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marshmallow-phd · 4 years ago

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Gravity

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

A/N: This was basically just a therapy write.

What is worth? It is neither tangible nor seeable. It doesn’t have a body or a shell. Yet, the endless chase to catch it, to hold it captive, is a never ending disease that eats away at the brain and tears apart the heart. It’s only descriptor is feeling. A judgement. Something either is or isn’t. When it's an object in question, the call for worth is passive, innocent. It’s wanted or it's not. The deterioration comes into play when the worth is applied to a person.

Kim Junmyeon was worth the world.

With a smile that could chase away a storm and a heart too good and pure for the human populace, he was truly worth more than the world. He was worth more than you deserved.

Not only was his face kind, but it was handsome. Beautiful, even. Candid photos were museum worthy masterpieces. There was a gentleness, a softness to his eyes and cheeks that contradicted the sharpness of his jaw and the strength of his body. His laugh was infectious and his mind as vast and deep as the ocean. The sum of his whole was worth so much.

But you were not worthy of such a person. You weren’t as stunning as a sunset over the mountains or as extraordinary as a new discovery. You were simply… you. Staring from afar, admiring but never touching.

You wished you could be worthy. You wished you could be special enough - good enough to be with him. Pretty enough would be something decent to settle for. But you were invisible. A person on the sidelines. Out of the spotlight. You were an admirer - not one to be admired.

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked, your attention torn away from the spot where Junmyeon was standing, laughing and chatting with a few of his seniors. Kyungsoo, who sat to your left at the small table in the entertainment building’s cafe, didn’t even look up from the script he was currently reviewing. He’d only been given it the day before and was still considering if he wanted the part that was being offered to him.

Your gaze dropped to the opened yet untouched notebook lying in front of you on the somewhat sticky surface. Someone must have spilled their syprup-y coffee and didn’t do the best job at cleaning it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without moving his head, Kyungsoo looked at you over the rim of his glasses. Even though you were sure you were nothing more than a blur to his eyes at the moment, he could always see right through you. “If you keep staring at him like that, you’re going to give yourself away.”

The ultimate nightmare. The humiliation of being found out. The sweet but awkward rejection that you knew would follow. With his laugh still ringing in your ears, you forced yourself to tune Junmyeon out.

Pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, Kyungsoo straightened and closed the script. “We can go somewhere else, if that would help.”

You wanted to argue no. That you weren’t a coward. That you weren’t going to run and hide simply because you looked at him like he was the night sky while you were stuck on the ground. You used to have better control of yourself. You used to be able to hide it better. But lately, it had only gotten worse.

And you were a coward.

“Yeah. Maybe one of the practice rooms is empty.”

“There’s usually one.”

After gathering up your things, you followed Kyungsoo out of the cafe, stealing a final glance. Junmyeon didn’t so much as twitch in your direction. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he hadn’t even realized that you were there in the cafe for the past half hour.

Kyungsoo settled into one corner of the worn navy blue couch while you squeezed into the other. Not speaking a word, he went back to reading the script. That was a nicety of your friendship. Comfortable silence was more than readily available when needed. He didn’t push or give unasked for advice. He was an ear to listen and a presence to take in when you didn’t want to be alone.

You stared down at the notebook in your lap where your next story ideas were supposed to be filling the pages. But nothing was coming out. Not even the vague pictures you’d had earlier this morning. The only things being called to the paper were the sentences held in the invisible tears you refused to shed. Words of wishes and frustrations swirled around inside the tiny droplets, every letter as heavy as lead. Your cruel mind kept echoing at you the conversation that had constricted the air in your lungs.

Two days ago, you’d accidentally overheard a drama staff worker jokingly say that Junmyeon and his current co-star seemed awfully close, more than merely friends. Stomach lurching, you ran to the nearest bathroom. Nothing came out but almost fifteen minutes of deliberate breathing had gone by before you emerged again. Kyungsoo was quick to dismiss the comment after barely three words from you. The effect, however, still lingered.

Despite the history of your intrusive thoughts, you wanted to believe that you could be good enough. That you were worthy of being beside someone like Junmyeon. His co-costar was stunning, even in real life. Someone who didn’t need photoshop to draw out gasps of awe and astonishment. Someone you most certainly couldn’t compete with in any race.

You weren’t asking for much. Just to be able to hold his hand, your fingers interlaced between his own. The fantasy you allowed yourself to indulge in at times wasn’t a grand gesture or a modern fairytale. You wanted simplicity. The smaller moments that could mean so much. Mundane, to some eyes.

Warm sun rays leaked through the closed blinds over the living room windows. A clock on the wall ticked away the meaningless minutes. Sometimes soft music hummed in the background, sometimes there was nothing but silence. Junmyeon would lay across the length of the couch with you wrapped around his side. His fingers would absentmindedly caress your shoulder or arm. In his other hand was a book, held open by his thumb and pinky. Your own hand drifted through his hair while he read aloud.

The two of you had dozens of endless conversations about books. About the ones you loved and the ones you hated. About deeper meanings and the reflections of life. His love of literature - from the celebrated classics to the obscure unknown - had been what initially drew you in. Everything else was what made you stay.

A muscle in your hand cramped. The peaceful scene faded from your eyes. The page was now filled with barely legible, ink-smeared words. You’d written the entire scenario out, along with your heart, without even realizing it.

In a panic, you ripped the paper from its spiral hold, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the trash can across the room. It missed.

“I doubt whatever you wrote was that bad,” Kyungsoo murmured. He read the final few lines of the script and closed it.

“It wasn’t,” you admitted bitterly. “But I shouldn’t have written it.” You described the scene to him while your eyes stayed trained on the loose thread twirling between your fingers.

He sighed. “You’re never going to tell him, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just stopping yourself.”

You scoffed. “Why would I deliberately set myself up like that? Break me the rest of the way?”

Kyungsoo stared at you, long and hard, his expression blank to those who couldn’t read the tell-tale signs that his thoughts were in overdrive. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

You sniffed, though no tears were yet forcing their way to the surface. “Most days.”

“Then walk away.”

“I can’t.” Your voice broke - just like your heart. The world blurred when you shook your head. “I can’t… simplify it. But-- It’s like I was this stupid lump of rock drifting aimlessly through space, content with my life. Then suddenly, I came across this brilliant star that shined so brightly and… we collided. And now I’m stuck in his orbit. But he just keeps on spinning while my whole world had changed completely. He’s… my gravity. I don’t know anything else anymore.”

“Maybe it’s time to find your own orbit.”

Afraid it might crack again, your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

The door creaked open and your heart leapt. Junmyeon stuck his head inside. Had he overheard everything?

“There you are! I turned away for a second and suddenly you two weren’t in the cafe anymore.”

He’d… He’d seen you? In the cafe?

“It was too loud,” Kyungsoo lied, covering up for you like he always did.

“It’s always too loud for you,” Junmyeon teased. Then his face morphed into that leader-esque expression. “We need to head to rehearsal. You’re welcome to join us,” he nodded to you.

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly in response. “I have a writer’s meeting.” No, you didn’t, but space felt like the right choice at the moment. You tried not to focus on the lack of disappointment coming from the direction of the door.

“Maybe next time.” Junmyeon slapped the side of the door. “Let’s go, Soo.”

You were actually the first one on your feet, muttering goodbyes to both of them and then walking down the hall perhaps a little too fast.

You didn’t allow your mind to think the whole way home. Every action was done in automatic mode. Only the minimal amount of awareness was used. But when the apartment door clicked behind you, when the near darkness wrapped you up, when the silence crept in and the empty couch mocked you… you broke.

Knees buckling from under you, the cold hard floor came closer and you didn’t leave that spot just inside the room as the tears and sobs crashed out in waves.

This was what you hated the most. The breakdowns that came with no excuse. They were built up by your own mind, by your intrusive thoughts. You tortured yourself with what you could never have. The attacks were random and it was only recently that you had learned to hold them in long enough until you were safe within your own walls. One time, you hadn’t made it. Kyungsoo had been there to pat your shoulder.

Kyungsoo. He was right.

That clarity was coming through as the tears dried and your breathing evened out again. You needed space. You needed to separate yourself from what wasn’t good for you and not see him. Not even have the temptation to.

This was going to hurt like hell.

The office somehow looked smaller with the bare walls. Since the day you moved in, you tried to liven it up, give it character, make it reflect the interests you loved. How were you supposed to write if this place felt like a stifling corporate desert, dry of any creativity?

Not that you ever actually wrote in this twelve by eight space. This place had been reserved for meetings and other usually boring necessities. You didn’t know the next time a budget meeting or an email check would be conducted here. You could be back in a few months and move back in as if you never left. Or someone else could take over. Only time would tell.

The box that currently had your attention was nearly full. You’d have to come back for the rest. There wasn’t much left, anyway. You took another look around to see if there was anything else you could do at the moment. The monitors were black, the tower underneath - so much smaller than the one you’d had as a kid - was powered off, and the chair that was aligned just so to your favored adjustments was pushed into the gray desk. Saying goodbye to this place really did hurt.

But you needed to do this.

And yet, you felt like you were drowning, being dragged deeper into the black water. Your lungs were screaming for relief.

“You’re really leaving?”

Your shoulders stiffened. At first, you didn’t look up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. Being here… it was the last place you expected him to be today. Kyungsoo would have told him, but you wouldn’t have waited around for him to appear.

“Hi, Junmyeon.” You folded up the top of the box, overlapping the pieces so it would stay shut in transport.

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I love it,” you confessed. “But I- I need to go home for a little while.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Something like that.” Definitely some version of sick.

He nodded. “Will you be gone long?” His eyes drifted over the holes in the walls leftover from the frames that used to hang in front of them.

“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This was…. You should go. Pushing your fingers under the box, you started to lift it to take it home.

“Do you have to go?”

The question stalled you. Confused, the box went back down on the desk. “Why are you here, Junmyeon?”

He shrugged, though it didn’t shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his arms all the way to his wrists covered up by the sleeves of his shirt. Lately he had been rolling them up. You wondered what had changed today. “You’re our friend.”

Friend.

Friend. Friend. Friend.

The word rang over and over like a declaration of war. Our friend.

The smart thing to do would have been to nod, say goodbye, and leave. But - instead - you opened your mouth.

“I will always be your friend.”

That didn't make him smile like you would have thought. “So, then why do you have to leave?”

You rubbed your eyebrow, fighting within yourself. You lost.

“Have you ever had a friend so head over heels for someone that won’t even look at them twice? But they don’t care? Because as long as the person they’re looking at is happy, then they’re happy. Even if your friend is completely miserable in the process. Because they no longer care about their own self. They just keep looking at the other person, doing anything that entails that they’re still happy.” You swallowed thickly to try and keep your voice steady. By your sides, your hands were trembling at this roundabout confession. “And you want to shake them. You want to tell them to get out. Because as long as they stick around, they won’t look at one else. No one else exists. Well, this is me. Getting out.”

The frown on Junmyeon’s face deepened as he let your words sink in. “Who is it? Will you tell me?”

No. Because this was enough of an admittance. Because it was time to find your own sense of gravity.

So, without a word, you picked up the box and left the office.

Waiting for you when you came back was the scene you had written in the practice room that day, flattened out but still wrinkled as it laid on the desk.

#exo #kim junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #suho x reader #exo oneshot #exo drabble #exo angst #exo unrequited love #kpop

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arpad5421970 · 3 years ago

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Week 4 - Studio tutorial

In Week 4 we started learning about perspective drawings. This is an important topic as in some ways it is more important to us then 2D orographic drawings, as this helps us create a 3D image of the product on a 2D surface which is a very difficult process to do right.

Part 1 required us to create a simple 2 Point Perspective drawing to reflect a view of our chamfered box, which we had to create from paper as our pre class activity. We started by drawing the Picture Plane, Horizon Line, Ground Level and Centre of Vision on an A2 sheet, after which I drew in the chamfered box from the front and top view. Then I started by projecting the corners of the object from the top view towards the Spectator Point, and after hitting the Picture Plane, projected the line parallel to the Centre of Vision. After that I picked random points for the Left and Right vanishing points, which is the incorrect, so after I finished this drawing, I redone this exercise on the same sheet of paper except this time not picking random points, instead projecting a lines parallel to the edges of the top view from the Spectator Point to the Picture Plane and then projecting a line straight down to the Horizon Line, finding the correct position of the vanishing points. This ended up extending beyond my sheet so I had to attach an additional A4 sheet. I have outlined the correct shape with a blue pencil, and there is a bit of a pretty noticeable difference between the two.

Part 2 required us to create the same box expect without a chamfer and with the spectator point being slightly further back. And then we were instructed to put three additional boxes on the visible faces, which was a bit on the tricky side, simply because of the shear amount of lines, but overall wasn't of any big trouble.

Part 3 required us to create a cube in the same method as before, except on top of it we had to draw in circles, or in this case more so ellipses. This was done by haling the faces vertically and vertically and then constructing the minor and major axis. The circles ended up looking a bit liney, but they are correctly done.

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Alan was bored.

It wasn’t often that he found himself with a lack of things to do. Life was generally busy with Thunderbird maintenance, rescues and backup duties.

Of course, he could always kill some zombies, but he was feeling restless. Gordon was off the island with Grandma so that didn’t help. Scott was buried in paperwork and John was still hiding on Five. Virgil had disappeared.

Wandering out onto the balcony, Alan eyed the pool a moment before throwing the idea out. Without Gordon it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun.

Maybe he could go for a walk. Scott had been nagging him to get into a more regular exercise routine and, hey, he hadn’t seen the other side of the island for a while.

Darting up to his rooms, he threw on some loose clothes, decent shoes and a hat. A quick note to John to say where he was going and he was out the back door and crunching gravel up the side of the mountain.

While he had no objection to the great outdoors, Alan had no particular preference for sun, surf or bush walking. Not that he didn’t love a splash in the ocean with his brother, or even a jog around the island with Scott, it was just that many of his interests lay in the confines of the virtual world.

Or space.

Part of him didn’t want to admit he was like Johnny, but he was in many ways, but where John adored seclusion, Alan loved people. Basically, Alan was happy doing pretty much anything as long as it was with someone, preferably someone he loved.

So, he would really be lying if he said he took his route at random. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more just what he knew was going to happen regardless.

Virgil had some favourite places on the island to sit and just be. Alan didn’t quite get it any more than he got John’s love of solitude, but he knew his brother liked it and he stored the information for when it was needed.

Today Alan wanted company, so he used the information he had at hand.

Clambering around on the rocky island was not for the faint-hearted. There was no doubt that he was getting a good workout just by going for a simple walk. His first stop was a small cliff beyond Thunderbird Two’s runway. It was Virgil’s favourite, just on the other side of the mountain. He could often be found here just staring out into the ocean thinking who knew what. The scene had been painted, scribbled and, in one case, mosaicked onto a table. This was definitely Virgil’s favourite place.

He wasn’t there.

But Alan still had his list.

Two more Virgil spots proved empty and Alan had managed to work up quite a sweat. He was beginning to wonder why he was even bothering when he caught sight of a figure almost completely hidden in a grove of palm trees.

Virgil sat on a rock, his sketchpad on his lap, completely absorbed in his art. He was up a cliff overlooking a good chunk of the island, the twin peak at an angle even Alan could appreciate.

Alan eyed the climb and with a deep breath began the trek to reach his brother. He kept quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb him. That would be a good way to get his head ripped off. But if he approached from just the right angle, he should be able to see what Virgil was actually drawing.

It took actual rock climbing in a couple of places, but Alan eventually found himself situated behind his brother on top of the cliff, and as expected the view was breathtaking.

It was late afternoon and the entire side of the island was lit up by the sun. Gulls were wheeling in the air above the forested slopes, catching rising air. Far below, raw Pacific collided with the rocky shore in places and wrangled with reefs in others.

Virgil had certainly found a spot.

Quietly Alan made his way closer to his brother. Virgil drew on, showing no sign of knowing Alan was there. The cliff was a slope that had Alan descending towards his brother. Virgil was facing away towards the scenery, slightly hunched as he drew. Because of that slope, Alan was actually able to see his brother’s hand, this time his right, sketching pencil lines on the paper.

For a moment Alan was content to simply watch, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t come all this way just to spy on his brother.

“You do know it is rude to stare.”

Virgil’s voice was always soft yet possessed a strength that could be startling. Alan stiffened, annoyed at being caught so easily.

“What? Do you honestly think all that rock clambering would go unnoticed?”

“Dunno.”

His brother had yet to look up at him, simply continuing to sketch as he spoke. You gonna come and sit down?” Virgil held up a hand. “Just be very quiet, I don’t want you to disturb them.”

Alan frowned. “Who?”

But that hand didn’t answer, just beckoned him over.

Alan did what he was told and found himself sitting on that rock beside his older brother.

Virgil was scratching lines furiously onto the page, but the subject wasn’t what he expected. All that beautiful scenery and Virgil was drawing a haphazard pile of sticks?

Whispered. “They’re sea eagles. I’ve never been so close.”

Alan’s eyes darted from the sketchpad to a slither of rock a stone’s throw away from the edge of the cliff. The pinnacle stood alone and defied gravity almost to the point of disbelief. On its very top sat a huge nest. From this angle he could see the two chicks waiting for their parents to return.

Breathed out quiet. “Cool.”

Virgil was sketching madly and under his practised hand, one of the chicks slowly came to life. Simple line instinctively placed, shaded and shaped. It was a little mesmerising.

Alan, of course, had watched Virgil draw before. Amongst all the other things. His brother was usually fiddling with something. He had to have something in his hands, whether it was a pencil or paintbrush, piano or Thunderbird, Virgil tended to always have something playing between his fingers.

When Alan was little there had been many a Kansas winter night snuggled up by the fire, curled up beside his brother watching him draw. Sometimes he would dare him to draw outrageous things like Pedro the Peanut-Killing Pickle. There had been odd stories and scribbled down comics. Alan had even tried his hand under a little encouragement from his brother, but he didn’t have the enthusiasm that Virgil had for the art.

Besides, Alan was quite happy to just sit and watch. Rare quiet moments shared with his artistic brother.

They had been getting rarer and rarer.

“Can I sit with you, Virg?”

A brown eye with an arched eyebrow peered at him. “You’re already sitting.” The curve of a smile. “But sure. Just be quiet and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Respectfully whispered. “Okay.”

So, they sat for an unknown length of time. Virgil drew the second chick, and as one of the parent birds landed with the evening meal, its strong wings, talons and beak appeared on the page. Alan watched as the pencil lines grew darker, surer. Virgil switched pencils and they grew darker still, the birds emerging out of the page into three dimensions.

Down below the two chicks guzzled food from their parent.

A loud, awkward screech from above and another eagle was circling overhead, likely the other parent.

In the corner of the page, the bird quickly appeared, wings spread wide, soaring.

The quiet was amazing. Alan wasn’t one to sit still for any length of time, so perhaps he was missing the obvious, but the sound of Virgil’s pencil, the tease of the breeze and the call of the eagle above had only to compete with the waves far below and the rustle of the scrappy forest.

And a pair of squawking, complaining eagle babies.

Gordon would probably have loved this. His fish brother loved the sea, but he loved all the creatures contained in it even more. Despite this preference for water breathers, if you shoved a puppy or a panda in front of him, the man melted into a gooey puddle. Eagle babies would definitely be on the goo list.

“This is nice, Allie.”

“What?”

“Bit like old times, you sitting and watching me draw.”

Alan shrugged. “I’ve always liked to watch you draw. Guess we haven’t had as much time lately.”

The pencil paused. “Yeah.” His brother turned to look at him. “Well, it is good to see you out here. Nice to have your company.” A gentle smile.

“Anytime, bro. Kinda nice out here anyway.”

That smile grew a little before softening. “Well, unfortunately we have to head back now.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to pick up Gordon and Grandma.”

