#except the neck though.... shorten the neck. but otherwise

[death-limes]

she has like... lovehandles! and she's still not skinny even from the side! (that's my big beef with a lot of "plus size" fashion dolls) and aside from the joints being a little stiffer than the other dolls (which could just be bc she's new) she seems to have just as much articulation as everyone else

crying...... thank you monster high...........

(my only complaint is that her neck looks a bit long proportionally to the rest of her body but that's not a huge deal)

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 10

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

In all your years working in film, you couldn’t recall a single production that you weren’t looking forward to wrapping. And yet, here you were, the last week of filming, and you didn’t want it to end. Why would you? You’d never had this much fun on any other set before, the reason for which was currently in your bed, snoozing next to you. But it wasn’t just the fact that you were secretly sleeping with the star of the film, though that was a large part of it, you’d admit. 

Tom’s seemingly endless positivity as well as his intense passion for his craft was infectious. Practically everyone agreed that Tom was one of their favorite actors they’d ever worked with. So you knew that anyone you worked with going forward would pale in comparison. 

Your biggest concern, however, was how much time the two of you would be able to make for each other once you weren’t on the same schedule anymore. After all, you were both workaholics, not to mention Tom would have more opportunities to make other friends, so the possibility of the two of you drifting apart was very real.

“You okay?” Tom’s sleepy mumble pulled you from your thoughts. 

You turned onto your side to see that his eyes were still closed. “I’m fine,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

He blearily opened one eye to look at you. “Your tossing and turning says otherwise.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No need to be sorry,” he replied with a yawn while he draped his arm over your waist and began lightly tracing patterns on your back. “What’s on your mind, Sweets?” Recently he began occasionally shortening ‘sweetheart’ to ‘Sweets,’ something you’d only heard him do with you.

You sighed, instantly feeling relaxed by his touch. “Just the fact that we’ll be wrapping soon.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned as he pulled you closer. “What on earth am I going to do without you putting your hands on me all day everyday?”

“I think you’ll survive,” you teased him. “I’ve got to give someone else a chance, haven’t I?”

He chuckled. “I haven’t even got my next project lined up and already you’re trying to pawn me off on someone else.”

“You were going to get bored of me eventually, Tommy. I’m only preparing for the inevitable.”

“How could I possibly get bored of you? There hasn’t been a single dull moment since this production started, for better or worse, and that’s largely because of you.”

“Well, unfortunately, it isn’t up to you or me whether we work together again or not.”

“I mean, I could potentially influence a director’s decision…”

“Absolutely not. You know the rules, Hiddleston. No professional favors.”

“Only joking, darling,” he defended. “But are you sure you’ll have time for me once you’ve started working on another film next week?” 

“Well, I’ve got to have some way to relieve tension after a long day, haven’t I?.” With a devilish grin, you leaned in and kissed him slowly and sensually.

“Unless you start a fling with one of your new clients,” he teased you once your lips parted.

Your mouth fell open in an incredulous gape. “I am nothing if not professional!” He gave you a skeptical look. “You are the rare exception.” When he opened his mouth to speak, you immediately added, “and if you mention Trevor, I will knee you in the dick!”

“I was simply going to say that I’m honored to be your rare exception.”

“Mhm. Sure you were.” You rolled your eyes. 

“So what exactly is bothering you then?”

You sighed. “Just anxious about starting a new job, I guess.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and then slid his hand down your neck to your shoulder. “While I completely understand, I also know that you’ll adapt seamlessly to whatever is thrown at you. I mean, you had to deal with me of all people, so your next clients should be a breeze!”

“You know, you might be right. I’ve never met anyone who touches their hair and face more than you do.”

“Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with liking to touch and be touched,” he said, dragging the back of his index finger lightly across the skin of your breast and over your nipple.

“No, I suppose there isn’t,” you replied with a smirk. You bit your lip while your hand traveled down to his half-hard cock. “And here I thought you were still sleepy.”

“Well, we have to find some way to tire you out, now don’t we?”

…

The week flew by, and before you knew it, you were getting ready for the wrap party. Given how the last party went, you and Tom had decided that this time, neither of you would flirt with anyone, and you’d politely shut down anyone who tried. 

You were just putting on your earrings when you heard Tom pull up to your house in his jag. You quickly grabbed your clutch and met him outside. 

He was leaning against his car when he saw you walking out in your navy blue sundress with a plunging neckline. He raised his eyebrows as he looked you up and down. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to go change.”

“What?” You looked down at your dress in confusion. “Why?”

“Because we agreed that we didn’t want anyone else flirting with either of us,” he began as he walked toward you. “And yet here you are looking absolutely irresistible.” 

You put your hands on your hips and smirked up at him as he approached you. “I’m sorry, but I get dressed up for me and no one else.”

“Well, if you won’t take that dress off then I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.” He gave you a sly smirk before taking your hand and leading you toward your house.

You giggled as you tried pulling him back toward the car. “Thomas William! We are going to be late!”

He let out an exasperated sigh and turned around to let you drag him to the car. “But that dress is coming off the moment we get back to my place tonight!” 

“Whatever you say, Tommy.” You winked at him as you got into the car.

…

When you arrived at the party, everyone was in good spirits, clearly excited to be finished with production. Tom, of course, was immediately summoned by several people to join them. He looked over at you as if he was torn between socializing and spending the whole night with you. 

“Go mingle,” you told him. “I’ll be at the bar with Kaitlyn.”

“Fine, but remember, darling,” he leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Tonight you're mine.”

It sent a shiver down your spine and heat to your core. “Oh really? Because I think you’ll find it’s the other way around,” you replied, and with a wink, you turned and headed to the bar, knowing he’d be watching you walk away.

“Well, don’t you look like a snack,” Kaitlyn said as you walked up to her. “Who are you hoping to go home with this time?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “No one. I am not having a repeat of last time.” You sat down on the bar stool next to her. “Can’t I just look hot for the sake of looking hot?”

“Absolutely, you can!” Kaitlyn replied enthusiastically, raising her drink to you. “Though I do hope you’re prepared to be hit on at least once or twice tonight.” She giggled and took a sip. She was tipsy already.

“Then I hope whoever does is prepared for rejection.” You turned to the bartender who had just approached you. “Aperol Spritz, please?” 

“Are you certain there’s absolutely no one here who you’d spend the night with if he asked?” While taking another sip of her drink Kaitlyn raised her eyebrows while her eyes darted in the direction of where Tom was standing and then back to you. 

You scoffed. “Oh come off it, Kait. How many times do I have to tell you that we’re just friends.”

“As a person with the ability of sight,” she emphasized dramatically, “you cannot tell me you don’t want to climb that tree.”

That made you laugh. “Just because you fancy him doesn’t mean everyone else does too.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re right, I am, because it’s a silly question.” Again, you turned to the bartender who handed you your drink. “Thank you so much.” Kaitlyn opened her mouth to speak but you stopped her. “Look, Kait, can we just drop it? I just want to have a fun last hurrah with everybody tonight, alright?”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, like a child who’d just been told by their mum that they couldn’t have the candy bar they wanted.

…

After a couple of hours of socializing, swapping stories from on set, and occasional stolen glances between you and Tom, the pair of you ended up in the middle of a circular booth with Warren sat next to Tom, and Kaitlyn next to you.

“Ooh! Let’s play Truth or Dare!” Kaitlyn suggested excitedly.

“I dunno, Kait,” you hesitated. “Isn’t that game more for children and American frat boys? Not to mention we’re in public.”

“Oh come on! Live a little!” Warren chimed in. “Besides, if you don’t want to do something, all you have to do is finish your drink instead!”

You looked to Tom for back up. “Could be fun,” he shrugged. You raised your eyebrows at him, surprised he was on board with this idea. 

With a sigh, you conceded. “Alright, fine. But the minute it gets weird, I’m out.”

“Yay!” Kaitlyn cheered and clapped her hands. “Who wants to go first?” She looked eagerly around the booth. 

“I have one,” Warren said casually. “Tom, truth or dare?”

“I suppose. I’ll have to say dare,” Tom replied confidently.

“I dare you to deliver a toast to the whole room,” Warren began. 

Tom scoffed “Easy enough.”

Warren held a finger up, “But you must work the word ‘dildo’ into your speech.”

“I’m so glad we can play this game as mature adults,” you commented sarcastically. 

Tom thought about the challenge for only a few seconds before getting up to stand on his seat and deliver his toast, and it was magnificent. The entire room was captivated by the eloquence of his moving yet, at times, rather humorous speech. You even saw a few people tear up. The most impressive part to you, however, was how seamlessly he worked in his challenge word where you’d least expect it, and without anyone even batting an eye.

Warren stared at Tom in awe as he sat back down. “Are you just effortlessly good at everything?”

“Annoying, isn’t it?” you said, pointing your beer bottle in Warren’s direction. He nodded in agreement. 

Tom waved him off. “I’m rubbish at loads of things– maths being just one example– but the oral arts are kind of my specialty.”

While you almost choked on your beer and subtly kicked him under the table, Warren just laughed. “I‘ll bet they are!” 

Kaitlyn blushed. “Shall we continue our game?”

“Alright, Kait,” Tom said. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she responded without missing a beat. “I have nothing to hide.”

“If you could go home with anyone in the club tonight, who would it be?”

Kaitlyn turned bright red, “Erm, on second thought…” and downed the rest of her drink.

The rest of you laughed and cheered her on as she chugged. Once she finished, you nudged her with your elbow. “Nothing to hide, huh?” You gave her a cheeky wink as she scowled at you. 

“Fine then,” she said, regaining her confidence and looking smugly at you. “Truth or dare?”

You smirked, knowing that if you said ‘truth,’ she’d ask you the same thing Tom had asked her, and you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss someone at this table.”

Warren and Tom both oohed scandalously, but you were unphased. Oh, innocent little Kaitlyn. You were willing to bet that she thought that Tom would be the clear choice, given that Warren was gay and you and Kaitlyn were both straight, but you were more than prepared to throw her for a loop. You looked round the table, as if you weren’t quite sure what you would do. Then, without warning, you kissed Kaitlyn full on the lips, being sure to show her what an amazing kisser you were, no matter who was on the receiving end. When you finally pulled away, she looked like a deer in headlights. You tipped your beer to her. “Ask and you shall receive, m’lady,” you boasted before taking a swig.

Tom and Warren both laughed, but you felt Tom’s hand briefly give your upper thigh a firm, lingering squeeze before retracting. Somehow you could tell that it wasn’t so much playful as it was possessive. It made you wet, and you weren’t wearing any panties. You crossed your legs and cleared your throat. 

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Kaitlyn asked in awe.

You smiled proudly. “Loads of experience, my dear.”

“I believe it’s your turn, darling,” Tom interjected with what almost sounded like irritation.

“Right. Kaitlyn, truth or dare?” 

Her expression turned from awe to indignation. “What? But no one’s had a go at Warren yet!”

“You’ll have no complaints from me!” Warren assured with a chuckle.

Kaitlyn huffed. “Fine. Dare.”

“I dare you to finish one of those abandoned, half empty drinks over there.” You pointed to the vacant table across the room. 

She looked at the drinks in question with a grimace, which quickly turned to a look of determination. Then she stood up and made for the abandoned table.

“Atta girl!” you encouraged her.

When she reached her destination, she casually leaned against the high top table while she scoped out her options. 

“She’s not going to do it,” Warren said.

“Oh have a little faith, will you?” you chided him.

Sure enough, Kaitlyn chose her chalice and downed it in one gulp, wincing as she swallowed. You all cheered as she walked back to the booth. When she sat back down, Tom reached across you to give her a high five. “Well done, Kait!” When he settled back down, he draped his arm across the back of the booth behind you and you could have sworn he’d moved a little closer to you. Smooth, you thought. 

And on you went with the game, telling juicy, innocuous truths and doing silly little dares until Kaitlyn decided to switch things up a bit.

“I have a dare for all of us!” Kaitlyn announced. “Though maybe it would be considered a truth… Not sure. Anyway! Let’s do a round of Fuck, Marry, Kill!”

“Who are our choices?” you asked.

She looked at you as if it were obvious. “The people at this table, silly!” You wondered if she’d gone from tipsy to drunk at this point.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Tom asked Kaitlyn.

“It’s all in good fun!” she replied. “And I already dared you all, so you play or you drink! I’ll go first.” She looked around the table as she contemplated her answer. “Well, if that kiss was any indication, I think I’d fuck Y/n, marry Tom– because I think he would make the cutest hubby–” Yeah, she was drunk. “And kill Warren because I can’t fuck him or marry him, no offense.”

“None taken,” Warren replied.

“Who’s next?” Kaitlyn asked excitedly.

You sighed dramatically, “If I must.” You proceeded with the first thought that popped into your head. “Fuck Tom– because why not–” you began, hoping to sound as flippant as you intended. “–marry Warren so we can fuck whoever we like with no complicated feelings–” You and Warren high-fived. “–and kill Kaitlyn for making us play this horrid game.” 

“You bitch!” Kaitlyn gasped playfully.

Tom raised his hand slightly. “I’ll go next, if I may.” Suddenly you found yourself very curious and a bit anxious for his answer. “Between the three of you, I’d have to say, Fuck Warren– could be fun,” he added with a wink.

“Yes, Daddy!” Warren responded seductively. 

Tom chuckled as he continued. “Marry Y/n– because she’s my best friend, obviously– and kill Kaitlyn.” He turned to her. “Sorry love, but you were the only one left.”

While Kaitlyn looked thoroughly disappointed, you and Tom just laughed, though you felt something in your stomach that you couldn’t quite place. Meanwhile Tom’s ears, cheeks, and chest were bright red. Was he embarrassed? Whatever it was, it was pretty damn adorable.

“I guess that leaves me,” Warren said, pulling you away from your thoughts. “I mean, obviously I’d fuck Tom, but then I’m out, because whether I marry Y/n or kill her, Tom would kill me either way.”

Tom laughed. “Oh, I would absolutely kill you if you killed Y/n, but why do you think I’d kill you if you married her?”

Warren looked skeptical. “Are you saying you wouldn’t?”

“Not at all,” Tom replied, only semi-convincingly. “In fact, I’d give you my blessing.”

“Looks like we have a wedding to plan,” you joked as you raised your beer bottle. “To me and Warren!” Tom and Warren joined in your toast, while Kaitlyn still sulked.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that all three of you said you’d kill me?” she interjected. 

You put your arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Aw, darling, you know we all love you. It’s just a game! One you made us play, I might add.”

“Can we just go back to Truth or Dare?” she pleaded. 

“Alright,” you conceded. The two men groaned. “But just one more.”

Kaitlyn immediately perked up. “I have one for you and Tom, actually.” Uh oh. “Truth or dare?”

At this point you didn’t know which would be worse. “Dare? I guess?” You looked at Tom for confirmation and he sheepishly shrugged. Then you looked back at Kaitlyn, wincing in anticipation for what was to come.

A devious smile stretched across her face. “I dare you to kiss each other.”

“Must you be so adolescent?” you complained, though, admittedly, you kind of saw this coming.

Before she could respond, Tom swiftly grabbed your face and kissed you hard on the lips. Your eyes went wide as soon as your lips made contact, but you quickly melted into it. Well, if you were going to do it, you might as well make the most of it and give everyone a good show. You climbed on his lap, his hands moving to your waist, and the two of you continued to snog shamelessly. All the while, not only were Kaitlyn and Warren clapping and cheering, but you realized the entire crew had stopped what they were doing and joined in the applause with various whoops and wolf whistles. Some shouting “Fucking finally!” while others gave you the classic “Get a room!” Without missing a beat, you and Tom both flipped everyone off without even coming up for air. 

When your lips finally parted, you did so with an exaggerated bravado, before turning to Kaitlyn. “There,” Tom said between panting breaths. “Happy now?”

She let out a squeal that made you and Tom flinch. “Are you kidding? You guys are the most adorable couple I’ve ever seen!” 

You let out an irritated sigh. “Yeah. Not a couple.” You looked down at Tom. “And I think that’s our cue to leave. Shall we?” 

“Right behind you,” Tom said as you climbed off his lap.

“Noooo,” Kaitlynn whined. “You can’t leave now!” 

You gave her a commiserative look. “Sorry, Kait. This was loads of fun, but I’m tired.” She folded her arms and pouted. “Make sure she gets home safe, yeah?” you told Warren before you and Tom made your way toward the door. 

“Oi!”  Warren called as he caught up to you. You and Tom turned around. “So how long have you two been shagging then?”

You both feigned confusion. “What? Pfft. That’s just… we totally aren’t…” you both stammered incoherently before quickly giving up. “Since the beginning of production,” you admitted in defeat. 

“I knew it!”

This time your confusion was genuine. “How?”

“My ex and I used to kiss the way you lot just did.”

You and Tom shook your heads. “Like Y/n told Kaitlyn, we’re not a couple,” Tom explained.

Warren chuckled. “A couple of idiots, more like,” he said, almost to himself. “Have a goodnight you two!” And with a wave he turned and walked back over to Kaitlyn.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” you wondered aloud as you watched Warren walk away..

“I don’t know,” Tom replied. “But I’ve had a semi since you got off my lap, so I’d really like to get back to mine so we can finish what we started.”

You snickered and gave him a playful shove before quickly walking out the door with him at your heels.

…

During the entire drive to Tom’s place he kept his hand on your thigh, like he needed to be touching you at all times, staking his claim. It was only making the heat in your core worse, and you found yourself getting wetter by the second. Finally, when you arrived in Tom’s garage you went to open your door, eager to get in the house, but Tom stopped you. 

“Stay right there, darling,” he told you. He got out of the car and walked around to your side to open your door for you, holding your hand to help you get out and stand up. As soon as you were standing and the door was shut behind you, his fingers tangled into your hair, bringing his lips to yours in a feverish kiss. You both sighed and whimpered, desperate to satiate the hunger you’d felt for each other all day. He pressed your back up against the car in an attempt to deepen the kiss, his fingers digging into your hips. “You won’t believe how many men I caught staring at you tonight,” he panted between kisses. “It was infuriating.” 

“Is that why you did Kaitlyn’s silly dare and kissed me in front of everyone?” you asked as he began kissing your neck. 

“I had to show all of them who you belonged to tonight now didn’t I?” He lifted his head and smirked at you while he slipped one hand under your dress, his fingers grazing against your slick inner thighs until they found your naked slit, dripping with arousal. He tilted his head as his mouth fell open and his jaw jutted forward. “Had I known you weren’t wearing any panties, we would have left the party hours ago.”

You felt his middle finger glide through your folds and ghost over your clit, ushering a gasp from your lungs. Then you smiled. “And spoil the surprise? I think it was far more satisfying this way.”

Suddenly he crashed his lips against yours, your tongues tangling frantically. Reaching down between your bodies, you clamored to free his cock from his slacks. Once you’d done so, you slipped your hand in his pocket and pulled out the condom, effortlessly tearing it open and rolling it on without even looking. Tom then grabbed your legs and hoisted them up, hitching them over his hips before thrusting into you. The sound of panting, grunting, and moaning filled the garage as he rolled his hips relentlessly into yours. Your fingernails clawed at the back of his shirt, while he gripped your ass with one hand and fondled your breast with the other. Your moans grew louder with every thrust, his length gliding in and out of you at an angle that felt so incredible, it quickly sent you over the edge. He pressed his forehead to yours and gave a few final thrusts as you both came at the same time, gasping and moaning in time with each other.

After he stilled, you both stayed there for a moment, nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths lingered in the air. Finally, he gently let your feet touch the floor again before resting his hands on your waist and lightly rubbing the tip of his nose across your cheekbone and temple. 

“I thought you said my dress would come off the moment we came back to your place,” you said, still catching your breath.

