. She calls Aisha and tells her what she found out. Bloom clearly feels like she didn’t get much for giving away the book. Aisha tells her about the magic being supercharged. Aisha’s like “come home, you could lose control” and bloom’s like, “I can handle it.” because Bloom. She goes back in, slaps the table by Sebastian and says, “Let’s take a walk.” and Sebastian abandons his chicken fried steak and goes off with a dangerous teenage fairy he has no reason to talk with more.

Back at school Sky finds the flask he was drinking from when he got got. Silva comes over and is understanding, Sky doesn’t remember what happened because he was drunk. Apparently he turned up passed out in the east wing. Silva doesn’t lecture him—and well you shouldn’t, Silva, you’re a cool guy but you don’t exactly fight the culture of rampant teenage drinking at this school. Instead he says he got drunk for two years straight after he killed Andreas, but the responsibilities of parenthood sobered him up. And he's still trying to be that parent.

Sky says he can’t train, he gets flashbacks when he picks up his sword. Silva says he knows, and reassures Sky that it will get better in time and when he really needs to fight he’ll be able to.

Sky turns away but turns back to say he thought he was almost there with Andreas, almost to the point they could've had a relationship. Silva says looking to the future is the problem. Soldiers don’t get to do that. Which, as Sky says, is messed up. Silva says it is indeed messed up but that’s how it is. If you can stop planning a future you become “unshakeable” like all the great fighters. Sky says that sounds like a constant state of uncertainty but Silva calls it readiness. Sky says he doesn’t think that’s the kind of life he wants to live, and walks away.

Riven and Musa are sitting on the track where the specialists are trying to run. Riven delights in being obnoxious. Musa says it’s nice not to feel how mad the specialists are at them for blocking the path.

The phone buzzes. Terra's coming back. Riven says she really won’t stop until she gets Musa’s magic back, and he admits he saw what really happened at the barn. Flashback from the cut content! Musa walked into the room full of scrapers and held out her arms so a bunch of them could take all her magic. Riven was fighting so he couldn’t stop her in time. Musa says it’s been so hard her whole life. Riven channels his awesome side and says, “Your life is your life, you can live it how you want.” and he thinks her friends will understand. Musa doesn’t think they will.

Huh. Can one of the “Winx” not be a fairy? Guess we’ll probably kill Sebastian next episode and not have to answer that question. Be fun if Musa grabbed the wrong scraper and got some other power.

Terra arrives; they have to go get Bloom.

Who is “somewhere in the first world, I just don’t know where.” says Aisha, having narrowed it down to one planet. Stella, Aisha and Flora are telling Rosalind of all people. I hope at least SHE scanned the book. Rosalind has no interest in a rescue mission; Bloom with unstable magic could kill Sebastian and take care of the problem.

I mean, she’s not wrong.

Of course Beatrix told Rosalind about the plan. And about the convergence crystal, which Rosalind says is a good idea maybe worth looking into if Bloom doesn’t solve the problem.

Aisha declares that Bloom isn’t a killer and Rosalind says they’ll see.

Bloom leads Sebastian out behind the diner where there are trucks and stacks of tires. She says she’s done playing games and Sebastian asks if that means they’ll quit pretending it’s about Musa’s magic. Sebastian asks if that was just a ruse. Bloom’s eyes flame up and Sebastian steps back all “I don't mean you don’t care about your friend but...” and Bloom head-down stomps towards him snapping, “What do you want?”

He wants the Dragon Flame.

Which is weirdly out of place in this very Non-Winx show.

And if he gets it he’ll tell Bloom where she came from and give everyone else’s magic back. Bloom asks what he’ll do with it and he says “Right the wrongs of Aster Dell. But not like, kill all fairies or start a war. that’s Rosalind’s thing.” Bloom says Rosalind doesn’t want a war but Sebastain says oh yes she does.

Sebastian’s dad knew Rosalind, opposite sides but both keen to bring the violence. “Zealots obsessed with an ancient war.” The dragon flame was the big power, Sebastian’s dad found baby Bloom, brought her home, and… Rosalind nuked the town killing everyone there.

Rosalind says dad kidnapped her and Sebastian says no, found is right. Bloom asks what that means but Sebastian’s done. No more lore without payment. Decide now! The music builds and Bloom says… “Never gonna happen.” But Sebastian does want to leave Bloom with one more bit of info: Dowling’s fate. Bloom is quite shocked when she finds out Rosalind killed her. Sebastian says “I know, unexpected. The info, not the action. The action is very Rosalind.” heh. I do like Sebastian’s banter, he does it well. Bloom doesn’t want to believe it but Sebastian’s like, come on really is it that hard to believe? And tells her Dowling is buried in the graveyard. With a final “maybe you should’a thrown in with me-the-baddie instead of Rosalind-the-also-baddie, Sebastian walks off.

And Bloom starts to flame up.

Sebastian mentioned his father a lot but not by name. Are they building up to a Winx-name reveal or did they just not bother to name the dude?

At school Grey asks another specialist if there’s a way through the barriers. He has a family situation. But it’s no big deal.

Hang on, could Grey be Sebastian’s son? They don’t look totally not-alike and here he is being obviously sketchy. The other specialist Luke thinks so too, and calls Silva to report… but Grey sneaks up behind and puppeteers him! Grey is a blood witch! He just makes the guy say nothing's wrong—kind of cool how he does this, standing behind the guy and mouthing the words.

Inside, Stella is calling Beatrix out for telling on them. B says it’s just playing the game, Stella says Rosalind is different. Beatrix says if Rosalind kicks her out she doesn’t know where she’ll go.

Seriously? Beatrix doesn’t have a plan? Beatrix doesn’t have a list of bigwigs rated by who’d be the best sugar daddy? I mean *gestures at all of season one B*

Ok I guess you could say that all of B’s agency, her ability to spy and seduce and manipulate, was all based on the fanatical loyalty to Rosalind that her father ingrained in her through her whole upbringing and Beatrix doesn’t really have desires of her own. I know Beatrix lost her father, her magic, her dudes, and her hopes to be Rosalind’s right hand minion, that’s enough to drop anybody but it’s hard to believe Beatrix lost her whole core personality.

Also has anybody told Beatrix there’s ways to get her magic back? Also also, wasn’t baby Beatrix also found in Aster Dell with baby Bloom? She might still be part of the A-plot.

Anyway Beatrix says “don’t be surprised when I do whatever I need to to survive.”

I wonder if Stella was about to say something like “you have me” cementing the fastest weirdest ship ever, but Aisha calls. “Bloom called. Rosalind killed Dowling.”

Next thing Sky and the girls, minus Beatrix, are out in the woods banging on the barrier. They are worried. Rosalind is planning to meet Bloom at the portal, which must’ve been decided before Rosalind knew her secret was out.

Bloom arrives back in the Otherworld in a graveyard, I think it’s the same portal location as in season one. And Rosalind is sitting on the same bench where she and Dowling had their final chat. This must be a real place on the grounds of the castle. They have a tense conversation. Friends told Rosalind where Bloom was, Rosalind’s glad Bloom got back safely, Rosalind was more worried about Sebastian’s health than Bloom’s, Bloom says restraint is sometimes difficult and apologizes for not telling Rosalind, but Rosalind says it was good planning, better not to tip your hand.