Alan checked his watch. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d been out here…three hours! “Wow, didn’t expect it to be so late.”

Virgil didn’t comment, just smiled a little more as he packed up his sketchbook and pencils.

Alan stood up and stared out across the ocean. A flicker on the surface of the water and he caught sight of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the swell. He stared.

“It’s amazing what you can see if you stop and look.” His brother’s soft voice so close to him made him jump.

“Virg, personal space.”

His brother snorted and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t think such a thing exists on this island.” That smile again. “Probably why John hides on Five.”

Alan grinned. “You’ve got a point.” And despite his earlier protest, he dropped his head against Virgil’s shoulder and for just a few more moments, they both tracked the dolphins as the cavorted past the Island.

“Can we do this again?”

“Sure.” Virgil slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Great.”

Silence fell, and they stood there a moment longer until Virgil squeezed a little and let go. “C’mon, sprout, time to clamber down the mountain.”

Virgil took the first few steps and Alan followed, throwing one last glance back at the nest now full of the entire family of sea eagles. A sharp beaked head turned in his direction and glared at him.

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the bird before he hurried after his brother.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #Virgil Tracy #AstroTurf #nuttyfic reblog #thunderfluff

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sutekiyomitsu · 4 years ago

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Two Sides of the Same Coin: An Analysis of AIRREAL in Re:FOLLOWER (2019)

Re:FOLLOWER (2019) is one of those TV dramas that you watch till the end and then have to watch from the beginning again. The identity of the enigmatic AIRREAL was one of the most intriguing questions that I had since the start and even after the final climactic reveal. Who is he? What does he symbolise? What is his relationship with Hitomi? Does he even exist? Let’s talk about the mystery of AIRREAL down in the cut below.

(So fascinated I was that I wrote an academic paper analysing his role in the drama and handed it in. Below is me finally writing what I wish I could write in that academic paper, because I have to sound objective and follow a word limit in academics. But I do not have to do that when I want to rant about Sato Ryuji on tumblr.)

((Also, spoilers ahead.))

AIRREAL is not real

The final revelation of in the last episode is, of course, the revelation that AIRREAL is not actually “real” in the fullest sense – that is, he isn’t a separate human being, but has only existed in Hitomi’s head the whole time. Hints about his non-existence are scattered all over the drama.

AIRREAL’s name, costuming, and behaviour

AIRREAL's name is taken from Ariel in the Tempest, a spirit (not a human!), which already hints at his non-existence. Furthermore, his name, unlike all the other direct references to Shakespearean texts, is spelt differently: AIRREAL. The two parts of the name "AIR" and "REAL" already raises the question of why it's spelt that way. Is he real? Or is he just air?

His costuming, particularly because Sato Ryuji is dramatic and asked for it, stands out from everyone else, who is dressed rather normally. He has bright blue eyes and coloured highlights in his hair that change from episode to episode without any explanation. Compare that to the naturalistic costuming that everyone else has and it highlights him as a strange character.

He never moves anything nor passes anything directly to anyone. In Episode 1, he tosses the book to Hitomi and Hitomi is seen catching it. In Episode 3, he drops the book on the table instead of handing it to Hitomi. When sitting down, he never moves the chair.

He never speaks directly to anyone except Hitomi, and nobody speaks directly to AIRREAL except Hitomi either. When communicating with Tomoki, for example, he does it exclusively through text. He never addresses anyone directly by speaking, other than Hitomi. In Episode 2, he appears to be speaking to the whole group, but nobody reacts to his words (with the exception of Hitomi). In fact, there are quite a number of times when he appears to simply speak into the air. Nobody reacts to him except Hitomi.

“Plot holes”

He appears in places with no explanation. Hitomi and Tomoki spend about an episode and a half infiltrating the Kurikara cult to get in their building and temple. However, AIRREAL suddenly appears in the hallway and the room with them (Episode 4), with no explanation to who he is. Nobody reacts to his sudden appearance. Nobody asks why he’s there. He just appears and enters the room as if he’s always been there.

Another example is when Hitomi is on the run. Hitomi and Mina have been running around randomly without a clear destination for about an episode, trying to dodge the police. Just then, AIRREAL somehow magically appears across the lake from them, with no explanation about how AIRREAL knew that Hitomi would be there, a completely random spot that Hitomi had stopped at to take a breath.

When passing tickets to Hitomi, Yuusaku gives him two tickets to the play (even though there are three of them). Hitomi goes to the play, and Tomoki looks up at the time and realises he’s missed it, indicating that the two tickets were most likely meant for Hitomi and Tomoki (who doesn’t make it to the show). What about AIRREAL? AIRREAL shows up to the play to watch it, but leaves in the middle of it later. But if CRESSIDA was a four-man group, why would Yuusaku only give two tickets to his three friends?

Cinematography

The camera uses certain shots that suggest AIRREAL’s immateriality. There’s a shot-reverse-shot in Episode 4, where AIRREAL mysteriously vanishes in the final shot. AIRREAL’s abrupt and sudden disappearances continues in Episode 6-7, where AIRREAL suddenly vanishes from the theatre and appears outside even while the play is still going on.

There’s also the ending of Episode 3, which portrays (the spirit of) the dead boy Taku appearing over the hill to symbolically represent that he has moved on. AIRREAL appears in the shot just after Taku’s voice is heard – and then Taku is seen coming over the hill. Placing AIRREAL before Taku’s appearance not only suggests that he is not actually there because it equates him with Taku, who is also clearly not meant to be seen as “real”, but also suggests that AIRREAL has brought Taku with him to say one last goodbye.

AIRREAL is often portrayed being in the distance as well, such as in Episode 7’s ending, giving him a distant, solitary feel compared to the rest of the characters.

The use of a low angle in the climax of Episode 10 where AIRREAL appears to be standing above Hitomi also gives AIRREAL an unreal feeling because he does not seem to be grounded in anything – the background behind him is completely white (presumably the sky). All of these shots contribute to the idea that AIRREAL is not actually a “real person” in that sense.

AIRREAL and Hitomi are the same person

Double exposure

The relationship between AIRREAL and Hitomi is hinted even in Episode 1. The use of double exposure and overlapping voices shows how AIRREAL and Hitomi are overlapping personalities, not two different people all together. This double exposure happens multiple times. It happens twice in Episode 1: First, in the intro flashback, which shows their voices blending into each other as well.

The second comes from an extremely jarring sequence, in which AIRREAL passes Hitomi while walking down the street. It is filmed in slow-motion and comes to a pause using a freeze-frame. There is a series of quick jump-cuts between the two of them, then a double exposure of a negative image onto the freeze-frame. In the negative image, their positions are the reverse of the freeze-frame, so that they appear to be "in" each other. Then, there's multiple double exposures of their faces flashing quickly. As the scene resumes into normal speed, they lift their phones at the same time.

Another instance of this double exposure happening is in Episode 6's climax. In this case, the scene starts with a series of jump cuts between Hitomi and AIRREAL's faces and then slowly fades AIRREAL's face in Hitomi. Another thing significant about the scene is that their voices also mirror this effect, starting with only AIRREAL's voice (even though Hitomi is shown to be speaking, so it's non-diegetic) and then fading in with Hitomi's voice gradually. There's an implication that even though Hitomi is speaking to the crowd, it is AIRREAL who is actually the one speaking through Hitomi. Their identities, voices, faces all overlap into each other.

Blocking

AIRREAL is also shown to be behind Hitomi. In the library scene in Episode 1, the camera quickly pans from Hitomi to reveal that AIRREAL is sitting behind him – AIRREAL is the driving force behind many of Hitomi’s actions. This blocking (of AIRREAL being behind Hitomi) repeatedly occurs. He is shown trailing behind Hitomi in Episode 3 as they walk towards the field, as the camera pans from Hitomi to AIRREAL (drawing an equivalence between them).

AIRREAL's phone

One of the biggest hints and also one of the reasons why some keen-eyed people were able to guess the big twist from Episode 1 is the presence of AIRREAL's phone in a key scene: the intro flashback. AIRREAL's phone is kept off to the side, but it's present in Hitomi's room, even though presumably AIRREAL is not there. When AIRREAL is introduced, we don't see his face at first. First, we see a shot of his back, then we first see his hand and his phone, before he slowly moves it away, revealing his face. AIRREAL's "identity" is represented through his phone, as shown in the later revelation in Episode 10, where they reveal that Hitomi has been carrying around 2 phones and texting from both of them, without realising it.

Mirroring

AIRREAL and Hitomi also mirror each other multiple times. In Episode 2, they both pause in their step at the same spot between the bookshelves while walking around the library. (In the behind the scenes commentary, Ryuji also mentions that they were supposed to mirror each other's actions, but Shun didn’t, oops.) In Episode 4, the shot-reverse-shot shows AIRREAL and Hitomi both pulling a book from the shelf at the same time. These parallels between them show their sameness.

AIRREAL is the Darkness to Hitomi's Light

So, AIRREAL and Hitomi are the same person, as revealed in the ending. What sets them apart?

AIRREAL represents darker instincts of vengeance while Hitomi is meant to be the beacon of justice.

Episode 3 epitomises the difference between them. AIRREAL sets up the entire incident: he is the one who lures everyone to the field so that Yui can kill Shuiichi's boy in front of him as revenge for Shuiichi's murder of Taku. But Hitomi calls Yui's father to stop her from going through it by making her realise that she needs to let Taku go. The balance between what is revenge and what is justice is very delicate, but justice (represented by Hitomi's intervention) wins. The shallow focus shifts from AIRREAL to Hitomi in the conclusion of the incident. They are parallels of each other, not polar opposites. In that same line of thought, revenge and justice are not opposites, but two sides of the same coin, and the fact that they are actually the same person reinforces that there is justice in revenge and vice versa.

Costuming and Personality

Their costuming and styling reflects their differences. AIRREAL is typically dressed in black and other dark colours, while Hitomi tends to wear brighter colours like yellow. When Hitomi does wear dark colours, it indicates that AIRREAL's influence is very strong in that particular scene. The flashback sequence, where AIRREAL presumably first appears to Hitomi, is one, because AIRREAL manifests out of Hitomi's grief and need for revenge. Another important one is Episode 5-6, when Hitomi confronts the Kurikara cult. Their identities in Episode 5-6 become roughly indistinguishable from each other, showing that his want for personal revenge for the cover-up his mother's death (by Inukai, the cult leader) and the justice that he is serving for the client have become indistinguishable.

In reverse, AIRREAL also becomes more 'real', or in other words, human over time. He loses his coloured hair highlights by Episode 8. In relation, his personality also becomes warmer over time. In Episode 3, he is willing to let the little boy die for the sake of revenge. However, he later apologises to Tomoki for endangering him in Episode 7, one of the rare times that AIRREAL shows concern for the collateral damage of his vengeance.

Final Confrontation

In the final climax of the series in Episode 10, when Hitomi fights Yuusaku, the most pivotal moment comes when the dagger falls to the ground and Hitomi reaches for it, saying that he must avenge his mother's death. Goto and Ogishima are framed in the background but frozen and out of focus, which indicate that the events that unfold are not actually happening but are occurring in Hitomi's head. AIRREAL then appears, standing over Hitomi, and takes over the fight, easily knocking Yuusaku to the ground and intending to stab him (yes, for real!). He quotes a line from Hamlet: “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.” In Hamlet, this line suggests that even as he prays (my words fly up), Claudius’s thoughts remain in hell and are ungodly (my thoughts remain below), hence, his prayers are insincere and he remains unrepentant for his sin of murdering his brother. AIRREAL referencing this quote shows that he will have no guilt in killing Yuusaku as he believes it to be justified in his revenge.

Recall Episode 3, when Yui was in almost the exact situation. Hitomi, having experienced not just the death of his mother, but also the "Dog", who was accidentally killed by Mina. Hitomi realises that killing Yuusaku to avenge his mother’s murder would only cause him pain, and this, coupled with Goto’s voice (like Yui’s father in Episode 3) “wakes” him up. The camera cuts to a medium shot of him dropping the knife as if in a daze, and Goto tackles him to the ground. This is followed by a low angle shot of AIRREAL, who falls backwards, and a montage of different AIRREAL moments from various episodes.

Disoriented, Hitomi looks around and calls for AIRREAL. Goto and later Mina try to explain to him that AIRREAL has never been “there”, but that he has been AIRREAL the whole time, causing him to break down. His first friend and truest supporter does not actually exist, but has been within himself the whole time

The case of AIRREAL’s identity

So, back to the question. Who is AIRREAL? Why did Hitomi create him? In the montage that follows this realisation, we see different scenes of AIRREAL from various episodes, but with AIRREAL missing, showing that Hitomi has been by himself this whole time. In the voice over, Rei, Hitomi’s (or Nao’s, because that was his name before his mother’s death) mother, talks about how Ariel in the Tempest vanishes at the end of the story. As she says that, we see a shot of AIRREAL (from Episode 2, judging by his attire, by the way) walking away into the distance and vanishing. In Tempest, Ariel is bound to serve Prospero and fulfils various tasks for him, and when all of them are done, he is released. In the same manner, AIRREAL was created by Hitomi for a specific purpose.

I believe that AIRREAL was created because Hitomi could no longer bear the burden of his grief and deep-rooted anger about his mother’s death. Knowing that she had been murdered, Hitomi was unable to move on from her death, but felt entirely helpless to fight against those who killed her and covered it up. It is in this greatest state of helplessness and grief that AIRREAL was born. AIRREAL was created to help to take this darkness from Hitomi, and therefore Hitomi projected his deep and dark desire for revenge onto him.

We can see this from AIRREAL’s own words, as he states that he will become Hitomi’s power/strength – strength that he needs in order to overcome his own helplessness and also his enemies (those who killed and covered up his mother’s death). He states this twice, first in the intro flashback and in the final confrontation, where he reminds Hitomi that he does not have to take on the task of killing Yuusaku by himself – AIRREAL is there to be the darkness, so that Hitomi does not have to be. In this way, AIRREAL protects Hitomi from being lost in his quest for revenge by taking it on himself.

Also, the name “Shiroe Kimito”, which is the reported ‘real name’ of AIRREAL (not that he has a real name but it was a red herring by the producers), is an anagram of “Kishimoto Rei”, the name of Hitomi’s mother, showing how the image of AIRREAL that Hitomi created was based on the memory of his mother. It is his memory of her that drove Hitomi to create AIRREAL so that he might be able to avenge her. Actually, even “Hitomi”, the name that he chose for himself after being released from prison, is based on his mother, showing that his whole life had been completely altered when he lost his mother and that his whole identity is based on that incident.

AIRREAL vanishes after the final confrontation, having fulfilled the purpose of finding out the truth about his mother’s death and captured the one responsible for it. Hitomi is finally able to move on with Mina, and like Ariel in the Tempest, AIRREAL’s role is finished and he vanishes.

Or is he?

In the very final scene, he looks back, before he turns and walks away. But the camera then cuts to AIRREAL again, who, much like in his introduction flashback, moves the phone away to reveal his face.

AIRREAL’s work is still not finished. Not yet.

(and if it weren’t for [censored] we’d actually be able to know what it is but unfortunately the sequel stage was cancelled and we cannot have nice things.)

AIRREAL and Hitomi are two sides of the same coin. AIRREAL is yin to Hitomi’s yang. They are different, yes, and AIRREAL embodies darker aspects of vengeance, but one cannot exist without the other. It is this relationship between AIRREAL and Hitomi, and therefore the ideas of justice and revenge, that characterise the themes of Re:FOLLOWER as a whole.

#esther analyses #re:follower #sato ryuji #nishime shun

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huearmy · 5 years ago

Text

Life is Beautiful - I

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is "Life is too short to... Insert something and anything here". During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut (very soft, ok?)...

Words: 7509.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter II Chapter III .

After some centuries of not living, all vampires go through a kind of midlife crisis in which everything loses its grace and eternity becomes endless boredom. Nothing new happens, humans are born, sometimes they are relevant to world history, they become vampire food or they die dull. Vampires do not need to sleep or use the bathroom, nor to feed more than once a month, so the days are long, and often lonely, which leads many of them to stand still without moving, looking at nothing until their thirst quits, forcing them to go after a pulsating neck. Many go through this phase as serial killers, with killing as their only source of pleasure, others prefer to hibernate in some dark place or tomb, because false death is more interesting than false life. Some never get past the phase.

Jimin is not like that. With almost a thousand years of existence he is totally in love with life. Every day when the sun rises and the sunlight forces him to stay indoors so as not to burst into flames, he spends his hours with a smile on his face, engaging in small banal hobbies, such as gardening or online courses at distance - after almost a decade of doing this, Jimin already has fifty-two certificates in different areas, and he is pretty pride of it. When night comes and he can go out and see the world it’s even more interesting, because humans ’nightlife isn’t as hectic as daytime, so those who live in those dark hours are different. There are those who do wrong things and commit crimes, those who have double lives or who keep secrets, there are people working to protect and save, like doctors and police, there are night guards and twenty-four hours convenience store attendants, groups of friends who spend the night partying until dawn, and those who feel lonely in their empty apartments unable to sleep... And this is the part that he likes the most: people.

He likes to meet random people in the empty metro, buy a drink for a girl who doesn't take her eyes off him and then dance with her, strike up a conversation with a homeless man under a marquee because he knows the guy must be lonely. Watching and learning about other lives keeps him alive, more than the blood he needs to drink.

He likes to get temporary jobs to have some human experience. He has worked in pizzerias, both in the kitchen - he was not very good, so he was put in the dishwasher - both in deliveries, and at a gas station, as a hotel receptionist... But now it looks like he found a job he wants to stay in, so much that it has been a year and he has not yet resigned. Perhaps Jimin has found his calling.

"It's okay... You are not alone, I'm here and I'll stay until you feel good again." He said with his sweet, angelical voice. "Can you get away from the sharp objects? Please?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded like just a choked whisper, before the answer came, fast, heavy breathing filled the air.

"No... I can't..." The female sobbed.

"Can you tell me why?" Jimin's voice was calm. "I... my legs are numb... I can't... stand up." Her breathing was erratic and desperate.

"Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He used his most reassuring voice possible.

"No!" She started to cry even harder. "I don't want no one... to see me... like this." Jimin bite the inside of his cheek, thinking, maybe she just wasn't able to get up because of the anxiety attack, but she also didn't say she wasn't hurt.

Regardless of the case, he needed to make the girl trust him in order to help her.

"What is your name?" He smiled, hopping she would listen to it in his voice. "... Ana" She whispered. "Nice to meet you, Ana. Do you remember my name? I told you at the beginning of the call."

One moment of silence.

"Jimin." She said with little certainty.

"Exactly, good job. Hi, Ana." "Hi, Jimin." Despite the crying voice, she was no longer sobbing.

"Ana, can you recall the last thing you did that made you feel safe? Secure?" A sigh reached Jimin's ears. As he waited for an answer his hands moved over a sheet of paper, he was drawing a beautiful face of a girl with crayons, without paying much attention, but getting a beautiful result.

"No." She said at last.

"I know you can, Ana. No need to rush. Breath." She thought some more, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Almost a full minute passed, the two of them silent on the call. Jimin did not press for an answer.

"I was watching Friends... with my cat." "Your cat?" Jimin smiled more spontaneously now, noticing in her voice an oscillation of affection when saying the word cat. "Talk more about your cat."

"His name is Sushi, he's fat, full of himself, and loving. He likes children, food and sleeping. I recently bought him a cute collar, it looks like a pink bow tie." She almost laughed.

"Wow...He is a lucky cat." Suddenly she started to cry again, sobbing so hard that Jimin hardly understood what she was saying.

"He ran away and hasn't come back yet... He's never been away from home so long... He's all I have, there's no one else... I don't want to live... alone." "Is it just you and Sushi?" Jimin spoke more forcefully for her to hear over the sobs.