“Well, technically, we’ve not gone in the house yet,” he countered. “And I couldn’t have possibly waited another second before I had to have you.”

“That’s rather fortunate, because neither could I.” You giggled as he kissed you again, this time more slow and sensual. When the kiss ended he looked a bit dazed. 

“Now off you pop to the bedroom, Sweets. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @the-princess-of-loki, @princess-ofthe-pages, @darcylikesloki, @kikster606, @foxherder

[aemonds-sapphire]

Make a Wish - Hawks x Reader

Summary: You finally asked Hawks to show how flying felt like; he ended up showing you a lot more.

Warnings: Fluff. Cavity-inducing fluff. Friends to lovers.

Word count: 2.1k

“Don’t drop me.”

“Oh! Thanks for reminding me,” Hawks said teasingly, spreading his arms. “Now, come here.”

Against your better judgment, you decided to ask the number two pro hero to take you on a short flight. Even after years of being friends with Hawks, it still took a leap of faith to trust him with something like this.

You didn’t budge, feet rooting you to the ground. “Promise?”

You knew deep down that he would never allow such thing to happen, but fear gripped your heart and lungs.

He wiggled his gloved fingers in an attempt to snap you out of your frozen state, beaming smile spreading his lips. “Why would I drop you? I love you!”

There it was.

Those three words that he’d often toss around mindlessly, and that you wondered far too many time whether it was just a proclamation of his friendship with you, or if there was something else underneath.

“Why are you frowning?” Hawks’ arms dropped to his sides as he stuck out his bottom lip. “You don’t love me? I’m hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Shut up. Let’s do this before it gets too late.”

He reached inside his aviator jacket and snatched a pair of headphones. “Put these on. I don’t want your eardrums busted.”

What a comforting thing to say to someone who was about to be swung up in the air in the middle of the night.

“Anyways! Now I’m matching with the famous pro hero Hawks,” you teased, finally getting your feet to move closer to where he stood. “I wonder what your fans would say.”

His big red wings quivered slightly. “Oh, so you think they’d be upset that I’m taking a beautiful girl on a ride?” he feigned concern before winking at you.

“Should we ask?” you grinned in defiance as you positioned the protective headphones over your ears.

He lifted his arms once more as if offering you a welcoming hug. With a deep sigh, you shortened the distance between you two. It was now or never.

You laced your arms around his neck as your chest hit his. Unfortunately for you, this was enough to get your heart to skip a beat.

“Hold up,” Hawks said, raising a brow. “I forgot to bring another eye visor for you. Damn.”

Your palms started getting sweaty from how warm he felt against you, but you had to push that aside for now.

“It’s fine. I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

He brought his hands up to retrieve his own visor. “And miss the amazing view? Can’t have that,” he beamed while placing it snuggly on you. “Besides, I know these airways like the back of my wings.”

The visor tinted your field of vision with pale yellow, but since it was already dark, it didn’t make much of a difference.

You adjusted it across the bridge of your nose, and offered a smile before looping your arms around him again.

Hawks was staring at you like you were his pride and joy. “There! Seems like we got ourselves another winged hero.”

“Except I have no wings, you dumbass,” you noted, laughing.

“You have mine,” he winked in response. “Now, I need you to wrap your legs around my waist.”

Your smile faded slightly. Very poor choice of words.

“Just hop on me,” Hawks added, seeing the confused look on your face.

You took a deep breath and bent your knees slightly, just to have your legs spring up and circle his body just as requested.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, both arms tightly holding you. “Ready?”

Your heart skipped two beats; one for because how he had just praised you, even if he hadn’t meant to make it sound like that; the other because the question he had shot at you.

You nodded, propping your chin on his shoulder, instinctively closing your eyes as he took a few steps to stand on the edge of the the rooftop of your apartment.

One hand rubbed your back for a bit as if preparing you. “This part is the worst. But it’ll get better soon.”

“Just go!” you half-shouted impatiently.

And before you could even register what was about to happen, you felt your stomach lurch upwards as he took a dive off the building.

Just as you were about to scream, you felt the air change in direction when his two colossal wings suddenly hurled you up into the night sky. Your insides rolled once again as the young man defied gravity. Was he also defying your ability to keep your food down?

The white fur that lined collar of his jacket would occasionally tickle your cheek as the wind fanned the both of you. For a while, all you could hear were the strong flaps of his wings, and even though you had been flying for a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Hawks’ grip on you never wavered, and neither did yours. Your legs were completely glued around his toned torso just like your arms kept tightening around his neck.

“You okay?” You heard his muffled voice.

You gave him a thumbs up, still keeping your eyes closed.

His hand started patting your lower back. “Open your eyes!”

How did he...

Carefully and slowly, you opened one eye at a time. Hawks had brought you so far up high that all you could see when looking down were faint rivers of city lights spreading as far as the eyes could see.

His wings drifted expertly across the chilling wind, bending into different angles whenever Hawks intended on shifting directions.

Everything was breathtaking. Your fear was replaced with excitement as you felt for the first time ever what it was like to be him.

Soon after, you watched as he started lowering himself towards a very tall building.

Both his wings shot upwards, allowing the wind to flow through them and allowing him to prepare for what came next

He gracefully landed on the rooftop, bending both wings close to his body.

A part of you was relieved, but another was ready for more.

“You know...” he started slowly, still holding you in place with his strong arms. “As much as I like this position—“

“Uh!” you huffed in annoyance as you promptly let your legs slide down his body, bringing your hand to his chest to push him away. “Pervert...”

“Just teasing you!”

His voice was coming out muffled, and you suddenly remembered you still had the headphones on; you pulled them down to rest around your neck much like Hawks would often do. The visor came off next and he took it back with a smile.

“How was it?” he was looking at you expectantly as he placed the visor on top of his head, a few strands of golden hair going astray in the process.

You flapped your hands along your jacket and pants to set everything back in place again. Your body was still coming down from that high, and you could still feel the surges of adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Very... weird?” you said truthfully, rubbing both hands together from the cold breeze. “But in a good way! You’re approved!” you quickly added when you saw his smile waver.

“You cold? Want my jacket?”

Ever the gentleman. “Just my hands...”

He immediately slid his gloves off and handed them to you.

“No! What about you?” you asked worriedly.

“It’s okay! I’m hot,” he shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows at the not so subtle innuendo.

You stuck out your tongue at him, slipping both hands inside the warm fabric. You then turned on your heels to explore the rooftop and beautiful scenery.

“This makes me feel so...”

“Free?” you heard him suggest from behind you.

You agreed in silence. Up there it seemed like nothing could ever reach you. Then it hit you.

Hawks longed for freedom more than anyone else. It was painfully ironic how he was gifted with a set of wings, but was still caged by his own morals.

Looking up, you saw bright specs of stars sprinkled across the night sky, some of them framing a bright and round moon.

“Do you bring every single girl here?”

He chuckled, slightly taken aback by your change of topic. “Only the ones I want to impress.”

You scoffed. “You don’t need to do that to impress anyone,” the words automatically left your mouth, and you inwardly cursed at yourself for the slip.

“Oh? Is that a compliment?” Hawks took the opportunity to rub salt on the wound as it was so typical of him.

You shifted your eyes to the horizon that was lined by a row of light of a nearby city, feigning sudden interest.

“So... are you?” he drawled from beside you.

“Am I what?”

This time you turned your head to face him, and you had to mentally slap yourself as you were met with his handsome face.

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Impressed.”

“Very. Thank you for bringing me here... this is beautiful.”

You were about to shift your gaze back to admire the amazing view when his hand grasped your arm.

“Hey, you have something on your face.”

“Huh? What?” you panicked.

“Come here.”

Hawks leaned in, his brows furrowed. “Ah!”

“What?!”

He merely smiled as he brought a hand to your face, his thumb grazing your skin and sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

Oh.

You saw a thin and slightly curved strand on the tip of his finger. An eyelash.

“Make a wish,” Hawks said excitedly.

“You serious?” you widened your eyes at him, but almost did a mental backflip at the sweetness of it all.

He didn’t reply; instead, he brought his thumb close to your face.

You puckered your lips, but he promptly pressed his index finger on them effectively stopping you.

“Eyes closed,” he whispered, looking far too serious. “You’re gonna jinx it otherwise.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, but did exactly what he asked. Once more, you brought your lips together, allowing a swift breeze of air to flow through them.

Wishing upon lashes... this was so... Hawks. You quickly thought of him. No specific details... just him.

“Keep them closed.”

“Why?” You inquired suspiciously.

His face was close to yours as his hot breath fanned your skin. “You gotta wait fifteen seconds for it to stick.”

“You just made that—“

You were cut off by a pair of lips covering yours. Your eyes shot open in surprise as his mouth slanted firmly against your own, causing a wave of warmth to pool in your stomach and a faint shiver to course down your entire body.

Thinking back, you had wished for this moment for a long time. Well, not this one in particular, but your mind managed to come up with very vivid images of Hawks slamming you against a wall only to finally kiss you; or maybe as you both gazed at the sun setting just like in those romantic movies where everything always worked out in the end.

But this was so much better.

It was far better, because of how unexpected it was. Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear the rhythmic pounding in your ears. Once you got over the initial shock, you let your eyes flutter shut as he deepened the kiss, one hand at the nape of your neck, pulling you into his embrace.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of laughing at you. A moment ago you were laughing at the idea of wishing upon eyelashes. It seemed like a childish thing to do, but here you were. You had wished for him, and he was here.

Hawks’ hand splayed across your lower back as the other slid forward to have his thumb caressing your cheek.

A raw moan tore from your throat as you felt all of him pressed up against you, and Hawks followed soon after, a soft groan rumbling through his chest.

Instinctively, you dragged your hands through his thick locks, completely forgetting about the visor resting on his head. Before you could process it, you heard a loud shatter as the fragile object hit the ground.

Fuck.

You broke the kiss at once. “Oh my god... I’m sorry!”

Hawks was glaring at you through hooded golden eyes, and you swore you had never seen that hungry look on his face before. His trademark markings that framed both eyes on both corners were lightly accentuated, and that alone was enough to make him even more alluring.

“It’s fine!” he hurriedly mumbled.

He was leaning for another kiss, but then you smacked his arm as you realized what had just happened. “You asshole! What took you so long?”

“W-what?” the young pro hero looked genuinely confused. “I could say the same to you!”

You pulled him into a hug.

Hawks relaxed against your touch. “I love you.”

Those words yet again... “Do you mean it this time?”

“Always have.”

-

Masterlist

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part FOURTEEN

You’ll see why this one took a while in just a second, I did that thing where I drew a whole ass scene again

Content warning for fantasy religions based loosely on Christian schisms

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

So while Link is getting acclimated to Castle life and getting hugs from Marla and Tonbo (and also getting unofficially adopted by the royal family) Astramorus flies back to the Sky Temple with his loftwing. 

And he has a lot of time to think while he’s doing it; I don’t know how fast a loftwing flies but even so it would have taken some hours on Hera’s back and you don’t have anything to do up there but think about why you got blasted through a wall by a god-queen.  So he gets back and he’s feeling pretty fucking subdued when he hands Hera off to the Sky Temple commune’s gardener/bird caretaker, Maurice.

[Image description:  Astramorus, looking tired and still missing his hat, his hair a mess, is standing opposite a short and round mustached man with bushy eyebrows dressed in the same priestly robes, except that this man has his sleeves shortened to his elbows and is wearing thick gloves.  This man is holding Hera the loftwing by a lead, while she makes a particularly vacant happy face.  “NAYRU’S EYES, man, WHAT HAPPENED?”  Astramorus gives a very small smile, and after a pause, answers, “TURBULENCE.”  The man harrumphs skeptically, then says, “Well, LORD SERENUMBRA from the LORULEAN ORTHODOXY showed up three days ago and he’s been giving me ADVICE ON MY TOMATOES, so turbulence or OTHERWISE I’d appreciate you DISTRACTING HIM before I commit some WEEDING.”  Astramorus smiles.  “Ah,” he says in understanding.  “Yes, thank you for your PATIENCE, Maurice.”  End ID.] 

A note on Maurice, originally I was going to make him look like Gaepora OR Rauru and then Ice suggested basing him on Maurice-Belle’s-Dad and I liked that, so I blended the ideas a bit.  

I think I’ve mentioned that Lorule and Hyrule have different takes on the Hylia religion, haven’t I?

Basically since this Lorule is just the country south of Hyrule instead of a dark-mirror-universe world, Invid suggested that part of the idea might be that Lorule insists that Hyrule is wrong about which country the Golden Goddesses left the world from, and that the Triforce belongs there instead.  I kind of played with that a little further, and so now part of the thing is that their royal line is actually also descended from Hylia directly, except that at some point a sister broke off from (one or the other of) the royal family, founding the Hilda line versus the Zelda line.

And real quick here’s the Hilda of this story, which I promise is relevant:

[Image Description: Sketches of a tall, black haired woman with pale skin and blue eyes and extremely long pointed ears, dressed in a cape and dress of purple, dark blue, red and gold.  She wears a blue and green belt trimmed with gold and black gloves, and a diadem featuring a red gemstone and golden spread wings.  There is an inverted Triforce symbol on her sash.  She is also wearing black lipstick and red blush and eyeshadow.  A sketch to the side shows her making a decidedly less dignified expression with the note “All the finery and rouge is a desperate attempt to fool you into thinking Hilda is in her twenties but she’s only actually seventeen, same as Link.”  Another sketch shows her next to an old man with round glasses and priestly robes different to the Hyrulean priests, who only comes up to her chest.  She has her hands on her hips and is ranting at him.  A note reads, “Hilda TOL.”  End ID.]

Anyway the thing is that currently, the two churches are relatively peaceable with one another, they have joint gatherings to quibble about tradition and who should be allowed to have what sacred treasures and who has to bring the roast boar next time, and that is how a very young novice Astramorus ended up as friends with the man he would eventually match in equivalent rank, Lord Serenumbra.  Who gets a nice picture equivalent piece to Astra’s introduction because of symmetry: 

[Image Description: The same short priest from the picture with Hilda.  He has white loosely curly hair, circular gold glasses, a hat similar to Astramorus’s but in red, a dark red robe over a black underdress, both trimmed in gold, and is wearing a heavy golden neck piece with an inverted Triforce and golden wings framing a blue disc.  To the side are various comic panels; in the first, he has taken an extremely young Astramorus’s hand and is saying, “Let me be the first to CONGRATULATE you, my friend!”  In the second, he’s spread his arms wide while approaching Astramorus and Catena, Link’s mother.  “Let me be the first to CONGRATULATE YOU, my friends!” he’s saying, and Catena laughs, giving Astramorus a rough side hug that lifts him off his feet despite her only coming to his chest, while Astramorus gives her a gooey smile.  “TOO LATE,” she says, “I told my mum first,” and laughs.  In the last panel, Astramorus has collapsed limp into a chair at a dining room table, his hair in his eyes, his face wet with tears, propping his head on one arm as Serenumbra pats his shoulder from behind the chair.  “Let me be the first to say,” Serenumbra says, “How DEEPLY SORRY I am, my friend.”  End ID.]

This is awful but that’s currently my favorite picture of Astramorus.  

Serenumbra’s design is based on the priest and philosopher from ALttP and Link Between Worlds; the philosopher’s robes were red so I sorta priestified them.  The blue disc in the center of his neck piece represents the Moon Pearl from ALttP, which was actually red in the game but blue in some of the promotional materiel, and the blue was a nicer contrast.  The Moon Pearl was mostly important because it let Link run around in his human form in the Dark World but I always liked it because it was sort of weird and mysterious.  In Four Swords Adventures there’s actually a LOT of moon pearls and they let you make portals between the worlds.  There isn’t going to be a lot of world hopping in this AU, I just thought it was interesting context. 

Anyway here’s two old friends having a conversation, image description and a little more commentary plus some bonus poking at Astramorus at the end:

[Image Descriptions: Astramorus is entering a room with a rounded door and a coat rack on the wall.  “Seren?” he calls.  “ASTRAMORUS, are you QUITE all right?” Serenumbra answers.  He is sitting at a round table in the center of the room; there are two dining chairs, one of which he is sitting in, and opposite of him is a comfortable looking rocking chair.  “I came because I heard about your SON, have you still not found him?”  Astramorus, looking deeply pained, straightens some of his hair with one hand.  “I found him,” he says.  He settles into the rocking chair with a long creak.  Serenumbra is clearly shocked by his demeanor.  “Astra,” he says, concern clear in his face, “What HAPPENED?”  Astramorus stares at the ceiling while looking like death warmed over.  There is a panel fading from light to dark to indicate the passage of time, then we see that Serenumbra has a hand to his mouth in thought.  “So the queen refuses to see the DANGER here,” he says.  Astramorus has folded his hands together.  “She’s right about my SON, though,” he answers.  Serenumbra is quick to defend Astramorus to himself: “Well- he’s such a SOFT BOY, you wanted him PREPARED,” he begins, but Astramorus stops him.  “I pushed him too hard, too SOON, and with too little CARE.”  Astramorus lifts his hands and grins painfully, continuing, “WHAT was I DOING, trying to teach him how to FIGHT when all I knew was an ADULT’S routine?”  He puts a hand to his chin, still smiling.  “I must be the STUPIDEST MAN ALIVE.”  “Astra,” Serenumbra begins again, and Astramorus interrupts again.  “My wife used to tell me I WORRIED too much, did I ever mention that?”  He asks.  His face turns solemn.  “It was even one of the LAST THINGS she said to me,” he says.  We get a glimpse of young Astramorus and Catena together backlit by the sun; she’s wearing a blue version of the classical Link costume with a sword strapped to her back and plate armor on her shoulders, he’s wearing his priestly robes and hat.  She’s reached up to grab his face, grinning, while he’s put his hands on hers.  “And then she died,” Astramorus says.  He sits up, animate once more.  “What else could I DO but worry?!” he demands.  “You’ve studied the legends, same as I-” he subsides again- “That mark on Link’s hand may as well be a DEATH SENTENCE.”  He puts a hand on his face.  “And I’ve so THOROUGHLY FAILED him that now I’ve put the Royal Family in danger TOO.”  Serenumbra puts a hand to his chin, thoughtfully.  “WELL, you never KNOW,” he says, “Princess HILDA is more of an age with Link, maybe the Triforce of Wisdom will arise in the LORULEAN line this time.”  Astramorus laughs.  “That doesn’t change the SITUATION, Seren,” quietly adding “But also KEEP DREAMING.”  He then puts his hand to his mouth.  “How do I even BEGIN to atone?” Astramorus asks.  “Ahh, old friend,” Serenumbra answers, soothingly.  “If only Catena were still WITH us, she’d know how to ease the boy’s burden.  Why-she’d face down GANON HIMSELF if it came to that!”  Astramorus makes an intense face, as if he’s been suddenly burdened.  Serenumbra stands and puts a hand on his shoulder.  “Get some REST, dear friend, you still look TERRIBLE,” he says with a smile.  Astramorus is wringing his hands, staring forward.  End ID.]

DUMBASS BRAINCELLS ENGAGED.

I didn’t expect “Got pegged by his wife so hard that the mere invocation of her name knocked him back to his senses after over eleven years of fucking shitty behavior towards their son” to be on the bingo card for this character when I started this project either, but this is Draft 0.5 so anything can happen XD

Astramorus is so layered now what the fuck!  

[Image Description: Serenumbra, face full of concern, asks, “Astra, what HAPPENED?”  Astramorus stares at the ceiling like death warmed over.  Behind him are the words “HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND.”  End ID.]

[Image Description: Serenumbra, face full of concern, asks, “Astra, what HAPPENED?”  Astramorus stares at the ceiling like death warmed over.  Behind him are the words “WELL FIRST OF ALL I FUCKING DIED.”  End ID.]