Bloom says it went ok, Sebastian really believes Bloom would betray Rosalind. Rosalind says Bloom is like her. Bloom’s eyes flame and Rosalind asks if being similar bothers Bloom. Bloom doesn’t reply but Rosalind guesses by her troubled expression that maybe Sebastian “told her something that upset her.”

Aaaand I was kinda hoping Bloom would just flame up and put Rosalind out of my misery but she asks in a small voice if this is where Rosalind did it. Rosalind says, “A little to your right.” calm as anything. Bloom goes for her without fire and Rosalind mind magic slaps her down. While Bloom whimpers from magical torture Rosalind actually gets some emotion in her voice, saying her Plan A was for the two of them to work side by side, two powerful fairies, an example to the Otherworld. Bloom whimpers that she’s nothing like Rosalind, so Rosalind has to go with Plan B.

Rosalind surrounds herself with silvery clouds of magic. She puts them on Bloom, who frosts over, frozen in suspended animation. Rosalind says that even with Bloom frozen Rosalind can still channel the Dragon Flame from her and just do all her stuff by herself. “The uncomfortable truth is, if you really want to change the world for the better, you have to be capable of anything.” Spoken like a true terrorist, Rosalind. She says Dowling was weak too.

Bloom’s eyes flame and the very fake looking frost effect melts off her. Rosalind looks taken aback as Bloom climbs to her feet and summons an orb of Dragon Fire in front of her.

“On second thoughts, maybe I was wrong.” is Rosalind’s titanically dumb last words before Bloom flipping nukes her. Big dome of power, shockwave that blows around the others stuck in the barricade. Sky says to nobody, “Bloom, what did you do?”

Rosalind is now a charred corpse. As the others arrive Bloom says numbly, “I lost control.”

I dunno if being provoked by facts is the same as losing control. If ever there was someone who needed nuking, it’s Rosalind.

But what will happen now? Who can be the new headmistress? Will Bloom get arrested for murder? What’s Sebastian going to do now? Maybe he can be headmistress, start a tradition of putting awful people in charge of the school!

#fate the winx saga

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honeyteawrites · 1 year

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I posted 109 times in 2022

That's 85 more posts than 2021!

30 posts created (28%)

79 posts reblogged (72%)

more under keep reading! Thanks to all for your support (⭒•͈ 𓎺 •͈ )

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/still-a-morosexual-help

@/cloudstuffs

@/absolutepokemontrash

@/boozye

I tagged 105 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#obey me - 35 posts

#genshin impact - 29 posts

#obey me shall we date - 8 posts

#kaeya alberich - 6 posts

#honeytea - 6 posts

#cyno - 6 posts

#obey me headcanons - 5 posts

#om mammon - 5 posts

#aromantic - 5 posts

#alhaitham - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#you probably can't tell from what i write but kaeya's been living in my brain rent free for nearly two years now

it's over two years now. (*ﾉωﾉ) I am practically in love with him at this point lmao

My Top Posts in 2022:

Tears of Themis Headcanons

Animals and pets editon

Rosa:

-likes all sorts of pets, they just don’t have one

-will go to dog parks or pet stores with Luke just to pet dogs and cats

-even finicky cats like her

-knows that Peanut is named after her (since she is Luke’s Watson)

Artem:

-his parents didn’t let him have a pet when he was younger

-he doesn’t seem much like an animal person anyway

-so he doesn’t have a pet but he’d definitely like to go to the aquarium to stare at pretty fish (please take him on an aquarium date to pet stingrays)

-moon jellies are cool too!

-jellies in general are just peaceful to look at for Artem

Vyn:

-probably likes cats

-the kind of cats that only love certain people too

-I can’t trust him because he can speak to squirrels (from his Snowy Fairy Tale SR card)

-has intense staring contests with the bunnies that dare to go near his garden

-cherishes the little toads and birds that sit on the rocks in his garden

-I can really imagine him with a pet white ferret draped across his shoulders for some reason

Luke:

-Peanut is his favorite pet of all time

-likes other small animals, especially other little birds

-maybe it’s because Peanut looks a little bit like a myna bird, but I think that he’d like to have a myna and make it repeat silly things

-had a bunch of pets growing up, maybe even a turtle

-also has a pet hamster (because he also reminds me of one)

-has the vibes of a puppy (Rosa has definitely patted his head at some point)

See the full post

39 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

Lever du Jour

queerplatonic aroace Diluc and aroace gn!reader

set during the Windblume festival!

905 words, no warnings

first posted on ao3

Dawn arrived in Mondstadt, sprinkling its rays of sunlight across your face. The light basked your room with a glow, rousing you from sleep. You got up, left your comfy bed and opened the bedroom window. You looked down, eyeing the fresh windwheel asters that adorned the city bushes. Early risers strolled along the decorated streets as dandelion puffs drifted through the crisp air.

The Windblume Festival was just beginning. During this time of love and freedom, you thought of Diluc. The two of you knew that what you had was love. When he smiled, you knew that he deeply trusted you. When you held him and he leaned into you, it showed that you really cared about each other. Being with Diluc made you feel so cozy. He was like warm sunshine, the kind that makes you warm and joyful.

Neither of you had a particular name for your relationship, but that was fine. What the two of you shared was not romantic. When the two of you first acknowledged that, you were both incredibly relieved. There was just something about understanding another person in that way.

You immediately knew that you were going to give him Windblumes to show your appreciation. He had invited you to dinner together later that day, which would be the perfect time to give him a Windblume.

After finishing your work shift, you left the busy streets of Mondstadt and headed for the Whispering Woods. It was time to search for small lamp grasses within the grand forest. The shade of the towering oaks made it easy to spot the glowing, blue orbs. You picked the flowers and placed them into a woven basket. Diluc loved those blossoms and so did you. Together you shared them as a Windblume.

After gathering a good amount of small lamp grasses, you went back to the main trail. Although, there was still one thing that you wanted to do before heading to Dawn Winery. You made a detour to the statue of Barbatos located at Starfell Lake. Grand Windblume arrangements surrounded the archon’s statue. You added some blossoms to the array and bowed your head in thanks.

Then you followed the road to Dawn Winery, hoping that your flowers wouldn’t wilt along the way. It was a good time to leave. It was almost time for Diluc’s dinner. He was probably still preparing the food. You walked along the path until you made it to Diluc’s mansion. Thankfully, the small lamp grasses were still fresh. You greeted the staff at the entrance, who were rather accustomed to your visits.

“Good afternoon, Mx. (y/n),” spoke a maid. “You arrived a bit early. Master Diluc is still in the kitchen.”

You thanked the maid and the other staff before entering the mansion. It was a grand building made of dark oak. You walked through its halls until you arrived at the kitchen. Diluc had taken off his coat, his red hair in a high ponytail. He was assembling two plates of his speciality dish, Once Upon a Time in Mondstadt. You waited as he topped the steaming piles of ribs and potatoes with small lamp grass bulbs for flavor.

“Diluc,” you called softly, slightly tilting your head to the side.

He turned and faced you. “Hello, dear. I hope you don’t mind dining on the balcony today.”

You shook your head. The weather was lovely and sunny today and it would be nice to dine outside. Also, you always thought that Diluc’s hair looked beautiful in the sunlight. He burned bright like a phoenix, as if a flame had touched him.

Diluc headed out of the kitchen, where you followed him out to the mansion balcony. He set the steaming plates of food down onto the oak table. You placed the basket of Windblumes next to the table and took your seat. Diluc handed you a silver knife and fork before taking a seat across the table. You bit into the tender meat of the ribs, which blended with the melted cheese. The potatoes were just the right texture and the small lamp grasses enhanced the flavor of the dish. Diluc’s cooking was delectable as always. Then, the two of you finished your meal in silence, just enjoying the other’s company.