"Yes." She choked. "I can't get up... It hurts so much. I'm so-sorry..."

"Ana, do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He tried again. Silence.

"Yes." "So I will stay with you until they come to help you. You are not alone."

Jimin was a vampire in love with live, eager to live each day as if it were the most precious gift, so working in the Center of Valuing Life and Preventing Suicide was perfect. He considers himself an expert in convincing anyone that life is beautiful when he has the opportunity to say everything he thinks about. And not letting people feel alone is one of his favorite hobbies.

After all, eternity can be quite lonely, he knows how it is.

________________________________________________________________

That call is over. Jimin was searching for missing cat posts on social media. In the silent office room it was just him and three other people working, each at their separated personal table. Perhaps due to the nature of the work, or due to the late hours of the night, nobody spoke loudly or made a lot of noise when doing things, even when talking to each other, everything is always very restrained, calm.

Jimin's eyes followed the clock hands on the wall above the door. It was almost one in the morning, actually, to be exact, twelve minutes to go, so in two minutes, you would punctually enter that door with your heavy backpack full of books, of someone who just left college on the other side of the city, and after stopping at a twenty-four hours fast food to get a well-deserved burger spent an hour on a subway trip. He could already hear your footsteps down the hall, the characteristic sound of the rubber on the soles of your boots and your bunch of keys stuck in the handle of your backpack tinkling. He heard you putting your stuff in your closet and hanging your coat on the rack in the next room, and a smile formed on Jimin's face. When the hand on the clock struck ten to one and you opened the door trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb anyone's call, Jimin pretended not to notice you entering, not taking his eyes off the computer screen full of images of cute cats. You straightened up and held firmly the pair of coffee cups in your hands till the knots turned white, looking straight at him - in fact, from the moment you walked through the door you were already expecting to see Jimin sitting at his table, as always, and since then you haven't looked away. Walking in light steps - that he could hear by the way - to him who had his back to you, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach, happy he wasn't in a call right now.

"Jimin?" You called softly, close to his ear, but not that close. Yet. Jimin contained a smile and turned around as if you had taken him by surprise. "Hey, Y/N, didn't see you there". As usual, his direct look made your heart race and you gave a nervous laugh before getting along with his flirty tone. "I bought you coffee." You handed him one of the cups. "To take the night shift a little better."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

You are the other reason Jimin didn't quit this job yet. A few weeks ago, when he was working long enough to decide to leave and go for the next adventure, you started working at the night shift, and right away you caught Jimin's attention, even though at first you didn't talk with him that much - in fact you only talked to the women on the team, and avoided the men. More than once he found himself paying attention to your emergency calls, how you talk, being positive without being suffocating for those in pain ... how you love life. After a while you started doing the same thing, a little less easily, since you don't have a vampire audition, but it was enough for you to acquire a platonic crush on Jimin, which resulted in you opening up, and you two start talking here and there. Now almost whenever you have time or money left over - college life is poor life - you bring him coffee. Jimin doesn't actually drink coffee at all, and he doesn't feel sleepy either, but he thinks it's cute that you worry for him. You see each other three to four times a week, depending on the schedule of work, and he is always eager to see you. Flirting is exciting, and he hasn't done that in a while... Like two centuries, and how it was done back there was quite different. Other times indeed.

"Did you lose your cat?" You asked, confused.

"Oh, no, I didn't." He closed the page with the photo of a white and gray cat wearing a pink bow tie.. "One friend of mine lost her cat, Sushi." "Poor thing. I hope she finds Sushi soon..." You slightly pouted.

"Me too. I'll help her." Jimin said, and the butterflies in your stomach thought it was beautiful.

Something on his desk caught your attention, a colorful draw of said cat made with crayon. Before Jimin could stop you - he was distracted by hearing your heart beat faster because of him - you picked up the stack of papers to get a closer look.

"And you drew him! How beautiful... I didn't know you were so talented." "Thank you. My friend who taught me, he is much better than me..." Jimin simply answered.

You moved on to the next sheet, where another sketch of the cat in different colors made your eyes shine. "So he must be awesome. Look at this!" Jimin was happy to be praised by you, the pink of your cheeks when speaking was a beautiful sign for him, but then he remembered what was the next drawing in your hands, and before you could see it, he cleared his throat and took them back, keeping them in the drawer. It was a drawing of a girl's pretty face. Your face. "They are not quite ready yet..." He pretended modesty.

"Oh, sorry. If you need help, just tell me. I can hang up posters or something. About finding the lost cat, I mean." You volunteered, and then looked around. "I better get to work before someone scolds me."

You went to your desk, across his, and your eyes met a few more times before as you sat down and turned on your computer. Jimin's phone rang and he forced himself to look away from your face, someone else needed him now. "Good night, my name is Jimin and you called the Life Valuation Center. Can I help?" He spoke, his voice welcome and full of affection. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin's shift ends before yours, just before three in the morning he puts things away and leaves the table ready for the person who will use the next shift, but he won't leave, even if everyone thinks so. Instead he goes to the roof to look at the stars and wait for you to leave - not that you know he is waiting for you. He was listening to a random playlist on spotify, stretching his body to the beat just because it feels good, thinking about nothing specific, just existing and feeling good about it.

The night breeze brought his scent to him, looking down from the parapet, he could see you leaving the building, with your scarf well wrapped around your neck, covering half of your face to protect you from the cold air. He doesn't understand you... It's beautiful that you want to help people who are going through a difficult time, and you've commented before that the night shift matches your other schedules, and that you like to stay up at night. However, he thinks you should consider it's not worth it. It's so late and empty when you go home, it's dangerous for a human woman, and as much as he knows that you have a pocketknife in your pocket, Jimin thinks it's silly of you. Usually he wouldn't think much about it, but it's you, and he is fond of you, he can't just do nothing about it. So even if you don't know it, he accompanies you home every night to make sure you are safe. He is only satisfied and goes home when he hears you enter your room. Sometimes he stays a little longer, sitting on the emergency stairs outside your building, listening to you walking up and down in your room, doing whatever, instead of going to sleep soon.

That's kind of creepy. He knows. But he is a vampire, he is already creepy in essence. But of course he would never watch you sleep, for exemple, this is a stalker limit that he does not intend to cross.

"Okay." He sighed as he heard you getting into bed. "I have one hour and a half before the sun rises... Let's find that cat." __________________________________________

You were awake for a couple of hours already, currently packing your books at the end of a lecture, really needing sugar to feel prepared before the last class of the day, and excited that instead of going to the study group you are a part of, you will take an experimental dance class and it's your day off, which means that instead of staying up until dawn working, you can stay up until dawn studying, and maybe sleep a little earlier. Life is too short to not take all the free trial classes available just because your schedule is already full and totally demanding. Anyways you are dead tired, wishing your body doesn't need to sleep... Since you started to work on the Life Valuation Center all your sleeping schedule went down the drain. At first your plan was to work the night shift only at the beginning, and then change your hours, but for some reason you always liked to stay up all night, also the movement of calls in this period is bigger and more specific, which helps in your internship report, and of course, in the day shift there is no Jimin... You've settled in, and now after months of this crazy, fickle routine, your body is feeling the side effects.

"Three of this rainbow donuts please." You asked at the college cafe. One because you want, two because one is not enough, three because you are greedy. Life is too short not to overeat your current favorite sugar source. You sigh to yourself, taking a seat along your friends. Your mantra for life is life is too short to...insert anything here, experimenting and doing things that you never imagined before and that your mother probably wouldn't approve a hundred percent is what moves you. Basically nothing scares you, since childhood you were courageous and fearless. You subject yourself to almost anything, within the measures of what is safe, to have good stories to tell. The world is too big to be content with just having good grades to graduate and have a good job. What you want is much more... so much more that you don't even know what... But it’s not just because you don’t know yet that you’ll stand still without going after it to find out.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you gonna do on the weekend?" Your friend, Becca, asked comfortably within her girlfriend's embrace. As usual, whenever you see the two of them together being all lovey dovey, you feel a twinge of pride in your heart, because you were responsible for them to start dating in the first place. Although your romantic life is not very interesting, without serious or successful relationships, you are a great cupid.

"For the very first time in months... I don't know. I didn't plan anything, maybe something will show up, if not I'm just going to sleep. Why?" You smiled your happy smile of eating what you like.

"Pool party. You need to get a tan, you look like a vampire with that pale, tired face of yours."

You laughed because it's true, since you started changing the day for the night, your skin has acquired a not healthy tone that you are not used to. You've been missing the sun a little.

"First of all, I'm too cute to be a vampire. Second, yeah I'll think about it, I have a new bikini I haven't worn yet that makes my breasts look stunning." One of your friends that was sitting by your side put his arm over your shoulder. "I changed my mind, I'm going to this party." He loudly said. The girls in the group didn't laugh at all. "Shut up, Mike." You playfully pushed him. ________________________________________________________________

This was the second night that Jimin was looking for the cat, Sushi. It was not difficult to find out the address of it’s owner, since he had to activate an ambulance for her, and with that he started looking for the animal in her neighborhood. Passing through the empty streets at night after his work shift, he could see the girl's tracks leaving "missing" posters with a picture of a kitten wearing a pink bow tie, on lampposts and bus stops. At first Jimin thought it was going to be easy, with his keen vampire senses, but all he found were stray cats that weren't Sushi. The second night of searching was already ending, the sun was rising, threatening to make him explode into ashes if he didn't come home soon, and no clue as to where to look the next night he had.

Before getting into the car and driving home, Jimin took one last look at the slightly open curtains in the girl's room, Ana, just to make sure she was okay. She had been discharged from the hospital that afternoon and was now sleeping on the couch, probably medicated. Jimin didn't want to leave her alone, but he couldn't just walk into her apartment and offer help, for now all he could do was find a way to find the cat. ________________________________________________________________ Jimin lives in an old pretty house in the wealthiest part of the city, it isn't a mansion, but it is big and expensive enough to impress anyone who sees it, privileges of centuries of saved money. It's a cliché, but vampires dress in designer clothes, ride luxury cars and live in expensive mansions, houses, apartments, and Jimin is no exception.

From one of the main rooms, behind a heavy curtain, hidden in the gloom, was another vampire, watching the street with intent, expressionless eyes. When Jimin's car turned the corner and up the wide street lined with huge trees, the vampire got uneasy, his beautiful restless hands worrying the hem of his sleeves. He was anxious and angry, if his heart was still beating it would be racing. The garage door opened and the car entered, disappearing from view, in the next second the vampire was no longer in the room but in front of the door leading to the garage, waiting in the empty, dark hall. The knob turned the door slightly opened, Jimin with his head down did not seem to notice the presence of the other before being attacked.

"AH!" Jimin screamed as long arms embraced his neck. If it wasn't for the wall behind him he would have fallen, yet he had no escape, with a body much larger than his overpowering him. "Taehyungie!"

"You are late! Is the second day in a row you get home after sunrise! Are you trying to die?" Taehyung said, and didn't let Jimin go just yet. "It's okay. I was careful, I just had to do a few things before I came home. Look, there's not even smoke coming out of me." Jimin ran his hands over Tae's back, making him relax. The other stepped back a little, taking his face in his big hands.

"You could have sent a message. I asked you to let me know if you were going to be late again, Jiminie..." Tae pouted, still distressed. "And why do your clothes smell like garbage? Take it off."

Even feeling deprived of affection, Taehyung walked away looking disgusted, covering his nose with two fingers. Jimin obeyed, taking off his sneakers, jacket and jeans, following Taehyung through the corridor to the laundry room, where he put everything in a basket to wash later, and also exchanged the shirt for a clean one too. "I went into some alleys today, looking for a cat. That's why." Jimin explained, feeling much more comfortable in not smelling bad.

"And where's it? I don't think Tannie will like to share the house with a cat..." "Where is what?" Jimin was confused. Tae crossed his arms.

"The cat?"

"Oh no!" Jimin laughed, reaching for Tae to take him by the shoulders. "I wasn't looking for a cat to bring home, as much as I would love one as a pet... It's the cat of a girl I met, and is very sad to have lost it..."

"I got it..." Taehyung mumbled.

Jimin was just helping someone. Again. And Taehyung couldn't say exactly why it bothers him so much every time, but it does, he feels distressed, almost as if the world around him collapsed, and it makes him think he's being overdramatic. Live an eternity when you can't even put your feelings out in moments of frustration. Damn, it is conflicting... If vampires could cry, he would. But never that he would let Jimin discover that he feels that way.

It was Jimin's turn to take Tae's face in his little hands.

"You are so skinny. When was the last time you fed?" Taehyung didn't answer.

"You don't even remember, right?" Jimin's eyes went worried. "Did you see that I brought some O- packs for you? I left it in the fridge."

"No, I didn't." A shy smile spread across Tae's face. O- is his favorite blood type, but because it is a not so common type, and humans need transplantation, it's not always that Jimin brings it to him, usually opting for his second favorite flavor or other one available.

Jimin has been trying to cheer his friend up with little treats. It has been a difficult phase, in which he thinks Tae is going through the vampiric midlife crisis. He hasn't been out of the house for almost two decades and does nothing without a little external motivation, even the simplest things like eating. So Jimin tries to bring the best blood types to fill the fridge, signed all available streaming platforms, updates Taehyung's video game consoles as soon as a new model comes out, tries to get him interested in new hobbies - which never works but he doesn't give up - and he even adopted a puppy so that Tae would never be alone.

"Come." Jimin pulled him by the hand to their modern practically untouched kitchen, opened the fridge and picked two packs of blood, the dark liquid shining at the cold light. “In my room or yours?"

"Yours."

The two of them got to Jimin's room, followed by the sound of four paws scraping the polished wooden floor, Yeontan chasing them closely. Jimin pulled the covers off the clean bed, on which he rarely lies down, so they could get more comfortable. Tae laid on his back, against the pile of smooth pillows, carefully opening a packet of blood to not spill a single drop, and put a stainless steel straw in the opening. Jimin turned on the TV, put the dog in the bed, and cuddled Tae's side, with his head on his chest.

"What show have you been watching?" Jimin asked.

"None. I've been looking for something interesting in this shit for days and I can't find anything." Tae took a sip of his blood with a pout.

Jimin chuckled. "I'm choosing then."

A moment of silence followed, in which the only sound was of Tae drinking the rest of his first pack, and then opening another one.

"I think I need to shower..." Jimin commented.

Taehyung's arm that was around Jimin tightened. "Not now. Later." Jimin laughed, thinking it was cute. An idea crossed his mind, another small treat.

"Do you want to bath with me instead?" He looked up to Tae.

Tae hold tightened even more.

"Not now. Later. Now we cuddle."

As if agreeing, Yeontan climbed over the two vampires, finding a comfortable place to lie down and join the cuddle pile.

"Ok."

________________________________________________________________

Tonight you didn't have time to talk to Jimin when you arrived at work, he was on a call, and it seemed really serious. You didn't have the money to buy extra coffee even for yourself, so you hadn't an excuse to pass quietly by his desk to leave a post-it written "Hi :)". In those circumstances, you went straight to your desk to work, to do your best to be a good listener.

To your surprise, making your heart melt and your breath hold at the bottom of the throat, you saw at the top of your computer screen a post-it with a "Hi, sweetheart." written on it, and another one with a "Look in the fridge.". After working with him for that time, regularly doing some paperwork like filling out documentation and such things, you could say for sure that this was Jimin's handwriting, besides, only he calls you sweetheart.

You checked the clock on the wall with an eager look and a silly smile. As you always arrive ten minutes early, there was time to go to the break room quickly, and look inside the fridge before starting to work. And so you did. The break room was nothing more than a small table with a few chairs, a small couch, a sink, an old coffee machine, a microwave and the refrigerator, all in a tight space lit by white lights that leave the place a little impersonal. None of your co-workers were there, as usual. You crossed the small room to the fridge and opened it trying not to make a noise, more out of habit than necessity.

The interior was very empty, with some forgotten lunchboxes, but that didn't interest you. Your goal was right in the middle. A big cup of iced coffee, from a franchise that you don't usually buy from because you find it a little too expensive for your student budget, with your name written on a post-it on top of it.

"Y/N, I wanted to be me treating you today. Hope you like it."

That coffee was as cold as Jimin's fingertips when touching yours, but it warmed your heart. Sometimes you question yourself if it's healthy how head over heels you are for this guy, for so little.

Back at your desk, now with your iced coffee, you wrote a post-it and pasted it on the back of your computer screen, where Jimin could see it. "Thanks :)" Then you started to work. Other people needed you now. ________________________________________________________________ On your fifteen minutes break time, you were leaving the restroom, passing a moisturizing hand cream - because you swear that the soap in this place dries out your skin, and god forbid you from harsh hands -, the sound of the break room's door opening made you lift your eyes from the floor. It was Jimin. He don't take breaks, it's not like he needs it, he doesn't get tired, but he didn't get the chance to talk to you today yet, so as soon he saw you stretching in your chair, indicating that you would soon get up to go to the bathroom - yes, he learned your routine and mannerisms - he discreetly left the room to meet you by coincidence in the hall afterwards.

"Hi, Y/N. Did you like the coffee?" He charmly smiled at you, he was eager to ask it to you, to find out if he made the right choice of flavor, or if he made a bad mistake and you hated it - he couldn't help thinking about that possibility. Anyway, he was looking forward to your approval.

The truth is that you were so stunned by his caring that it didn't matter what the flavor was.

"Actually, yes. I love vanilla flavored things. It's basic but it makes me happy." You fixed your hair, pulling it behind your ears. Jimin could tell by your smile and your heated face that you aren't lying.

"Nice. I wanted to make you happy." He approached you, more than is suitable for the work environment, and it made you nervous, and of course he noticed. But it was okay, if someone came close he would hear and walk away before they could see you, too bad he couldn't tell you that.

"Mission completed successfully." You said, without looking away from his eyes - no matter how much part of you shouted at you to do it, your heart felt like it was going to explode. Well, your heart has a limit, so you changed the subject. "Did your friend find her cat?" Sadness took over Jimin's eyes.

"Unfortunately not. I've been looking for him for two days and nothing, I swear I think I've looked in every street, alley and trash can. I don't want to think like that, but I think Sushi is no longer with us." He sighed, clearly frustrated. You had the impulse to rub his forearms to comfort him, it was the very first time you really touched him. "If he is a cat that wasn't accustomed to getting out, and didn't know how to walk on the street, it is possible that something bad happened... But! He's a cat, if he used to go out often, he might have some other house, other owners, and that's why he hasn't come back yet." You optimistically said.

A smile spread in Jimin's face.

"That makes sense! She told me something like 'He's never been away from home for so long', there's hope then. And you also gave me an idea. Thank you, Y/N." He pulled you into a hug, and you thought you could die.

"You welcome." You said against his chest, deciding not to waste the opportunity to return the hug. ________________________________________________________________ The day was perfect for a vampire walk in the daytime. Cloudy and rainy. No deadly sunbeams and an excuse to use an umbrella without calling attention to it. After the tip you gave, Jimin looked in the right place after accompanying you home that night, and in less than an hour he was outside the window of two children's rooms, in a ground floor apartment, looking inside, and sleeping between the feet of one of the children was the cat, he wasn't with his bow tie but there was no mistake, Jimin was sure. Even without being able to enter - vampiric rules, you only can get in somebody's house if invited, or else you explode as if you were under sunlight - Jimin could smell cat all over the house, and the windows all had anti-escape screens, which indicated that it was a family of cat people.

Jimin would need to come back to pick the cat during the day, knock on the front door and politely ask. That's why heavy weather is perfect. With a dark couture coat, covering all from his neck to the back of his hands, to his knees, a design hat and sunglasses, and last but nos least, a big umbrella, he approached the lower middle class apartment complex. Without hesitation he raised his hand and knocked. Some seconds passed by, sound of kids running inside and a voice of a famale scolding them muffled by the closed door, and then a little girl, maybe six-year-old, appeared in Jimin's field of vision, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen after all.