[Image Description: Serenumbra, face full of concern, asks, “Astra, what HAPPENED?”  Astramorus stares at the ceiling like death warmed over.  Behind him are the words “...my wife made this chair.”  End ID.]

Catena got into carving as a hobby during long trips but she started making furniture while dealing with nesting urges while pregnant, so imagine this little tank of a woman assembling a rocking chair for her tol noodle husband while ranting about her weird cravings.  

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Planetary Magick: 1

(Twisted Wonderland x Earthling! Witch! Reader)

This is crossposted on my ao3 and quotev. I have a chapter on some general information you should know about this fic before going into it, so please go and look at it first. I’ll have it linked in the masterlist. There is some essential information there, so I’ll also have a shortened version of the general information linked in the masterlist. 

I haven’t quite decided all the love interests yet, so please comment who you want to be included. But don’t comment until after you’ve read the essential information post. I’ll know if you haven’t when you comment. I started this fic with my two favorite boys in mind, so they’ll probably end up getting more attention at the beginning.

Without further ado, here we gooooooooooo

_____________________________________________

“Alrighty, here we go,” you mumbled to yourself as you got yourself settled and comfortable, then set a twenty-minute timer on your phone for your meditation session.

You breathed in deeply for four counts, held your breath for four more counts, then exhaled for four counts, closing your eyes during the exhale. You scanned your body, seeing how every part of you felt and releasing any tension you discovered. You focused on your breath and how it moves the body, allowing you to clear your mind. Any wandering thoughts that passed through your head you let go, like seeing a leaf floating down a river: you notice it, then let it go.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Inhale…hold…exhale…

In…hale…out…

.                            .                            .

             You let out a low, gravelly hum as you began to awake, blinking. Or you think you’re blinking, at least. It was the same level of dark when your eyes were open as when they were closed.

             ‘When did it get so dark? Last I remember, it was mid-afternoon… What was I doing again?’ You hummed again, but in a way that you didn’t use your vocal cords. It was more of a throaty exhale. ‘Oh, that’s right! I was medita…ting…fuck, I fell asleep while meditating, didn’t I? That’s one of the big thing’s you’re not supposed to do, (y/n).’

             Seeing as you probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep now, you went to sit up from your laying position, just to hit your forehead against solid wood.

             “Ah fuck,” you quietly exclaimed in both surprise and mild pain.

             You raised your arms to figure out what you hit your head against, but they also hit wood. Starting to panic a bit, you rapidly felt out the area all around you: it’s all wood. You were in a box. You desperately tried pushing on all of the sides, one at a time, hoping that you weren’t sealed inside. Nothing budged. Your breaths began to speed up, becoming shallower.

             ‘Why am I in a box? How did I get here? Oh fuck, have I been kidnapped?! Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Various expletives cycled their way through your thoughts as a result of the panic.

             You yelped when the box suddenly began to tilt forward, causing your body to slide down the box that you now realized was quite a bit longer than you were tall. Your feet stopped your sliding when they hit the new bottom of the box, letting you stand upright. You didn’t know what this meant. Why would someone stand your box up? What was happening? You heard a voice speaking from outside the box, but your panic prevented you from processing their words.

             You quickly shifted your priorities when the box started to heat up like a wooden oven, beginning to fill up with smoke. You didn’t have time to scream. You had to get out of there. With renewed vigor, you rammed your shoulder into the wooden panel in front of you. You felt it budge! It didn’t open, but it budged. You didn’t wait to ram your shoulder into it again. This time, the wood gave in to your force easily, popping off of the box and onto the floor. Maybe it gave way a bit too easily, as your momentum sent you careening to the hard floor, your shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. You heard a loud scream that you knew wasn’t yours, you simply didn’t have the breath to scream, as your momentum didn’t stop, making you somersault multiple times towards the center of the room. Well, somersaulting is a bit of a generous term; it was really more of a chaotic rolling, limbs flailing about as the world blurred between right-side-up and upside-down.

             Something you always suspected, but now knew for sure, was that unexpected somersaults are very painful on the neck, not to mention your head that slammed into the hard floor each roll. You didn’t know where the cracks you heard came from, but you doubt it could be anything but your body. You just hope those sounds were the good kind, like the cracking-your-knuckles cracks and not the snapping-your-bones-in-twain cracks.

             When you finally rolled to a stop, you laid limply on your side, unmoving. You painfully gaped for breath, trying to fill your lungs with the sweet oxygen you were barred from when rolling. Your vision blurred and swam; unable to make out anything or focus on anything except colors, you closed your eyes from the sight lest you get a headache.

             Still disoriented and generally out-of-sorts after you caught your breath, you struggled to roll onto your knees, resting your forehead on the cool floor in hopes to ease the overwhelming dizziness that you could practically feel in every bone of your body.

             “Why are you up?!” You heard strange voice yell out, coming from where your wooden prison sat.

             You turn your head ever so slightly so you could semi-face where the voice came from. You squinted, trying to focus your gaze, but everything remained blurry. You could see bright cerulean flames dancing around what you think was your box, presumably the same flames that smoked you out. And by the floor was an animated gray blob, slowly growing larger. Or was it just getting closer? You couldn’t tell, your attention snapping back to your throbbing head as your vision span once more.

             You groaned as you closed your eyes and turned your head back to where it was, the cold, probably stone, floor felt nice. It helped soothe your steadily worsening headache a bit, but any relief was better than none. You weren’t in a rush to move from your spot, and since the floor was stone, you wouldn’t have to worry about the fire spreading.

             “If you’re just gonna sit around, then hurry and gimme those clothes!” That strange voice that reminded you of Team Rocket’s Meowth yelled again, though this time is was much closer. “Otherwise—”

             You cut them off with a louder groan than before and held up an index finger in their direction to both shush them and to say, ‘give me a minute.’ “Please, just, give me a sec. I’m dizzy and might have a concussion—no, probably have a concussion. So please, don’t shout.”

             “Hah? Why should I care about what some dumb human has to say? Now gimme those clothes unless you want me to roast ya!”

             You grunt as you force yourself to stand, the dizziness mostly subsiding. You looked over to see if you could make out the Meowth-sounding figure now, but to no avail; your vision was still blurry and refused to focus. All you could see was that gray blob, but now you could make out a patch of white and two patches of that same cerulean blue on the figure.

             “I’m sorry, the fuck did you just say? You want me to give you my clothes? Fat chance, ya little pervert.”

             They made a disgruntled sound and yelled again, which did not help your headache at all, “I’m not a pervert, stupid human! Just shut up and hand over that uniform!”

             “I’ll pass,” you quickly glanced around the room, looking for an exit. There was a large area of dark brown embedded in the wall to your right, no doubt being a set of double doors; you now had your escape route. You hope you were staring into the eyes of that bleary gray figure. “…yeet.” And you bolted towards the doors.

“Wha—hey! Get back here stupid human!” You heard them shout after you.

Running felt stranger than normal, like there was more drag, like you were dragging something with your arms. You looked down and finally paid mind to your clothes: they were definitely not yours. You were wearing something like a coat—or a cloak? —with heavy bell-sleeves, the source of the extra weight. You now also noticed that there was a hood pulled over your head as well. It was a miracle it stayed on after your rough tumble.

‘Yeah nope, fuck that. I’m not ready to be sacrificed by some fancy cloak cult,’ with that thought fueling your determination, you stayed true to your ‘yeet’ and rammed your other shoulder into one of the doors, not wanting to waste time on opening it like a civilized person. Besides, that would probably be quite difficult as it was still hard to see, and your hand-eye coordination was probably going to be shit because of your probable concussion.

Luckily, the doors were unlocked, the one you charged at bursting open upon impact with little resistance. You didn’t dare slow down, sprinting down the outdoor hallway the doors led to. And as you noticed a group of people approaching, you couldn’t slow down. You danced through the gaps between them, the sudden twisting bringing back the dizziness. Your poor coordination made sure that you bumped into a few elbows on your way through, adding a couple more bruises to the list. You didn’t bother to spare them a glance or even acknowledge them. Your body was screaming at you to stop, your frantic running only serving to further agitate your too-fresh wounds, sending streaks of stinging pain through your body.

It was no use though. Fatigue finally won you over, and you practically collapsed onto the floor of what was a library of sorts. Or maybe an archive? Even if you couldn’t make out any individual books, you could easily tell that the walls were lined with filled bookshelves. You panted heavily as you laid on your back, too exhausted to care about lying on the floor. Your peace could only last for so long, though.

“Did you really think you’d get away from my nose? Dumb human!”

You grumble in fatigue-induced anger, using a chair to help stand yourself back up. You’ve had enough of this pervert’s shit. You’re hurt and scared and tired and confused, and all you want to do right now is sleep. You quickly hoist up the chair, resting the side of the chair’s back on your shoulder, brandishing the chair as a weapon as your hands grasped the seat. You were just about ready to use the chair as a battering ram on this rat of unusual size.

“If you don’t wanna get roasted, better hand over—Buwah!?” Out of no where a whip stuck the strange creature, staying wrapped around it. “Ow! What’s with this cord?”

“This is no mere cord. It is a lash of love!” Their masculine voice sounded strange, as if they were forced to talk around a physical lump stuck in their throat.

Their voice was rounded, but in an odder way than usual. It was as if each word was its own separate circle: only one circle per word with the circles never quite connecting. It was as if they composed their sentences like a piece of music but added a breath mark between each and every note. You didn’t know how else to describe it. His words were round but ended strong and abruptly, as opposed to the gentle waves and curves you’d expect from a rounded voice.

You didn’t notice him until he stepped closer. His ensemble of clothes was mostly black, and the colors that weren’t black were at least dark. More than half of his face appeared to be covered with a black mask, so could you really blame yourself for not being able to make him out in this dark library?

You slowly lowered the chair back to ground as you tried to process that he called it a ‘lash of love.’

“Ah, found you at last. Are you one of the new students?”

“Uh, I’m sorry—”

“Yes, you should be! You shouldn’t do things like leaving the Gate on your own!” He cut you off and kept talking, not giving you a chance to speak, let alone defend yourself because you didn’t know what the fuck was going on. “Not only that, you have yet to tame your familiar, which has broken a number of school rules.

“Let me go! I’m not their freakin’ familiar!” The creature took the words right out of your mouth while squirming in the man’s grasp.

“Sure, sure. The rebellious ones always say things like that,” he immediately dismissed the thing’s outburst. “Just quiet down for a moment.” You couldn’t quite see what he did, but the gray beast could only make muffled noises. You think the thing was gagged, but you don’t know by what. “My goodness,” he directed his attention to you again. “It’s unprecedented for a new student to leave the Gate on their own. Ugh… How impatient can you be?” He sounded very offended by your actions, still not giving you the chance to explain that you were busy trying not to die. “The entrance ceremony is already well under way. Come along now. Let’s head to the Hall of Mirrors,” he turned on his heel, quickly walking away.

You had three options: 1) Follow him to whatever the Hall of Mirrors was. Maybe it’s like a hall full of those body-warping mirrors they have at carnivals? 2)Stay behind and wait for something else to come try to kill you. 3) Run away and hope you don’t run into something that wants to kill you.

You quickly jogged to catch up to him. “I—uh, where are we going?”

“As I said, the Hall of Mirrors. It’s the room you woke up in with all of the doors.”

‘Doors? Is he talking about the sealed box I was in?’

“All students who wish to attend this academy must pass through one of those doors to arrive here. Normally, students wake up only after the door is opened with a special key, but…” he glanced over to you, silently expecting an answer.

You pointed at the Meowth-voiced creature. “He kinda smoked me out.”

“So, in the end, the culprit appears to be this familiar. If you’re going to bring it with you, you have to take responsibility and properly take care of it.”

“Um, sir? That’s not—”

“Oh my!” He cut you off once more. “Now isn’t the time to be long winded. The entrance ceremony will soon come to a close. Let’s get a move on.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I have no idea what’s going on,” it came out form your mouth quietly, barely above a whisper.

“What’s this? Are you still dazed? It appears the teleportation magic has left you disoriented…”

‘…teleportation…magic? Was I—Was I kidnapped by a wizard LARP group?’

“Well, it is fine. It happens often enough. I shall give you an explanation as we make our way there. For I am gracious.”

‘Gracious my ass; your favorite thing is to assume things about me, and you know what they say about assume: it makes an ass out of u and me.’

He cleared his throat as we stepped into the courtyard I had previously ran past. “This is ‘Night Raven College.’ Those magicians blessed with a unique aptitude for magic gather from all over the world, here at the most prestigious magical academy in Twisted Wonderland.”

‘Oh shit, they’re a Harry Potter LARP group. I don’t think Harry would condone kidnapping someone though…’

“And I’m the principal, appointed to take care of this academy by the board chairman, Dire Crowley.”

‘Crowley like the demon from Good Omens? Or like that guy who wrote a book on demons? Or maybe that one guy from Yu-Gi-Oh…’

“…” You patiently waited for him to say, “You’re a wizard, Harry,” but he never did. ‘I can’t believe I have to deliver this line without the lead up. “A what?”

He ignored you to continue with his ‘gracious’ monologue, “Only those magicians seen as worthy by the Dark Mirror can attend this school. Chosen ones use the Gate and are summoned here from around the world. An Ebony Carriage carrying a Gate should have gone to meet you as well.”

“A carriage? You mean one with a horse?”

He gasped, offended, for some reason, “Of course it was drawn by a horse! Our school would never be so uncouth as to have it drawn by anything else!”

“Well, I would have remembered if there was a horse. Horses are the embodiment of equal opportunity fear*. You don’t forget running into a creature like that.” You shivered at the thought of the horse-like fae you’ve heard about in legends. Like the one that can apparently kill gods.

“It seems you are more dazed than I first thought. Well, no matter! I shall continue with my explanation, for I truly am so gracious. The Ebony Carriage goes to welcome new students chosen by the Dark Mirror. They are special carriages that carry the doors to the academy. The market decided long ago that carriages are used to welcome people on special days.”

“The market? Are you telling me stocks have something to do with this?” You had to actively try not to say ‘stonks’ instead of ‘stocks.’

He ignored you again, instead speeding up his walking as the gray creature started squirming and making muffled sounds again. “Come. Let’s go to the entrance ceremony.”

With the both of you now speed walking, it didn’t take long for the three of you, counting the creature, to make it back to the doors you had originally burst out of. Crowley, not being one to wait for anything, quickly barged in. “Not at all!” he exclaimed, probably responding to something you didn’t catch.

“Ah, he’s here,” you heard someone say from inside the room.

‘…You’ve gotta be buttfucking me,’ was your first thought as you peeked out from behind Crowley to see the room filled to the brim with people wearing the same cloak as you.

“I cannot believe you all. We were missing one new student, so I went to find them,” he stepped to the side to present you, making your anxiety spike as all the eyes in the room turned to you. “You are the only one yet to be assigned a dormitory,” he now directed his words to you. “I shall watch over the raccoon, step in front of the Dark Mirror.”

You were never more grateful than now to have the large hood obscuring your face, preventing anybody from fully seeing it. You weren’t planning on going anywhere before you got kidnapped, so you didn’t bother fixing up your appearance at all. You probably looked like a mess. If you fell asleep during meditation, that must’ve meant that you were extremely exhausted; you wouldn’t be surprised if your eyes looked like they better suited a meth-addict grim reaper. Regarding what type of death your eyes belonged to, until you got a good look in the mirror, it was up for debate between two options: if your eyebags were dark enough to make your eyes look like they were sunken into your skull, yet at the same time pop-eyed from the contrast of white and red to dark bags, or if your eyes and eyebags were swollen to all hell, giving you a upper pop-eyed look, as if somebody squeezed you and your eyes tried to pop out of your head, but their escape was thwarted by your skin, just barely strong enough to hold them back. Your face probably looked a bit sallow and nothing but bone; today had been a taxing endeavor, both physically and emotionally. You’d kill for a nap—or any sleep—right about now.

You nervously walked up to the floating mirror, your movements stiff and tense, like a frightened deer.

You were ready to come face to face with your deathly reflection, but instead of your face, there was a mask instead. It looked like a floating porcelain mask that had its own free will, making subtle changes in facial expression and everything. It had a black lacy design in the shape of a masquerade mask around its eyes. ‘Probably has an edgy personality too,’ you added as an afterthought when you noticed the dancing green flames in the background. You couldn’t help but feel that it looked vaguely familiar…

“State thy name.” It spoke with a finality in its tone.

‘So, it talks too, huh? Oh, it’s probably one of those facial motion capture programs. Look at this man; it feels like he’s trying to match the same energy that the Wizard of Oz had. Nobody can live up to that legend of a man.’

“(y/n) (l/n).”

You subtly glanced around the room with your eyes, not moving your head, to try and see if there was a ‘man behind the curtain’ somewhere. You didn’t even see a curtain. Just a bunch of coffins and cloaked people.

‘I’m sorry, are those coffins? I can see better than before but not well enough to make out the finer details, but I can tell those look coffin shaped. Like the kind you would see in Scooby-Doo. Does that mean Crowley said I was transported here in a coffin?! What the fuck, man.’

“The shape of thy soul is…” the mask paused for dramatic effect… okay, for a lot of dramatic effect because this was a long pause. “I do not know.”

‘…what was the point in the dramatic pause, then?’

“Come again?” Crowley sounded like he was about to go into shock.

“I sense not a spark of magic from this one… The color, the shape, all are nothing,” the mask roasted you. “Therefore, they are suited for no dormitory.”

‘Rude but I guess that is kind of how it works? After all, magick is just convincing reality and the world around you to bend to your whims by performing certain actions. So, it’s like being a bender from avatar. But instead of the elements, its reality, sort of. Bending the world’s natural magick… But still, fuck you. I may just be a beginner, but I’m still a witch…wait, unless it’s talking about ‘sleight of hand’ magic. Is this like a Hogwarts school or like a Houdini school?’’

People started murmuring in the audience you now had, staring at you, judging you. You could feel a lump in your throat start to form, a telltale sign of the beginning of an anxiety attack.

“An Ebony Carriage would absolutely never go to meet someone who can’t use magic!” Crowley sounded stunned and frustrated. “In one hundred years, there has not once been a mistake in student selection. So why in the world…” Since Crowley was so wrapped up in what was going on, he failed to notice that his grasp on the creature had loosened.

“Pah!” The gray creature, which you think is a cat since you can see better now, exclaimed as he freed himself. “Then I’ll take their place!”

“Stay right there! Raccoon!” Crowley’s attention was now directed on the freed rabid cat.

“Unlike that dumb human, I can use magic! Let me in the school instead! If you need proof, I’ll show you right now!” The little cat exclaimed

‘Wait, what does he mean by proof? If he’s about to do what I think he’s about to do… then shit.’

“Everyone, get down!” The same voice you heard when Crowley and you entered spoke.

‘Don’t have to tell me twice,’  you lowered yourself to the ground and laid on your stomach; the back of your head was still throbbing, so you didn’t want to chance irritating it more by lying on your back. You crossed your arms in front of your face on the ground so you could comfortably rest your head in the crook of your elbow. Laying like this made your hood fall further over you face, obstructing the top half of the room from your view. The bottom half was all you needed to see though, as the cat spewed blue flames around the room—the same flames that made you panic inside the coffin.

“Waaaah! Hottttt! My butt’s on fire!” You heard an animated voice yell.

“At this rate, the school will be a sea of fire!” You heard Headmaster Crowley shouted. “Somebody, catch that raccoon!”

You heard some of the people in the room bicker about who should go after him, not because of the fear of being burned, but because they were being lazy and saw it as a hassle. ‘Well, I’ve got a bone to pick with him anyway,’ you sighed and stood up, casually walking over to the cat. There was fire everywhere, but you couldn’t find the energy to care. You were tired and hurt and probably concussed, and you had had enough. If your clothes catch fire, you can just stop, drop, and roll. God, you were so done with all this.