You waited until the two of you were done until you gave a Windblume to Diluc. He set down his utensils and watched as you picked a small lamp grass and awkwardly moved your chair so that you were next to him. You turned around and faced him, sheepishly holding the flower in your lap.

“Diluc… I’m sure you already know this...” You began, gently swirling the lamp grass between your fingers. “I really do love you. Thank you for being with me so often, now come closer.”

Diluc leaned in and you tucked strands of crimson hair behind his left ear. You tucked the glowing flower behind Diluc’s ear. He raised a gloved hand and gently held yours, a small smile on his face.

“(Y/n)...” Diluc softly whispered. “You already know that I feel the same for you, love.”

He pulled you into a sweet embrace. You wrapped your arms around him in return. The two of you stayed there, content with being so close.. Nothing could ever replace the feeling that you two felt for each other. You were each other’s fire, comforting and warm all the same.

40 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

Saw that your requests were open, would love to hear your take on Julian Devorak taking care of sick reader/apprentice👀

Reader could brushing it off as just allergies or feel bad that he's insistant on helping them.

But of course take yourself and thank you if you accept this!💙

thank you so much for sending in the first request on this blog, it means a lot to me!

Julian Devorak taking care of sick reader/apprentice:

you’re getting plenty of love and care from Julian no matter how you brush it off and it’s not just because it’s his job to treat you as a doctor

he’s protective of those that he loves and that includes you too of course!

Ilya will have Mazelinka whip up some of her special soup for you

He might get Portia to cook for you too. Her cooking is really comforting as well, especially when you’re sick

if you have to stay in bed all day, he’ll tell plenty of his ridiculous stories about his adventures to keep you entertained

Mazelinka will scold him for staying so close to you if you have something contagious (he’ll say that he’ll be fine and ends up catching it too)

overall, it doesn’t matter how sick you are, he’ll make sure that you get all the treatment that you need (especially with what happened between you two in the past. he’s never leaving your side while you’re sick ever again)

43 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Languages of Teyvat: those lost to time

we know that other languages exist besides Teyvat’s global language, here’s headcanons about the ancient ones that were forgotten by most

Zhongli fondly remembers the sweet tone of Guizhong’s voice. The dialect that she spoke is now long forgotten, but the melodies of the songs that she sang still remain. Every time someone plays a familiar tune, Zhongli is brought back to the times when Guizhong would braid his hair, humming her favorite songs as she wove flowers into his dark locks.

See the full post

43 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Malleus asexual king (yes, now I know that's not an ace ring but still! They always get me with the aroace flag looking bitches. ALSO HE'S A DRAGON)

86 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #teatime

0 notes

luveline · 2 years

Text

everything with you | james potter x reader

summary four times james almost kisses you and one time he does. [9k]

warnings fluff, mutual pining, getting together, first kiss, idiots in love, first date, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, suggestive language/theme, late 90s au, rugby player!james

James Potter is a little obsessed with you. In a cool, extremely chill and normal way, he thinks. It's hard not to be, here, at some random party half drunk and pushed into your side with your perfect hand held protectively over his head to shield him from the hubbub of partygoers.

"Still feeling poorly?" you ask, pushing the hair from his eyes.

"I need a haircut," he says, distracted by your touch.

"No!" you protest in a whisper. "No, James. Your hair‘s lovely, please don't cut it. What would I run my hands through if you did?" You say all this with a lopsided smile, one corner pulled up higher than the other, and a conspiring tone.

He blinks rapidly. Maybe he doesn't need a haircut after all.

Your fingertips push into the thick tresses at his hairline and scrape back. He shivers in light pleasure and reaches out to grab your thigh where his head is resting, indulgently absorbing the warmth of your body.

You barely notice, pulled back into a conversation with a girl on the sofa opposite. James feels his phone pulse in his pocket and is reluctant to retrieve it, worried you'll pause your ministrations. He watches you take a sip of your drink and almost spit it out laughing and deems you distracted, struggling with his phone, just drunk enough that his motor skills are fucking with him as he snaps it open.

Sirius told me to tell you that you look pathetic. Love Remus.

James scowls at his phone and lifts his head from your leg to look towards where he thinks his friends are located. Sure enough, they haunt the kitchen doorway with equally humorous looks on their faces, Sirius smug to Remus' pitying. James flips Sirius off and finds it returned, a perfectly painted and manicured finger held aloft.

You giggle by James' ear. "I hope that's not for me."

"Definitely to me. You'll have to forgive him. He was dragged up," he says, groaning at his embarrassing mates.

"Don't be cruel," you admonish, nudging him with a naked elbow.

His phone chirps again.

I also think you look pathetic. It's cute. Do you want food? Love Remus.

Moons u rly don't need to sign off every txt. Not hngry. Luv u

OK. Love Remus.

James laughs at his friend's hopelessness and tucks his phone away.

"I'm never cruel," he tells you.

You neaten the rolled up hem of his short sleeve unthinkingly and he can't help how much he wants to kiss you. It's all in the little things, he knows. You put your fingers in his hair and he's happy to lie in your lap like a dog; you fix his clothes and he wants to kiss you stupid; you smile at him sweetly, asking if he still feels sick, and if he is does he want you to go sit with him outside for a bit? He's ashamed of the heat in his chest.

James finds himself at your side with an inch between your legs, a porch bench swinging underneath you.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," you say tentatively. He feels an alarming rush of vertigo at your words, until you continue, "But I think you could benefit from some mild temperance."

He scrubs his face, nausea ebbing as you clarify. He thought for a moment you were going to reject him before he even confessed.

"Yeah, maybe. Wouldn't have any reason for you to take care of me then," he says, startled and sounding it. He winces before he's done. You make a humming sound.

"You hardly need to be drunk for me to take care of you."

He sits with this and looks out over the garden. It's a nice space, the home in a wealthy neighbourhood, twinkling fairy lights strung up over the porch and solar powered lamps peppered down a keenly landscaped stretch of green grass and flowerbeds. There's a pretty stone path leading down to the end of the garden where a grey-white fountain spurts water. It sounds calm if you can ignore the sound of the party, which he finds himself more and more able to do as your knee creeps closer to his.

He wishes, and hates himself for it, that he'd worn shorts. Craves that tiny skin on skin contact when your thigh touches him. You must be cold in your skirt, a midi slit up one side that shows the smooth stretch of your outer thigh, colder on your top half in a spaghetti strap shirt and a loose knit cardigan.

If he thought you'd accept it he would offer you his jacket, but you won't. He's tried before. I don't want you to get cold, Jamie.

"You really don't think I should get a haircut?" he asks self-consciously, tugging a hand through his unruly waves.

"No," you say seriously, turning your torso towards him.

"It's a little long," he complains.

"James, please." You lift your hand up to replace his, pushing his hair back.

"I'll look like Sirius soon enough."

You shift. The bench sways. You push your second hand in his hair and pull it all away from his face gently. He can feel the cool breeze on his bare, clammy forehead as you sit there with your hands in his hair

You run your hand through his dark mop one last time, then stop with your hands braced at the back of his head, a big smile on your face.

"Don't cut it," you implore him seriously, looking into his eyes.

He deserves a medal for not leaning into your arms right then and there.