"Hello." Jimin smiled. "Are your parents home?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head negatively.

"Jo, who is it?" An older girl opened the door wider and faced Jimin with a frown that fell apart when she saw his smile. Great, a teenager, he thought. "What do you want?"

"Sorry to bother, I really wanted to talk to an adult, but..." Jimin lifted his phone, the screen showing Sushi's missed post. "I saw my friend's cat on your window."

The older girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at the photo, but before she could answer, the little girl she called Jo before ran away.

"No!" She screamed, disappearing inside the apartment, and then slamming a door somewhere.

"Sorry for that, please wait a minute." The teenager closed the door on his face, and he could hear her shouting and scolding the girl little inside. He was starting to lose his patience. Jimin doesn't like to be ignored at all. Should he knock again and use his mind control powers to get the cat? He was pondering the idea when the door opened again, the two girls were still loudly arguing inside, and this time it was a small boy who must be the middle sibling in front of him.

"Hi, grandma said to tell you to come in." He mumbled.

"So you are letting me get in your house?" Jimin asked with a satisfied grin.

"Yeah... follow me." The boy was avoiding eye contact, being shy. Jimin thought he was adorable.

Jimin followed the boy to a tiny living room, where an old woman was sitting in front of the TV. The girls were now silent, but clearly wanting to argue some more, and the small one was with Sushi in her arms. Jimin sighed, he likes children, a lot, even though he doesn't live with many, but he likes them even more when they're not having a tantrum.

"Hello. Please, take a seat." The old lady pointed to the old couch. The vampire obliged, and almost immediately a fat orange cat jumped into his lap. In this small room alone he could see three more of them. "So, why do you want to steal one of my babies?" Steal? Jimin was slightly offended, he already explained himself, but the chaotic situation created a misunderstanding. "I'm not here to steal nothing, ma'am." He showed his cellphone again. "One of your cats is Sushi, my friend's cat."

"That's not his name!" The little girl shouted tapping a foot on the floor in anger. Jimin just raised his eyebrows at her, making her swallow hard. But he is in control of the situation, so Jimin smiled to remain pleasant.

"Of course it is. Just watch, little one." He reached out to call the cat. "Come here, Sushi." Even though the cat didn't know Jimin to trust him - and these people don't need to know that - cats are creatures of the night, strongly attached to magic and protection in the dark hours, and in the hierarchy of the night they obeyed vampires. The only things that cats respect more than vampires are witches and their own owners whom they protect. As Jimin expected, Sushi jumped off the girl's tight hold and went over to him.

"Good boy. Ana is missing you like hell." Jimin scratched behind his ears. Before someone else could say anything, he proceeded. "When he got lost he was using a pink bow tie." The old lady was still with Jimin cellphone in her hand, and he could see she was convinced he know the cat, but wasn't intending on letting him leave with him yet.

"I'm seeing it in the post, but there was no tie when we got him." She replied. "You just didn't see it, ma'am." Jimin was tired of this conversation, it was being a lot less nice than he imagined on his way there. When he looked to the little girl to talk to her, his eyes were intense and powerful, and his voice was full of authority. "Go get the tie where you hid it, little one."

Mesmerized by Jimin's power, the girl didn't even blink or say anything as she obeyed, turned around and ran to one of the rooms. Jimin doesn't use hypnosis very often but he has fun every time. She got back with it and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He removed the effect and the little girl blinked a few times before understanding what happened.

The old lady was clearly angry with the girl, but it wasn't Jimin's business. "Well I think that's all. We are going now." Jimin got up from the couch.

"Wait!" The teenager snapped. "Jo lied about the bow to keep the cat, and that's bad, but she already loves him! You can't just take him away!"

Jimin was almost on the door.

"Of course I can. Besides, it's not because what she did is bad, young lady. It's because my friend loves him, actually this cat is Ana's family. No one should live alone, right?"

"Right!" The old lady got up too. "I'll get you to the door, tell our friend we are sorry."

"I will. Thank you." ________________________________________________________________

"You found the cat!" Tae sniffed the back of Jimin's neck. "Where is it?"

Jimin was putting the clothes he was using to wash, to remove the smell of cat and the places he passed by. And to get comfortable, as is his habit when he gets home, he just stayed in his underwear and t-shirt.

"I already gave him back to his owner." In the next second Jimin was dropping himself on the leather couch.

"And how was it? Did she thank you with tears in her eyes?" Tae leaned over the back of the sofa with his chin in his hands.

Jimin chuckled, Taehyung's thirst for drama is funny, and he's always been like that. And at least that doesn't seem to have changed...

"Well... She cried a lot when she found him in the window. She looked really happy!" Jimin sang. He was really happy too. He helped someone to find their smile again, even if it is a little bit, it made him really proud of himself, a warm feeling in his chest telling him it was the right thing to do, and that he should do it again if he gets the opportunity. Taehyung's expression changed, suddenly he was disinterested.

"You didn't even talk to her? Just left the cat there for her to find?"

"Well, yeah." Jimin threw his hair back. "I couldn't risk she recognizing my voice and thinking I was stalking her. Scaring her was not the goal, Tae, quite the contrary..."

Taehyung stared at him in silence for what felt a whole minute - maybe it really was, vampires perceive time differently. "You are not a secret superhero, Jimin. You are a vampire." Said that he got back to his room.

Jimin doesn't understand. These outbursts and mood swings leave him confused. And it's not like he hasn't already tried to talk. This... This he doesn't recognize in Taehyung. It hurt his feelings and at same time he feels it is partially his faut. "I can be both if I want to!" He exclaimed.

No answer. To find somebody who would be happy for him and understand the euphoria he felt for saving a little bit that girl he went through his contact list. A lot of vampire names - a lot is maybe an exaggeration, since he doesn't have many friends at all - who wouldn't be rude, but wouldn't understand, and also some former human colleagues from past jobs with whom he hasn't spoken in a long time and maybe should erase the number... And you. Of course you are the obvious choice. You had sympathy for the case from the beginning, even offered to help. And if it weren't for you he wouldn't have succeeded...

Jimin: hey sweetheart Jimin: I found sushi! Jimin: thanks to you btw He sent the messages, hoping it wouldn't be strange. It wasn't the first time you two texted before, but it was just an exchange of memes and silly flirt... without compromise talk. And what he wanted this time was different. You took too long to answer, and he wondered if you were in class and if he was bothering you. He wanted everything but to mess it up with you right now. Maybe he should've checked your class schedule for the week to make sure he texted you when he was sure you were free. But he was so eager to talk to someone... with you. He gave up waiting and went after doing something productive. Crochet dolls. He was doing a mini Taehyung, with red eyes and little cute fangs - an apology for later, neither of them like fighting with each other, even if you can't call that earlier thing a fight- when his cell phone started to crazily vibrate and beep.

You: OMG! You: thts amazing! You: sorry i didn't aswr before You: I was taking a nap hehe You: anyways You: i'm so happy u found him You: [image.jpg] You: ur friend must be even happier :) You: what do u mean thanx to me? You: sorry i spammed u :( Jimin can't handle you. You are too cute. You literally sent him a photo of you with an enormous smile, cheering, to show him your reaction. And you were with your hair all messed and the puffy face of someone who just woke up. Precious. Jimin: no problem, sweetheart Jimin: you said to look in other owners' houses. basically. I found him with a old cat lady with three grandchildren Jimin: you are looking cute btw You: OwO You: i'm looking like shit Jimin You: BUT thats awesome You: if it was me id be crying til my eyes fall You weren't even there with him, in person, and you were putting a smile on his face. How dare you say you look like shit when you have those perfect cute cheeks? So alive...

Jimin: EXACTLY. that's why I wanted to find him so much. Jimin: and because you helped me, I want to reward you Jimin: i know you don't work today. me neither. do you want to go out for coffee in a nice place? You took too long to answer again, and that's because your heart is exploding and knees trembling while you stare at your cell phone screen, standing midway in your kitchen. You: u dont need to. i did nothing. This time Jimin took too long to answer. He was making a decision. To be more straightforward. More honest. Until now he was dictating a slow pace for your flirting, because for him romance is like that. But what if he tries to speed things up a bit? Or if he lets you command? How would things be?

Jimin: Y/N, respect my excuse to ask you out.

He knew what your answer would be. Even so, he felt anxious, hearing a non-existent heartbeat in his ear, while the three dots indicated that you were typing.

You: ok. what time do you come to pick me?

Tag List: @angrygardenerr @depressed-dude20 @milktaetae95 @tangledsparkles @wlalsrkfla @minikolima @wrecklesseuphoria

If you want me to add you to the list let me know, and please let comments :)

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years ago

Text

Trinkets, 40: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.

A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

A linen handkerchief embroidered with a pentagram design, surrounded by arcane symbols.

A banner in black with the image of a crow sewn into it with white silk, surrounded by arcane runes stitched in black thread. Three white silk ribbons flutter from it.

A horrific black mask carved in the likeness of a demon’s face. Massive curved horns sweep up and back out of the forehead and behind the ears, while the fangs seem to glisten as if ready to bite at any moment. When worn, the mask’s eye sockets become covered with a glassy shield that glows red. When the bearer speaks, his voice is broadcast as a guttural growl.

A small dirty wooden figurine, that of a crudely-shaped blackbird. Its eyes are glass gems, pupiless; gazing into them feels like falling into an ocean’s black depths. In its tail is a hole, through which one may string a lanyard or band. When you hold it to your ear, you can hear the faint beating of a heart that is not your own.

A four foot long rod capped at each end by a six-inch-wide band of gold and steel. The rod has a three-foot long section of clear crystal in the middle, filled with a swirling white fog.

A silver monstrance, set with gold detail, intricate in its design and covered with tiny curlicues that resemble angelic beings.

An ornately carved pipe, its bowl fashioned into the head of a satyr; whose expression is one of malicious pleasure. If the pipe is used for smoking tobacco without cleaning it out first, the bearer will be plunged into a vivid, momentary dream wherein he is being pursued across a moonlit landscape by baying hounds.

A large, sumptuous shawl or scarf of deep red and heavy silk. It is finished along all of its edges with red and golden silk tassels, and is embroidered with outlines of stylized flames in golden thread.

A woolen scarf that is knitted with the words of an ancient elven supplication to the God of Random Domain.

An ink black statuette of a beautiful woman, clothed in gossamer-like veils, holds a large bronze bowl.

A rectangular wooden box labelled “Rawshins” containing dozens of red wax spheres. The balls have some give to them and the wax can be peeled away to reveal the pickled eye of a horse. The eyeballs while horrendously unpalatable is remarkable nutritious due to the herbal mixture used to preserve them and the box contains 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A wooden talisman carved into a screaming human face that when stared at it for more than a few seconds the observer can almost hear the sound of screaming from far off.

A silk bag with drawstring that open easily, revealing a glint of white. Inside is an elegant bone reliquary, smooth and pleasing to the touch. Polished, silvered fingerbones interlace to form a simple gate, operated by twisting a knob at the top formed from a single smooth vertebra surrounding a porcelain mechanism. Inside the small cavity is a cage formed out of rib that could have held an ancient curiosity of some sort, but now lies empty. The faintest touch of necromancy suffuses the curio, but surely any power it once held has long faded...

An incredibly detailed drawing of an alien creature.

A barnacle-encrusted piece of ancient stonework. Its touch fills the bearer’s ears with a great pressure that pulses like a dreadful giant’s heart.

A small wooden box with some silver markings on its surface. Something can be heard shifting inside, however it has neither a lock nor hinges. Cutting it open by force reveals it to be solid wood.

A Randomly Colored handkerchief with a knot in it, the owner probably had something important they didn’t want to forget.

A black shiny disk with dozens of embossed rings.

A tubular instrument that gradually broadens towards the lower end. It is made out of wood, with a double reed at one end and a metal or wooden flared bell at the other end. Known as a shehnai, its sound is thought to create and maintain a sense of auspiciousness and sanctity and, as a result, is sometimes used during marriages, processions and in temples although it is also played in concerts.

A pair of clay tankards decorated with waves of blue coral.

A well-worn brass locket with a small drawing of a dwarven woman inside, she has a fantastic beard.

A well-worn ivory drinking horn etched with indigo leaf patterns and silver cap attached by slim yet robust chain.

A small obsidian horse headed idol with peridot eyes.

A large poster that reads; “Diplomat wanted. Must fluently speak the oceanic dialect of High Draconic. Come dressed in waterproof clothes to the beach by moonrise on the seventh full moon of the year.”

A piece of paper that refuses to become uncrumpled until a spell similar to Dispel Magic or Remove Curse is cast on it. Inside is the true name of a weak outsider such as an angel or demon.

A waxed scroll on which is written a complex alchemical formula. The recipe is not titled and seems to be for some sort of explosive but an knowledgeable PC can determine that it’s actually instructions for making soap.

A small silver tuning fork. When used, the ringing sound it creates can only be heard by those who have split blood in the last 24 hours.

A beautiful piece of quartz carved in a strange but unclear style. It is perfectly still until a certain tone is played near it whereupon it then begins to vibrate and move, gyrating sinuously. The carving causes the moving rock to resemble a lithe dancer.

A petrified basilisk’s egg carved into an elaborate diorama of a strange but beautiful landscape.

A disk of clay with extremely fine etchings of semi-concentric lines that seem to spiral outwards from the center in tight, semi random wiggly spirals. It has been broken into three equal shards.

A handful of jasper puzzle pieces speckled with flecks of semiprecious stones (Citrine, amethyst, garnet, etc.) that can be assembled into the likeness of a bird of prey.

An astrological chart with alien characters drawn in silver ink.

A blood red fiddle that seems to have strings made of human veins. The music produced by it always sounds horrible and terrifying.

A six-sided die that sometimes rolls a seven

A war banner that's shredded, torn, and stained with blood, this standard has seen more than a single battle. The image of a red maw devouring sacred flames stands atop a field of black.

A wicked wand made of two withered and twisted branches, with one single leaf to the side and a small skull tied by a string at the base. The wand has a uncomfortable chill to the touch and sometimes sends shivers through the body.

A gruesome hand fan made of plucked faerie wings

A painting of a red-eyed wolf-man eating a corpse while making eye contact with the viewer. The corpse always vaguely resembles the viewer.

A stylish jet black long coat with a furred neck.

A knotted garment that fades in and out of nothingness. Knowledgeable PC's know that an order of religious monks one covered their eyes with such bindings. It is a perilous act to stare directly into the mouth of infinity. But once unburdened by vision, salvation shall be revealed.

A frozen, crystalline gland from some unknown ancient being. Hard as stone, it thaws slowly but eternally. The alien object is nearly translucent, revealing a void filled with nothing but bright, cold light. The glowing core holds a strange allure, turning the mind toward rapturous reminiscence.

A speckled owlbear hide, tooled with raised marks.

A baleful gem that glows a sickly green and tingles unpleasantly warm when touched. The sparkling object is less like a precious stone and more like the withering glare of corruption, made corporeal and pellucid in crystal.

A child's doll made from dyed, woven coconut fiber and dressed in linen.

A selection of maps, all rolled tightly together, and crammed into one tube. The maps all show the expansion of the same location over a period of 60 years, one new map every 10 years.

A dried caul wrapped in gauze, brittle but intact.

An old, fraying coat of the type a ship's captain would wear in bad weather. There is a small singed hole through the outer layers that stops at an inside pocket.

An eight inch wide roll of silk, which when unfurled is revealed to be an elaborately decorated sock kite in the shape of a koi.

A ball of high quality waxed twine with a platinum netting needle stuck through it.

A child's wooden toy animal with a note tied to it with twine that reads in childish writing "so u arnt lonly".

A crystal vial containing a pebble, ash, water and a measure of air.

A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.

An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.

A bill from a sorcerer listing an exorbitant amount of gold for a spell to cure a terminally ill child.

A horn hair brush inlaid with small peridot stones.

A copper door handle of a manticore head holding a ring in its mouth.

A one gallon cask of Shump's Shield, a white beer with with the colour of horchata and stout beer consistency. The flavor profile is that of a milk stout with a very light hint of peppermint and nutmeg. It is typically brewed at temples to the God of war and distributed locally.

A demonic iron idol with bloodstone eyes.

A crude and somewhat obscene silver statue depicting a goblin chieftain.

A owlbear skin run.

A burlap bag containing 3d6 days’ worth of trail rations, each individually packed in waxed parchment and sackcloth and tied with string. Each packet contains an assortment of jerky, dried fruits, hardtack and nuts.

A decorative bronze key with a rose quartz in the bow.

A black-lacquered pyx decorated with pornographic images. On the sides and the lid of the small box, colorful hand-painted scenes of lurid degradation depicts men and women copulating not with one another but with jackals, hyenas, goats, and serpents. The box is brimming with coal-black crackers flecked with red. The unleaved bread has a faint but repellent odor or herbs, sulfur and vomit

A foot stool with silver-plated eagle claw feet and silken pillow.

A violet satin facemask with purple silk ties.

A quartz and horn prayer beads on a silk cord.

A crystal, bell-shaped terrarium with an easily identifiable, miniature apple tree with fruit laden branches growing from its mossy soil. The terrarium and tree within are three inches tall.

A dark leather pouch with silver clasps set with a tiger eye.

A lock of faded reddish brown hair bound and wrapped with a red ribbon strung with cowrie shells. The ribbon is embroidered in tightly stitched green thread "Return to me, my love".

An obsidian statuette of a leering gargoyle.

A porcelain pitcher with arboreal imagery.

A petrified toad with a variety of crystals growing from its back, diverse in material, color, size, and shape.

A prosthetic bronze hand with ivory fingernails.

A deed to a plot of land signed over to the church.

A bronze-plated trophy etched with two jousting figures.

A darkwood lute with silvered strings, decorated with a painting of a djinn flying island.

A silver snuff box etched with a portrait of the night sky.

A brass censer dangling from lead chains that emits smoke resembling writhing vines.

A crystal canine skull that continually burns with yellow flames that are painfully cold to the touch.

A wooden abacus with fortune telling symbols painted across its beads. It occasionally self animates and acts of its own accord, locking up for a brief moment before the beads spin wildly then stop with several symbols facing upwards before moving as normal again.

A mahogany cane tipped with corkwood and thin red leather covers its gracefully curved handle.

A cloudy white orb with a scarlet sheen to it. When the bearer stare into its depths he see shadows flickering throughout it.

A glass globe that has no visible opening on its dark clouded surface, and it is warm to the touch. Its contents appear to be a faintly glowing roiling cloud of flame.

A glass jar filled with clippings of dwarven hair and toenails.

A silver thimble containing a shimmering ballgown of spun moonlight. The ballgown is ... very see through, but can be worn over another nice dress of plain material to good effect.

A diagram of a hollow earth showing major access point below nearby city.

A porous stone flecked with emerald and sapphire dust that always feels damp to the touch.

A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.

An automaton crab. If wound up with the key in its brass carapace, it will menace any nearby animals with its snappy little mechanical claws.

A snowball warded such that it cannot melt. At its center is a small glyph-etched stone.

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (A/n-random fact, in reality, The Irish is actually from the West, i.e, they’re called the Westies, but this is fiction so *shrugs*)

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Warnings- Tension?

Chapter 6 Jealousy And Other Sharp Objects

A week has passed, and things between John and Y/n had gone back to the way they used to be, as if she hadn't opened up to him, in a way she usually didn't to anyone, as if they hadn’t seen each other in a light that would blur the lines of what they were. Of course, the apathy exchanged immediately afterwards should have been telling enough, and for the most part, it was, at least for the first four or five days. It hadn’t even bothered John until, late one night, when he was heading to Y/n’s home office for confirmation on a work matter.