So you walked through the hot flames, no doubt getting some burns on your legs from the ordeal, and the slacks you wore that weren’t even yours didn’t burn easily, but the flames still managed to burn several holes through it. The cat didn’t notice you approaching, preoccupied with yelling at the bickering students. Luckily, the cat made sure there were no fires surrounding them, so you got a break from the heat. You took a moment to pat out the fires on your pants and the bottom of your cloak using the ridiculously large sleeves of your cloak. Satisfied that you weren’t burning anymore, you reached for the cat and lifted them up by hooking your hands in its armpits. They screeched at the unexpected flight lesson and immediately began to squirm.

“Alright, I think you’ve done enough. I’m sick of your shit, so cut it out before I choke you ‘til you pass out,” you blandly said to the cat since you were, as you put it, sick of their shit.

“Unhand me you stupid human!” They demanded as they wriggled in your grasp. You held them tighter. You could feel the others staring at you, completely silent for a few seconds before someone broke the quiet.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” That familiar voice of the stranger shouted, a heart-shaped collar suddenly appearing around the cat’s neck.

“Nygah! The heck is this!?” The cat shrieked and started tugging at the collar.

“Laws of the Queen of Hearts Number 23: "One shall never bring a cat into a festival," you could now see that the familiar voice belonged to a student with red hair, red as in bright ruby red. “You being a cat means you've broken the rule. I shall have you leave at once.”

“I'm not a cat!!” The cat denied the truth. “I'll burn this collar right up and… E—eh? I can't use my fire!”

“Hmph! You won't be using any magic until I remove the collar. Just like an ordinary cat,” the redhead explained.

“Wh-what?! I'm not some pet!” He’s a strong independent cat who don’t need no man.

“Don't worry, I'd never keep a pet like you,” fuck, that redhead can roast. “I'll take it off anyway when you get thrown out.”

“Wow, as wonderful as ever. Any and all magic gets sealed by your Unique Magic, Riddle,” another student spoke, this one had light colored hair.

‘Would you call that shade a pale lavender or periwinkle?’ You questioned his hair color.

He mumbled something inaudible under his breath before speaking up, “No, I wouldn't ever want that cast on me.”

“You must do something about this! It is your familiar!” Crowley shouted at you again.

You sighed, frustrated. “He’s not mine.”

“Properly discip... eh? It's not yours?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time, but it seems I couldn’t get it past that thick skull of yours,” You couldn’t stop some of the irritated sass from leaking out.

“Y-you did?” Crowley looked rightfully embarrassed as he cleared his throat. “Anyway, let's get it out of the school at any rate. We won't turn you into a stew. For I am gracious. Someone help, please.” Another student took the cat from your arms and carried him towards the door.

“Gyaaaa! Let me go!” The cat protested, desperation thick in their tone. “I'm going to, going to… Become the greatest magician!” Those were his final words as he was thrown out of the room.

“We had a bit of trouble along the way, but this brings the entrance ceremony to a close,” Crowley said with a pleased tone of finality. “Dormitory Heads, please show the new students back to the dormitories.”

This didn’t really concern you anymore, what with being rejected by a mirror of all things. So, you stood there, starting to space out.

‘…wait a damn minute. If that was a fire-breathing cat, then… the kind of magic they’re talking about is… real fucking magic. Like fantasy world, Dungeons and Dragons’ kind of magic: flashy fireballs and eldritch blasts… What the actual fuck is going on? Have I been drugged? Is this just a real bad acid trip? I know I’m not dreaming because I feel like DIO used Road Roller on me. What’s gonna happen to me? Because something definitely went wrong with that mirror since it rejected me and holy shit what are they gonna do to me? Is this gonna be something like a ‘you know our secret so we can’t allow you to live’ kinda deal? Am I gonna die? Is that why they had coffins prepared? Are they gonna shove me into one of those and bury me al—’ you were snapped out of your thoughts when the headmaster waved his hand in front of your face. Glancing around, you saw that you two were now the only occupants in the room.

“There you are,” he pulled his hand away from your face. “Well then, (y/n), I’m terribly sorry about this but… We must have you leave the school. Those without any talent for magic cannot be allowed to attend class here.” He must have noticed you tense up when he said that, because you thought that meant disposing of you. “There is no need to worry. The Dark Mirror will send you directly back from whence you came. Enter the Gate, and picture your home clearly in mind…”

You did as he told, picturing where you last were when you had began your meditation. Feeling very much like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, you found yourself chanting ‘there’s no place like home’ in your head.

“Oh, Dark Mirror!” Crowley called out. “Guide this one back to the place they belong!” A moment of silence. “Once more. Oh, Dark Mirror! Guide this—”

“It is nowhere…” the mirror interrupted.

Your eyes snapped open, a tight strained smile on your face. ‘I’m sorry, the fuck did you just say?’ Crowley seemed to have a similar dumbfounded reaction.

“The place they belong is nowhere in this world; it does not exist.”

“What did you say?” Crowley voice the pg-13 version of your thoughts. “That is unbelievable! Hmm, well, the unbelievable has been on parade today.”

‘Uh, yeah. There was a goddamn fire breathing cat ready to kill us all.’

“This is the first time it’s ever happened since I became Headmaster, what should be… Where exactly did you come from?” Crowley asked you.

“Uhh… Do you just want the country, or do you need the planet’s name since the mirror said I don’t belong in this world?”

“Just the country is fine.”

“Well, I’m from (country), but I have no idea how far away we are from it right now.”

“I’ve never heard of that place,” your stomach dropped at Crowley’s remark. “I have a general grasp of where all the students came from, but I’ve never even heard that name before… If you really are not of this world, then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to know your planet’s name.”

“Well, I’m from Earth.”

“Earth? As in the ground, soil, dirt?” He sounded like he didn’t really believe you. “Well that’s not very helpful, but I suppose you could call any planet ‘earth’ if you so wished. Well, no matter,” he clapped his hands in finality. “Let’s go do some research in the library.

“Who in their right mind would name a planet after its dirt?” You heard Crowley mumble under his breath as you followed him, clearly trying to keep you from hearing him, but that didn’t work out so well.

‘I think it might be the other way around, where we made another word for dirt named after the planet itself.’

You and Crowley made it back to the Library where you were before, but this time you could see just how large it was since Crowley turned the lights on. Using his magic, he practically summoned various historical books and world maps that showed the different countries and borders that were present at certain time periods.

Your vision was still too blurry to read, but you could still make out shapes fairly well, so you stuck to looking through the various world maps. The first thing you noticed were the continents: they were all wrong. You didn’t recognize any of them, though they were consistent across all the maps you had in front of you. These were not Earth’s continents. Desperate, you looked closer at the borders of different countries to see if any looked familiar, squinting to see if you could even have a possibility of reading the names.

You take a deep breath, ‘Okay, (y/n). You’re a-okay. There’s an explanation for this. I’m sure of it. Maybe you just astral projected on accident or something. Okay. You can deal with that. You’ve read about how to get back to your body. You can do it.’ You visualized a cord of sorts connecting the you here to the you that you remember meditating at home. And then you pulled. You opened your eyes and— ‘…I’m still here.’

“There really isn't anything,” Crowley was the first to break the silence. “Not only the world map, but the name of your home isn't written in any history. Are you truly from where you say? You aren't lying to me by chance?”

“No! Why the hell would I lie about any of—" you gestured around you wildly “—of this?!” You must have looked absolutely terrible because you saw Crowley almost look a little guilty for his accusation.

“Looking at all this, you may have somehow been brought here from another planet, after all... There's also the possibility you're from another world.”

“I really am an alien, aren’t I?” You could feel a lump rising in your throat, that previously pending anxiety suddenly rapidly rising. You sadly chuckled out a resigned ‘fuck’ and rested your forehead against the table, your hands grasping, digging into the back of your head. You could tell you were spiraling, but you couldn’t do anything about it. Your breaths quickened as bad thoughts and worries about what the hell is going to happen to you now kept infiltrating your head without pause. You tried to take deep breaths, only for your breath to hitch and prevent that. ‘Okay, okay, we can do this; mantra time,’ the only other way you knew that helped you calm down was to repeat an unrelated mantra in your head until you stopped hyperventilating. ‘The—the mitochondria… is the powerhouse of the cell**. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.’ You repeated that phrase as best you could, both in your thoughts and aloud.

Eventually, you were able to get your breathing back under control. ‘Okay…okay. We’re good. I’m good. I’m fine.’

Crowley cleared his throat, obviously not used to being in these kinds of situations and continued as if nothing happened. “What did you have on you when you came here? Do you have any identification, like a license for a magic car, name on a shoe… You appear to be empty-handed.”

You gave your pockets a quick pat down. “I got nothin’.”

“This is concerning. I can't just let someone who can't use magic to stay at school. However, as an educator, I can't just toss a penniless teenager out on the street with no form of communication. For I am gracious.”

‘…Teenager? You know what, I’m not gonna correct him. It’ll probably benefit me more to let him think I’m a minor.’

“Hmmmm… That's right! There is an unused building on campus. It was once used as a dormitory in the past so if you can clean it up, you should at least be able to sleep there. For the time being, I shall allow you to stay there! Then I will look for a way for you to return home. My graciousness is limitless! I am a model for all educators. We had better be on our way. Let's head to the dormitory. It may be a bit old but there is a certain charm to it.”

You felt bad for the poor librarians who would have to clean up your mess. You couldn’t stay to do it yourself because Crowley already took off, his long legs giving him a longer stride, making you speed walk in order to keep up with him. You couldn’t wait to lie down and rest your aching body.

    *Confederate statues in the US—getting rid of the scary white men but keeping the horses: https://youtu.be/aFgGazYzDPo

 ** “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” is easy to remember (since it’s been ingrained in all of our heads) and is completely unrelated to most causes of an anxiety attack. Unless it’s a bio test.

 Okay, so, I wasn’t expecting to get to 6,000 words but here we are. So we have a witch reader, and by witch I mean drawing sigils and making spell jars and such. Let’s see how long it takes for the reader’s adrenaline to run out and realize just how badly they’re hurt. Also, reader is probably end up being a babysitter for those overgrown toddlers (you know who I’m talking about). You thought boarding school would mean getting away from parental figures? Ha! Think again! Cuz the reader is gonna step up and fill that role because these poor boys are young and stupid. But that’ll have to wait until after the reader gets some proper medical attention.

Chapter 2

[imagine-organization-xiii]

How loud are they in bed (and what it sounds like) ?

It’s been a while since I did a NSFW one so enjoy!

also tag yourself, i’m axel

oOoOoOo

Xigbar - loudest organization member by far; groans and moans and talks and yells and he isn’t ashamed in the slightest. Gets a little bashful if someone other than his partner hears him, but in the moment he really couldn’t give a shit. He used to care about it a lot more when he was younger, but he’s gotten over it pretty quickly. He’s having a good time and that’s what matters, so who gives a shit how many noises he makes?

Marluxia - could either be super damn loud or quiet. It just depends on whether or not he’s topping or bottoming! On top, you can probably bring a few moans and heavy breaths out of him, maybe a couple of words muffled by the skin of your neck, but when he’s on the bottom? He can’t keep his mouth shut. Babbles a lot when he’s bottoming and he also gives out a few magnificent whines that send a chill up your spine

Demyx - younger and has more energy, so the more rounds you go, the louder he gets. He starts off pretty determined to keep his mouth shut because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, but by the end he just has seriously lost the ability to care.

Axel - this boy never shuts up during sex no matter how much you try to distract him. And it’s like… weird? He’s normal for the most part, just saying how much he loves you and how nice you feel and it’d be fine if it ended at him whispering dirty things into your ear, but it kind of ruins the moment when he’s going down on you and suddenly looks up and says, “hey remind me to get some milk later, I just remembered that I drank the last of it”

Vexen - is almost like Axel in the sense that sometimes his thoughts wander when the two of you are having sex, but you know him well enough to know exactly how to put him back in the present moment. When he lets himself go, he isn’t loud, but he does mutter a lot. Sometimes will cover his mouth with his hand to muffle the sounds

Luxord - luxord is that kind of person where the more he drinks, the louder he gets. Like let’s say there was a party with the org members and they all happen to be drinking, you can guarantee that he’ll probably shake the walls with the noises coming out of his mouth that night. Otherwise, he’s fairly quiet except for a small noise here and there

Xaldin - you can get some pretty spectacular grunts and groans out of this man, but when you give him a blowjob??? He goes absolutely insane. Groans that are pressed into your skin and shortened behind clenched teeth turn into loud, open-mouthed moans as he winds a hand through your hair and watches you

Larxene - larxene tries not to get loud but there are always a few sounds that burst through her lips, mostly curses as she manhandles you and tosses you back into the sheets. Larxene has a mouth on her - the kind of mouth that would get her quite a few dirty looks if she ever spoke like that in public.

Saix - fairly quiet during sex but gets louder when he gets closer to his orgasm. His whole body tenses up and he gives a loud shudder, which is accompanied by loud, ragged breaths that pierce the darkness in your bedroom. It sounds like he’s run a marathon, but knowing that he’s so wrecked by being with you is definitely a plus

Zexion - this poor boy. This sweetheart. Tries his hardest to keep his mouth shut by biting a pillow, nipping your skin, biting his lip so hard that he makes himself bleed because he is so embarrassed by the sounds he makes when he’s in bed with you. They’re high pitched whines, almost squeaks, that are just the most adorable little noises. Sadly, you can usually only hear them when you happen to catch him by surprise.

Xemnas - hot, loud breaths in your ear is about as much as you’re going to get when having sex with Xemnas, though you aren’t sure if that’s because he’s just quiet or if he’s doing his best to keep his mouth shut in your presence.

Lexaeus - silent and stoic through sex. So quiet that you’re always worried that he isn’t having a good time, but the redness of his face and clench in the muscles in his back tell you that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. At most, you might get a small grunt or two when he finishes, but that’s about it

[chosito]

title: red. pairing: luz (mc) x rafael aveiro. summary: just pining and angst. kinda inspired by “rojo” by j balvin.

Luz stands by the front desk, her white coat slightly crisped at the sides as she pressed her back against the wood for support. Though the hospital seems livelier than usual, with the patients' laughter bouncing off the walls and the nurses zooming past her, their hands full of work; she remains unaware of the change in the usual atmosphere. 

Her eyes are glued to the glass doors that separate the clinic from the outside world, bottom lip between her teeth as she chews on it anxiously— she refuses to look at the hour on her phone again, the number tauntingly unchanging. She knows that this doesn't work like clockwork, yet she can't stop herself from hoping for it: just a glimpse, she tells herself every day, one glimpse and it's back to work.

"Hotshot!" The doctor's barely aware of the voice requiring her attention, but the volume and nickname manage to entice her away from daydreams for a moment. Turning her head to the side, she gives Bryce a small, side smile before moving her gaze back to the entrance.

Her breath catches on her throat as she does, brown eyes colliding with her own– she's almost too tempted to look down and check if he's smiling at her, yet she can barely move as he studies her. Much to her dismay, she can only blink before he shifts his attention from her; though she can barely process it before a hand is touching her elbow. 

Rafael knows he shouldn't, he knows how much it hurts him, how much it hurts her— but his resolve crumbles bit by bit every day when he sees her there, waiting for him to come through the doors. He tries not to give much thought to the reason behind it; otherwise, it wouldn't just be his willpower that would crumble. 

Without heeding the warnings in his head, he takes the chance to finally look at her after noticing she turned her head from the corner of his eyes. Just for a second, he tries to feed himself the lie, just a second and she won't even notice it.

He feels his heart pounding in his ears, just a wisp louder than when he was about to pass out in the subway all those months ago. The force that roped him in towards her the first time he met her pulls him in once again, with full strength– the reason why he had been ignoring her for two weeks now.

Rafael knows he should be grateful as he sees Bryce approaching Luz, being granted the perfect excuse to get away from her before he makes a mistake. Whether it's divine intervention or a curse, he can't distinguish.  Forcing himself to walk, he continues walking further in the hospital, pretending to know where he's supposed to go.

He stops at the edge of the hall, catching one last glimpse of the doctor that had saved his life. A buzzing in his pocket interrupts the moment, Sora's name flashing across the screen as he pulls it out. With a sigh and guilt pulling at his heart, he pockets it again before moving on.

It was merely a second, but Bryce had always been too observant for his own good and now wasn't an exception; the longing glances between Luz and Rafael impossible to miss. His mind works as fast as his hands when he's in the operating room, and he almost laughs as he thinks he finds the answer to his friend's heartache. 

————————

Luz can barely hear Elijah's teasing voice as he jokes about all the decorations still missing from the party over Bryce's loud laugh as he tries to piss Jackie off in the living room. The corners of her lips slight turn upwards as Sienna freaks out and Aurora tries to calm her down but turns restless herself. 

Placing down more of the red solo cups that will probably end up all over their floor the next morning, she heads over the sofa just in time to catch her roommate hitting the surgeon trainee with the cushion. 

"Did you come over this early just to annoy Jackie? Or are you planning on helping since, y'know, this was your idea?" She asks, elbowing the brunette as she sat on the armrest next to him. 

"You know I'm all about spontaneity, and I was the creative mind behind this so you should put into motion", Bryce replies with a laugh, tilting his head back as he regards his friend, "Besides, how will Jackie stay grounded if I'm not here to remind her who the best resident is?" He questions just after Jackie's far enough to not hit him again. "Can't let her mess up my hair" he shrugs, noticing the teasing glint in Luz’s eyes.

Snorting, she gets up and walks towards her room, knowing their interns and the rest of their colleagues are going to show up at any moment, and she has yet to change. Running her hands through the clothes hanged in the closet, she wonders whether Rafael will show up tonight, but whatever hope she has dies as she realises Sora's bound to show up too if he does.

Rafael walks with his head hung down, hands in his jacket's pockets as Sora rambles about something related to her work. Whenever he hears her voice going quieter, he simply hums or nods with his head; though his attention couldn't be farther away from her and directed entirely to one particular doctor living in the looming building less than a block away.

He almost feels the way Luz had kissed him right before the steps leading inside after they'd danced together for what seemed like hours– the tenderness with which she'd caress his cheek and the smile she'd given him before entering the flat. Playing no mind to the sudden warmth that has tinted his cheeks of a rose colour, he hurries up to catch up with the group of interns coming in.

Much as he tries to avoid it, his eyes roam over the poorly lit room looking for the one person he wanted to see— a soft grin dances on her lips as he finds her, her brows knitted in a concentrated frown as she studies the beer pong table. He almost falls when someone tugs his arm forward, his attention back to his childhood sweetheart who's already going into the crowd of drunken bodies.

Luz doesn't know which feeling is worse; the itchiness caused by her red sequin top, or the sting before her eyes as she tries to hold back her tears. The dancing space is so obscure that her fragility goes unnoticed, yet the alcohol running through her veins threatens the anonymity darkness brings. Waving her empty cup, she pretends she'll get another refill before heading straight for the nearly hidden balcony. 

She halts as she lifts her head, noticing Rafael leaning against the railing, a beer halfway towards his mouth as he pauses his action once he studies her face. The doctor hurries to close the door behind her before resting her face against the glass, thankful that the curtain falls inside and conceals them from prying eyes. 

"Luz", He almost whispers her name as he takes a step towards her, "Are you alright? What's wrong?" Concern is as clear in his brown eyes and the downward pull of his lips, as is in the tone that clouds her voice.

She bites her lip, debating whether to tell him the truth or pretend that everything is fine. Pressing her sweaty palms against the door, she pushes herself off and joins him by the edge of the balcony. "It's you, Raf", she mumbles as she glances towards the city beneath them, "Why did you show up tonight? You've been ignoring me since we saw each other outside the clinic and..." her words die in her throat before she takes a deep breath and turns to face him, "And you showed up with her tonight".