"How do you keep it so soft even though it's this thick?"

He doesn't understand how you can continue a conversation like this without melting. He's melting. You're talking like everything is normal, fingers twined between ink dark strands and fingertips massaging his scalp.

"I… I oil my roots before I wash it." He doesn't share how his mum insists on doing it for him most of the time now he's back home from school.

"You can definitely tell," you murmur.

His eyes shut. He blames it on his drunkenness and not the feeling of your hands.

"James?" you ask quietly.

"Yeah?" he asks, though it sounds more like an unintelligible hum.

"Are you tired? D'you need to go home?"

"Maybe." He does feel suddenly like his limbs are made of stone.

"Who are you going home with?" you ask.

You stand. The bench wobbles. One hand falls out of his hair to rest on his shoulder and his skin warms where it lands, the other tucking stray pieces of hair behind his ears. He opens his bleary eyes and is met with a silver of your midriff, promptly closing them again to push evil thoughts from his mind in which he kisses stripes over that naked skin for hours.

"Sirius is driving me home," he admits reluctantly.

"Let's go look for him."

James reluctantly follows you with a little wobble. His inebriation has faded as the night progresses but a general tipsy dizziness prevails. You press a hand to his lower back and he narrowly avoids trodding on your strappy sandals.

"I don't see him anywhere. Can you text him?" you ask.

James grabs his phone. You both press your backs to the wall to make way for some passersbys. He doesn't bother with texting Sirius: Remus always answers.

Where r u??

Went to get food. Love Remus.

When will u b back?

Sirius wanted Molly's Kitchen. Love Remus.

Molly's kitchen in MILTON KENYES?

Sorry. He is very convincing. Love Remus.

I know he is… luv u see u never when i die here abandoned & cold

See you tomorrow. Love Remus.

It takes him so long to type this all out he's surprised when you're still by his side. You're looking at the picture frames hanging on the wall with the patience of a Saint.

"They ditched me."

"Oh," you say.

"Yep."

"Well, you'll just have to come home with me," you say breezily.

He gawks. You fish your keys out of your cardigan and brandish them like a lump of gold. "I have leftover pizza. Or we can order in. If you're hungry?"

He's not. "Sure. Whatever you want."

"We can walk. It's not that far. If you can walk?"

"I can walk."

Barely. He knows it would've been a lovely stroll with you in the lazy summer air, sun still ligphting the sky despite the time, gauzy pinks and blues skimming the white-gold horizon, if only he hadn't been half cut. Your skin is shiny as finest silk and a gentle breeze floats your perfume towards him and he's close to admitting maybe he's obsessed with you in a way that isn't cool at all by the time you make it to the front door.

It's a mostly silent journey until you're shutting your bedroom door behind you and he's wondering how he got here, sitting at the end of your bed. Your room is an extension of you that he can't take in fast enough. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

You lean down and unstrap your sandals and he toes off his own shoes, trying not to look at how you're bent over, at the silhouette of your legs in your light skirt. Next is your cardigan. He feels like a bachelor in the 1800s, hungry and guilty at your naked skin.

Your silver anklets click together as you weave past him to your bedside table. You flick on the glass shade lamp and an array of multicolour sprays up the wall and your hands. He's mesmerised.

"Pizza," you mumble to yourself, and then looking up at him, "James, I don't have any pajamas for you. Um… oh, and your jeans are gonna be uncomfortable. Do you wear boxers?"

"I- I- yeah. Yes." When he tells this story later, much later, he will not recall stammering here.

"Well, if you wanna sleep in your boxers I don't mind. Better than those awful jeans. I'm gonna heat up the pizza. Bathrooms right there," you point at the door, "if you need it. Are you still feeling sick?"

"No," he says, a smidge overwhelmed.

You reach out and cup his cheek for a second as you pass. He sits in your aftermath and worries he may not make it through the night.

Watching you eat is a strange pleasure. To get to watch you eat is the first, and then the face you make trying to catch a string of cheese is a close second. Now, lying shoulder to shoulder with you, too hot for the duvet and in his boxers he can't get the image of you out of his head. He's too afraid to turn and see the real thing in case you think he's trying to cop a feel.

He'd insisted on sleeping on the floor and you'd laughed so much you went warm in the cheeks. "No, James, that's okay. You're with me."

You'd swapped your skirt for a pair of loose cotton pants. The fabric of which brushed against his calf as you squirmed restlessly.

"It's too warm," you complain.

He's so tired he can barely answer. "Yes."

"I'm gonna open the window," you declare. You climb over his legs and there's so many points of contact he thinks he might go blind.

Window opened, you stand at the sill and pick your vest away from your skin, looking over your shoulder at him, catching him mid-heady gaze. If you care you don't show it, smiling at him with your big hoop earrings still in, your necklace, your bracelets. He frowns to himself. Are you supposed to sleep with jewellery?

You climb back into bed, standing at the edge and flopping down much closer to him than you had been before. It wafts a ridiculous gust of your intoxicating smell over him.

"It's supposed to be this hot all week," you say morosely.

"The miraculous nature of British summer time," he murmurs.

You laugh breathily. "How awful. When it's cold I want the sun to come out and when the sun's out I miss the rain."

He turns his head to watch you talk.

"I like the sunshine." You tilt your head up, in a deep debate with yourself. "It's the humidity I can't deal with. It makes my hair so frizzy. I want soft hair like you, and-" you pause. "Watcha doing?"

"Do you sleep with these?" he asks, poking at the hoop hanging from your earlobe.

"Oh. Sometimes. You're not supposed to, 'cos they're big and all, but I forget."

"Can I?"

"Sure, yes. Please."

He nods and brings his other hand up, pulling the latch off your hoop and sliding it from your ear. He climbs up onto his elbow and presses his fingers to your jaw, turning your head into the pillow so he can reach the other. You're decidedly pliant and quiet under his touch as he pulls the second out. He puts them down by your shoulder and pulls on your necklace until the clasp is in sight.

He's holding his breath. You're looking up into his face with wide, soft eyes, and he catches the tremble you resist as he pulls the necklace free from your neck.

"Tickles," you say sheepishly. He's close enough to feel the warmth of your exhale on his skin.

He drapes the necklace next to your earrings but can't bring himself to move. Your eyelashes twitch. Your lips part and he can see the tiniest sneak of your tongue.

The way you're looking at him is dazzling, dizzying. He smooths down the hair closest to your neck that he'd disrupted while detangling your necklace, ignores the unsteadiness in his hands, presses his fingers to the side of your throat.

Your eyelashes kiss as your eyes drift shut, and he leans down just as you turn your face from his.

"You're drunk, Jamie," you whisper, covering his hand with your own.

He knows you're right. Though drunk seems dramatic at this point, admittedly there's alcohol in his system, and he lets himself fall back into your sheets.

"Sorry," he says.

You bring your arm across your front to grasp his shoulder in your palm. Time moves slow.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

You brush the tousled hair from his face, your touch featherlight and familiar now against his temple. His heart soars as you cuddle in closer, skips when you touch your lips to the muscle of his bicep. "Sleep well," you say warmly.

You break the kiss and stroke the skin there gently with your thumb before turning on your back.

so u didn't kiss her?

u r exacerbating my pain, Black

Good. Ur pain SHOULD be 'exacerbated' idiot.

i was tipsy. she didn't want me 2

and in the morning when u were sober ??? couldn't have kissed her in between waffles????

she acted like it didn't happen so I did 2

oh my god! U r so dumb !