He was just walking up the hall, hands slipped coolly into his pocket and a file wedged between his arm and his side, almost near the door when it opened. He was wholly expecting Y/n, and was a little taken aback, even if he didn’t show it, when Donavan walked out instead, buttoning his wrinkled white dress shirt and blazer draped over his crooked elbow as he nudged the door closed behind himself. Both men brushed past each other hastily, not wanting to share the same square footage for longer than absolutely necessary and an irrational wave of jealousy surged up in him. Reaching the door, John could even hear Y/n shuffling around, probably just getting dressed. Still though, he knocked.

It took a minute, but eventually her voice rang through, cool and unaffected as she permitted, “Come in.” Drawing in a sharp breath, John pulled the door open, not sure if he should keep looking or turn away when he caught her in the midst of pulling on her thin chiffon blouse. She wasn’t half as exposed as she was during their shared evening in the kitchen, but there was something about knowing that Y/n had just been with someone else that made it seem wrong for John to look. Though he didn’t have much time to think on the matter for the minute she’d finished fiddling with the stylish ruffles at the neckline, Y/n moved to lean against the lip of her desk, breaking John’s thoughts as she ran her fingers through sex mused hair, “What do you want?”

Unable to keep the edge of unwarranted envy to himself, John lounged on the leather upholstered sofa kept against the wall, setting the file next to him before leaning back and crossing one ankle over his knee, “Does he know?” Nonchalantly, he nudged his head towards the door.

Her reaction wasn’t what he expected and Y/n quirked a mischievous smirk, her lithe fingers finding a half drank glass of Cabernet near some disarrayed papers, swirling around the remainder of her drink before slowly bringing the glass to her lips. Y/n’s gaze holding John’s didn’t waver, nor did the mischief reflected on her features, “Know about what?” Feigning innocence didn’t really suit her because even then a dark, menacing mystery lurked beneath her façade and Y/n didn’t look any less the vixen that she usually was.

“Don’t do that,” John huffed. It was a battle to maintain some semblance of dominance over the situation, neither of them wanted to be at the other’s whim and it only then dawned upon John that it was a miracle that they’d existed in the same space for just over two months without getting into a fight. They’d come close though, two personalities that alike were bound to clash. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he persisted, not phased in the slightest by her behavior.

“Why would he need to know?” Finishing off her wine, Y/n replaced the glass on the surface with a quiet thud, “Who I fuck isn’t his business, and its not yours either,” folding her arms, Y/n’s smirk widened a bit when upon noting how John stiffened slightly, “Are you jealous, John?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” John fired immediately, sounding more defensive than intended, “It’s just,” clearing his throat, he pondered only for a second before voicing his suspicions, “I don’t trust him.”

Smoothly, like aged whiskey over ice, Y/n chuckled, rolling her gorgeous orbs, “Donavan? You don’t trust Donavan? Now who’s being ridiculous?” Pushing off the edge, Y/n sauntered around the desk, easing into her chair, “He’s loyal, there’s no reason to doubt him.”

“I’m just saying,” pressing the matter was fruitless, yet John still continued, “You should keep an eye on him.”

“Stop it,” immediately, her tone grew firm and her jaw tightened, “Don’t do that,” exasperated already, Y/n threaded a hand through her loose tresses, “Is this what you came here talk about?”

Now, equally irritated by her dismissiveness, John’s voice took on a new harshness, “No,” He stood, swiping up the manila folder and taking long strides towards her desk, “These are the specifics for Vienna next week,” he offered hastily, the folder almost falling to the table top during the trade off, “Review it, tell me what you you think in the morning.”

Sighing heavily, Y/n almost felt guilty about the turn their conversation had made, but something stopped her, leaving her to try to call out to him in a tone tinged with annoyance as he headed for the door, “John-”

“Good night, Y/n,” he cut her off, stalking out of the room, leaving the door open.

The next week, Vienna. It was the morning of Y/n’s second meeting with the High Table and like the first, the hours before had brought a sense of dread with it, the only thing soothing her in the tiniest bit was that John would be right outside the door that time. They still hadn’t ironed things out after that late night in her office, once again sinking into a state where words spent between them were short and few. Usually something like that wouldn’t have bothered Y/n, but somehow, being at odds with John wasn’t the same; she secretly wanted him to care and not knowing if he still did was disheartening.

The whole thing had made her more snappy than she usually was; her quick temper grew shorter, her sharp words were given a new edge and her moments of quiet were vastly extended. For the most part, it made those around her even more willing to back down instead of pushing an issue. All except one.

The three of them had gathered at Y/n’s room that morning; Donavan to brief Y/n on the fast approaching meeting and John to leave with her when she was ready. “The mayor of New York is requesting your audience; at the charity gala next month,” Donovan casually eased in as they ate at a table near the room’s living room window.

Scraping her fork against the delicate china, Y/n’s absent gaze snapped up, focusing on the source of the words, “You can tell the mayor to go fuck himself.”

“Vila-”

Without letting him finish, she was cutting him off, “Donavan. I’m not interested, okay. We stay away from politics.” Clearly over the conversation, Y/n stood, taking her plate over to the room service cart, refilling her coffee afterwards.

“This could be good for us,” Donavan reasoned, forgetting his food and glancing at a still silent John before looking to Y/n, “He needs funding for his reelection campaign and he says that if he’s in for a next term he can give us a leg up; an in with the D.A and couple judges on our side just in case.”

“Yeah,” she huffed, “But it also gives him leverage. He can betray us just as easily as he’s betraying them, and one word and we’re over,” taking a long drag of her coffee, Y/n shook her head, “This isn’t a good idea.”

Standing abruptly, Donavan tried to step next to where she stood at the cart, though Y/n simply moved away, walking near to the table, standing where Vienna’s early morning sun would cast an otherworldly glow on her face. Simply taking it all in, John continued reading through the intel he’d had on the other members of The Table as he ate. “It is. Vila,” he whispered the name, hidden affection laced with the word, “This union could give us an edge on the Irish. Fuck the city, you’ve wanted to take time down since you stepped foot in the club house. If we don’t do this with Balinski, they will, and we can’t risk that.”

“Donavan,” Y/n’s exasperation was audible and John was internally glad that he wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of it, “You don’t understand. We need to be careful with who we trust, and Balinski, he’s not the kind of man we can trust. God,” she scoffed a humorless chuckle, “He’s a fucking politician, we don’t need his type sniffing around.”

“What we don’t need is the Irish with such a big leg up in the game. Look, we already have Staten Island and everything else in the west, but they have most of the east. We work with Balinski, we can take it, and wherever the fuck you want, no questions asked,” anyone from a mile away could see that Donavan was reaching his rope’s end and there was an sense of desperate urgency in his explanations, as if there was a lot riding on Y/n accepting the invitation to the gala, “We can not just hand this over to them, right now, we’re the one’s he’s asking for, but if you refuse this offer, he’ll be offended and he’ll shack up with them just to take you down.”

“There are other ways,” Y/n gritted. She didn’t want to, for even the slightest of a second, think that she might need someone alongside her to help her rise to the top. Y/n worked alone, it was how she had been trained and she intended in keeping it that way. She didn’t need anyone, especially not some sleazy politician looking for dirty money to help him plaster his face on billboards, to help her fight her battles, “And we can explore them when necessary.”

“You don’t understand how big this is for you Vila. For us,” Donavan emphasized, shaking his head and grinding his teeth, “You,” he spun hastily, turning to John, “Since she trusts you so much, why don’t you talk some sense into her?”

With a hard, cold gaze, John just stared, and Y/n was the one to interject, able as ever to speak for herself, “Talk some sense into me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Folding her arms and standing her ground, “I don’t need anyone to talk sense into me, and if you think that that’s what you're here to do then maybe you should sit this one out.” For a minute more, Y/n and Donavan traded sharp glares, and again, it was Y/n that spoke, pointing to the door that time, “I mean it Donavan.”

Sniffing for effect, Donavan nodded bitterly, “Whatever you want boss,” the word was said with such disdain that it might have been an insult. And really, it was, considering that most times, Donavan was the only one that ever got a taste of being her equal. That was, until she’d hired John. “But I’m telling you,” he warned pointedly, “You make the wrong decision, it won't be pretty.”

Largely, she ignored him, pretending his words weren’t an omen, rooted to the spot until Donavan slammed the door. Fuming, Y/n suppressed the urge to throw something. She absolutely hated being questioned, her word should have had finality, not room for argument. Yet, when she shifted her gaze, feeling John's stare bore into her, Y/n suspected that another argument was in the making, "What?" She snarled, planting a hand on her hip, "Just say it."

"I know that this isn't my place," John began, standing as he did, swiping up his mug as he walked past Y/n into the living area, "And I hate to admit it," he continued, a begrudged twinge propelling his words, "But Donavan is right. If the mayor wants an alliance, you should give it to him."

Taking another sip from the scalding black liquid, Y/n followed John into the living room, sinking into an armchair; crossing her legs and placing her arms on the cushioned rests. "It's not that easy," turning to face the blank television, Y/n hoped the gesture would guard the first traces of defeat, "I don't need him having leverage on me."

"But he has it anyway," John insisted, going through the weaponry he went armed to her room with, "Think about it, he knows who you are and what you're doing. Balinski can rat anyone out if he wanted to. But he hasn't. Besides,” John was in the process of assembling a gun he’d taken apart for cleaning earlier; his stocky fingers working with precision and fluidity, “If he’s working with you, then you have leverage too, if he’s willing to partner up, then that’s gotta mean he has some skeletons in his closet, and if not, you’ll be the first one. You have the upper hand Y/n.” John cut his words short, putting the gun to his ear as he made a couple more adjustments, “I’m not saying you have to do it,” he sighed as he finally loaded the handgun that would ultimately become part of his on-person armory, “But I am saying that you should think about it.”

Y/n lapsed into a bout of deep thought, pensive stare far off and unintentionally falling to the display on the glass table, littered with an array of guns and blades, along with John’s mug near the edge. He was right, they both were, and Y/n hated defeat, but the more his and Donavan’s words sank in, the more she realized that she needed the alliance with New York’s mayor. If she didn’t take it, he and the Irish would have the upper hand, but if she did, for the price of a small risk, Y/n would have insurmountable power. She’d had to have been foolish to pass it up.

“Alright,” draining the last of her coffee, Y/n carelessly discarded the delicate cup on the end table next to her, standing with purpose, “I’ll do it, and I’ll go to that gala,” she was already walking off towards her bedroom and John had already nodded in acknowledgement when she added, “Under one condition; you go with me.”

“I go where you go, that’s the rule,” he hummed gruffly, not thinking much of it until Y/n turned, leaning against the metal doorframe, her constant, amused stare beckoning his attention.

“No,” a glimmer of a wicked smile tugged at her lips while a mischievous glint danced in her eyes, “I meant you go with me. Invitations for those things are usually for two people, you’re gonna be my…..plus one.”

Straightening his back, John briefly reflected on their conversation in her office and then more so on how confused his feelings towards Y/n made him. Guilt for seeing her the way he did, jealousy when she was with Donavan, irritation during almost every conversation they had and finally something simply…...undefinable. Fondness maybe, likeness, something that made him wish things weren’t as complicated as they were, that Y/n wasn’t who she was so maybe, just maybe, he could give letting someone in another shot. “That’s not part of our arrangement,” he countered dismissively; since she was so protective of her boy toy then should have just taken him anyway, “You should take Donavan.”

“I said I’m taking you,” Y/n turned again, strolling off into the bedroom, “Hope you’ve got a nice tux,” she teased, disappearing into the shadowy dimness before shutting the door behind herself.

*****

Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @jupiterdawngirl

#fanfiction #john wick #keanu reeves #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x you #ff #fanfic #protective service #jealousy and other sharp objects #requested

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binkysteebnpewter · 5 years ago

Text

Of Paper Planes & Teddy Bears

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Words: 2100+

Summary: Wanda has loved you since you trained her when she joined the avengers. However she’s too afraid to confess all because she’s sure you’re dating the Diner guy.

I used a divider a few times, they’re by: @writeyourmindaway 💗

Warnings: TW:Dissociation, TW: Anxiety Implications, explicit (?) detailing, conspiracy thoughts (just to add flavor 🤷🏻‍♀️).

Taglist: @softpeachbarnes @thejournalman

There was so much that I could say about her. So much good, so much praise, so many compliments that'd sound like Shakespeare had possessed my body to write an entire play solely about how her eyes stared into my soul with just a simple fleeting glance she'd give as we passed each other in the hall. There was so much I could say about her to show someone how much I love her and what I love about her, but that would take too long— even though I knew I could talk about her until my lungs failed to take in air and my heart failed to beat.

What I would utter out was that her attitude was what got me up in the morning, other than the fact she always made breakfast for everyone even though she didn't have to— and her cooking is absolutely blissful if I'm honest. However her coffee is downright dreadful. She liked her coffee way too strong for me or anyone other than Tony and Bruce, who refused to drink theirs any other way now. I didn't see how she could drink it, especially not black with just ONE spoon of honey.

There were those days where sometimes she didn't want to cook and everyone would sometimes go to the nearby diner, and today was one of those days. She had dressed down pretty casual and comfy, but oh— she looked otherworldly in her comfort clothes, dressed to no ones expectations as she held her favorite teddy bear

Sam drove while everyone else talked, but her? She sat playing with a few small paper airplanes, making them fly with psychokinesis. Making one fly out of her course, she stops them all and looks to me. She smiles and one of them unfolds suddenly, refolding quickly. Smiling at the blossom flower, my eyes widen when I moved over and rested in my lap. She smiles to me once more and focuses on her airplanes again, leaving me a storm of emotions.

The time passes like it's racing as we all ordered, waited, receivers, and ate. Some of us were still eating, some were just talking and relaxing. It was peaceful and the diner was never busy enough to draw a crowd to us, thankfully.

"How you gonna be like 'she gotta blonde, she gotta be thick, she gotta be tan'?" She asks, standing up to a guy sitting near us as he dissed his own girlfriend.

"You ain't got the right to be picky. All you packing is a tic-tac.. what you gonna do breath mint?" She asks and he flusters.

"What you gon' do Listerine?" She asks, giving him a look full of utter sass and confidence.

Smiling as the guy flustered and began ignoring her, I nodded and gave her a thumbs up as she turned back around. She smiles to me and laughs a bit.

"Yo! You're here today!" I hear and she turns.

"Mattie! What's up?" She smiles, standing and giving the guy a hug.

Him.

The one I wish I was. The guy who gets to call her baby girl, the guy who gets to stay up and talk on the phone with her for hours, the guy who gets to hear her sleepy voice say those three words I so desperately want to hear and say back.

I love you.

Wanda had left my origami flower in the diner, right on the table with her plate. Did she not like it? Was it the wrong color? I purposefully kept my airplanes folded neatly in the colors black and red, the colors I knew she liked. Was I overthinking all the subtle things? Was I imagining them? It was possible, maybe I'm reading too far into things.

I walked silently across the street from the cemetery, a hat placed on my head and tipped low as I faced the ground. My fingers played with the fidget in my hand, the puzzle fidget I had solved too many times to count now. I was long overdue for a new one, there was no combination of moves someone could do to mess up the colors on my rainbow ball fidget toy to make sure I couldn't return each colored ball to its respective hole too quickly. Wind whipped around me and chilled my skin, my thin jacket doing nothing to keep me warm.

The pigeons, I swear, are staring at me as I walk. Following me, I know it, as I took turns and they stayed right nearby with me from the start of my journey. I was a long way from the compound, that I knew for sure. I'm convinced one day they'll begin recognizing individuals, or that maybe they're not even real— robots maybe. Do we ever see them sleep? Do the power lines charge them when they rest upon them? Do they video people and record conversations? Is this how the government truly finds wanted people?

A bus loops around and around, passing through the old streets. The neighborhoods of old tenement houses, public schools, coffee shops, and candy stores. Sidewalks lined with cart shops, their goods ranging from street food to newspapers and tourist spots. I haven't seen the bus stop once as it's passed by one time after another, yet there are always less and less people aboard it with each pass. Has it even stopped? Why come down this road so many times? Is it forever stuck in this route? Is it in limbo— wait, can objects be stuck in limbo?

dO UnITs hAVe a SoUL??

I pass a hot dog stand, the grilled hot dogs looked oddly like fingers to my eyes and I suppress a gag. Do they bleed when you bite into them? Is the juice metallic tasting? Is the texture— Let's stop there, yeah let's stop there.

I head to subway station to realize I had been in the Brooklyn-Queens area, my numb fingers aching as I swiped my subway card. I stand as far from people as I could, the suffocating feeling of the subway closing in. The scent of the train car was musty and pungent, like old sneakers in a gym locker and rotten food found in the home of a hoarder who'd dropped their food and never found it to pick up and throw away. My fingers pause in the motion of scrambling my fidget as I realize the conductor was making an announcement, I caught on too late. Asking the man nearby if he'd heard the announcement, I shuddered when he gave me a simple rat-like smile and said nothing with a shrug.

I guess I'll never know.

I feel as though someone is watching me and Natasha's words play through my head. 'If you feel like someone's watching you, it's because someone is.' Do I look for them? Do I make eye contact and sass them? No, don't. Really don't, never trust a man or even a women on the train this late at night— I have no clue why they're up, or why I'm up even. I had woke with a feeling of dread and left without a single thought about it, the compound had felt too stuffy and small— despite its size.

The compound was... a mystery to me. It was large and spacious yet at times it felt like it closed in on me, suffocating like a 5x5 room. It made me feel like SCP 096 in his airtight steel cube room, watched yet not seen.

I step off the train at a random stop, heading out back into the chilly night air to continue an aimless walk through a concrete jungle shaped like a maze of looming buildings that wait— wait for the perfect moment to swallow me whole like a fly in the air, gone like I had never even buzzed in someone's ear.

Walking off the sidewalk and into a parking lot, I glance around. The parking lot may seem empty but I don't trust it, there are cars here— I know there are. They just don't want me to see them yet. They like to hide, spook me when I'm not paying attention once more. The building seems to expend as I enter with my membership card in hand, I'm sure I'll never understand how everything fits inside this place— just like I'll never understand where all the shoppers in here come from, even so late.

Are they even people?

I don't know how long I've been in here before I begin to become hungry, taking notice of the samples being handed out. Don't trust it, never trust it— you don't know if that person is sick or has done something to the food. Buy something and make it yourself, or buy a packaged snack— some fruit even. I cannot find check out, and the lady I had passed only gave me an eerie smile when I asked how to get to check out.

What is up with people and not knowing the answers to questions tonight?

I sit motionless, vaguely aware i was on the floor in the kitchen. I was also vaguely aware it was some time past 4am, when I returned from my late name wander. However something is wrong, something is staring. I do not know what nor do I think I want to know, yeah... I don’t want to know— I never will want to know.

It feels as if I’m staring at the back of my own head, watching as blurs vibrate and buzz off me and disappear into the air. I was staring, but staring where? At what? What color is it? What shape does it take? Is it smooth or textured? Is it decorative or a utensil?

I want to reach and touch myself, reassure myself that I am, in fact, here— that I am tangible and existing. So I reach up to touch my forehead, but everything blues— freezes. It was like something had stopped me from proving I was tangible, but I didn’t know what stopped me. I can’t figure it out, I’m sure at this point I don’t want to figure it out.

Do not touch my own face, that is asking for trouble. Something has warned me not to do it, and blindly I will take the unseen things advice.

My mind feels cloudy? No, it feels foggy. Not quite... It feels as if someone has steamed it, the moisture leaking out my eyes— I am crying with a dull expression as I sit on the kitchen floor, barely aware I even exist. This skin isn’t even my own, who’s is it? Did I steal it? Did I win it? Did we swap? How do I give it back? It is uncomfortable and suffocating, irritating like a sunburn.

Who am I? Am I a spectator? Am I a player? Am I winning? What am I playing? What am I spectating? Are others here? Is this a competition? Where are the controls?