Rafael wants to look away from her, but her vulnerable gaze holds him in place and distracts him from thinking of an answer. Why was he here tonight? None of the excuses he could use would be believable, and even if he tried lying, she'd see right through him. "I wanted to see you", he answers truthfully in the same low voice she used.

The woman takes another step, shortening the distance between them, "Why?" She inquires in a breathy voice. His silence should be answer enough, but she's not willing to be patient tonight, "Why did you want to see me, Rafael?" She presses.

The paramedic leans down, still not willing to break the silence between them— the words are on the tip of his tongue, but there'd be no coming back if he dared to utter them. Instead, he chooses to press his forehead to hers, the breeze dancing in the space left between their bodies. He closes his eyes, lifting his free hand and placing it in the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as his thumb caresses the back of her neck. With a sigh, he detangles himself from the doctor and returns to his previous spot.

He can feel her eyes burning into him but isn't strong enough to meet her glance right now without kissing her senseless and begging her to stay with him there for the rest of the night.

———————— 

Rafael feels like he's slowly emerging from the ocean, his muscles numb from the effort of pushing him closer to the surface and eyelids heavy— yet he knows this to be untrue as his eyes finally open. An involuntary hiss dies on his tongue, his lips too parched to open in time, as a blinding light leaves his senses momentarily weakened. 

A paper cup is pressed to his lips while he tries to regain control of his sight, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in his mouth. With as much effort as he can, and a pitiful whimper distorting the machines' connected to him sounds, he forces himself to sit up.

"Don't push yourself now, Raf", a soft voice rings out, delicate hands holding his arm tendering to help him get more comfortable. The brunette twists his head to the side, greeted by the sight of the worried doctor. 

He takes a moment to study her face, noticing the bite mark on her lower lip as well as the redness that surrounds the edges of her mouth. The blue eyebags don't go amiss by the paramedic, and he feels guilt twist around his heart as he notices how much his situation affected her. 

"Why are you so intent on killing yourself?" Luz asks, her voice a broken whisper as she looks him in the eye, his image quickly blurring as tears cloud her vision. His rough fingertips, some covered in bandages, try to clean the ones that are already falling down her cheek. "You'll tell me that I'm overreacting, but not this time. You almost die on that table, and I just...". 

"Luz". He allows tenderness to tint his voice, his fingers still caressing her skin. "You know how many people would die if I didn't do this", he tries to make her see but knows it's futile. 

"I don't love most people!" the intensity in her voice surprises them both, as she instantly quiets after the confession. "Please, I can't watch you risk your life like this again and again. I can't bear the thought of losing you". 

"Do you want me to quit?"

She bites her lips once again, weighing her options– she would never ask him to leave it, she knows he lives for helping people as much as she does. "No", she finally mutters, "I just want you to think about yourself for once. If you keep going like this they will permanently suspend you, or..." Her throat closes around the words she can't pronounce.

"So what should I do? Just let them die and not do anything to stop it? I could never live with myself if I did". He speaks hurriedly, voice heated. "This is why we can't be together, we don't understand each other". He had never been one good with lies, but for both their sake he needs to put on the performance of his lies— I love you too much to see you suffer for me like this.

She recoils at his words, feeling like lighting struck has struck across her heart. Silence floats between them, only broken when she pushes her chair back, the metal scraping loudly against the marble tiles. "I will call Sora for you, she'll want to know that you woke up", she approaches the machine, checking some of his vitals. "The morphine should act quickly, I know you must be in a lot of pain. Try to rest, Rafael".

The doctor turns to leave after that, his brown eyes glued to her back as he realises that's probably the last time he'll see her this close. She pauses by the door, her finger clutching the doorknob— the world seems to still as he wonders if she saw through his lousy lie.

He can feel the drug pumping through his veins as his eyelids flutter shut for a moment that seems an eternity. He catches her eyes just as she's leaving the room, the opioid betraying his deepest desire and depriving him of just one more second of her.

"Luz..." Her name dances in Rafael's lips before he falls unconscious. 

Luz, Luz, Luz... Even then, she haunts his dreams in a way Artemis would envy.

[nomanwalksalone]

ON FAILURE

by Daniel Penny

Lately, I keep finding myself thinking about a well-worn, and probably apocryphal Beau Brummell story, the sort one tends to find on blogs like this one. A visitor arrives at Brummell's house and is led by the butler up to Brummell’s dressing room. The door is opened by Brummell’s valet, who is holding a plate of rumpled cravats. There’s Brummell standing before the mirror, around which heaps of different ties have been strewn. The visitor asks, ”What have you got there, Jeeves?” The valet says, "These, Sir, are our failures.”

When I open my closet, I too see failure. Not every piece, but a few stinkers. The problem is that I am one of those fools perennially in search of a good deal. Over a year ago, I purchased a vintage camel hair sport coat online for less than what most people spend on dinner. My size is very difficult to find, so I was thrilled at my good fortune. But when it arrived, I found it didn’t fit quite right. The jacket looked boxy, probably a victim of the late 80’s obsession with padding, so I took it into the tailor to have the sides brought in. From a rectangle, I became an upside down triangle; I was hoping to achieve something a little less geometric.

This was the point at which I should have admitted defeat, but instead, I threw good money after bad. I asked my tailor to perform more surgery on my jacket, replacing the wads of shoulder padding with something thinner—except now the whole thing was too tight under the arms, and though the shoulders looked less colossal, they still jutted farther than I would have liked. To fix this, my patient tailor would have to take off the sleeves, fold in the shoulder, and reattach everything, which would have the side-effect of shortening the sleeves, and I could not spare any length on the sleeves whatsoever. In this way, I managed to spend triple the cost of purchasing this sought-after sport coat on tailoring—all of it to no effect.

Besides the contents of my closet, failure has been on mind. For many people around the world, this past year was an utter failure. A failure of foresight, a failure of democracy. And don’t mean failure in the way of Silicon Valley Ted-Talkers, who have appropriated Samuel Beckett: “Fail again. Fail better.” For these lucky people, failure is merely the feeling of crashing into a pillow stuffed with money, hardly failure at all. But let’s not be fatalistic. There are more nuanced ways to think about failure—sartorial and otherwise.

A few weeks ago, I spent two days taking a class on the ancient Japanese indigo dying process known as Shibori. It’s basically failure and imperfection made into an art form. You dip the cloth in indigo, and using folding, binding, and knotting techniques, determine which parts of the fabric remain white, and which turn dark blue. It sounds simple, but the process is very difficult to control. I decided to try a few different items I had lying around my closet, each one a failure in some way, which I was willing to sacrifice to the Shibori gods in the hopes of making something better.

Some of these experiments were catastrophic. A knit tie came out of the vat looking like a blackened slug. However, I did end up turning an old tuxedo scarf into something beautiful: a piece I never used to wear into something I now wrap around my neck as often as I can. I’d used marbles tied with rubber bands to make light blue rings scattered across a field of cerulean. It was different from what I’d expected, imperfect and irregular, but a welcome surprise. Hardly a failure at all.

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in February 2017.

[armsdealing]

charles derane’s apocalypse verse notes.

basics.

codename: hawthorne -- this is a name/nickname he will occasionally use when he does not feel like going by his actual name. height: six feet four inches weight: 274 lbs (formerly 295 lbs) transportation: 2001 Dodge Ram - Black (looks)

appearance:

standing at 6’4”, charles is massive in size and along those lines, incredibly imposing in posture – straight and ready unless otherwise required. not only that, but his build packs 274 lbs of muscle/fat that he’s had even before the outbreak and he’s been very careful to maintain at all possible costs. while it’s true that he had the weight lost typical of survivors, he remains hefty and able to endure and perform physical tasks with ease. this is a skill developed from childhood, and charles has formidable dexterity and control of his body, moving through the environment with the speed necessary to outrun even the most feverish of zombies or fight them with melee weaponry. he has very broad shoulders and thick biceps and forearms, muscular legs, and a solid stomach and chest, even if it lacks tone. despite all this, he’s able to remain graceful, movements characterized by their stealth rather than flaunting his physical appearance with noise and clumsiness. when needed, his walking might as well be referred to as an experienced hunter’s prowl, used to both rural and urban scenarios to explore and navigate.

slightly sharper features have been the main toll taken by a lack of steady food source. the biggest change remains in his head, though; charles actually is incredibly survival-driven and apathetic toward anything that won’t ensure said survival. he doesn’t care about anything or anyone but himself, and he will make a point to show it. needless to say – he won’t be very friendly.

due to a lack of efficient razors, charles sports an unkempt dirty and bloody beard that he only maintains at bay with a knife but otherwise leaves to grow as extra protection in harsh temperatures. this makes a good job at covering the lower half of his face, filling out the spots where body fat or muscle lacks. his hair is messy, but consistently kept short by comparison – and surprisingly soft to the touch if ever actually touched. but it’s true; he neither is nor looks friendly, and if ever forced to speak, it’ll be in the form of gruff mumbles and a desire to keep the conversation as short as possible. there is no discernable accent in his voice, save a very rugged pitch and texture born from disuse, and the only hint at coming from somewhere is a shortening of words typical of the southern american dialect – found in his closest post-apocalypse allies, the beckett family.

tics are bound to be picked up if too much time is spent around him. while at first glance you won’t see nothing but a very large man you’d want nothing but to get away from, there is a cleverness to his eyes that makes it noticeable he is very aware of what happens around him and what happens to you. he will pick up on movements, expressions, with nigh perfect accuracy – and know the very moment you’re reaching for the gun tucked on your side or planning to propel forward for an offensive. he reads people before ever coming close to them, which is an important point to keep in mind – while he has no problem whatsoever with violence and even, at this point in his background, with killing, charles would rather keep things distant, and he’d rather you left him in peace. he tends to look around himself when idle, unconsciously even, as a remnant of situational awareness, and so coming from behind is nearly impossible.

on that same vein, other minor habits include adjusting and readjusting his pack and its straps; a lot of his supplies are in that bag, and he makes sure to check regularly that everything is in place and he can move without fear of losing it. he twists his neck and rolls his shoulders, cracks his knuckles when it is necessary, and might scratch his cheek and beard. when he speaks, he might sigh occasionally, and grunt even more so, nod and shake his head and gesture directions rather than mention them, clench his jaw when he doesn’t like how an exchange is going, raise an eyebrow when he’s questioning you, shrug to disregard your questions, purse his lips when he’s being thoughtful. people have met him and not heard him speak even once because of his taciturn nature, keeping to commands that he does need to elaborate on and that is it. when forced to speak at greater length, expect hostility and a sharp sarcasm that might take you off guard.

clothing wise the apocalypse does not allowfor anything but light packing, and his shirts are comfortable and visibly worn, sometimes torn. he has no attachments to any particular piece of clothing – with the exception of his jacket and his steel toe combat boots, and will not hesitate to switch clothings the second he sees an opportunity to do it. ever present is the pack strapped to his back along his shotgun, however. he will go for the comfortable and things that will last him, most commonly henleys or plaids, western cut. nothing colorful and in fact, probably dirty. long sleeves are preferable, given most deaths to zombies being due to an exposed limb. he does not care about how he looks under any normal circumstances, and how he looks like – like the lone survivor he is – isn’t his primary concern. if he ever cleaned up, he’d be much more handsome.

when found in close quarters to him, the smell of forest will be practically a staple, along with with sweat and grease, scents that have followed him. occasionally, smoke may be added, when he’s been near fire. such is the case with gun powder or blood, the latter which he washes away when he has the opportunity to.

skin deep, it is surprising that he does not sport any tattoos of note or at all. he has never been interested by the idea. what he does have, though, is scars in spades, some – many – dating back to his very childhood, teenagehood, and pre-apocalypse adulthood. his knuckles are very scarred, as are his arms and legs, with an assortment of prints left by experiences that range from simple falls to glass to blades. in his very face rests a cut on the bridge of his nose, and another on the left side of his cheek/jaw that leaves a thin scratch in his beard devoid of hair. another quite visible scar going across his right eye that took some eyebrow with it. 

INVENTORY | WEAPONS (8)

aluminium baseball bat. found in his truck.

glock g17. found on his person. (spare ammo? yes)

smith & wesson 629. concealed on his person. (spare ammo? yes)

smith & wesson model 59. full magazine. in his backpack. (spare ammo? yes)

winchester fixed blade knife. in his backpack.

mossberg 590 mariner. holstered in his back with a strap. (spare ammo? yes)

remington 700pss with leupold mark 4 scope. in his truck (5 rounds. fully loaded. spare ammo? no)

makeshift blade. (looks) concealed on his person.

INVENTORY | ITEMS (12)

(1) backpack (looks). usually on his person or the back of his truck. very worn looking and dirty.

(5) cigarettes. lucky strike. kept in their package, inside his backpack.

(1) canteen (looks). water. normally full. inside his backpack. 34 oz.

(1) flask (looks). empty.

(1) zippo lighter (looks). on his person.

(1) leather journal (looks). inside his backpack.

(1) swiss blade (looks). on his person.

(1) duct tape roll. inside his backpack.

(1) first aid kit: (1) sterilized needle, (3) aspirins, (10) band-aids, (2) gauze, (1) surgical tape, (1) small bottle of rubbing alcohol. neatly pressed in a small bag (looks). inside his backpack.

(1) compass (looks). usually in his pocket.

whenever possible he has a map of whichever location he’s in.

he tries to keep a jug of spare gasoline in his car whenever possible.

BASELINE INVENTORY | CLOTHES & ACCESSORIES (8)

steel toe combat boots (looks). worn.

2 extra pairs of shirts. 

jeans (looks) very worn, as well as torn.

canvas coat (looks) worn.

leather jacket (looks). 

spare underwear.

one spare pairs of socks, besides the ones he wears, in his backpack.

BASELINE INVENTORY | FOOD & EDIBLES (9)

2L water canteen. usually full. ** (looks)

(2) goya black bean cans. **

(1) b&m baked beans**

(2) chicken bouillon**

(1) progresso chicken noodle soup.**

(1) jar of peanut butter’s co.*

(2) hard tack packs.*

(1) fruit snack.*

* kept in backpack ** kept in car.

BACKGROUND / VERSE NOTES.

this information will be used interchangeably for any apocalypse/zombie themed scenario that presents themselves. hence i didn’t write about a single specific storyline.

charles is a rover and this is by choice. however, he does have alliances, most notably with the o’connell compound located in garnet, montana (click here for more information on it -- when i post it that is :^)). 

charles usually acts as though he has no set role; however, this is false: his job is to track other settlements and map out other places of the united states to see how they’re doing, then relay this information back to the compound -- hence the journal he has on hand. he usually winds up there once every two to five months, depending on how far he wanders off. he will also hunt down rare supplies, and outline “no-go” zones, either because the place is swarmed or because the settlements are hostile. 

this information is normally used with the purpose of establishing communication between the settlements, if charles deems it useful and favorable. this goes back to whether he finds the settlement in question trustworthy and reliable. not all of them cut it. 

otherwise, he will never disclose the existence of the o’connell compound. you could set fire to his leg and he wouldn’t do it. 

exceptions are only if he finds you alone and you’re a child. he will try to take you back to the compound so you’re safe.

in this verse charles is 49, and still a father. cael derane is 20 and living in garnet. he’s a trained medic and occasionally will tag along for specific situations.

charles is unfriendly and does not like to work with others but he is pragmatic first and foremost and if you present yourself useful then he will consider forming an alliance for however necessary he deems it. again, the presence of children and young (his kid’s age, basically) people does a lot to sway him. he is very fatherly.  

[mugprint]

Vampire!Kris X Vampire Hunter!Ralsei

Hometown. A nice little town of monsters. It lived up to it's name for everyone who lived there, including the adopted child of Toriel Dreemurr, Kris. The town had thought they were human. They didn't know enough about humans to knows that it wasn't normal for one to avoid all sunlight(causing very pale golden skin) and not speak. At all. Other than that, they were a regular human.

Except that they weren't human.

Unfortunately, the first to find that out wouldn't be someone they knew and trusted. It would be a vampire hunter named Ralsei, who showed up in town one day claiming he had heard reports of a, you guessed it, vampire in this area. Kris wanted to stay in their house until Ralsei left, but he wouldn't until he caught this so-called vampire. At least he stayed out of everyone's way.

A few days passed without Kris being able to eat anything, and by now, they were absolutely starving. They had to go out and get something to eat, otherwise they would quite literally go insane and/or die. The first one was much more likely, and as they didn't want to end up hurting Toriel or anyone else, they went out one night to get some sort of animal from the human town nearby. They thought they were careful enough not to be caught by Ralsei on one of the goat monster's night patrols. But they were pretty loopy from hunger and didn't hear him. They probably wouldn't have heard him anyway because of how quiet he was being.

Which is why they had no time to react when they were shoved and pinned against a wall.

"Why are you out here so late?" Ralsei's annoyed voice reached Kris's ears. "You're going to get caught. Don't you know why I'm here?" Kris stayed silent, as they usually did. "Well? Answer me!" Even if they could speak, they wouldn't. Partly because they couldn't think up a believable lie, and partly because their hunger was reaching its limit. Fresh blood, right there… No, they had to keep control. They don't bite monsters. Ralsei finally figured it out from their silence.

"...Oh. You're the one I'm hunting, aren't you?" He went quiet and grabbed his knife, but Kris couldn't take it anymore. If they didn't get something to eat now, they'd become like a feral animal. They grabbed Ralsei's shoulders and pulled him closer, digging their fangs into his neck. Ralsei's first instinct was to scream and push Kris away, which is exactly what he did before Kris could get their fill. It was just enough for them to regain their sanity, though. "Get away from me, you devil!!" Ralsei didn't hesitate any longer to attack. Kris was already expecting it and dodged, then immediately made a run for the trees where Ralsei couldn't follow them too long. As expected, Ralsei ran after them, his eyes gleaming with murderous hatred. Kris made a sharp left turn once they were in the middle of the woodland and Ralsei followed suite. He followed them through every attempt to lose him and their energy was depleting quickly. They couldn't run for much longer than 2 minutes in this state, and they knew it. Ralsei seemed to figure it out too, judging from the triumphant smirk on his face. That time was shortened even more when a stray root tripped them up. They couldn't get back on their feet fast enough to escape before Ralsei kicked them back down. "Say goodbye, devil." He raised his knife to strike the killing blow, but something in their eyes made him hesitate. Something he hadn't seen in other vampires before. Usually, they were glaring at him with all their hatred, but Kris just looked scared, silently pleading for him not to kill them. They closed their eyes tightly and whispered two words before the attack they knew would come.

"I'm sorry…"

"...What are you doing?" Kris opened one eye again to see Ralsei shaking above them, clutching his knife tighter than ever. "What are you doing!? Stop trying to make me feel sorry for you! You shouldn't exist! STOP IT!!" Kris didn't know what to do. They didn't even know what they had done to make Ralsei act like this. They didn't have time to think on it either before he shoved his knife into their shoulder. They couldn't cry out in pain, only wince and try to cover the wound once Ralsei ripped the weapon out again. Blood seeped through their fingers in a flood, unable to be stopped or slowed. To his surprise, Ralsei felt guilty.

'Why… Why do I feel so bad about killing a vampire? It's just like every other time, this one's no different.' But he couldn't get that feeling to go away, not while Kris was still trying vainly to stop the flow of blood from their shoulder and weren't even trying to get up, and much less hurt him again. '...Dammit.' He gritted his teeth and pulled Kris up.