James dropped his phone in his lap, feeling the humiliation of his defeat tenfold. Sirius was right, James should have kissed you at breakfast. Maybe. Or at least made his intentions with you clear. He wasn't trying to kiss you because he was drunk or because you were there, he was trying to kiss you because he was hopelessly endeared to you and hoped you might want to put up with him for a bit. Or years. Whatever, it's not like he was planning the wedding or anything. Yet.

He very much hadn't kissed you the next morning. You'd gotten up before him, an angel in your new fresh clothes and your hair out of your face, skin dewy and fucking hell was he lovelorn. He'd been sick as a dog at the table and you'd mistaken it for a hangover, pressing a cup of water into one hand and two ibuprofen in the other, smelling like sweetness behind him.

"Temperance," you'd said encouragingly, lips by his ear.

He relayed this all to Remus over the phone on the bus home, who had listened without judging for the most part up until that point.

"Oh, James."

"You think that's bad?" he'd asked.

"James."

"Just. Don't tell Sirius?"

"I won't." A lie, evidently. At least I can be mad at Remus' blather mouth rather than my own pussy footing, James thinks happily, pulling a throw cushion over his face.

"I'm an idiot," he says into the cushion. It doesn't say anything back.

James Potter isn't your boyfriend to your whimsy disappointment, but you think he might want to be.

You'll admit that his tipsy almost-kiss was a speed bump where you worried that awkwardness would wedge between you ruthlessly, but the next morning he'd made enough jokes to have you tearing up and looked at you so adoring you assumed that point moot.

You dress extra pretty tonight, a million different trinkets, silver thin bangles that jingle. Please, you think. Please, James, just ask me on a date.

You're sick of motives. These days you only go so you can see James, tired of party drugs and alcohol and sweaty guys looking at you in that way where you know exactly what they're thinking.

You spy him now, pressing through the doorway with his entourage behind him. You think this with love. His two tallest friends are always right by his side, and a smaller girl trails behind them that you think is called Emmeline.

The first half of his friends that you knew of had arrived earlier in the evening along with your only mutual friend, Mary. You give her a saccharine smile as you peel away, not bothering to hide where you're planning on going.

She smiles indulgently and turns to the short-haired girl, Dorcas. Guilt-free, you wheedle past people you don't know and some that you do, giving pause when one of your friends from school appears. By the time you've finished menial well wishes you can't see James anymore.

"Looking for someone?"

You jump and spin on your flat shoes.

A relieved smile works its way across your mouth.

"James, you startled me," you say, voice light, pressing your fingers to your sternum.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Here." He gestures his big hand to you.

A flower. You take its stem between your fingers gingerly.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Saw it on the way."

You twirl it around and watch its petals dance before passing it back to him.

You smile despite yourself at his crestfallen expression and take a step closer.

"Put it in my hair?" you ask.

His brown eyes lighten, hot amber tea steeped in his irises. He's careful as he sews the flower's delicate stalk into the hair closest to your ear, his mouth hovering just over your forehead. You half hope he's going to press a kiss to your skin before he steps back. He doesn't, though his fingertips give you almost the same pleasure as he flattens what are already well tamed baby hairs.

You want an excuse to stay close to him. He'd done it all by himself the last time by participating in a drinking game he had no chance of winning and needing somewhere to lie down. Your lap had been open. You'd prefer he stray from any recreation of this tonight, and are saved from thinking up a new excuse when he taps the toe of his shoe into yours.

You look down at the rubber toes and then up at his face.

"Want a drink?" he asks.

You pull your shoe back just enough to hit his again. "Depends. What kind?"

"We brought a keg, not that I think you're interested in that."

"Nope," you agree, wrinkling your nose with a grimace.

His answering smile is ridiculously contagious.

"You don't strike me as someone so picky."

"I know what I like," you say, demure. "But I'll try anything once."

His eyes darken, sticky sweet; a playfulness edged in something like I dare you.

"Let's hope I can get you something that sticks," he says back, twice as smooth.

An immeasurable pleasure eats up your spine as his hand comes between your shoulder blades, steering you into the kitchen. He exchanges hellos with guys you don't know huddled around the kitchen table playing cards. One of them lights a cigarette and James stands between you and the twisting smoke, opening his arm out to the countertops covered in drink.

"What do you want, baby?"

You cross your legs and lean forward, pretending to read labels.

"How about you pick for me?" You turn your head to the side and enunciate each word through lips barely parted, eyes tracking his hands where they hang at his sides. His left hand twitches.

"And if you don't like what I choose?"

You straighten up slowly, "Then you'll make me another."

He laughs and you know he can see through all the aloof confidence you carry around you, can see you for who you are, but it doesn't read as cruelty so much as a kindness. You feel the layer of coolness you'd layered on slip away and smile at him with too much teeth, pleased when his hand claps your shoulder and he steps forward to make you a drink.

The concoction he makes is a little too sweet for you but you drink it without complaint, sitting up on the counter where there's room.

He leans with his hand braced behind him next to your thighs, face close to your own and beautiful as he talks to you, brown skin cooled by the white fluorescents and eyes shiny. You can see the smattering of dark stubble coming in if you look, which you aren't. Except that you are. Hungry, you soak in his little details. Tiniest scar by his mouth. Beauty spot not far from it under his nose, almost invisible against his skin. Wavy hair in tighter curls tonight and smelling of coconut or almond or something, fresh and fragrant and thick. His glasses, black wire frames, slide down his nose so often it drives you crazy to watch him push them back up.

Eventually, unable to resist the temptation, you straighten them on the bridge of his nose mid-sentence. He pauses to blow air out of the side of his mouth, warding off a curl dipping close to his eyebrows as you do, and the silence stretches even when your hands are safely returned to your lap.

"You look…" You press your lips together in an attempt to fight off a nervous giggle that slips out anyways as you continue, making the words less serious than they're meant to be, "Pretty. Or handsome. If you prefer."

He puts his drink down on the countertop. You knead your own fingers.

"You look pretty too. Handsome, if you prefer," he returns, creeping closer still. Your chest burns with the pleasure of being complimented. "So much jewellery tonight, you're a mirror ball."

"You don't like it?"

"Didn't say that."

You lift a hand, let all the bangles drop down your arm. "I may have bordered on excessive," you admit, abashed.

"Don't worry, I know all about excessive," he placates, picking his drink up pointedly. The image of him plastered and poorly pops up in your head.

"Yes, well, I was hoping you'd stay sober." You run your finger over the rim of your glass, unable to look at him. "In case I need some help."

His hand reaches out, a finger hooking under one chain bracelet and tugging gently. You can feel his gaze on your face, feel as he puts his drink down again with a final clink. His hand closes around your bracelet.

His fingers are gentle as his other hand slowly, slowly works up your face, fingertips pushing over the delicate, smooth skin of your cheek. His thumb finds a home at the bottom of your chin and he uses it to guide your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

It's intense because you want it, because he's handsome, because he's funny, because he's awfully, terribly kind. Because something between you both fits together like it's meant to, and you just know that if he kisses you everything is gonna work out like it should.

His eyes are on your lips. You follow his eyes with sick excitement and miss when he slips your bracelet off of your wrist.

You look between you both. He holds the silver links between his fingers. It's the only one he would've needed to unclasp, the rest are seamless bangles. This one, silver with small blue cut gems, is just his style.