I’d like to take the controls now.

It was a very faint and ghostly feeling of a hand touching mine that made me obscurely aware my hand had never dropped from moving to touch my own face. How long ago was that? The world was a blur, scratchy and set in black and white like a very old VHS tape. I didn’t know how long it was of those ghostly hands rubbing my upper arms and occasionally wiping my face and eyes, but the feeling of those motions became more prominent— heavier and more tangible.

Eventually, my world came into color and the first thing I could see was red. Brown hair that was lazily held in a messy ponytail, skin adorned with a pair of red pajamas, green eyes that seemed so soft and worried as they met mine.

“You’re with me, miere?” She asks softly and I touch her hand that was cupping my cheek.

She is real.

She’s here, tangible, existing.

So I am real, tangling, existing— because she is talking to ME.

“Miere?”

“Please don’t leave me alone...”

“I am not going to leave, Miere. I am right here, don’t worry.. I am always right here.”

“I love you..”

“Miere?”

Meeting her green eyes, they seemed so bright but so cautious. Why? Squeezing her hand that had been holding mine, the corners of my lips tugged up a bit.

“I love you Wanda..”

“I... I love you too, Miere. I, I thought you were dating... Mattie?”

“Mattie..?” I mumble, confused.

Who is Mattie? Do I know a Mattie? Surely I do, she wouldn’t have mentioned a Mattie if I didn’t and— Oh, the diner Mattie.

“No, I’m not dating Mattie.. He was my friend from school.” I admit, his face now fresh in my head.

“Besides, I don’t like guys.”

“Are you... are you gay?”

“Of course I’m gay.”

#marvel #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda x fem reader #female reader insert #reader insert #avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff one shot #tw: dissociation #tw: anxiety implications #Wanda Maximoff Fluff

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creative-type · 5 years ago

Text

wake from death (and return to life) v

AO3 Previous Summary: Zoro had always been told that Kuina died falling down the stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

...

Port Tolouse was on fire. Thick black smoke billowed in the air, choking Kuina’s lungs and stinging her eyes as they drew nearer to the island, the heat pulling her skin taunt. At random intervals explosions would rocket in the distance, followed seconds later by low rumbles that would carry over the ocean.

In comparison, Belo Betty’s ship was deathly silent. As silent as a group of over a hundred sailors could be, anyway. But somehow, the random coughs and creaking wood stood out as all the more unnatural, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of life that Kuina had grown accustomed to. Hiding behind her mask, she stayed near Dara, not willing to lose her on the crowded decks. Together they joined Elizabeth, Lyudmila, and Aria de Gris at one of the ship's lifeboats. Other groups—individual squads in Betty’s army, Kuina supposed—likewise found themselves huddled near the small vessels, but the bulk of the Revolutionaries remained right where they were. They were going to fight their way in.

If de Gris thought anything of Kuina’s presence or strange apparel, she didn’t show it. Over half the Revolutionaries Kuina saw had their faces covered in some way or other. While de Gris and Lyudmila chose not to change out of their everyday clothing, Elizabeth had a bandana tied around the bottom half of her face kept her backward ball cap low on her forehead, and Dara had spent most of their time approaching Tolouse painting her face to look like a living skull. Vibrant clothing was exchanged for a loose-fitting outfit made of greys and blacks that reminded Kuina of the stories her father told of kunoichi assassins.

“There’s a story on my home island,” Dara had explained as she put the final touches of black to her cheeks, “of a death god who steals the shadows of the wicked and weaves them into a fine cloak, leaving them to whither to dust in the sun.” Her skeletal grin widened. “Who am I to deny these bastards the opportunity to see the face of god before they die?”

She had paused then, as if waiting for Kuina to tell the story behind the blue and red oni mask, but as far as Kuina knew there wasn’t any. It was just something her father had hanging on his wall that she had taken on a whim, something the swordsmen of the old country wore into battle, just as she prepared to do now. Kuina could only shrug and follow her above decks, waiting for their next orders.

“Is everyone ready to depart? Chances are we won’t be able to come back for a second trip,” de Gris said in a low tone. She eyed each of them critically, gaze lingering on Kuina a shade longer than the rest. Kuina shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulders in response, all her worldly possessions contained within. De Gris nodded once sharply to herself, as if confirming a fact she already knew.

“Alright. First objective is to meet up with the rest of the crew and see what shape our boat’s in. We still haven’t been able to reinstate communications, but our job will be a hell of a lot easier if the enemy doesn’t know where we’re at. Dara?” she asked.

“Ready, Boss.”

“We leave once Betty gives the signal.”

Before Kuina could ask what that signal was, Belo Betty emerged from belowdecks. Revolutionaries parted before her as if she were a drop of water in a quart of oil as she strode to the raised quarterdeck, voluminous skirts billowing regally behind her. She moved with such grace Kuina wouldn’t have been surprised if she were floating on air, and didn’t flinch as a cannonball fell just short of the ship, splashing harmlessly into the water. It was the first attack, and in the haze Kuina couldn’t tell if it came from land or sea.

Acting as the Revolutionary’s herald, Belo Betty stood with a familiar red and black flag in hand. It was much bigger than the one she’d used against Kuina, and the sight of it made her sick. Betty slammed the ferruled end against the deck as if she were trying to stake the blunted metal into the thick wood. The resulting silence was deafening.

A moment passed as Betty appraised the resolute faces of the men and women under her command. Then another, and another. Then suddenly, Belo Betty thrust the flag into the air and shouted, “ For freedom! ”

The Revolution roared . Kuina barely turned her back in time before Betty swept the blood-red field in front of her. Without being able to actually see the flag, the effect of her devil fruit was dampened, but Kuina could still feel the effect it had on everyone around her. Gooseflesh went up and down her arms as an unnatural electricity sparked from person to person, spreading like a deadly contagion across the decks.

Kuina had wondered why the entirety of the Revolution’s fighting force gathered together in one place making themselves vulnerable to enemy attack, and now she knew. Less disciplined soldiers worked themselves into a frenzy, their hysteria so great they had to be held back to prevent them from jumping into the sea with the intent of swimming their way to Tolouse. Some beat their rifle butts against the decks in savage rhythm, others screamed war cries or shouted profanities at the enemy.

But most seemed used to the flag’s intoxicating effects. In a way, they were more intimidating than their less-disciplined brethren, maintaining rank and awaiting orders while the blood boiled in their veins, whole-hearted desire for war mixed with the soundness of mind to do so effectively. Kuina could even sense it in her small group--the quickening of their heartbeat, nostrils flaring as their breathing deepened, pupils blown wide-open in punch-drunk anticipation.

“Alright, ladies. That’s our cue,” de Gris said. A tight, savage grin belied the calmness in her voice. Her naked sword gleamed in the sun. “Mila, Kuina, you’re on rowing duty. Elizabeth you stay back, and Dara you take middle.”

No one had said anything about rowing, but Kuina didn’t argue. Though the lifeboat could easily have seated over a dozen people they remained clustered in a diamond formation, with Kuina, Lyudmila, Elizabeth, and de Gris forming the four points and Dara square in the center. As soon as they were boarded they were quickly lowered into the sea, hidden from the shore by the broad side of the brigantine.

“Sorry, but I need to touch you for this to work,” Dara said, grabbing a hold of Kuina’s backpack. Her other hand wrapped around Lyudmila’s shirt sleeve, while a still-standing de Gris lay a hand on her head and Elizabeth had a fist full of the back of her shirt. “And if you need to puke, try not to get any on me.”

Without giving Kuina any time to question what she’d just said, Dara activated her devil fruit. With a sickening lurch that made Kuina feel like she was a metal wire being stretched through a drawing hole she, her four companions, and their little boat they were sitting in was laying flush with the water, all-but-invisible from the shore.

Behind her, Elizabeth retched, loudly and copiously into the back of the lifeboat. Dara sighed.

“And this is why she never gets rowing duty.”

Kuina decided right then and there that devil fruits were not meant to be understood, only accepted. After recovering from the initial shock of suddenly existing in two dimensions instead of three, Kuina nearly threw herself into a panic thinking that Betty’s ability had made the Revolutionaries collectively go mad, and that the tiniest wave was going to capsize their boat.

Except, somehow, it didn’t. Despite their flatness, the lifeboat still had gunwales. There still, somehow, was depth, because Kuina could discern that de Gris was standing above them and that her feet were firmly planted below. It made no sense, and trying to wrap her mind around it only raised more questions Kuina couldn’t answer.

“Don’t just sit there, girl,” de Gris hissed. “ Row. And keep those oars as close to the water as possible.”

Hastily Kuina did as she was told, trying her best to ignore her paper-thin arms by focusing on her oar. It, at least, was somewhat flat under ordinary circumstances and didn’t look quite as unnatural as the rest of them as it skimmed across the surface of the sea. Behind her, Elizabeth groaned.

“How far?”

“We need to get behind the first line of defenses.” De Gris scanned the sea and pointed to a jetty farther up the coast. “There. Betty will draw the majority of the fire away from our position, and once we ground we can hit them from behind and hopefully give her a chance to land her people.”

“Strange that communications haven’t opened,” Dara said.

De Gris hid her scowl behind a hand as she lit a cigarette. “Whole turn of events is strange. I don’t like that we’re walking in blind, so stay sharp. Something is very wrong here.”

“Besides the fact that everything’s on fire?” Elizabeth said before being overtaken by a harsh, brassy cough. “What sort of king does that to his own people?”

As they drew closer to the jetty, Kuina could hear the alarm of fire brigades over the sounds of fighting, but it seemed like a lost cause. The cityfront nearest the docks was already a blackened ruin, the greedy flames having moved on in search of more fuel, carried by the favorable wind that had brought the Revolutionary Army so quickly east. Whatever they were fighting over was already gone.

De Gris stared resolutely ahead, her eyes never leaving the flickering red-orange skyline. “I’m not so sure he did.”

xxx

There was no practical way for Dara to maintain her power once they reached the jetty. They quickly disembarked, and it fell upon Kuina and Lyudmila to secure the line while the rest hurried to cover. Smoky haze mixed with mist rolling off of the sea, obscuring them from any eyes that might have strayed from Betty’s distraction.

Kuina’s teeth were already on edge when Lyudmila paused to peer at Kuina through her thick glasses. There was a faint, perplexed expression on her face. “What will you do once the fighting starts?”

“You’re really going to ask me this now? ” Kuina asked. “I told your boss already: A swordsman pays their debts. Nothing good would have happened to me if I’d stayed at Lougetown. Even if I think you all are a bunch of two-faced bastards, I owe you for getting me out.”

“You would fight for the people you hate.”

It wasn’t a question, and something about her tone made Kuina want to squirm. She finished the last knot, and together they hurried to join the others. “Hate’s a strong word. Most of you have been...hospitable. We just see things differently. You know, on an organizational level. I mean, you haven’t tried to shoot me even once . I’m almost insulted.”

For the first time since they had met, Lyudmila smiled. Like all of her expressions, it was barely noticeable, a twitch at the corner of her mouth that was gone almost before it had arrived. “Even if we are a bunch of two-faced bastards?”

“The way I see it, most people have a little bit of bastard in them, myself included” Kuina said with a shrug. They ducked into the hollow of a burnt out warehouse where de Gris waited less-than-patiently, bloody sword in hand and a pair of guardsmen laying dead at her feet. “Some just happen to have more than others.”

Lyudmila made a noise that was suspiciously like a laugh, and Kuina didn’t miss the questioning look de Gris shot her way, or the subtle nod she gave in return They were still watching her, testing her fragile allegiance.

Kuina’s pride rankled that they thought she might break her word, but she looked away and pretended that she hadn’t noticed the exchange. There were more important things at hand.

Like the fact that Port Tolouse was on fire.

“I’ve already sent Dara ahead to start wreaking havoc along their cannoneers,” de Gris said. “Mila, I want you to find someplace high where you can start harassing the enemy. I remember there being a belltower at the square that looked like it would offer a pretty good view.”

“Could be conspicuous,” Lyudmia said.

“Right.” de Gris lit a cigarette. “I leave it to your discretion. You got a mini on you?”

Lyudmila held up her wrist, where a baby den-den mushi slept.

“Don’t how good your signal’s going to be, but I want to know what’s going on at sky level. Don’t worry about being overheard, Trini set me up with a ghost before we left.”

Lyudmila nodded once sharply, and disappeared into the street. Kuina and Elizabeth shared an uneasy glance as de Gris turned her attention to them, frowning around her cigarette like she didn’t quite know what to do with the last two members of her team.

“We need to rendezvous with the troops we left behind and find out what the hell’s jamming our snails,” she said finally. “Last report had them dug in in the Oldtown neighborhood, but with the fires that could have changed.”

“I thought we were backing up Betty,” Kuina said.

“We have. Any enemy ship that gets close enough to board is going to have Betty’s devil fruit to contend with, and neutralizing the land-based defenses will allow them to land safely on the island. The greatest threat to our people is the fact we can’t talk to one another.”

More arguments spring to the tip of her tongue, but Kuina bit them back. If de Gris thought sending one person to take out some cannons was all that was needed for Belo Betty to dock safely, that was her problem. She was obviously confident in Dara’s ability, and the unbidden memory of the other girl’s opinions on the quality of East Blue wars compared to the Grand Line swirled in Kuina’s mind.

Then she remembered how Dara had managed to sneak behind her without notice and wondered if maybe she hadn’t had a point.

“I’ve never heard of anything that can block a den-den mushi signal before,” Elizabeth said slowly, interrupting Kuina’s thoughts. “Do you think it’s some new World Government tech?”

“Probably. More important question is why deploy it here , in the asscrack of the East Blue?” A shadow flashed over de Gris’s face, something dark and ugly fighting its way to the surface. She turned her back to both Elizabeth and Kuina. “We’re wasting time. Weapons out, ladies. Where we’re going, things are going to be hot.”

Kuina drew her sword and followed her out of the ruined warehouse, mulling over her question. Because of its relative peacefulness, marines and Government agencies in the East Blue were notoriously underfunded. Military compounds received less money for training, research, and development. Its Cipher Pol branches had fewest agents in the entire world. Anyone with even a modicum of talent was poached by divisions in the Grand Line that offered incentives that made the more dangerous placements desirable. She had spent enough time working within the judicial system to hear sailors complain about their meagre salaries and how bounty hunters like her stole all the glory of the hunt, while they spent their lives wasting away at thankless tasks.

But the truth of the matter was it was cheaper for the Government to give a one time handout of a few thousand berries to a headhunter than it was to feed, equip, and pay a full-time naval recruit. As long as the number of pirates in the East Blue was manageable, the penny pinchers at Mariejois weren’t likely to change the annual budget anytime soon.

So what was Grand Line tech doing out in the East Blue?

They skulked deeper into the city, stepping over mounds of rubble and skeletonized buildings. To Kuina, the destruction seemed greater than a mere fire—it looked like a bomb had gone off. The streets were littered with the broken glass of a thousand shattered windows, the streets pockmarked and smoldering, grey smoke making the air shimmer and haze. A terrible stench rose from the city, testing Kuina’s intestinal fortitude, and making Elizabeth have to stop once more to retch.

Then they turned a corner, and somehow it got worse.

There, in out in the open, were the bodies of the dead stacked into piles, bloated and rotting in the midday sun. They lay in front of a mangled corpse that had been nailed high on a surviving concrete wall like a martyred prophet of some terrible deity. Even at a distance Kuina could see the melted gold encircling the forehead of the displayed body. Written below the remains in red letters a foot high was the message: Death to tyrants.

“Is that...Is that their king? ” Elizabeth gasped.

Cautiously de Gris approached, not caring that her two subordinates stayed well back. With clinical detachment she made a quick study of the bodies before turning her attention squarely to the crucified corpse.

The desecration of the dead left Kuina horrified and numb, and she had to turn away. She wasn’t naive enough to be ignorant of the horrors of war. She herself had killed dozens of men, and sent dozens more to their deaths. But there was no honor or glory in such mutilation. Kuina doubted most of them were even combatants. No one with a shred of warrior’s pride would condone the slaughtering of innocents.

Beside her, Elizabeth seemed equally perturbed. Between her hat and bandanna it was impossible to gauge her expression, but her hands twitched spastically as she stood rooted in place. Her eyes never left the bodies, and every few seconds she would make a strangled noise, as if trying to speak, but was unable to form any coherent sentences.

“Can’t stomach your own dirty work?” Kuina muttered.

Elizabeth swung toward her. “You think we —”

In the distance, Kuina heard the soft click of a hammer being pulled back. She moved on instinct, grabbing the front of Elizabeth’s shirt and pulling her to the ground. Her indignant yelp was drowned out by the crack of a pistol shot striking the rubble behind them, followed by a second and a third, sending up a cloud of dust where they had been standing just a moment ago.

Belatedly, Kuina remembered that Elizabeth was carrying bombs. An entire backpack full of highly flammable, explosive, homemade bombs of questionable quality. Twisting as they fell, she cushioned the smaller woman from the brunt of the impact with her own body. As soon as they hit the ground Kuina rolled on top of her so an errant shot couldn’t set off an explosion that would blow them all to pieces.

At the first shot de Gris whipped from the body of the king, firing her pistol once in the direction of a hollowed out factory. For a moment Kuina didn’t move, but no further shots came.

“ Geooff, ” Elizabeth said, her voice muffled. Slowly Kuina obliged, scanning for more enemies with her sword in hand as the other woman struggled to her feet.

“Out of the street,” de Gris barked. “We’re sitting ducks out here in the open.”

Hurriedly, they did as she said, hiding behind the cover of charred beams of timber and mounds of rock and rubble. There were more bodies, more splashes of rusty red, but these it seemed had been left undisturbed. If there were any survivors, they didn’t stay long enough to find them.

After a minute or so of silence, Elizabeth said bluntly, “You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” Kuina looked down, and sure enough, she had cut through the sleeve of her jacket, causing blood to trickle from the back of her arm. She hadn’t even noticed the wound, but now that she did it began to sting, not deep enough to cause any real concern. “Must have been all that glass.”

“Bind it,” de Gris ordered. “Don’t give the enemy anything to track.”

Before Kuina could do as she said, Elizabeth was by her side with a roll of linen bandages taken from her bag. Wordlessly Kuina rolled up her sleeve and let her wrap the wound with shaking hands. Elizabeth took a moment to judge her handiwork, nodding once sharply to herself, before looking up at Kuina. There was no word of thanks shared between either of them, but Kuina thought for the first time Elizabeth saw her for who she really was, instead of some random stowaway brat she happened to be traveling with.

“That wasn’t our work back there,” she muttered, before looking questioningly at de Gris. “Was it?”

Aria de Gris pulled a small metal disk from the inside of her coat, holding it up for inspection. The silver metal was scorched black and warped after exposure to extreme heat, but Kuina thought she could see the faintest outline of an insignia etched upon it.

“That’s Callen’s mark,” she said, before adding for Kuina’s benefit, “he’s the one Betty put in charge while she was gone.”

“So he’s dead,” Elizabeth said.

“Not necessarily. It’s possible someone got ahold of his uniform, just like it’s possible that man wasn’t the king.” de Gris tucked the metal back into her pocket. “That message was made to look like it was written in blood, but wasn’t. Someone has gone out of their way to make the Revolution look like butchers. Wholesale destruction like this benefits no one—no sane ruler destroys the economic center of their country without exhausting every other option available to him, even when attacked by outside forces. Tolouse won’t be blamed for the fires.”

“We had their king captured anyway. Someone else must have ordered the bombardment.” Elizabeth said. “The marines, maybe? I haven’t seen any of their ships.”

De Gris shook her head. “The local marine base has been tied up with unrest on the Venn Islands and pirate raids to the north. They shouldn’t have the manpower available to overthrow the Army once we dug in, especially with civilian support. That’s why Betty decided to attack now in the first place.”