"Why are you acting so pathetic? It's ridiculous for a vampire." Kris grimaced at that word. 'Vampire'. They hated it. But right now, while they were bleeding out, they couldn't do much. Ralsei turned them so that their injured shoulder was facing him. "Don't make me regret this." He said as he lifted his hands to use a healing spell on them. Kris stayed still and let him heal them, sighing in relief as the pain faded and the wound faded to just a scar. Ralsei stopped using his magic at that point and started walking away before Kris could thank him. However, he stopped and looked around a few steps away, realizing that he didn't know the way back to town. He had been in such a blind rage chasing after Kris that he didn't remember the route back. Kris took a step forward, realizing that he had no idea where he was going. Ralsei immediately turned back upon hearing them approach. "I don't need any help, if that's what you're thinking. Or were you going to attack me?" Kris put their hands up and shook their head. Ralsei rolled his eyes and started walking in the direction he thought Hometown was in. Kris didn't correct him, since he'd only get mad if they did. They went off to their original destination instead, the human town, to satisfy their lingering hunger. They hadn't gotten much from Ralsei, after all. But what would they do next time they became this starved? Would Ralsei be gone by then? They weren't even sure if they wanted him to leave, for some weird reason. Oh well.

~A few days later~

It was happening again. Kris's starvation. The little things they could eat hadn't held it off much longer than the first time. Once again, half-loopy from hunger, they went out that night to get something to eat. How much longer would this go on? Until Ralsei left, they guessed. But they also guessed that wouldn't happen soon. Then, as if their thoughts had summoned him, Ralsei stepped out in front of them.

"Going to hunt again? Why not just starve in your house or get some sun for a while? It'd make my job a lot easier." Kris's breathing shook for a moment as their instincts spiked. But they wouldn't attack. They don't attack monsters if they can help it. The occasional jerky human, sure, but never a monster. Not even Berdly.

...Okay, MAYBE Berdly if they were desperate, but no one else.

"Why don't you talk? I've barely heard you say anything. Usually vampires spout every insult they can think of at me before I kill them, but I've only ever heard you mutter an empty apology." It hadn't been empty, they were truly guilty about having to bite Ralsei, even if he was trying to kill them. "So?" He pressed, walking closer. "Say something. The next thing that pops into your mind." Kris stepped back as Ralsei approached, covering their mouth.

"Stop…"

"Hm?" Ralsei tipped his head to the side. "Stop what? Stop telling you to talk? Stop getting closer to you? Are you actually trying NOT to bite me again?" He laughed softly. "Strange vampire. I'd have thought you'd be getting whatever prey you can get your filthy hands on." He continued moving towards Kris, seeming amused by them moving away, "Why not bite me again, Mister Control? You're HUNGRY, aren't you? Who knows, you might even kill me. Then your problems would go away, wouldn't they?" Kris's eyes widened at his statement. They didn't want to kill anyone. They didn't even want to be a vampire. It wasn't their fault they were turned. It wasn't their fault they had to be this thing, IT WASN'T THEIR FAULT. They shook their head before running back into the woods, back to the human town, where the situation was no better than Hometown.

Ralsei hesitated to follow them, surprisingly. He hadn't expected them to react like that. He didn't know how he had expected them to react, but now he felt like he had to fix it. He started running after Kris, just barely keeping sight of them through the trees. Less than two minutes in, he was at the other side, at the human town. Kris had fallen to their knees at the edge of the trees, covering their mouth with one hand and already visibly exhausted. No food meant no energy, and right now, they almost wanted Ralsei to kill them. Instead, after a little bit of hesitation, he bent down and put his hand on their back.

"I'm… Sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that." Kris tried to push Ralsei away, but they barely had enough energy to stand up, much less fight against this. "I don't understand your mindset. I haven't met any vampires like you before." He tilted his head slightly, exposing the scabbed bite mark from a few nights before. "If you bite me, it's okay." The scent of blood was almost too enticing for Kris to stand, yet they still held back from biting again. That was one time, ONE time that they had lost control. They wouldn't bite a monster again if it killed them. Then again…

"Well?" Ralsei's voice seemed to snap them out of their thoughts. "Are you going to bite?" Kris was considering this, but pushed themselves away and shook their head again despite the obvious. "You're going to die." Ralsei insisted. He didn't know why, but he did. Kris saw the knife that Ralsei used last time, picked it up, then held up Ralsei's hand and put it in his palm. He closed his hand around the handle and looked at them with confusion and maybe just a little concern. They patted his hand, then pointed at their chest where their heart was, and Ralsei realized.

"You want me to…" Kris nodded and pressed their palm to their chest before laying it back down beside them. Ralsei looked down at the blade in his hand. 'Why am I hesitating? This is my whole job. But they don't deserve it. They're asking me to kill them so they don't hurt anyone. Why are they like this? It doesn't make sense.' Kris patted Ralsei's shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up to see them smiling at him. One of their eyes was partially uncovered by their hair, dimly glowing dark red. Somehow, their expression made the situation worse. "I don't… I don't want to do this… I don't want to kill you. I don't know why, I just… You don't deserve that." Kris's smile fell at those words. They let go of Ralsei's shoulder and looked down at the knife in his hand. Would it be so hard to do it themselves? It already hurt to exist like this. A quick stab wouldn't do much more, right?

Ralsei saw them looking at the knife and quickly put it away. "Don't… Listen, just bite me. It'll be better that way." Kris hesitated to refuse this time. Their hunger was only getting worse by the moment, at this point it was almost overwhelming. Ralsei only waited a few seconds before grabbing Kris and pulling them close. They reluctantly opened their mouth and bit down in the same spot as last time. Ralsei stiffened up from the pain and they immediately felt guilty, but there was no turning back now. They were trying to be careful enough to not drain too much blood, yet Ralsei still ended up close to passing out by the time they stopped. They hadn't gotten their fill, but getting their fill would've meant taking so much that he'd die. Instead, they stopped halfway and helped him stand up so the two could go back to town. The moment Ralsei got up, he was hit with a splitting headache and had to lean against them, making Kris feel even more guilty about the whole situation. They walked him back to Hometown, yet he couldn't keep his eyes open and collapsed against them. Kris couldn't carry him too long and just decided to sit him down against a tree. Of course they couldn't leave him alone, so they sat down next to him to protect him from anything that might attack.

~•The next morning•~

Ralsei woke up to see peaceful forest scenery dappled with light shining through the leaves and Kris sleeping with their head on his shoulder.

'Wait.'

He quickly connected the dots. Not about last night, he figured that out the moment he woke up. The dots he connected were about the time of day. 'It's morning. Sunlight. THE VAMPIRE.' He jolted up and started shaking Kris awake as well.

"Wake up, it's morning!!" Kris opened their eyes and pushed Ralsei away, rubbing their eyes. They stood up and stretched, not yet realizing the situation. Ralsei stood up as well and started walking back to Hometown, which he could faintly see through the branches. Kris followed, occasionally getting hit by the little spots of sunlight but not feeling them through their clothes. The only time they felt it was when the light touched their head or hands. The first time they felt it, they started walking faster to get back to Hometown, even though it meant more exposure to the light. Ralsei led the way back and they finally reached it. Kris finally realized that they were in more danger here than the forest and hesitated to step beyond the treeline. Ralsei, however, didn't stop. He pulled Kris into town with him, causing them to feel like they were being burned alive, their body was literally smoking. Yet Ralsei's pace didn't falter as he headed towards Kris's house. He quietly and agonizingly slowly opened the door and, after a little bit of checking for anyone else(no one was there), pushed Kris inside. The burning feeling faded after a few seconds in the shadows. Kris sighed in relief, rubbing their arms.

"You should be safe now, don't leave your house until night." Kris nodded at Ralsei's command and went to their room to recover from the weird effects sunlight had on them, even just a miniscule amount. Ralsei closed the door and walked away from the house, thinking to himself about what the heck he was doing.

'Why do I care so much about a vampire? I still have to kill them. Their kind is the scum of the Earth, and it's my job. So why did I help them? I should've left them in the sunlight to turn to dust.' He suddenly felt a pang of guilt at the image of Kris turning to dust in front of him, with that smile they had given him after they asked him to kill them in the human town. He stopped walking for a moment, then shook his head and headed for the forest. 'Stupid. I shouldn't feel guilty about killing them. They asked me to themselves.' And yet he still couldn't shake this weird feeling in his chest. This oppression and accelerated heartbeat. He hadn't felt anything like this before, and he swore he felt his face heating up thinking about Kris's smile and unique personality. He then realized he didn't know their name.

--------------------------------------------------

Oh my goodness @ask-tentale This is so freakin beatiful! Im just, do overwhelmed! I love this so much, and to think that this is not even done! Thank you so much!

( the only problem is that it made me WANT more. Not that much of a problem actually)

[jessicasmithcreates]

Remember how I make something each year, and I call it my birthday (insert garment name here)? (2016, 2017, 2018, 2019)

I fully realize this is arbitrary, that I don’t make party dresses (with the potential exception of 2016) and for the most part these are purely descriptive and meaningless to anyone except me.

With that said… Welcome to Birthday Dress 2020. And here is my novel.

Normally I make these garments prior to the day, and then parade around in them on the day.

We went into what I over-exaggerate to a lockdown maybe a week before my birthday, can’t quite remember. (It was voluntary but strongly suggested stay at home… You could have left the house for a walk, past Jess. It would’ve been fine). Wasn’t that three years ago?

So I was less motivated to make ahead, and instead made it on the day. And the next day. And the day after that. I was a little scattered, but also made so many noms. If I couldn’t celebrate my birthday out, I was going to over-celebrate in. Also, Marvel movies.

I can’t get into the first day until we talk about the fabric, though… I think I had a good dose of panic when the college I work out announced it’s decision to do online learning, and no, I did not buy large quantities of toilet paper. (I’m not an animal. Also it was all gone by that point. I’m not getting desperate). No, I decided to go craft supply shopping. I bought altogether too much fabric (I have plans, I promise), some foam for some props, a mystery yarn bag from my local yarn shop, pins for more intricate lace making (oh yeah, I’m making lace now. This is something I do now), and too much snack food.

When I got home from that massive shopping trip, I was still amped and antsy, so I ended up doing a ton of random crafty research, probably Pinterest fueled, and then decided to do some ice dyeing. I still had a lot of linen/rayon from a purchase last year, the same stuff I used for my green Flints, so I decided to use that. It’s been cut down into 2 about-2-yard lengths, and the first one I dyed was in the color scheme that I have called “Van Gogh” for awhile now. Think the sunflowers and the cafe terrace and the many of the famous self portraits. Light aquas and blues, soft greens, rich golds and light oranges. That’s what I aimed for here.

I followed the general directions from Dharma Trading Co, which is where I’ve gotten all my dyes, and I think it turned out pretty well. I love the flow of the shapes that come out of it. It doesn’t look quite like tie dye, nor painting. It’s unique, and I love it.

Back in November, I bought two new sewing patterns, and this one is the Hannah Dress from Victory Patterns. After a muslin from a bed sheet, I was ready to go, knowing that I had to shorten it by a couple inches. For the main body fabric, I used a sunny linen/rayon blend from Joann’s, and for the side panels I used the ice dyed linen/rayon.

Sewing it up went well, and I tried to keep the process as calm and level as possible, which was mostly successful. And I know this because I filmed the whole thing. (Cue the nervous laughter). It’s hard to remember how much ironing there is in sewing until you edit a video about sewing a garment… Please enjoy!

This was a great first project in this crazy time, and it’s been a great thing to put on when I need a bit more pep in my stay at home step. In the future I’ll definitely lower the neckline. It hits right at or above the collarbone, and will hang awkwardly when seated, and I also get a little claustrophobic with a high neck. But otherwise I love it!

See you next time!

A Sunny Dress Remember how I make something each year, and I call it my birthday (insert garment name here)?

[messedupessy]

I present for you a challenge! Talk to me about Atypical Seaswap Pap, please. (Or you can do Edge. Either would be lovely. But I need some Atypical Seaswap stuff for reasons.)

Ohh damn kit this is a challenge rekjgkjegjke and I know this is meant to be as in the ask thingie I was doing the other day but I’m skipping that ask format as it will just get in the way of things grekjgkjege 👀 tho u could just have messaged me privately tho I don’t mind bless ekjgknejge

But first a little bit of explanation so ppl who see this can understand stuff, so Kit here got this really amazing af fic called Atypical which you can find the first part HERE, its a very awesome and amazing papcest fic with bunch of the boys as different mythical creatures living together in a mansion in the woods etc with lots of angst and drama happening but also like really sweet fluffy stuff which if you a fan of papcest should really check out, check out her writing overall bc god it’s amazing af and I literally binged Atypical when i began reading it I think I ended up been up to 4 am bc I got so into it

And I got so into it and got ideas myself that I ended up making a version of Boney to fit into the fic because I just love and adore the whole fic and universe so much that I couldn’t help it UwU ❤ but here are some facts and info about him aye

Boney in this au, I guess it is an au, is a Näck, aka a Swedish water sprite/nixies/Necks who is one of our more famous mythological creatures, known mostly to be beautiful naked men sitting and playing violins and other instruments in rivers where they trick ppl to drown and so on there lots more to Näcks but can’t be bothered, as I wanna get into more personality stuff ye

Original Boney and Atypical Boney are of course very alike still as they are still the same person but there are many things that differs the two due for different circumstances, like the fact original Boney is just a cursed human while atypical Boney is a Näck and always been one etc

Anyway getting sidetracked, Atypical Boney is of course still very flirty, still very like chill and jokey and stuff, but he is not as good when it comes to social stuff like original Boney is, he isn’t as good at reading ppl and so on due for just not been around ppl properly for many, many years.

Ok I will shorten their names to OB for original Boney and AB for Atypical Boney bc writing out their full names is driving me mad. Also this is getting long so putting this under a cut.

AB unlike OB is not afraid to get dirty or to get his outfit ruined, he is after all a kind of like nature spirit give or take and getting his feet covered in mud and jump into rivers still clothed is what he do, he loves nature unlike OB who is much more of a city boy and srs hates getting dirty.

AB just like OB is very social, loves been around other ppl and like party give or take, tho AB hasn’t done so for many many years due for his like self imposed exile kind of thing he had going, and the fact he literally hated human men for a very long time, which in like more future like time he has gotten much better at and is enjoying.

AB is very curious and questions allot of things, as due for his so called exile so have he missed allot of what has been going on outside his home so he is very outdated on tech and other things, and he rly wants to learn about these things. 

Both AB and OB are really into jewelry and lace, tho AB is more into silvery things while OB is more into gold. AB also really likes jewelry with flower motifs and stuff. 

AB just like OB is pretty flamboyant, a bit dramatic which is mostly just for fun, though AB is a bit more mhhh… openly emotional I guess? like OB knows how to properly lie and keep things more properly to himself, AB on the other hand is not as good to keep what he thinks and feels to himself, it shows more on his face etc

They are both very sad and guilt-ridden boys though, OB feeling guilt over getting tricked and getting his bro killed and cursed, AB over also getting tricked and getting his brother killed proper and then failing in getting revenge due for not knowing humans do not live as long as him etc.

Which have made both of them pretty mistrustful towards others at first, OB is much better at hiding that mistrustfulness while AB is not as good its more easier to see when he don’t trust ya.  

Both of them are really into drinking wine and are both sad drunks if they drink too much, tho AB is a bit more hesitant to drink than OB is due for wine been involved in the incident that cost his brother his life.

AB loves music, loves to dance and play his violin or flute, he would really enjoy like festivals where there is allot of dancing and music and just having a good time.

AB is very knowledge hungry, he loves reading and learning since he has missed out on allot of things and he don’t like not knowing about things. Tho he is a sucker for really trashy romance novels.

AB got no shame at all and would walk around naked unless ppl didn’t insist he should wear clothing which he don’t get at all, except for the fact he looks really good in it and it makes him feel pretty, but otherwise no. OB too don’t have any shame but knows why he should wear clothes he isn’t a barbarian after all etc pft.

Both OB and AB are very romantic, they love that romantic af stuff allot, and both are afraid of experiencing it as they both are afraid to get used again, only difference here is that AB gets over that fear much easier and also ends up not been afraid of having sexual encounters with no romance involved which OB is unable to do.

Both of them are very cuddly and loves to just lay down and cuddle and chill in some sunny spot with a good book and someone to rest against, also like to sit and talk about everything and anything. 

AB is a bit more clingy and not the best with other ppl’s personal space, he is learning tho. and AB also has trouble understanding humans and their stuff they got going as he is after all a mythical creature but he is very curious about them, even tho its a bit hampered i think the word is due for the whole incident and his many years of hating human men.

and I feel I have written hella lot now while also been unsure if I like how it turned out so this will do for now ye, hope ya enjoy kit UwU ❤ this was fun af ye

[joyofcrime-elinorhigh]

Teen Titans Go! REVIEW: (Part 2)

 Hello everybody, my name is JoyofCrimeArt and welcome to part two of my Teen Titans Go! retrospective! Or should I say my Teen Titans.....................................................................................................................No....retrospective.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzKJ4HX4Fuk

Get it? because the show isn't that good! Okay, remember to click that bell icon and turn on notifications to-  So in case your just joining in, this is part two of my Teen Titans Go! retrospective/review. If you haven't seen part one than I highly recommend that you check it out before going forward. To sum up the point I made in my last part...I didn't like this show that much.  WHAT?! A CARTOON CRITIC ONLINE WHO DOESN'T LIKE TEEN TITANS GO?! WHAT A NEW AN UNIQUE TAKE-  But for THIS part we are mostly going to step away from the show itself, and focus on the more meta aspect of the show. So really this part isn't even a review of Teen Titans Go! and more of "A review of elements that are tangentially related to Teen Titans Go! and the conversation around it." But since that title won't fit in the Deviantart title box and it's not "clickbait-y" enough, we're going with this instead.  So I just want to re-emphasize that, for the most part, none of the things I clique here are actually the fault of the shows crew or creators or anything. But I think it's still important to discuss these points because, as I stated last time, I think the conversation around the show is far more interesting than the show itself. So let's dive in.  We'll start with the elephant in the room. Let's talk about the shows handling of critics. This is one of the most notorious elements of the series. Now, I'm just going to say this...I kinda get where the creators are coming from. For real. While there are MANY legit reasons to dislike the show, (Around 4,000 words worth according to my last review alone.) However, out the gate, Teen Titans Go! got hate from ALL cylinders. Young Justice fans bitter about there show being "replaced." Old school Teen Titans fan upset this wasn't season six. People who just wanted action shows. And I'm not going to be high and mighty, as I said last time, I was one of these people. (However, I never made long curse filled rants on Youtube or called for the creators to be shot or anything crazy like that.)  Some people say that reboots are "lazy and easy" because you get a built in audience with zero effort. But I believe the total opposite. Making a reboot sounds like a nightmare. People are much more unforgiving when it's an i.p they love and often times will hate you for the littlest things and won't give you a chance. Just look up how many Powerpuff Girl 2016 rants there were BEFORE any footage of the show was even released. People who are in these positions have it rough, and deserve more appreciation. I can't imagine the amount of hate the two show runners must get on a daily basis, which is probably why they don't seem to have social media accounts.    HOWEVER this is where we get into what I think is one of the biggest problems in society today, and that's strawmaning. And I feel like I shouldn't have to say this, but here I go. And this can apply for anything. JUST BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE WITH AN OPINION ARE ASSHOLES DOESN'T MEAN THAT EVERYBODY WITH SAID OPINION ARE ASSHOLES!  I'm not going to act like there aren't people out there who take Teen Titans Go! WAY to frickin' seriously. That's just factually wrong. But not EVERYONE who has issues with the show are loud obnoxious neck beards who are mad that there "childhood was ruined." And that's how the show and some of the more hostile defenders of the show try to paint "all the haters." Some people just have legit criticisms that they want to get out into the world. When most people write a review of Teen Titans Go!, I don't think there doing so expecting the creators to see it and change the show for them. (I know some do, but again, don't mix the rude jerks in with the rest of us.) They're doing it because they feel passionately, and want to share there opinions with others. Or because they see wasted potential. There's a difference between criticism and hating.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4Ai4G6ccfA

 And the thing is...and this is something that I think I'm in the minority opinion on, but I don't think you HAVE to listen to every piece of criticism you get. I've noticed this trend as of late, where people expect that if they criticize something, the author or creator is obligated to change it. And if they don't then there just "not taking the criticism." But that's not how it works though.  For example, if someone where to tell me "You're reviews are too long." I would definitely take that into consideration, and I would appreciate the input. However, I like overly long analytical reviews, and that's what I'm going to keep doing because that's the type of reviews I wanna make. I might try to shorten them a LITTLE bit, but I would never just start writing few hundred word reviews, cause that's not the art I wanna create.   In the same vain, if Teen Titans Go! doesn't wanna except any of there criticism, that's fine. If the show wants to just go about doing it's own thing, more power to it. But when it does these criticism tackling episodes it's breaking the first rule of the internet. Never let people know when something bothers you. And yeah, I think if a TV show goes out of it's way to tell the critics "you suck" than the critics have the right to say it back. And I know you could say that the show has the right because they started that. But I don't know, there's just some part of me that believes that as the content creator, you have a responsibility to be the bigger person. If that makes sense?  This show basically is "Dab On The Haters: The Animated Series." Really, all the criticism tackling episodes can be summed up like this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rnd6WLi3TWk

 And the thing is, Teen Titans Go! really doesn't need to defend itself so hard. Because the show is a huge hit! It's clearly super popular with a large group of kids and adults alike. Why be so fixated on pleasing the people who you know your not going to please, when you can focus on the people who love you just the way you are? You don't see shows like Powerpuff Girls or Ben 10 reboots attacking the "haters" like this, and those shows don't even have the added advantage of being that popular.  As it stands, Teen Titans Go! is a show that reeks of insecurity. And as much as I shit on the show last time, it shouldn't be. Clearly the show is doing something right if it lasted this long. Teen Titans Go! the show that taught me how NOT to handle criticism. And honestly, I thank the show for this. I'm a sensitive guy, and I can be very harsh on myself. Without Teen Titans Go! acting as an example of what NOT to do, I could see myself becoming that kinda guy, who mask his insecurities with a faux ego.