You hold your palm out, mourn his hand as it falls from your face. You both look down between you as you wrap the tennis bracelet around his wrist and click it into place.

"There," you say, so quietly you're worried he might miss it. "Something for me to take off'a you."

His hand finds your face with purpose now, almost pulling you toward his own beaming face and he's opening his mouth, about to say something with a laugh already on his lips when a shattering crash echoes from the living room and into the kitchen. James stills, hand moving down to squeeze your shoulder protectively as he turns to the door.

A barking laugh. James turns back quickly, apologetic, murmuring a "Jump down?" and pushing his forearm under your armpit to help you down off of the counter.

As soon as your canvas shoes touch down, he takes a light hold on your wrist and pulls you along, following the guys who'd been playing cards. In the living room, Sirius sits at a coffee table with a knife in his hand. Sticking into his hand, blood already pooling around it in a black crimson horror that has half the room in morbid silence and the other half panicking.

Remus, at Sirius' left, is laughing with tears running down his cheeks, sounding like he's one guttural guffaw from throwing up. Sirius looks pretty cool about the whole thing, cooler when he spots James in the doorway.

"Prongs! Come and pull this out, would you? I'd do it, but I can't seem to make myself grab it."

Remus let's out another sobbing laugh. You can't help but giggle from behind James' shoulder, and Sirius zeroes in on this.

James drops your hand, walking forward and bending at the waist.

"Hey, don't think because you're his girl now that means you-fuck! Oh fuck, what the fuck-" Sirius presses the open sleeve of his dress shirt hurriedly into the wound, freshly opened. James holds the knife he'd just pulled free in his hand distastefully.

"Alright, hotshot, run your mouth in the car. You need stitches."

"Fuck's sake."

James drops the knife on the table and shoves the wounded boy's head with the flat of his palm, earning another curse. Remus, finally extending some friendly generosity, pulls the dark shirt he's layered over a t-shirt off and encourages Sirius to wrap it around his hand.

Sirius protests. "This'll give me an infection."

"Fuck off and die, then," Remus suggests lightly, wiping at his eyelashes with the side of his pinky finger.

Sirius wrinkles his nose. James tries to shepherd them both from the room, which has once again grown loud with laughing, most of it at the absurdity of Sirius injury.

"What did I tell you about pinfinger?" James asks scornfully.

"Not to play it," Remus supplies, stepping over people's feet with little apology.

You watch the sorry threesome make their way to the door, a disheartened feeling creeping in.

James opens the front door and pushes Sirius through it, torn looking back at you.

"Remus can't drive, so I'll have to take him," he explains.

"You still have my bracelet."

A weak argument. He can hear your disappointment. He smiles, eyebrows pulling up in… sympathy? Empathy? Apology? You can't tell what, only that he looks soft as butter as he says, "I'll call you? We can arrange a time for you to take it back."

"Okay," you agree, much too happy, just as he's pulled out the door by a bloody hand.

James doesn't have your number. He realises this in A&E, close to midnight with Remus asleep on one shoulder and Sirius slouched in the other, waiting for the plastics to come and assess if Sirius has done any permanent damage to his finger.

"I don't understand how you can stab yourself in the hand and fuck up your finger," James mutters for what's likely the fifth time.

Sirius sighs unhappily. "It's ligaments or tendons or something. I might very well have cut through a cord that needs to remain uncut."

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks, James."

"Yeah, you're welcome." James slouches a little lower in his chair to take the strain off of his best friend's neck in a show of genuineness. He does love him, after all, even after shocking displays of public stupidity.

"Sorry for cockblocking you," Sirius says.

"Vile. Wasn't gonna turn out that way. Though I was hoping I might actually make a real move tonight. I did make a real move," James shakes his head, disgruntled. "I was seconds away from kissing her. Your idiocy couldn't wait 30 seconds?"

"Wasn't exactly timing it, mate."

"Yeah."

James digs through his pocket for his phone. He never knows where the damn thing is. Your bracelet is tight to his skin and he looks at it with keen longing, imagining your nicely shaped nails running under it.

He shakes it off, goes to unlock his phone, and this is where he realises he doesn't have your number.

"Do you have Y/N's number?" he asks Sirius.

"No." It sounds like why would I?

"Fuck."

"She's Mary's friend, isn't she? Ask Mary."

He sighs and does as he's told, scrolling through contacts until he finds Mary MacDonald's.

Hi mary was wondering if u have Y/N's phone #

And why should I give it to you, Pots? :3 :D <3

pls mary I am not above begging u

While that would be a sight, I meant why do you want it? But please tell me more about the begging part!!! <33

mary

What are your intentions with my Y/N? She's much too sweet for you to manhandle <33

James blushes at her wording and groans aloud. "Girls are impossible."

"Yep," Sirius says tiredly.

James doesn't want his or your business passed around, and if he tells Mary, Mary will tell Dorcas and Dorcas will tell Marlene and Marlene will tell everybody she knows and will find it very, very entertaining as she does. He doesn't plan on awarding her the pleasure. He tells a white lie.

I found her bracelet and want to give it back :]

I'll give it back for you ;) <3

not that I don't trust u M but its super nice, id prefer to give it in person myself

OK OK I'll stop yanking your chain now Jamesie dearest hahaha. Her number is +44 XXXX XXXXXX. I trust the bracelet gets back to her in one piece. btdub, how's siri? <3

crying and shaking like a lamb, thanks m xoxo

He adds your number to his contacts and then stares at it until the nurse calls for Sirius and they get up to meet her, leaving Remus to blink awake confused at their departure.

hi Y/N, this is James

You look down at your rarely used phone and feel a warmth like sunshine unfold in your tummy. You don't use any emoticons, though you want to.

Hi James, how are you? How is your friend?

im amazing how r u? doctors are hopeful that he'll live, but it's up to him now :,(

James

kidding. he is fine. R u busy right now?

no I'm not busy why?

can I call u?

You call him rather than answer. He picks up straight away.

"James," you say quietly.

"Sweetheart," he says back. "Hey, hi. I had to get your number from Mary Magdalene."

"Wow, what was she like?"

"Uh… bloody? Which one was she?"

"I don't know, James," you say, laughing behind your hand.

"What are you doing today?" he asks.

You preen though he can't see. "Nuthin," you say, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. "Why'd you ask?"

"Trapped you there, baby. Don't you know you're supposed to wait until after I tell you what I'm planning before you say you're not busy?"

"Oh, weird. Something just came up."

"Uh-huh. Anyways, busy or not, if you want to: I've got a match later. If you want to come." He sounds nervous. It's a new look on him.

"Do I get to sit pretty on the sidelines with the other girls?"

"You can stand, if you like. But yeah, otherwise. Oh, unless you have some kicks. I doubt it would take much convincing to get you on the team."

"How's that?"

"Well, you know. They aren't blind. Dumb, sure, but we play rugby. Not exactly a honeypot of intelligence, all it would take for half those guys is your pretty smile-"

"You're plenty smart," you cut off his compliments.

James gags. "Keep it to yourself. It starts at six, but come whenever. Oh- do you need me to pick you up?"

"No, that's okay. I'll walk. It's warm out."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll be nice. I'll wear team colours." You're almost afraid to suggest it until he makes a very happy noise that he coughs to hide two seconds too late.

"See you at six, then?"

"Definitely. You owe me a bracelet."

"It's a date." He hangs up before you can say goodbye. Good thing, because you spend the next ten minutes with your face in your hands, smiling so wide your cheeks ache.