“Then who—?”

De Gris held a hand up for silence. Kuina’s grip around her sword tightened, but she didn’t hear anyone approach. Beside her Elizabeth slunk closer to the wall, hands more twitchy then ever.

Suddenly de Gris’s head shot up, and a moment later Kuina sensed the presence of someone above. She moved to strike, but de Gris’s hand clasped against her wrist, her grip like iron.

“You found someone to replace me already, Captain?”

Elizabeth yelped as a head popped over the edge of the roof, face smeared with grime and dirt looking down at them, a dozen braids swaying lazily in the breeze. With a laugh, she flipped down beside them, landing lightly on her feet.

She was a dark-skinned woman of about twenty, with the compact, powerful figure of a gymnast. A short spear was strapped to her back, the only weapon on her person. She gave an appraising glance at Kuina and grinned. “Nice mask.”

Kuina nodded, not having the slightest idea what was going on. The woman acknowledged it and turned back to where Elizabeth was half-cowering behind Aria de Gris, lazy grin growing even wider at the sight of her. “How’s the weather down there?”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Liz.”

“Enough,” de Gris said, stepping between them. “How did you find us?”

The woman shrugged. “The Army saw Betty’s ship sailing into port and sent a group of us to make sure she made it in okay. I happened to see Dara doing her thing with the cannons, and she told me what direction to go in from there. I heard the shots by the massacre site and figured it was probably you.” She jutted a thumb in Kuina’s general direction. “Who’s the new kid? Did you pick up another stray?”

“Less ‘picked up’ and more ‘had foisted upon’,” de Gris said. She let out a stream of cigarette smoke to cover her sigh. “Camille, meet Kuina. Kuina, Camille Salyor. And now with those pleasantries out of the way, would you kindly tell us what the hell is going on on this island? Where’s the rest of the crew?”

Camille grin faded. Now that the surprise had faded and Kuina had gotten a better look, she noticed that it wasn’t just Camille’s face that was dirty. Her shirt, which looked to have been white at one time, was stained a uniform greyish color, marred by scorch marks and accented by darker splashes of dried blood. There was an ingrained smell of smoke that cut through the acrid city air, and despite her cheerful air her eyes were bloodshot and tired.

“They baited us, Captain,” Camille said. “They let us take the city, feigned weakness until Dragon left, then bam! ” She punched a fist into her open palm for emphasis. In the distance was the rumble of cannonfire, causing Camille to anxiously look skyward.

“I need to get you to Oldtown,” she said. “Come on.”

De Gris let her take lead, and together they left their meagre cover. Kuina followed last of all, not sure what she was supposed to think or how she was supposed to feel. It was clear the Revolution was just as shocked and appalled as she was by the devastation, but did that mean that they weren’t the ultimate cause? De Gris said herself that no sane king would set fire to his own country, and no army would string up their own nobility for all the world to see. With the navy occupied elsewhere, who did that leave? And what, if anything, did the metal de Gris found prove?

Instincts honed by a decade hiding in the shadows told Kuina to run and never look back. This was not her war, and the citizens of Tolouse were not her people. She couldn’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if she got herself killed in some backwater East Blue town no one had ever heard of.

The rest of her, the part that was stubborn and bullheaded enough to defy her father’s wishes to continue her path as a swordsman, needed to find out who was responsible. What she would do with that information...Kuina didn’t yet know. But there was a pile of unavenged souls howling in the back of her mind, men and women who she’d never met, but could never forget.

They had walked maybe a quarter of a mile dodging patrols in military garb and guardsmen when Camille suddenly stopped. With a quick glance to make sure they weren’t being watched, she walked to the edge of the street and kicked in a sewer grate. Without a second thought, she jumped inside.

Beside Kuina, Elizabeth blanched. “You can’t be serious…”

But obviously she was. Pausing only to douse her cigarette de Gris followed, leaving Kuina and Elizabeth looking down into the darkness. They shared a skeptical look, Elizabeth saying what they were both thinking:

“Well fuck.”

Without any further complaint, she clambered down into the hole, Kuina following shortly behind, taking care to replace the grate. The sewer wasn’t high enough for any of them except Elizabeth to stand upright, and the only light came from the grates and the meagre flame of de Gris’s lighter. Filthy water came up over the tops of Kuina’s boots, and for the first time she was grateful that they were waterproofed.

“The trouble started almost right after you left,” Camille said in a low voice. “We received a message that the army had arrested prominent members of the dockworker’s union as suspected traitors for helping the rebellion, and unless we came willing to trade the king they would start executing people.”

De Gris grunted, “They weren’t wrong. Betty said her first contacts came through the unions, and the dockworkers were how she stockpiled supplies. But a king for some laborers isn’t exactly a fair trade.”

“That’s what we thought, but there was no harm in trying to negotiate a better deal, or at least that’s what Callen thought. He took a group to parlay with the army, and decided to bring the king along as a sign of good faith—”

“ Idiot, ” de Gris said under her breath.

“—and that’s when someone decided to just bomb...everyone. Us, the general negotiating for the army, the bloody king ...the whole block, just up in smoke.” Camille shook her head. “I knew it was a bad omen when the wind shifted. Felt like the air before a Grand Line squall, I knew they wouldn’t be able to put out the fires.”

“Sounds like a firestorm. No wonder the whole city’s gone to hell,” de Gris said. “I take it that’s when they cut communications?”

“Yes, and by the time we were able to organize, rumor had spread that we were the ones to start the bombings. We’ve been fighting the citizens who oppose us, trying to evacuate the ones who believe, keep the fires down, and delay the army all at once. It’s like...it’s like they know what we’re doing before it happens. They’ve anticipated all our moves and had counters ready before we have even decided a course of action.”

De Gris mulled over her words. “The king wasn’t popular. Do you think Tolouse officials did it?”

Camille looked up at her captain helplessly and shrugged. “At this point, I’m not sure what to believe.”

xxx

They emerged from the sewers into chaos. The streets of Oldtown bustled with activity from Revolutionaries and civilians alike. It lived up to its name well, ramshackle old buildings pressed together between too-narrow streets, with shacks and shops squeezed in wherever there was room. Dogs, chickens, and pigs roamed freely, rooting through piles of trash for food. Many of the children Kuina saw went barefoot.

The smell of smoke was stronger here, but it seemed that the combined efforts of the Revolution and their allies had fought back the worst of it. The dividing lines were clearly marked—streets blocked by barricades of furniture and debris cut Oldtown off from the rest of the city, the army on one side and the Revolution on the other. The only safe way in or out was through the sewers. With the help of urchins and criminals who knew those waterways as well as they did the streets above, the Revolutionary Army had managed to defend them well enough to make any government force think twice about using them for an attempted sneak attack. Not when it was easier to simply starve them out.

De Gris was immediately summoned by Revolutionary leadership, leaving the rest of the group to their own devices. For a brief moment Kuina realized she was free. Without de Gris’s sword or Lyudmila’s crossbow hanging overhead, there was nothing to keep her from fleeing. It would be child’s play to get lost in the chaos and leave the Revolution behind her once and for all.

Kuina was immediately ashamed of herself for even considering such a thought. A true swordsman didn’t break a promise freely given, no matter how distasteful they found it to be. She wouldn’t tarish her honor by running now.

Besides, everything about Tolouse stunk like two-day old fish left out in the sun. If she hadn’t seen it with her own two eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the mass of destruction had been done by anyone other than the Revolutionary Army. But seeing their surprise firsthand, and how hard they worked to protect a city that at this point mostly wanted them dead, was something she couldn’t ignore.

It was an uncomfortable thought that distracted from the task at hand. Kuina almost didn’t notice Elizabeth and Camille whispering fiercely to one another. Shaking her head a little to clear it, Kuina edged closer so she could hear what they were saying.

“You’re going back out there?” Elizabeth said. “ Now? ”

“It’s not that bad, Liz. If this were the Grand Line, we’d be done for by now, but these are still East Blue troops, and bad ones at that. I’ll be fine.”

“If they’re so bad why are we getting our ass kicked?” she spat back.

Camille didn’t have an answer for that. “Look, the rest of the crew is hanging out at the market, I’m sure the captain will go looking there after leadership is done talking with her. I’ll be back with Dara by sunset, but I’m not going to let myself be trapped in some prison made of stone and wood when there’s fighting to be done.”

“I can fight,” Kuina said.

The both looked up at Kuina as if just remembering she was there. “I like your spirit, friend, but I’m not going to take responsibility for the life of someone I’ve literally just met,” Camille said with a weary smile. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Captain would literally murder me, and I enjoy living too much to take that risk.”

“She’s pretty good with that pig sticker of hers,” Elizabeth admitted grudgingly.

“All the more reason to stay in case Tolouse forces try something underhanded. And if not, you’ll be fresh for when the fun starts tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Kuina asked.

Camille shrugged. “No idea, but I’m sure the captain and Commander Belo will come up with something fun. It’s not in their natures to take a defeat like this quietly.”

With a quick wave, she bounded back to the sewers. After a moment, Elizabeth sighed and turned away. “Boss is going to be pissed . C’mon, let’s go make ourselves useful.”

They pushed their way through the crowded streets. It was shocking how many people were out in the street. Despite everything that was happening, people still needed to get food and find water. Men and women hauled chunks of wood and rock to add to the barricades, or stockpiled ammunition while children circled underfoot playing games and running errands. Shops were open for business, often bartering with goods instead of money. Hanging at the edges more predatory thieves and criminals hovered like vultures, waiting for a chance to swoop in.

There were hollow-eyed men in bandages, disabled beggars holding their hands out for charity no one could afford. Women whose clothes were stained in blood and screaming children separated from their parents.

The injured grew in number the closer they got to the market—a massive open air structure of wooden columns supporting a tin roof. Some were laid out in the street, their feeble moans echoing through the air and making Kuina shudder.

“I hate this,” Elizabeth muttered. She seemed to shrink in on herself, hiding her tiny frame in her oversized coat like some sort of turtle.

“Hate it?” Kuina said. “Isn’t this what you people do? ”

“Not us. Not de Gris.” She shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulder. “We’re more of a...I don’t know...strike force, I guess. Get in, do a job, and get out. We don’t work much with the regular army. We don’t have enough people for that.”

“And what was your job here?” Kuina asked, curious.

“Capture the king. If our ship hadn’t been damaged, we would have stuck around for all this.”

Elizabeth kicked a piece of rubble for emphasis. It bounced across the threshold of the market, and they both came to a slow stop. Individual shops and stalls had been cleared out and been replaced with dozens upon dozens of cots upon which the injured lay. A handful of men and women went from bed to bed with stethoscopes or bandages or little cupfulls of water. The smell of blood and death and burnt flesh radiated outward. Kuina could taste it in the back of her throat every time she took a breath.

One of the women making rounds caught sight of them. Her eyes lit up in recognition and she carefully made her way over. Kuina looked down at Elizabeth questioningly, and she said, “That’s Clara. She’s our ship’s doctor.”

Clara was a heavy set woman of about thirty-five with a wide, guileless face that seemed made for smiling. Her most striking feature was a head full of bright copper hair she had tied back in a short tail. Despite wearing surgeon’s robes that were smattered with blood and gore that was not her own, she somehow managed to look delighted at the sight of Elizabeth.

“Welcome back! Oh, you have no idea how much I wish I could give you a great, big hug right now. How are you doing? Where are the others? Oh, bless my soul, I’ve forgotten my manners,” she exclaimed, turning to Kuina. “My name’s Clara Cross, it’s so good to meet you. Are you traveling with Aria or Betty? Have you been hurt? I could—”

“I’m fine, thank you, Doctor,” Kuina said, taken aback by her determined cheerfulness. “And, um. My name’s Kuina.”

“She’s with us,” Elizabeth added. At the prospect of being hugged she had taken a large step backward. “As for the rest—”

“Dr. Cross, we need you!” a man shouted from the other side of the market. “Jal’s hemorrhaging and we can’t get it to stop!”

Clara’s head snapped to attention. “I beg your pardon, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“How can we help?” Kuina asked, feeling suddenly help less at all the pain and destruction that surrounded her. But Clara either didn’t hear the question or chose to ignore it as she hurried back into the makeshift hospital. Beside her, Elizabeth seemed equally lost.

“I fucking hate this.”

And at that moment, Kuina couldn’t blame her.

xxx

Kuina quickly realized that the worst thing about war was waiting. Waiting for the fight. Waiting for news. Waiting for orders. She had been on Tolouse for only a few hours, and she was sick of it. Elizabeth was at least able to be useful , handing out her stock of explosives like they were candy and ushered away to where she could make more. As members of Belo Betty’s ship trickled past the barricade in twos and threes, word got out that Kuina was not actually a Revolutionary. Because she was not one of theirs, the Army wanted nothing to do with her, and the locals shunned her for the same reason.

Her hands itched for the chance to fight, to take her frustrated, impotent energy on someone who truly deserved it, but at this point Kuina had no idea who that was. And without solid proof one way or the other, she was stripped of her most useful skill when it was needed most.

In the hospital tent, at least, no one cared who Kuina was or where her allegiances lay. She knew nothing of medicine past basic first aid, but that was enough for Clara to put her to work fetching water, washing soiled linens, seeing to minor wounds so the limited medical personnel could focus on the more seriously injured.

The burn patients were the worst. At least a sword killed swiftly; a burn could leave it victim in agony for days before killing them, and with pain medicine in short supply they would often feel every minute of it.

Kuina was joined by yet another member of de Gris’s crew, a grim-faced girl who introduced herself as Danielle before asking for Kuina to call her Danny. She had the heavy, calloused hands of a workman and a hachimaki around her head that identified her as the shipwright who stayed behind to make repairs on the ship. With those repairs now complete, she was just as stuck as Kuina, waiting for her next job.

“Didn’t they want you building up the barricades?” Kuina asked as they went out for more water to boil. “Seems that would be a good place for a carpenter.

“You’d think, but the locals told me to get lost. Half of them blame us for what’s happened, the other half think they can do better. Last thing we need right now is more infighting, so here I am meeting my new crew mate instead.” Danny smiled down at Kuina. “You wear that mask all the time? Doesn’t it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m used to it,” Kuina said. She paused a moment as she stepped around two men arguing over the price of rice. “And I’m not really joining the crew. I’m just traveling with the Revolution until I can get to the Grand Line.”

“Smart woman.”

Kuina looked up in surprise, but Danny kept going on as if she’d made a comment about the weather. There was no bitterness or anger in her tone to indicate she regretted her own decision to join the Revolutionary Army, or any disgust that Kuina didn’t want to stick around. Only the simple statement of fact.

Smart woman.

She noticed Kuina gaping and raised an eyebrow. “Look at the hellhole we’re in. Only a crazy person would dedicate themselves to this day after day. I’d jump ship myself, but I was dumb enough to tagged for a bounty.” Danny tapped the edge of Kuina’s mask. “Shoulda wised up like you. Now I’m stuck.”

“I am...so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I made my choice of my own free will. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but no one forced me. That’s more than I can say for some.”

Kuina slowed to a stop. “The Revolutionary Army forces people to join them?”

Danny snorted. “Let me put it to you like this: Do you think any of the people here can ever go back to their normal lives once this is done?”

Given her own experience the words shouldn’t have been a surprise, but they somehow left Kuina dumbstruck. All around her were hundreds, if not thousands of men, women, and children. Most were not actively fighting. Most had been trapped by the barricades and the fires. Most had not wanted...this.

Even if the Revolution was somehow victorious, what did their futures hold? Even if they could fight back against the Justice of the World Government, the rest of the city were turned against them.

It would be a bloodbath.

Calling back behind her as she walked back to the hospital tent, Danny said, her voice a dire warning,

“Be careful they don’t get you, too.”

#creative-type writes #One Piece Fanfiction #wake from death (and return to life)#kuina

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smacsporrancap · 5 years ago

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JOHN CAGE

John Cage was born on the 5th September 1912 in LA, California, USA. He is recognised globally as the pioneer of the American musical avant-garde. He began as a classical musician, working within the 12-tone method of music writing that was commonly known and taught.

It was in 1939 that he began to experiment with the possibilities of music writing and move to the unorthodox methods that he is so well known for. This stemmed from a new and keen interest in the eastern philosophy of Zen Buddhism, he discovered the idea that all activities that make up a piece of music must be seen as part of the process. From here he concluded that all sound has the potential to be musical and began to veer away from conventional western music and what it typically values as meaningful sound. He is famously known for the ‘prepared piano’ where he would place different objects in between the strings of the piano, creating unusual, out-of-this-world sounds when played.

Furthering his interest in eastern philosophy, he began to take inspiration from I Ching - which is an ancient Chinese text. The text tells a story of how ancient wizards would throw a turtle shell onto the fire and depending on how many cracks would appear on the shell (between 1 and 64) they would draw a conclusion. This is the concept behind the tossing of a coin. This method of leaving decisions up to chance soon took over his practice as a musician and artist. This is also known as indeterminism - the idea that not all events can be determined and things will happen by chance. By using chance he was able to randomise the music, eliminating the personal taste of the performer. This would mean that in his pieces there were no specified instruments, number of performers, duration times for the sounds or the overall piece or sequence. There was also no exact notation of each piece.

“away from the idea of order and towards the idea of no order” - John Cage

In 1978 he began to produce visual art, he worked with Crown Point Press in San Francisco to produce hundreds of prints over time - all revolving around his 1-64 process of chance. He produced; etchings, dry point, engraving, aquatint and used unorthodox methods such as scorching the print with burning newspaper and branding with the base of a Japanese iron teapot. He would use chance to determine how long the flames should be lit, how long the iron should be left on etc.

WATER WALK - 1959

youtube

This is a 3 min long performance/sound piece taped on a single 7 1/2″ track. The show was televised in Milan and on a popular US game show.

This is a good example of how Cage would use comedy in his work, as although he was very interested in Buddhism and I Ching he wasn’t necessarily very serious about them and was more interested in how he could use these teachings for his work. The video features a range of water-related items such as; a bath, ice cubes, a kettle, a pressure cooker and rubber ducks. He spends the time making noises from the objects and pushing over radios etc. The audience are laughing along with him although maybe just out of confusion for how silly it is.

SCORE WITHOUT PARTS - 1978

This is one of the first of Cage’s prints with Crown Point Press and one of his most well known. From first glance you can see that this looks like sheet music so you make this automatic connection before you even know the detailed reasoning behind it...

”To make this work, Cage placed drawings by writer, philosopher Henry David Thoreau onto 12 lines. Each of these lines were divided into segments which represented the structure of Japanese Haiku poetry (5+7+5). Cage turned this score into 23 parts to be performed by 23 performers on any instrument or voice. At the workshop, however, Cage removed the need for players leaving just 12 Haikus, turning the piece from a musical composition into a visual one; a score without parts. This work is a key transition for Cage and remains the only graphic work that deploys musical notation.” - Kettle’s yard

FONTANA MIX - 1958

youtube

The image above is the ‘score’ of the Fontana Mix composition which is the above video. The score is basically a graphical interpretation of the composition - music but on paper.

The ‘Fontana Mix’ is made up of of ten pages of paper and twelve ‘transparencies’ of graphic notation of music which make up thirty seconds in each page. The text contains individual consonants and vowels from various languages such as Armenian, English, French, Italian and Russian. It consists of different lines in different colours and a series of black squares symbolising different vocal sounds that represents different singing styles within the mix. The sounds within the mix are differentiated by wavy/curvy lines through texture and thickness. Ten of the transparencies have random distributed dots while the above transparent has a grid.