Hey...did you see the way I just casually used the word "faux." Oh, I'm great and anyone who think otherwise is dumb...  However, I will give Teen Titans Go! this. I do think that when the humor goes "meta" it's when the shows comedy is at it's best. Because the people behind this show clearly know what this show is. They know it's reputation and it's status among other works of superhero fiction. Plus, as I said, the conversation around the show is far more interesting than the show itself. So when the show tacking these more interesting aspects the episodes tend to be more interesting as well. It's rare to find a show as self-aware of it's own status, and they take advantage of every opportunity that this presents.  I just wish it could do so without insulting me is all.  But do I even have the right to be criticizing this show though? I mean it's for kids, and kids clearly like it. Who right do I, a fully grown adult, have to stop kids from enjoying what they like. Why do I have to stand here and push my radical pro-Steven Universe agenda?!  That has been an argument I have been seeing a lot lately. And honestly, there are some aspects I actually do agree with. If you are reviewing a show with the hope of convincing someone to hate something that they previously liked, just because you hate the show, than in my personal opinion you are reviewing the show for the wrong reason. If you like Teen Titans Go! and somehow made it this far in the review, I want to be clear, you have the right to like whatever you want to like. Whenever I do a negative review of something, it's never with the intent of trying to stop someone from enjoying something they like. I just want to express why I don't like it.    As for the kid show argument, in some instances I agree with that argument too. Kids and adults are different. They have different taste and different things that they relate to. And shows are, from a business standpoint, targeted at a specific age demographics. I don't know why it's okay to call a show an "adult cartoon." but if you call a show a "kids show" it's deemed as an insult to the medium. Why is it wrong to say that I enjoy things aimed at kids? But getting back to the point, adults and kids look for different things in a show. Like, a kid obviously wouldn't be able to relate to the theme's presented in Bojack Horseman, and an adult would likely be board to tears by something like Peppa Pig.  However, the difference here is that Teen Titans Go! airs on Cartoon Network. And thus, it should be held to the same standard as other Cartoon Network shows are held to, since all CN shows are pretty much aimed at the same general age range. Not only that, but the show is rated TV-PG! i.e.) The same rating as Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Regular Show, and Over the Garden Wall. Technically speaking, kids aren't even suppose to watch this show without an adult. So I think it's fair to say that this show SHOULD be made with kids and adults in mind.  If this show was truly intended only for kids, and adults shouldn't watch it, than why are there so many 80's references and scenes that feel very...um....

Totally Spies...If you know what I mean.  Basically, my point here is that it is, in my opinion, completely reasonable to cirque this show. And it's weird because the whole "It's for kids" and "Don't like, don't watch." arguments are usually seen as a joke argument. (even though I personally feel like both arguments do apply in certain situations.) But with this show, I see people using these arguments a lot. And to each there own, I'm not going to stand her and say your argument is "invalid." But I think it is odd that this show seems to be the only show where these arguments is deemed "acceptable."  Also, if you watch Cartoon Networks live feed on a regular basis, it's hard to follow the "Don't like, don't watch." rule because the show is on so frickin' much!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyxX3ix2jp8

What makes this ad worse is how much this kid looks like Logan Paul...  Cartoon Network spams this show. And while I'm sure that this show would still very much be hated regardless of the scheduling, I think the scheduling is a major factor in how this show manged to stay a relevant topic of conversation in the cartoon community for over five years at this point. Humans, in case you haven't realized this by now, are very stubborn and spiteful creature by nature. If you shove something down someone's throat, or in this case tell that that it's there new favorite show, there bound to have an adverse reaction. Regardless of the actually quality of the product. Also, the show wasn't even "new" when that ad campaign started!  However, I do want to point out that it isn't Teen Titans Go's! fault that it's being spammed so much. It's Cartoon Networks scheduling departments. Traditional television is dying, and channels need to air what gives them ratings. Cartoon Network has always been in last place rating wise, when compared to there rivals Nickelodeon and Disney. They need to air what gives them ratings. And Teen Titans Go! is that. I get it.  However, and keep in mind I'm not an expert on any of this and have no idea what I'm really talking about, I feel like eventually this will come back to bite them. EVENTUALLY Teen Titans Go! is going to end. Even if it's after we're all long dead and buried, the show will die. It's already been running for five years, which is an eternity in kid cartoon time. And when this show does end, CN is going to need something else to keep people coming back. Because as of now, this show and Gumball (which is ending soon.) are the channels only main draws with the ratings. CN, as of it stands now, needs this show. And when this show does end, they'll need some kind of back up series if they hope to survive in this modern, cord cutting climate. This cash cow can't be milked forever.  R-right? P-Please God, tell me it can't last forever!

...Again with the Totally Spies.  But while I'm on the topic of Teen Titans Go! success, I have to ask the question of why? Why do kids gravitate more towards this show, in particular? Because as I stated in the last part, the idea taking an establish i.p and making a more comedic slice of life reboot may have been fresh back in 2013, but now of days we are over saturated with shows just like that. Show's like Powerpuff Girls 2016, Ben 10, and to a lesser extent Justice League Action and Be Cool Scooby-Doo are all more comedic versions of there respected brands, but none of those shows are nearly as successful. (And this isn't me saying those shows are bad because they follow TTG's mold. It's all about execution and I'm trying to make a point.) What does Teen Titans Go! have that these other shows don't?  The way I see it, the reason why Teen Titans Go! is popular while those other "Teen Titans Go-esq shows" (Even the really good ones like Justice League Action.) aren't has to do with intent and execution. Those other shows only chose to become more comedic because it was deemed "more marketable." And while I'm sure that was a factor in why Teen Titans Go! was pitched as a comedy, I feel the difference is how the shows chose to treat itself. Those other shows are made to be safe and marketable. They want fans new and old to like the show, so people will be more likely to buy the merch, which in turn will fund more seasons. Teen Titans Go! on the other hand, doesn't care about playing it "safe." It'll do whatever crazy and messed up things it wants to. The show revels in it's inaccuracy to the original.  A marketing team and a bunch of executives think Teen Titans Go! is successful because it's a comedy based on a beloved brand. But the reason I think it's popular is because it doesn't give a fu*k! To people who like this show, that's why they like it. And that's why the show is so interesting to talk about.  Also there a lot of elements in Teen Titans Go! appeals to kids. It's full wish fulfillment. Who doesn't want all the power and none of the responsibility. Who doesn't want to not have to worry about school or work, and just sit on a couch eating food all day. The show is loud, crazy, and colorful. It appeals to kids, and some adults, on a base level. It appeals to our more lazy and selfish aspects of our personalities that we all have, but chose to keep buried inside out of fear of social consequence. And while all that may sound harsh, I really don't mean that as an insult. There's nothing wrong with a show appealing to those aspects of our subconscious, because it can allow us to express those feelings without acting upon them. It's the same reason why people like characters like Bender from Futurama, or Rick from Rick and Morty. Teen Titans Go! is that for kids, and there's nothing wrong with that. Especially in a time where so many other kids shows are so nice and non-cynical. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  So, to wrap everything up, Teen Titans Go! might just be one of the most fascinating and influential shows of the 2010's? But do I recommend it? Well, despite EVERYTHING I ranted about in part one, from the lackluster comedy, horrendous writing, lazy reusing of voice acting and animation, and the lack of basic understanding when it comes to telling a story...I surprisingly actually do highly recommend it. 

 Listen, just hear me out here. While this show in all technical aspects is a frickin' train wreck. But sometimes, you just want to watch a train wreck unfold. It's fascinating to see just what this show is going to do next. What crazy, half backed decision it'll do. And honestly, it's hard not to admire how much the show just goes for it, even if "it" isn't something that you should go for. The show has this element of "watch-ability" even if I know the show itself isn't technically "good." It's a show worth watching, if for no other reason than to have an opinion on it. I think it's pretty obvious who will love this show, who will hate this show, and who will ironically love it. Maybe it's just Stockholm syndrome, but I will be genuinely sad when this show does come to an end.  But I want to end on this note. If you hate this show with a fire-y passion, feel free to do so. You have the right to like or not like whatever you want. Don't be afraid of giving your opinion just because your worried that people will think that your a "hater" or that it's "cringy to still be talking about Teen Titans Go! in 2018." Value your thoughts and share them with the masses. Just don't be a jerk about it. Don't assume that "everyone who likes Teen Titans Go! are mindless sheeple." or complain that this show "ruined your childhood." Because forcing your opinion down other peoples throats will get you nowhere. And remember that no show last forever. In ten years from now this show will most likely be forgotten about. Think about how many people HATED Johnny Test just a few years ago, and complained about how much CN spammed that show. When was the last time anyone talked about that show? Meanwhile the original Teen Titans, a show that originally aired fifteen years ago, is still getting prime time reruns on Cartoon Network as recently as early 2018. And honestly, without Teen Titans Go!, there's a good chance that the interest in the original Teen Titans wouldn't have risen to the point where it is today. So you should thank TTG for that.  And to the people who defend Teen Titans Go!, I get it. It can be rough loving something when EVERYBODY online hates it. I went threw a similar thing when the Powerpuff Girls reboot came out. It sucks feeling like you're in the minority opinion, but remember that just because something is hated online, that doesn't translate to actually results. There's a reason this show is on it's fifth seasons and got a theatrical film. And if you love this show, if it really is your new favorite show, enjoy that fact that a show you love is as popular and influential as it is. But don't be a jerk about your opinion either. Don't belittle people for feeling passionately about a series and remember that not EVERY person who hates the show isn't some kinda "hater." Never assume that the worse people in a group represents the whole group. And never let other people force you to hate something you love. You're taste make you the individual you are, and never forget that.  I want to end this review with a line from Teen Titans Go! A line that I believe the show sadly forgot about, but is a message that I think is very important. Especially given the current climate of the cartoon community.

 This applies to all sides.  Hopefully this review was able to add something new to the table.  What do you think of Teen Titans Go? Leave any thoughts you may have in the comments down bellow. I love love to hear all opinions from both sides of the aisle, and start some conversations. Maybe help people gain some new perspectives. Also what did you think of the format of this review? Would you like more deep dive retrospects in the future? Please fav, follow, and comment if you liked this review and have a great day.

https://www.deviantart.com/joyofcrimeart/journal/Teen-Titans-Go-REVIEW-Part-2-755898579 DA Link

[96enox-blog]

pool date (woozi)

to a boy i love right now; October 16

A/N: Yeah. I fell in love with Lee Jihoon over the last couple months. Every story in this series will probably show that. Man, I adore him. The dates are important lol. I like chronology. Here we go. Happy 2019! Here’s to a start to my own personal project.

PS: Promise the stories shorten after the first few :D

word count: 1.8k | fluff fluff fluff | also clearly I like pool | and I never name her. | Part 2: October 24

“How is this fun?” she demands as Hansol nudges her into the pub. “This seems like the least fun place you could take me to.”

Hansol snorts as Seungkwan follows them inside. “Oh come on. You’ve been studying non-stop, noona. It’s a good idea to relax a little.”

Her eyes swing around the room. There are four pool tables in the center with booths all along the perimeter. A few people are lined up waiting for drinks at the bar. It smells musky and the lighting is dim except for over the pool tables. It feels like a Western-cowboy movie.

“They’re here already,” Seungkwan says over her shoulder.

“Where?” she asks. Her heart rate picks up at the prospect of meeting new people.

Hansol urges her forward.

Seungkwan had called him to their apartment when she’d walked out of her bedroom and screamed into a pillow on their couch. When she’d calmed down enough to talk, Hansol had gotten out of her that she was stressed about midterm season. So Hansol had instructed that they get dressed (that included Seungkwan) and he would take them somewhere fun.

As she had left the room, she’d overheard the two boys whispering. And at first, she was compliant, going and actually getting dressed even though a little voice nagged her about all the study time she’d be missing. By the time she went out to find Hansol on the couch, she’d changed her mind.

He smiled up at her, but frowned when he saw her expression. “Ah, ah, ah, noona. You aren’t backing out. I’ve already made plans for us. There are people waiting for us.”

“There are who doing what?” she demanded. “I don’t want to see anyone, Hansol.”

“Your outfit says otherwise.”

As they now walk up to a pool table of Hansol’s music major friends, her outfit still feels out of place. Her large hoodie and skinny jeans don’t exactly feel dressed up when the boys look wonderfully casual.

“I’m so not going to enjoy this,” she mutters to Hansol. Despite herself, a smile grows on her face. The tallest one returns it when he sees her. An arm drapes around her shoulders.

“Noona, didn’t think Hansol would be able to get you out here.”

“Nice to see you too, Mingyu,” she grumbles. She leans into him. He’s the only one she’s met before. The three other boys are familiar, because they tend to be around when she goes to find Hansol on campus. The one currently angling to take a shot is dressed similarly to Mingyu in a silk shirt, though his black contrasts Mingyu’s pale pink shirt.

The familiar crack of two pool balls connecting echoes in her ears. She watches the 6-stripe roll into the right corner pocket. The man straightens and high-fives the man standing next to him. Both have equally impassive expressions, though the one who’d just played is considerably shorter than the other men around the table.

“Oh, noona, I don’t think you’ve ever met my roommate,” Mingyu says. The man looks up at Mingyu’s voice. “That’s Jihoon hyung. He’s majoring in music production.”

Jihoon bows his head and takes the water bottle from his partner’s hand so he can play. Mingyu takes it upon himself to introduce the players she doesn’t recognize. “That tall cool guy is Wonwoo hyung. He’s good at games and Jihoon hyung is really competitive, so it’s not really fair that—”

“Shut up, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s deep voice murmurs. Over the music and all the other people playing pool, she’s surprised that his voice rings clear. She hadn’t even noticed his mouth moving. Carefully, he rounds the table, eyeing all the possibilities.

Meanwhile, Mingyu draws her attention away from Wonwoo to a man with brightly coloured hair and a bright smile on his face ready to greet her. His two front teeth remind her of a bunny and she can’t help but reciprocate the smile. “This is Soonyoung hyung. He’s not very good.” He waves towards the pool table. “That’s why we’re losing and the hyungs are going to beat us.”

“You just suck at the game, Gyu,” Jihoon chuckles.

“Noona’s actually really good,” Hansol quips.

“You take my place,” Mingyu encourages. “I’ll play with Hansol and Seungkwanie.”

She bites her bottom lip as Mingyu hands off his pool cue. Jihoon, across the table, notes that the cue is too long for her. Since Wonwoo is still trying to decide at what angle he wants to hit the cue, Jihoon passes his pool cue across the table. She hands Mingyu’s back towards him and Jihoon heads towards the far wall where there are others. She tosses the pool cue between her hands and finds it’s a little too heavy for her liking. She glances at Wonwoo who still hasn’t taken his shot yet.

Soonyoung is apparently on her train of thought. “Wonwoo, stop taking eons. Let’s go.”

She joins Jihoon at the cue rack. He glances over at her as she walks up. “Still too long?”

“I tend to use a lighter one,” she admits. She hands it back to him. Jihoon studies it and watches her try two others before picking the latter. She inspects the tip and shrugs.

“You play pool often?” Jihoon asks.

She shakes her head as they make their way back to the others. “I honestly haven’t played in a while.”

Hansol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu have bought a beer for everybody. As she’s not into drinking and Jihoon has to be up early for a class the next day, they pass on the alcohol.

“More for us then,” Mingyu sings. They’ve taken to a booth across from their pool table. Wonwoo and Soonyoung with a beer in them are useless players, so she and Jihoon have kicked them out.

To make it more interesting, they’ve started betting. So far, he owes her a pizza and she owes him a coffee. It’s getting late and they’re on their last game.

She bends over to line up the cue ball with the striped 4 at the other end of the table. It’s sitting right next to the far left pocket, courtesy of Jihoon’s last shot. She tucks her hair behind her ear, but it tickles her neck. It also doesn’t help that Jihoon’s eyes are following her every move. He was careful at the beginning, careful not to stare, careful not to brush by her. As they’ve played and she’s won and made a few hard shots (and with Hansol and Seungkwan shouting some drunken facts about her), he’s become increasingly more interested.

Sighing, she pushes her cue stick into Jihoon’s hand, as he’s basically standing right next to her. There’s no elastic on her wrist, so she turns to Hansol. “Do you have one of my elastics?”

Hansol pats his pockets and nods. He stretches across Seungkwan and Soonyoung to give it to her. Since becoming friends, he’s learned to carry a spare on him for when she forgets them for lab or if she has a test. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail and sighs in relief. Rather than lining up herself and the ball again, she trusts her judgement and hits the cue.

The crack is satisfying and she watches, with a smirk, the ball fall right into the pocket. The cue ball bumps into the edge before rolling back to the center of the table. Jihoon has given her a few free shots by knocking the cue ball in after his own solid. She smiles and turns to Jihoon. “I have the 8 ball left, Jihoon. I think you’re gonna have to owe me delivery after all.”

“Hyung, don’t let her smack talk you,” Mingyu calls.

Snorting, she meets the man’s eyes. Mingyu is grinning stupidly, as he has since consuming his second beer.

“If that’s your best smack talk, I think I’ll be fine,” Jihoon snorts.

“I don’t really talk smack. I let my play prove how good I am.”

Jihoon tips his head, unable to argue with her there. She can’t get the 8-ball in one shot, so she rolls it near a pocket out of Jihoon’s way and lets him play. While he’s been checking her out, she’s been doing the same in return. And she has to admit that his butt isn’t bad to look at.

Now, he wiggles it a little, knowing she’s staring.