It doesn't quite feel like a date on the sidelines but you're too busy walking on sunshine to care. You watch as James throws the ball behind him, torso twisting, bulky arms flexing. His shorts and socks are stained green and his shirt grips tight to his chest.

You can see why he wanted a haircut; ink dark hair falls in his eyes as he sprints after the team and he has no hands to tuck it back.

You'd been a little late, trying too hard to look effortlessly radiant at home and forgetting the time. As soon as you'd arrived, out of breath and half-dressed, you stood at the side of the pitch close to watchers but maintaining a small gap trying desperately to catch his eye. It was obvious when he saw you - he smiled beatifically and raised a wide palm in greeting before getting into position for a scrum.

After a while there's a halftime break where he comes bouncing off the field to your side. He goes straight in for a hug, brave, warm, exactly what you wanted, arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground half an inch with the force of it.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pretend it's all an inconvenience, wobbling on tiptoes. "You're getting grass all over me."

"Oh no," he says, faux worried.

He smells like so many things. Deodorant and sweat, grass and dirt and salt. You press your nose into his hair and smell the almond oil there with a lopsided smile.

He lets you down, holding you at arms length.

"You're so fucking pretty."

You try not to burst into tears, turning your face so he can see the heart on your cheek made up of glitter in his team colours. "It's the team rep."

"No, it isn't," he says, running his hand down your face to straighten your head, pausing with his fingers under your chin.

Your bracelet is still on his wrist. You can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed at the lovesickness you're feeling.

You push his hair from his face. He, reminded of this affliction, levels you with a squinting glare. "This is all your fault."

"Sorry, Jamie," you say, biting back a guilty smile.

"It's fine," he concedes immediately. You're suddenly overwhelmed by the power you have over this poor boy.

"How long is the break?"

"Halftime? About ten minutes left."

You nod, thinking to yourself. "Well, um. You can say no, but. I can plait your hair back, if you want. Out of your eyes."

"You can?" he asks, brightening.

"Yeah, I can."

James sits on the bottom bench of the stand and you stand behind him, your fingers raking through his windblown curls in lieu of a comb. He sits strangely still, more controlled than you thought possible of him as you braid back the longest strands at the front of his scalp, sliding your fingers through his hair as kindly as you can. The small intimacy of it all has your heart racing.

Securing the dark braid with a bobble, you take in the back of his head. His soft shiny hair is oil black in the sun, his skin painted with gold. His neck begs to be kissed.

You rub your hands down the back of his neck, across the curves of his trap muscles and then down his chest, leaning on him so you can press your lips to the highest point of his cheek in a shy kiss. He tilts his head to catch your eye as you pull back.

"Done?" he asks, something indistinguishable in his voice.

"Done," you confirm.

His face is close enough to spot the beauty mark adjacent to his cupid's bow. You resist the urge to kiss that, too, and stand at full height. He copies you. You find that the stands underneath you makes you taller, his eyes are level with yours.

"How's it look?"

"I did alright," you say modestly. "Though maybe a haircut isn't the worst idea."

He laughs and looks down, reaching for your hands. He's different without his glasses, not more or less handsome, but different. The focus of his face changes, and you find yourself distracted by his eyes, his nose, his mouth.

He holds your hands like a prince, brushing his thumb over your fingernails. Then, in true royal fashion, he brings your hand to his mouth. A kiss pressed to your knuckles. One kiss becomes two, two to three, a peppering of pecks up your hand and over your pulse and up your arm. He reaches your sleeve. His hand follows his mouth until he's holding your elbow in his hand like you're a sacred being, pulling you in.

You drift together. His hands cup your upper arms and guide you slowly to the left as he ducks in.

A piercing whistle leaps through the air. You flinch apart like guilty kids, his hands a searing heat through your shirt sleeves as the call for halftime's end rings. Loudly.

He grimaces bitterly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know why this keeps happening to us, I'm-"

"Going to get in trouble," you finish, peeling his hands off of your body. "Go on, before they get mad."

"Your bracelet-"

"Keep it. It looks good on you, anyways."

He leans in and holds you by the neck. Your heart is a hammering racket for no reason - all he does is peck your forehead, quick and firm. Then he pulls back all sorry looking and scrambles over the bench and the kit to get back into position.

You sit down heavily on the cold metal seat behind you and cover your chest with your hands, taking deep breaths through your nose.

He catches your eye from the pitch and winks.

"Be thankful it was your mouth and not your nose."

"Explain what you mean," James demands, wincing at his split lip.

You match his stride. James, having been hit in the face with the rugby ball hard enough to bruise and cut his top lip, had refused to let you look at him, despite the horror it had provoked, and then had refused to let you walk home alone. I'm not getting in your car until you see a doctor, James, I mean it.

Fine, then we'll walk.

So you walk. The sun is setting, the sky a mix of white-pink and light blue, a bleeding yellow light throwing big shadows every which way. You step out of the shade of a towering, green leafed tree where the main road began. Before James can stop you, you jump up onto the small metal barrier that stops cars from driving on the pavement and walk across it like a balance beam.

"Please don't," James says.

You ignore him, using your arms to stop yourself from toppling into the road. A small revenge considering he had ignored your medical advice. James lets you do this for around 10 seconds before he grabs your hand in his. You wobble along the last meter of barrier with your joined hands held aloft and tight before you finally let him pull you back down onto the pavement, giggling breathlessly. Cars careen past, each one wafting a breeze of petrol and fallen leaves towards your legs.

Fingers interlocked, you walk. You take in the relative beauty of your town in its approaching dusk, meandering past roundabouts and roads, back gardens and a corner shop.

You persuade James inside the shop and beeline for the cold drinks at the back. The open fridges cool your clammy skin.

"What one do you want?" you ask him.

"Anything. Whatever you're having."

You grab three identical cans and ignore his raised eyebrows as you bring them to the front of the store, the cashier hidden behind lollipop stands, magazines, a plastic shield plastered in leaflets for upcoming events. There's a small TV in the corner blaring summer music that you can't help but hum as you emerge from the shop, swaying your hips in time.

"Who's the third for?" James asks, accepting his can. You tuck your own in your bag and grin.

"You! For your lip," you say. "It's swollen."

"Doesn't hurt."

"Don't believe you."

He reluctantly takes the can from you and complains loudly, exasperated at having two full hands, one pressed to his face. You wiggle your empty one at him in bad sportsmanship. Before long you're standing outside your home and James is hesitating.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask, half-hopeful.

He shakes his head. "I can't, I have to take Sirius to get his hand looked at again by plastics."

"Too bad," you murmur, looking at his chest and then his face. "Thank you for walking me. I know it's out of the way."

"You're never out of the way," he says seriously.

You slide your fingers into the loose hair behind his neck, rub your thumb across the line of his jaw.

"Get home safe," you murmur as you lift up on your toes, shoes creasing. You press a half-open kiss to his jaw where your thumb had been moments before and close your lips over his skin slowly. You linger, pressing a second on top.

There's an unspoken acknowledgement between you both when you pull away. A promise.

He looks a picture of defeat walking down your front path. Covered in dirt and grass and sweat and blood, hair messy and chased by the last rays of sun. You watch until he's at the end of your street, butterflies thrashing in your tummy as he presses his index and middle finger to where you'd laid your kisses, as though checking his pulse.

James' parents own a restaurant. He knows, in his right mind, that this is a lame place to take you on a proper first date, only it's the hottest week of the year and everywhere else with outdoor seating is fully booked.