4″33 (4 mins, 33 seconds)

This piece is made up of three silent movements totalling 4 mins and 33 seconds. This idea is that everyone should experience it differently, but essentially no sounds should be made by the performer/orchestra.

youtube

This was at its time - and still a very unusual piece. The point of it would be lost on most people (including me until reading into it, to be honest). John Cage was proving that there is no such thing as silence. Although the orchestra was making no intentional sound and typical ‘music’ there were hundreds of sounds going on in the background. Such as coughs, or the rustling of a bag or breathing or the general noise of the world going by outside.

#john cage #sound art

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succubusflower · 5 years ago

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Succubi are female demons who take the form of beautiful women and invade the dreams of men. According to folklore, they feast on men's bodily fluids and take their life force along the way. Needless to say, succubi are scary. However, if someone wants to summon a succubus, a little precautionary folklore isn't going to stop them.

Unfortunately, the internet is full of misleading "how to summon a succubus" rituals, and everything read should be taken with a grain of salt. By hey, what's the worst that could happen?

Photo: Dante Gabriel Rossetti/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Succubi Can Be Summoned Through Physical Devotion

Succubi Can Be Summoned ... is listed (or ranked) 1 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Louis Le Breton/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Succubi are often thought of as very sensual demons, and rituals can be used to play into that aspect of their nature. Setting the mood with candles, incense and the like puts the summoner in the right head space, which is almost always a great first step.

Tenderly anoint the body with oils while imagining a succubus to draw the demon in. After that, just start moving while thinking about intercourse. It can feel silly at first, but apparently spirits like a little tease. After all that, it's a good idea to ask the succubus for a nocturnal visit, then go to sleep and dream of her - making sure not to finish beforehand.

Visualization Spells Can Summon A Partial Manifestation

Visualization Spells Can... is listed (or ranked) 2 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Sebastian Münster/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Protection is of the utmost importance when summoning a succubus. Laying out an insulating circle of white chalk or thread can go a long way in preventing unwanted possessions. Additionally, three to five black candles spaced equidistant around the circle can be used to augment the protective magic.

Once you feel secure, lay inside the circle with your limbs splayed and focus on relaxation and centering. Feel the comfort of the circle, then visualize it becoming a gateway the demon can enter through. If done properly, a manifestation willing to socialize should appear.

Before Diving In, Consider The Implicit Risk Of Summoning A Succubus

Before Diving In, Consid... is listed (or ranked) 3 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Louis Le Breton/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Encyclopedia Satanica describes a succubus as a young woman with avian or reptilian features and, possibly, cloven hoofs. Perhaps most disconcerting is that a succubus's private area reportedly feels like a cavern of ice, and their purpose is supposedly to take the seed of young men and return it to incubi, their demonic male analogs.

For people summoning a succubus to hassle an enemy or for some demonic conversations, that's probably not a problem. For those with more adult thoughts on their mind, a succubus may not be the best companion.

Writing A Letter To Lillith Can Convince Her To Send One Of Her Daughters

Writing A Letter To Lill... is listed (or ranked) 4 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Richard Westall/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Lilith is a figure in Jewish folklore who is believed to have been Adam's first wife. Long story short, things didn't work out, and she gave birth to a ton of kids. Those kids are believed by some to be succubi.

Writing a letter to Lilith and signing it with your full name and a bit of blood may very well convince her to put in a good word for you with one of her daughters. Be earnest and respectful, and when the letter is finished burn it with a candle. Relax, sit with the candle for 30 minutes, and hope Lilith is impressed.

Proceed With The Ritual Slowly And Steadily

Proceed With The Ritual Slowly is listed (or ranked) 5 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Dante Gabriel Rossetti/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Knowing succubi are possibly evil demons hellbent on sucking the life force out of whomever summons them, it's important to take all the proper precautions before entering into any sort of relationship with one. Some recommend meditation, or at the very least introspection as to how a succubus might improve one's life in a way easier methods cannot.

After putting some thought into that question, it's important to build a relationship with a summoned succubus slowly. Spend time getting to know them over multiple interview sessions, and always take proper precautions. Divination tools can be used to make this part of the process easier. These interviews may show you succubi aren't quite what they seem, as spirits don't always fall into clear-cut categories.

Black Mirror Scrying Can Show A Glimpse Of A Demoness

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Photo: John Collier/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

On a physical level, black mirrors are exactly what they sound like - a reflective surface colored black via natural or artificial methods. Black mirrors are used in certain esoteric circles to scry (or divine the future via a reflective object like a mirror or crystal ball).

When using a black mirror to speak with a succubus, the ritual is fairly straightforward. Place a candle between the seer and the mirror then begin focusing on the reflection of the flame. Call out to Lilith - or any other succubus - and respectfully ask to communicate. If the flame stays calm, it's okay to continue scrying, but if it goes wild, it's best to apologize to the entity and cover the mirror, taking care not to break it in the process.

It's important to note this is the last step wherein it's considered safe to end the ritual; once a succubus decides to pick up the line, it's usually rude to hang up.

Pendulum Divination Can Be Used To Communicate With All Manner Of Spirits

Pendulum Divination Can Be Use is listed (or ranked) 7 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: John William Waterhouse/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

A pendulum is a popular divination tool created by suspending a weighted object from a cord and interpreting the direction of its swing. It is commonly used to answer yes/no questions by associating direction with certain answers. However, other methods use a pendulum to produce words.

Write the numbers 1-24 in a semicircle on a piece of paper. On a separate sheet of paper randomly assign each number a letter value, then do your best to forget what they correspond to. This is to prevent any subconscious cheating that could arise from swinging the pendulum towards the answers you want to hear. Ask for a succubus's presence and explain the communication game to her, then see if she wants to play.

If the pendulum swings yes, begin asking questions, making sure to keep track of the numbers struck and asking if the word is finished between each letter.

When In Doubt, Dream Up A Personalized Succubus Summoning Ritual

When In Doubt, Dream Up A Pers is listed (or ranked) 8 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Dguendel/Wikimedia Commons/CC BY 4.0

Research is the most important step to creating a personalized summoning ritual. It's impossible to call up a friend without knowing their number, and the same can be said for succub. Once the exact type of spirit is chosen, it's important to figure out what to ask of them. Without a set goal and request, chances are the ritual will fizzle out like most conversations with random strangers.

On top of that, it's crucial you come up with a way to dismiss the spirit once it's summoned, as nobody needs a demon in their bedroom all day. After those three requirements are met, the rest is just set-dressing. Bring in candles, incense, or a blood sacrifice, whatever feels right for the type of spirit you're hoping to attract. Make the ritual as personal as possible to really feel a connection.

Candle Magic Can Describe The Terms And Aspects Of The Succubus

Candle Magic Can Describe The is listed (or ranked) 9 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Godfried Schalcken/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Candle magic is a versatile technique used by many witches to cast spells. It involves inscribing or anointing a candle and burning it while focusing on the intent of the spell. To summon a succubus, all one has to do is inscribe a candle - a black candle is reportedly best - with the various aspects they're looking for in a demon.

Almost any feature can be written on the candle. It's even possible to describe a length of time - such as 40 minutes or seven days - that the succubus is allowed to materialize. Once the candle is inscribed, simply light it and focus on your desire, calling out to the succubus to appear at its discretion.

Succubi Are Easily Summoned Through Lucid Dreaming

Succubi Are Easily Summoned Th is listed (or ranked) 10 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: Charles Hermans/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

Lucid dreaming involves training the body to become aware of itself while asleep. This allows the dreamer to take control of the dream, manipulating it to their will. Once you're in control of your own dream, you can do pretty much anything, including summoning a succubus and interacting with her.

Unfortunately, lucid dreaming takes quite a bit of training and it's a long path to full control, though there are some methods that speed up the process. One of the most common training techniques is the wake induced lucid dreaming (WILD) method. This involves keeping the mind active while the body falls asleep. To achieve this, people commonly think of math problems, intricate daydreams, or poems to keep their minds going even as they sink into slumber.

It usually takes quite a few tries to cross the hypnogogic state, but eventually, it should usher the dreamer into sleep without losing their self-awareness. Once dreaming, the only thing left to do is call out to a succubus.

According To Some Sects Of Christianity, Succubi Can Be Summoned Via Hedonism

According To Some Sects Of Chr is listed (or ranked) 11 on the list How To Summon A Succubus, If You're Into That Sort Of Thing

Photo: John William Waterhouse/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

According to some tracts of Christian thought, succubi are demons summoned by all forms of sensual impropriety. That means summoning one could be as simple as pleasuring yourself, being intimate out of wedlock, or even looking at explicit images.

This paints a particularly metaphorical picture of the succubus, but remains a valid summoning tool all the same. Combining these methods with others, such as scrying and divination, may even provide more concrete results. When the need to banish such a spirit arises, simply call out to Jesus and cease whatever you're doing. CREDIT: https://m.ranker.com/list/how-to-summon-a-succubus/joesph-langdon

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mitaesoroo · 6 years ago

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pleaseeeeeeee all of them? maybe? yes? 30?

NAJSJZJZ YOU BITCH ok let's do this 🥴

ALSO SORRY IF ITS LATE MY INTERNET IS WACK

1: (truth) Who was your first major celebrity crush? (dare) Put your music player on shuffle and post the first five songs.

Dare :

• monsta truck - monsta x

• 3rd eye - stray kids

• til i die - ph1 ft jay park

• new rules - txt

• malamente - rosalía

2: (truth) What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you in the past week? (dare) Refresh your dashboard and send an anonymous compliment to the person who posted whatever’s at the top of your dash.

Dare : done 👀

3: (truth) What are your three favorite things about your appearance? (dare) List all nine of your tumblr crushes, and describe each blog/blogger in one word.

Truth : uhh my barely noticeable freckles, my moles, and my lip shape

4: (truth) What is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you? (dare) Post the oldest selfie on your camera roll.

Truth : when i receive something from friends because they thought of me 🥺

5: (truth) If your parents knew everything you’ve ever done, what would they think is the worst thing? (dare) Tag the three nonmutuals you admire most.

Dare : @soooldout @withyook @emotiadouche i reallyyy love their blogs and i always wish them the best in their life! wonderful beings they are 🥺💛

6: (truth) What is the last thing you purchased? (dare) Tag three people you’ve thirst followed.

Truth : food lol

7: (truth) How many hours did you sleep last night? (dare) Send an anonymous compliment to the last person who followed you.

Truth : uh 4?? i think lol

8: (truth) If you could go on a date with any of your mutuals, who would it be and what would you do? (dare) Send an anonymous compliment to one of your four “Biggest Fans” on tumblr.

Dare : ;0; done!!

9: (truth) How did you meet your best friend? (dare) Refresh your dashboard. Open the blog of the person who posted whatever’s at the top of your dash. Reblog their most recent selfie.

Truth : church 🥴

10: (truth) What was your favorite band five years ago? (dare) Tag a blog that posts very different content from yours, but that you couldn’t imagine not following.

Truth : Linkin Park (still is *^*)

11: (truth) Where did you get each article of clothing you’re wearing right now? (dare) Pick up the closest book to you. Turn to page 39 and copy down line 7.

Truth : shirt - thrift store, pants - target, and shoes - marshalls

12: (truth) What are your five favorite girls’ names and five favorite boys’ names? (dare) Copy and paste the 14th line of text from the last document you worked on in Word or Google Drive.

Truth : random but ima just go with 10 names i guess ;-;

• Xochitl

• Zera

• Zinny

• Briseyda

• Yaritza

• Dakota

• Ellis

• Elias

• Daniel

• Nayeli

13: (truth) What’s your most irrational fear? (dare) Tag five mutuals who take amazing selfies.

Dare : most moots don't really show faces but ill tag @kuromatoki @honey-piggy (😤 mei dont fite me on this) @kiseokris @ncttrashnoodle @dino-yeol 💛💙💜💛💙💜

14: (truth) If you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life (consisting of clothes you already own), what would it be? (dare) Tag someone you follow who has amazing fashion sense.

Truth : black shirt or hoodie, jeans or dark green pants, and my black nikes :P

15: (truth) If you could rock any unusual article of clothing/makeup technique/hairstyle, what would it be? (dare) Go to the blog of the last person you reblogged a text post from. Reblog your favorite of their selfies.

Truth : alot of people like my short hair alot so i guess my short hair LOL :>

16: (truth) What is your dream job? (dare) Post the four most recent pictures in your camera roll.

Truth : getting one 😀

17: (truth) Where is the last place you went that took over two hours to get to? (dare) Post screenshots of your phone’s lock screen and home screen.

Truth : San Antonio 🤠

18: (truth) How old were you when you had your first kiss? If you haven’t had it yet, how old do you want to be? (dare) Go to the last app/tab you opened. Post a screenshot.

Dare : devastated.

19: (truth) What is the first thing you remember having to keep secret? (dare) Tag five bloggers who you associate with being obsessed with something particular, and list what each of them is obsessed with.

Truth : hmmm ;-; my birthright i guess

20: (truth) What does your bedroom look like? (dare) Take one selfie and post it. You only get one shot! (No old selfies or retrying, even if you think you look bad)

Truth : oof kinda messy rn

21: (truth) What three fictional characters would you most like to meet? (dare) Write your name down on a piece of paper and draw a quick picture of yourself. Take a photo of it and post it.

Dare : a mess is what you get ♥︎

22: (truth) What are three things you’re looking forward to? (dare) Tag the last three people you reblogged posts from, and estimate how many followers they have.

Truth : hoping to land a job, saving, and moving out 😔

23: (truth) What are your three biggest turn ons, and your three biggest turn offs? (dare) Put your music player on shuffle. Without actually listening to it, write the lyrics to the chorus of the first song.

Dare : "Pienso en tu mirá, tu mira clavá' es una bala en el pecho" (x3) "Pienso tu mirá" (x2) - rosalía

24: (truth) If you could only own five material objects (not counting life necessities like food/water/a house/etc) what would they be? (dare) Put your music player on shuffle. Post what the first three songs are, and for each one, tag a blog that the song reminds you of.

Dare :

• these nights by rich brian & chungha - @kiseokris

• win by ateez - @sagittariustigerfish

• juicy by doja cat - @honey-piggy

25: (truth) What is the last thing you lied about? (dare) Tag three people you want to know better and ask them each three questions about themselves.

Truth : where i was i going lol 🙂

26: (truth) What’s the last movie you watched? (dare) Reblog the most recent of your own selfies posted on tumblr, and in the tags say two things you like about your appearance in it?

Truth : the little mermaid

27: (truth) What are three things you like about yourself unrelated to your appearance? (dare) Post a picture from your camera roll that you’ve been meaning to post on tumblr.

Truth : music taste, open minded, and my patience

28: (truth) How do you take your coffee? (dare) Post the last picture you posted on a social media platform other than tumblr.

Dare : those last four pics on twitter (also tumblr is being wack rn)

29: (truth) What are your worst habits? (dare) Put your Top 25 Most Played songs on shuffle and list the first five.

Truth : overthinking aLOT

30: (truth) What is the last thing you did that you have to keep secret from someone? Who do you have to keep it secret from? (dare) Tag five blogs with great URLs.

Dare :

• @kuromatoki

• @yungluchini

• @kiseokris

• @jiminscaramel

• @dorkeyama

-honestly tho!! all my moots have wonderful urls 🥺💞-

#i got so distracted and busy while doing this shsjxj #im dead BUT THANKS BB #also i love you all 💕#answered ask #mooties #tata 👿💛

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

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Not So Alone (repost)

This is a shameless repost because I haven’t written a thing today. So I poked around in my archive and found some fluff. I chose Alan fluff cos that is what I’ve read a bit of today :D I think this may have been one of the first times I wrote Alan’s POV. I know I remember being a touch terrified :D

Apologies to those who have already read it, I’ll try to write some new stuff tomorrow ::hugs:: My brain has just been mush today :(

-o-o-o-

Title: Not So Alone Author: Gumnut 21 Jun 2019 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Alone time is sometimes better shared. Word count: 1767 Spoilers & warnings: None. Timeline: Standalone Author’s note: This is for @ak47stylegirl who wrote me the first part of this little fic, Alone Time, which can be found on her profile on Ao3. She wrote Virgil, so I stepped out of my comfort zone a little and wrote her some Alan to keep her Virgil company :D I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Alan was bored.

It wasn’t often that he found himself with a lack of things to do. Life was generally busy with Thunderbird maintenance, rescues and backup duties.

Wandering out onto the balcony, Alan eyed the pool a moment before throwing the idea out. Without Gordon it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun.

Maybe he could go for a walk. Scott had been nagging him to get into a more regular exercise routine and, hey, he hadn’t seen the other side of the island for a while.

Or space.

So, he would really be lying if he said he took his route at random. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more just what he knew was going to happen regardless.

Today Alan wanted company, so he used the information he had at hand.

He wasn’t there.

But Alan still had his list.

Virgil sat on a rock, his sketchpad on his lap, completely absorbed in his art. He was up a cliff overlooking a good chunk of the island, the twin peak at an angle even Alan could appreciate.

It took actual rock climbing in a couple of places, but Alan eventually found himself situated behind his brother on top of the cliff, and as expected the view was breathtaking.

Virgil had certainly found a spot.

For a moment Alan was content to simply watch, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t come all this way just to spy on his brother.

“You do know it is rude to stare.”

Virgil’s voice was always soft yet possessed a strength that could be startling. Alan stiffened, annoyed at being caught so easily.

“What? Do you honestly think all that rock clambering would go unnoticed?”

“Dunno.”

His brother had yet to look up at him, simply continuing to sketch as he spoke. You gonna come and sit down?” Virgil held up a hand. “Just be very quiet, I don’t want you to disturb them.”

Alan frowned. “Who?”

But that hand didn’t answer, just beckoned him over.

Alan did what he was told and found himself sitting on that rock beside his older brother.

Virgil was scratching lines furiously onto the page, but the subject wasn’t what he expected. All that beautiful scenery and Virgil was drawing a haphazard pile of sticks?

Whispered. “They’re sea eagles. I’ve never been so close.”

Breathed out quiet. “Cool.”

Virgil was sketching madly and under his practised hand, one of the chicks slowly came to life. Simple line instinctively placed, shaded and shaped. It was a little mesmerising.

Besides, Alan was quite happy to just sit and watch. Rare quiet moments shared with his artistic brother.

They had been getting rarer and rarer.

“Can I sit with you, Virg?”

A brown eye with an arched eyebrow peered at him. “You’re already sitting.” The curve of a smile. “But sure. Just be quiet and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Respectfully whispered. “Okay.”

Down below the two chicks guzzled food from their parent.

A loud, awkward screech from above and another eagle was circling overhead, likely the other parent.

In the corner of the page, the bird quickly appeared, wings spread wide, soaring.

And a pair of squawking, complaining eagle babies.

“This is nice, Allie.”

“What?”

“Bit like old times, you sitting and watching me draw.”

Alan shrugged. “I’ve always liked to watch you draw. Guess we haven’t had as much time lately.”

The pencil paused. “Yeah.” His brother turned to look at him. “Well, it is good to see you out here. Nice to have your company.” A gentle smile.

“Anytime, bro. Kinda nice out here anyway.”

That smile grew a little before softening. “Well, unfortunately we have to head back now.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to pick up Gordon and Grandma.”

Alan checked his watch. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d been out here…three hours! “Wow, didn’t expect it to be so late.”

Virgil didn’t comment, just smiled a little more as he packed up his sketchbook and pencils.

Alan stood up and stared out across the ocean. A flicker on the surface of the water and he caught sight of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the swell. He stared.

“It’s amazing what you can see if you stop and look.” His brother’s soft voice so close to him made him jump.

“Virg, personal space.”

His brother snorted and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t think such a thing exists on this island.” That smile again. “Probably why John hides on Five.”

“Can we do this again?”

“Sure.” Virgil slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Great.”

Silence fell, and they stood there a moment longer until Virgil squeezed a little and let go. “C’mon, sprout, time to clamber down the mountain.”

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the bird before he hurried after his brother.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #Virgil Tracy #fluff

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