Maybe it’s that sip of beer from Hansol that has eased her nerves a little. Or she’s already too warm in this room that she can’t feel her embarrassment anymore.

Jihoon knocks three of his solids into various pockets. He sinks his last one and then straightens up, standing across the billiard table from her. “I bet you one date.”

She blinks in surprise at this turn of events. The boys can all hear him and hoot from their spots in the booth. Jihoon ignores them. “If I sink the 8-ball in this next shot, you owe me a date.”

As he was playing, he’d bumped the 8-ball out of alignment. To get it into any pocket from its position right now would be difficult. Jihoon is a mediocre player at best and she knows she’s better than him at the game.

Dating good looking musical types scares her though, so saying yes here would either be bad or worse news for her. Bad if she doesn’t get the date, worse if she does. So she nods. “Okay, deal.”

Jihoon smiles and her heart melts a little. The boys have gotten up, drinks in hand, to stand around the table as Jihoon lines up his shot. Hansol drapes an arm around her shoulders, mostly because he gets clingy when he’s had a bit too much to drink.

They watch as Jihoon stares hard at the table. Throughout the night, she’s watched his eyes switch from focused to unfocused just from a tilt in his head. He almost looks angry when focused.

Finally, Jihoon bends over to take his shot. The ball knocks against one side, rolls to the other before knocking into the 8-ball. The momentum continues through and pushes the ball away from the closer pocket to the one on the other side. It lands perfectly into it. Mingyu and Soonyoung yelp, running to jump onto Jihoon’s back. He grins across the table at her and Hansol squeezes her shoulder.

Outside the pub, their friends separate to give them time to say goodbye.

“I didn’t think you’d manage that last one,” she tells him honestly, burying her hands into the pockets of Hansol’s jacket.

Jihoon scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it either. But you owe me a coffee and a date now.”

“Coffee date on campus tomorrow then?” she asks. “After my midterm.”

Jihoon nods. He holds his phone out to her. She texts herself and feels her phone buzz in her pocket. After passing the phone back, they awkwardly stand there. He shuffles his feet, unsure of how to say goodbye.

Until Mingyu steps in to save them. He loops an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders. “You have class early tomorrow, hyung. We should go.” He steers Jihoon away. Over his shoulder, Mingyu calls, “He’ll see you in his dreams, noona.”

Jihoon’s ducked head indicates embarrassment and she can’t help but laugh.

[funnycutcats]

The Exotic Shorthair Cat - Paper Tiger to Pedigreed

The Exotic Shorthair Cat - Paper Tiger to Pedigreed

The exotic shorthair cat, which looks like a tugboat in a velour body stocking, was created, for the most part, by stealth. That stealth began to show its face during the 1950s and '60s, a time, ironically when America could still lay claim to a certain innocence. Be that as it may, the appearance of a number of American shorthair show cats underwent noticeable changes back then. You could notice those changes about the cats' eyes, which grew larger and rounder; about their coats, which grew silky and seductively plush; and about their muzzles, which grew short, shorter and padded. The credit for this evolutionary fast-forward can be placed squarely on the Persian's foursquare shoulders. To be fair, actually, that credit should go to the American shorthair fanciers who bred some of their cats to Persians and then registered the resulting kittens as American Shorthairs by falsifying their pedigrees. This slight of glands was committed in the interest of creating a more dramatic-looking American shorthair and, hopefully, of taking home a boatload of rosettes and hardware from cat shows. Because vice, like virtue, is its own reward, the new-and-improved American shorthairs did well in the show ring, despite the fact that the American Shorthair breed standard considered "any evidence of hybridizing" to be grounds for disqualification. Many judges, nevertheless, preferred to look the other way rather than to look askance at the Persian-like development of some American shorthairs. Marriages of Convenience

exotic shorthair One person who was unwilling to hazard whiplash by looking the other way so often was Cat Fanciers' Association (CFA) judge Jane Martinke, who suggested that CFA create a new breed called the exotic shorthair Cat. The exotic, which would be judged on the same standard as the Persian with the exception of coat length, would be assembled out of breedings between Persians and any shorthaired cats and would be accepted in all the colors in which those breeds occurred. Breeders with bogus American shorthairs that had been produced through illicit hybridization would be allowed to transfer their cats to this newly created amnesty breed without having to answer any embarrassing questions. Martinke's idea was accepted by CFA, and exotic shorthairs became eligible for championship competition on May 1, 1967; but instead of allowing breeders to create exotics by crossing any shorthaired breed with Persians, as Martinke had suggested, CFA restricted breeders to using American shorthairs. (That restriction, of course, has not stopped some breeders from slipping a little Burmese into the mix occasionally.) Despite CFA's willingness to let bygones become bylaws, few American Shorthairs were re-baptized as exotics after the breed had been accorded championship status. So deafening, in fact, was the sound of no hands clapping, that CFA's executive board voted unanimously on June 20, 1968, to rescind recognition of the exotic shorthair because nobody was showing them. Fortunately, someone at the meeting pointed out that judges were still complaining about American shorthairs that appeared to have Persian relatives. What's more, if exotics were disenfranchised, the people who had begun working with them legitimately would fall victim to the no-good-deed-goes-unpunished effect. Therefore, the motion to defrock the exotic was tabled for further discussion. Additions and Attractions

exotic shorthair The opportunity to make honest cats out of un-American shorthairs was not the only convenience offered by the creation of the exotic shorthair Cat. People who didn't want to risk bursitis and emphysema from the frequent grooming that Persians require found the wash-and-wear exotic an engaging option. What's more, breeders put off by the Persian's delicacy -- some Persians can catch a cold just by looking out the window on a rainy day -- found the exotic shorthair's hybrid vigor equally attractive. Whatever their motivation, persons interested in creating the spitting, a shorthaired image of a Persian had their work -- if not their cats' conformation -- cut out for them. For one thing, none of the 10 shorthaired breeds in existence in the late 1960s looked anything like the Persian's kissing cousin. Thus, the earliest exotic breeders used American shorthairs (or Burmese or Russian blues) just often enough, usually once, to introduce the shorthair gene into their gene pools. After that (in order to give themselves more breathing room and their cats less) they bred exotics to Persians. Consequently, most of today's exotic pedigrees do not reveal the presence of a shorthaired cat -- other than an exotic, of course -- for many generations. Yet the shorthair influence, though remote, is difficult to remove, and even now few people breed one exotic to another more than once every two or three generations. To do otherwise is to risk lengthening the nose and shortening the coat on the exotic. Making a Short Story Long As exotic shorthairs came to look more and more like Persians, a transformation that was not accomplished overnight, another problem arose: What to do with the longhaired exotic shorthairs that could pass, and sometimes did, for Persians in the show ring? These cats could not be shown legally, yet they did occur frequently in breedings between exotic shorthairs and Persians. Long hair is the handiwork of a recessive gene. In order for a cat to have long hair, both of the genes it inherits for coat length must be longhair genes. Persians, therefore, contribute a longhair gene to every kitten they produce. If the exotic shorthair cat to which a Persian is bred also carries a longhair gene -- the result of having one Persian parent -- half the kittens in that litter will be longhairs. The solution to the longhaired-exotic-shorthair problem was simple: Allow longhaired exotics to compete as Persians or create a new breed called the exotic longhair. Most of the cat registries in North America have adopted one of those solutions. And at least one association has shortened exotic shorthair Cat to exotic. The Building Code of Exotic Shorthair Cat The exotic shorthair Cat has a broad, massive, carved-out-of-stone head with round underlying bone structure and great breadth of skull. Its ears are small, round-tipped and not unduly open at the base. Set far apart and tilted forward, the ears should ride low on the head so as not to distort its rounded contour. The exotic's cheeks are full, its jaws broad and tweakable, its chin firm and well-developed. Large, round, wide-set eyes and a short, snub, broad nose combine to produce the exotic's Campbell-soup-kid expression. This glorious head is connected by a short, thick, linebacker's neck to a medium-to-large body that has resounding depth across shoulders and chest, a level back, a hind end like a quarter horse, and a tail about as long as the distance between the neck and the tail root. The exotic's coat -- short by some standards, medium by others -- is dense, plush, soft in texture and full of life. Personality Profile of exotic shorthair Cat As you might expect from a breed that's 99 percent or more Persian, the exotic shorthair Cat is sweet, docile and seen but not heard. Moreover, because the exotic needs less grooming and fewer baths than the Persian -- and is much less difficult to dry -- the exotic is less apt to get testy at the sight of a comb or brush. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Follow us on : Facebook, Twitter, Instagram Read the full article

[brooklynislandgirl]

Married/Ship Meme for Beth and Marion :)c

Married Life Meme || Accepting

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Tatters of clothes like forgotten steamers of ribbons litter the ground. Darkly wet and sticky not even close to drying in the humid heat. A few lay there, trampled in the victory that had snatched them in the first place, others consigned to the earth in an effort to escape.

Further into the thickets of cypress and moss cloth is occasionally replaced with flesh for all the same reasons. It’s a grisly scene to come across, the implications of it both nauseating and fearsome.

Startled birds take loud wing, squawking warnings to their fellows but the swamp swallows that up. What’s worse though is the spectral echo of laughter and rough, ragged shrieks no human mouth can make. This is how legends are born. How they seed themselves into the earth and shadow below, and breathe just under the surface of algae-green carpeted pools.But then again, who ever said hide-and-seek wasn’t a full-contact sport had never Beth and her rougarou. 

forgets to run the dish washer

“I gotta dishwasher, sha,” she says. “M’own two hands.”Beth lays curled up on the couch, wrapped in a sheet as she watches Marion from across the room. The woman sounds a little offended and she’s not sure why. It was meant innocently, not as a social commentary on the way she lives. 

“Can I help a’least?”“Non.” The word is a little harsher than it’s meant and rests, quivering in the air. And she knows guilt is gnawing on Marion even though Beth has told her a hundred times that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. While she doesn’t walk in two worlds like Marion does, she understands it, otherwise she’d never even think to have made the offer.The bites will heal in a few hours, less if she speeds up the process, but the wound here only continues to atrophy.

pumps gas for the car

Marion resists the urge to light another cigarette as she sits in the driver’s seat, her thumbs tapping out a staccato rhythm on the steering wheel that has nothing to do with music and everything about the tension making camp between her shoulder blades.Outside, Beth is pumping gas and chirping away in undimmed enthusiasm for La Fete Louisiane up in Baton Rouge. She flits between asking for the dozenth time who Bienville and Évangéline are as if she can’t keep it in her head ~and bless that girl, maybe she can’t ~ and wondering if they should have made their own tintamarre. She talks about the presentations from the Houma Nation and asks after the origin of zydeco music, if Marion’s ever played pétanque. And maybe the last straw is when she talks about the first time she’s ever eaten crawdads, because she mentions the Other One.

It’s enough to make the beast snap and she does everything she can to keep it caged. “Ya done yet?”

drives when they’re going somewhere

And she’s still talking when she climbs back into the car; she might be adorable but Beth certainly doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose. That’s all youth and the undiminished innocence she manages to hold onto despite everything. And just maybe, Marion admits when she puts the truck into gear and pulls away from the gas station, she envies the little woman for that. And her man even more, though she avoids thinking about that. She breathes in the first tainted breath of the cigarette she promised herself and then switches on the radio to put a little distance between those bleaker thoughts and it’s as though someone, somewhere’s cursed her.

Beth sings along, to Marion. To the road. To the open road. She’s not very good at it but she makes up in volume and enthusiasm what she lacks in skill. One little hand comes to rest on Marion’s shoulder. “Love is in the water, love is in the air. Show me where to look, tell me, will love be there? Will love be there? Teach me how to speak, teach me how to share...”

She doesn’t seem to notice the way Marion’s body stiffens or the not quite affectionate look slanted her way and carries on with the impromptu serenade, right against Marion’s ear now.

“Beth?”

“Whoa…heaven let ya light shine down. Whooooaa, heaven let ya light shine down…yeah?”

“Go to bed wit dat.” Pointed, sharp.

The singing stops. There’s silence for a few precious minutes and then…“Is dat like one come on or one bad thing?”

For fuck’s sake.

“Eiddah way, pass a good time, yeah?” And oh how she giggles bright as sunshine.

rearranges the furniture

Weeks later and the hairs on the back of Marion’s neck stand as she makes her way back to her place. There’s sweat in the air and the slightest rasp of heavy breathing and she was not expecting company. Except that she should have. Under all of it is the smell of sandalwood, cinnamon and those flowers from across the sea.

When she makes her way inside there’s the little witch. Bare feet balanced on the balls of her toes, arms stretched out and straining as she fights a new couch. She’s losing ground as she tries to push it into place, and that alone demands the question how she got it here in the first place, how she’d moved the old one on her own and a moment later she’s on her knees with a loud gasp of surprise.

Only then does she seem to notice Marion and grins. “Su’prise?”

falls asleep with the TV on

So maybe the couch isn’t the worst. It’s certainly soft enough and the only memories attached to it are the ones they’re making. And maybe Marion doesn’t mind so much that someone so small manages to take up so much room, both physically and emotionally. The book she’d been reading out-loud falls to the floor and Marion doesn’t bother to reach for it, her hands are otherwise occupied. She’ll never really admit it but she likes the feel of Beth’s unruly locks beneath her fingers and if she moves, the girl was likely to wake up and realise just how late it was.Tells herself that she’ll send Beth away tomorrow, tell her that she can’t keep coming over when she pleases, that she doesn’t need the poetry and the softness. She’ll say a hundred cruel things, only half of which Beth will understand; the language is easy but maybe the witch is made of Teflon because no clue seems to stick.

The same promise Marion has made a handful of times, same promise she knows she’ll break when she drags the old afghan over those tiny shoulders.

gets to use the bathroom first

And it’s singing again that Marion wakes up to, this time from the bathroom where the door is open and bleeding steam into the rest of the house. The smell of coffee competes with soap, bacon with something softer, more delicately layered.

“But when we rise, is like strawberry fields. If I treated ya bad, ya bruise m’ face. Couldn’ love ya more, ya got a beautiful taste….”

And fists clench in the sheets. Half convinced that maybe she’s not as sweet and innocent as she appears, and is in fact, trying to kill Marion a little bit at a time. It’s almost insidious and that makes it all the more appealing.

With a half-swallowed groan, Marion drags herself up out of bed and chases the song.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

She never complains about the heat. No matter how humid ~the kind where you shower on Monday and are still wet come Friday~ the air gets, no matter how much vitality it saps from every living thing for miles, Beth delights in it.She tells Marion stories about sandy beaches and the murmur of the ocean under skies that are endlessly blue. She talks about thriving jungles full of exotic plants and taking what you wanted to eat if you can reach up and grab it. She talks of riding the sea, compares Snowballs to Shave Ice. She talks of old friends and relatives, though never her parents. To hear her talk is to imagine she was born right out of the waves and given over to this fabled hero of a man who looks just like her. Marion has suffered graciously through endless pictures of him.

Once in a while, she says she misses snow, the only thing she ever really liked about New York aside from the people she knew. Says she prefers the bayou because it’s less crowded and quieter and it never really gets cold.

She doesn’t really know, does she, that sometimes the chill has nothing to do with the weather, and how heat is leeched out of the body as it cools under the snap of jaws. If she’s very, very lucky, she’ll never find out.

sets up holiday decorations

Days melt into one another, from spring to harvest. Days shorten in length until night becomes dominant and in the deeper parts, the glaring eye of the sun fails to thrive at all. Marion marks the passing of the seasons by what there is to hunt, and what grows. She doesn’t have much use for gourds that will only rot from the inside out, or trees pulled indoors and strung with lights and tinsel; proof against the long, hungry winter. Paper-hearts aren’t any substitute for the once-living kind.

But she indulges Beth because it’s harmless and it’s sweet and those are things that Marion isn’t so familiar with. And because trying to stop her is roughly like sifting through the Sahara with a child’s shovel and pail. She draws the line at matching costumes, though, even if it is Mardi Gras.

leaves the lights on

Marion asked about the lights, once. What she got was a tangled web of answers, all of which only made half sense. The fear of the dark had filled Beth since childhood, maybe before she’d ever left the womb. There were things that lived in it, a writhing mass of shadows. One in particular had singled her out and came to her in the night, stealing her ability to move, to think, to breathe. That even the smallest of lights could keep it away, or at least that’s what her brother had told her, which in turn, made it Gospel truth.

Marion’s not so sure. Some of the other things she’s said that her brother told her sometimes were wildly inaccurate if not flat-out wrong. But it seems to make the little witch feel safe in some ways. Makes her easier to find at night when she carries the lantern out to her grove.And maybe the one thing even the Rougarou isn’t so keen on snuffing out is that little glimmer of hope that radiates out from her.

uses the bathroom with the door open

Standing on ceremony wasn’t a thing for them, that sense of privacy used up after the first two months they’d known each other. She says body functions are all natural and that skin was the first clothing and weird things like that, and Marion is pretty sure it’s all just an excuse. The one thing though that she’s always hated is having her bare legs showing.So she waits.Perfectly motionless until she hears the sink running and the sound of bristles scraping teeth.  Leans a shoulder in the door way and takes a good long look.The scar is pretty bad, jagged in its pattern and runs from the back of her knee to just above the ankle on an otherwise shapely limb. There’s a marked lack of muscle that leaves it shrivelled, stunted in comparison. How strange it was. Marion knows how much of Beth has been consumed, and how savage the tearing of flesh, almost down to the bone. She’s watched as slowly the witch’s body has rebuilt itself time and again without blemish, without anything more than a sweetly muffled sigh or an agonised cry that becomes something else entirely {the girl’s wiring is off, the way pain and pleasure for her are so intertwined}, and she eventually dances away without any evidence of the feeding. So why was that different.She almost feels guilty again when she looks up and sees Beth staring at her from the cracked mirror, green eyes for once bearing a light of anger uncommon to her. 

She speaks in her Haole tongue, not the pidgin so reminiscent of Creole. “It’s from before. Nothing I can do now can fix it. Nothing anyone else can do can fix it. A reminder that all magick comes with a price and it’s usually paid in blood.” From a limb.From a brother.From her soul itself.“Excuse me, mele, I need to get dressed.”And she shuts the door. 

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

The miasma of piss, sweat, and fear vies with the natural wet decay of the bayou. The Rougarou had been patiently hunting it down for most of the night, toying with its source, baiting it. Had chased it to ground...and dropped the scent for mere moments. Thick saliva dripped down its wicked teeth, carrion breath hot and fetid pushing out from the spaces between. It snarled at this new development, unhappy by any stretch of the imagination. Had chased the pitiful creature into the witch’s domain, and that warding around her grove had interrupted the prey’s tracks.But even so, it couldn’t soak up her words as she condemned the cowering, pitiful mass of regrets and weapons.“I know what ya huntin’ for. An’ dis is where ya vigil against da dark ends.” She raises her blade but doesn’t strike the Hunter with it, merely points with it’s sharp tip. Her other hand contains a roughly man shaped doll, made of bleached bone, tanned sinew. “When it’s done wi'ya, wha’evah is lef’ gonna get scattered across da swamp as a warnin’.” She snapped a limb of the effigy and bone shatters in the man, his wail loud. “Any of ya kind dat makes it into da bayou gonna meet a similar fate.” Another snap, another limb and the man collapses to his knees, hands in fists supporting his weight.He tries to plead with her but her face is a mask as luminescent and impassive as the moon above the canopy. “This place is my home, an’ da beast belongs t’ me. T’ink of me as very jealous an’ vindictive.” Another limb, another scream. “An’ unnerstan’ dat I’m da last t’ink ya eyes will evah set upon.”

She continues to break the hunter, bit by bit, occasionally using her powers to keep him conscious and a live to prolong the pain and the suffering.

The hunter manages to almost make it to sunrise.