"I don't mind, James. Actually, I'm excited. I've never seen Sirius in a uniform," you say.

He scowls and scoffs melodramatically over the phone until you apologise to him for your terrible, awful, sick joke.

Technically, the Potter's restaurant is fully booked too, and he watches the books like a hawk for a week while his lip heals until he catches a cancellation. He instantly jots down his name. He's caught in the act by Euphemia.

"James," his mum had said, words drawn out. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

So really, he isn't sure why he thinks this date will go well. Everybody who works here knows him, and even as he waits outside for you under the dark wood porch a server comes up to him and nudges him with his elbow emphatically.

You turn the corner and he stops breathing, a vision in your sundress and sandals. He watches your anklets dance as you approach, eyes roving up your body devotedly until he finds a smile that matches his own in tenacity playing on your glossy lips.

He wants to kiss you then but wants more to foster a perfect, romantic evening first, so he's careful as he brings his hands up to your face appreciatively. Your hands hook around his elbows, an excited glaze in your eyes.

"Hi, pretty girl."

"Hi," you say, hushed by shyness.

He caresses your cheeks lightly, worried about smudging your makeup. Your eyes close when his hands move up, sliding over your hair to rest behind your ears. Sparkly earrings hang from each earlobe.

"You look beautiful," he says, because fuck it if James hasn't got game.

Your smile turns pouting at his words. He wants to record your voice and play it back when you say, "Thank you, James," in the softest tone he's ever heard from you.

He wants to stay like this. He swears he could happily stand in this bubble of the world with you and count your eyelashes, memorise the flecks of colour that surround your pupil, but you shimmy out of his hands and prompt him inside.

"Come on, handsome, I'm hungry." And then, inside the restaurant. "Oh my god. It smells amazing. What smells amazing?"

He has no clue. He's reluctant to go to the bar with you only because he knows exactly who stands behind it - Sirius, in his neat uniform, a towel thrown over his shoulder and a bandage wrapped around his hand.

He's well-behaved when he sees you, though a few things he says has James reaching to wring his neck.

"How's your hand?" you ask.

Sirius sets down James' pint and grabs for another glass, shovelling ice and pouring juice. "It's alright. The bandage is for health and safety, not because it's actually injured anymore."

"Plastics said he's fine," James interjects, raising the dark ale to his lips.

"Perfect," Sirius amends cooly, "is what they said. Head to toe."

James corrals you out onto the mezzanine before you can fall in love with the uppity bartender.

It gets worse from there. A server who's known James since he was in nappies takes your orders, an extremely handsome server with a deep dusky voice and black skin so smooth he's practically carved from stone.

"And what's for you, babygirl?" he asks after airing out every embarrassing thing James has ever done on restaurant grounds.

You're still laughing, but you turn to James with all the confidence in the world as you ask, "What do I get, James?"

He feels a little better after that.

The patio is perfect. The sun's out, the breeze is light. Every now and then he has a hint of your smell, sunscreen and perfume. Your leg bounces under the table, a tinkling sound of silver, and you lean forward. He doesn't look at your chest where the necklace hanging over your collar bones disappears, thank you very much, but you're so obviously perfect and he's attracted to everything - your body and your gorgeous face, yes, undeniably, but your voice! Your laugh, your smell, the way your hands move. The way your every word about him drips adoration. The pride in your tone as you recall what should've been his perfect match (if he hadn't been hit in the face).

After a lazy dinner and a second round of drinks he's buzzing and you're lovely, like a flower, bloomed and prettier than anything he's ever seen.

You leave the table and walk along the woodchip path and kids play area to look out over the lake, a dark shimmering sheet split in half by twisting white light, the sun falling from the sky.

The evening grows marginally colder, especially at the lakefront. At the first sign of discomfort he works his arm over your back, hand pressed to the dip of your shoulder

He's waiting for you to look at him before he kisses you.

"It's so pretty," you sigh happily.

Across the lake is a backdrop of green trees and a small, rustic boathouse. A family of ducks swim past, shepherded by a squawking swan.

"Bully," he mutters.

You hum. "Why is there only ever one nasty swan per lake?"

"Gotta fill their quota."

"The poor duckies," you sympathise. "Look, there's one of the fancy ones with a green head over there."

He follows your finger but gets distracted by the bracelets adorning your wrist, can't help but think about how you'd asked him to take them off.

"James, this is… it's really perfect. It's amazing."

He pulls you in a little closer. "I'm glad," he says, though he's finding it hard to respond - he can barely open his mouth. "I wanted it to be."

You finally turn to face him. He guesses his change in tone is what does it, because you sound similarly low and love-sticky when you murmur back, "Everything. It's all been so perfect. Everything with you."

He can't take it. He darts forward, so close to kissing you that the air between you is charged with it. When his nose grazes yours he gives pause, tries to work out what you're thinking as your tongue wets your lips.

Your eyes are closed. He shuts his own and-

"James! James Fleamont Potter! You come up here and help your mam!" his father's voice calls.

He drops his forehead against yours and lets out a pained exhale.

"Dad," he calls back, refusing to move. "I'm a little preoccupied."

"What? James, look, I don't have my glasses and your mother needs someone to write tomorrow's daily special!"

He pulls away from you and sends a heated look over his shoulder, one he's sure could melt metal and that his father can't even see. "And tomorrow's daily special, this couldn't wait until TOMORROW?"

"James, I've no clue what's turned you into such a sour puss tonight and I don't have time to work it out. All I'm asking is that you do this chalkboard for us and then you can get back to-"

"Dad! Dad! Alright, I'm coming!" he hollers back, cutting his father off before he can blow a gasket. "Jesus Christ," he says under his breath, defeated. You frown sympathetically at his embarrassment.

"You should probably go help your parents," you say, sounding similarly disappointed. He nods, unwilling.

"Just, don't move," he pleads.

You smile, total understanding on your face, and he's only taken a few steps from you when you turn back to the lake and your shoulders fall.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He turns your body with his palm on your shoulder and soothes your surprised flinch with a hand on your neck, your eyes meeting for a startled, excited handful of seconds before he's finally, finally, surging forward. You gasp into his mouth and his fingers tighten on your neck, lips aligned with your lips and searching deeper, parting to invite you in. You follow, a dance, a hand pulling you out of the road, a tether, and you taste like everything he's ever thought you might all at once.

You press your spread fingers over the fine material of his dress shirt and moan when he catches your top lip between his. He kisses, again and again, feels you slip through his hands like water. He hooks his arm around your head to keep you in place as he wades into you, slowing, softening, pulling away to plant one, two, three gentle kisses over it all like a balm. You respond to each one amorously. His chest rears to explode at your dizzy, pretty panting when it's over.

He loosens his arm to pull back and take in your entire face. Your eyes are shimmering, lips wet. He wipes his thumb over your bottom lip, finds it burning hot.

"Oh," you whisper.

"Oh?" he asks, endeared and amused and insanely happy.

"I didn't think it would feel so different to all the little kisses from before."

"Good different?" he asks, the damp pad of his thumb smoothing over the warm hill of your cheek, stolen bracelet scraping your skin.

Any anxiety he has unfurls and dissipates into nothing when you smile and lean in for a second kiss. "Good different," you confirm against his open mouth, "everything with you…"

He pulls you as close as any person can be to another person. He has a pretty good picture of what you were going to say, anyways.

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