#fuck the sun i want to be gloomy motherfucker

[b0rista]

— ❝︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍! 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐔. ·˚ ༘

♡︎ : the atmosphere i'm going for is frustratingly difficult to describe djjfjg the word "somber" doesn't really do it for me, but it's pretty much these emojis 🌑🌨🎞💸🚬⛓🔭

lowkey just wanted to put this trio & y/n (aka the loml) in a really dark, gloomy, modern metropolis type of place full of cold weather, inner monologues, and cigarettes JFKGK

ALSO my insp was the reiner + annie fanart in the center of the divider i made!! i really wish i knew the artist, but i couldn't find them :(( definitely NOT taking credit, it isn't my art whatsoever. but LOOK AT THEM UGH THE AESTHETIC

to balance things out, i wrote the reader as female! && characters are aged up to their early twenties.

the bunch of you met through your college courses— of course, the three of them had known one another since childhood, but you managed to weasel your way into their close-knit friend group. ever since then, you all share the melancholy city life.

during your guys' campus days, reiner worked for his master's in kinesiology. it isn't that big of a shocker that he aimed for something that pertained to his bulkier build,, mans grows up to be an absolute unit, lmao. wanting to maintain an above average salary, he used his education to earn himself a place in the certified training department. currently, he's a personal trainer of many clients, all of which he does his best to maintain.

bertholdt majored in philosophy, and worked toward his master's degree. with his intelligence, he got it. while all three of you (reiner especially), urged him to pursue non-profit professionalism, praising his skill and all around ability to do so, he lacked the confidence to push for it, and ended up going down another path. currently, he's sticking to the safe road, aiming to become a professor in the very course he excelled in. he's yet to get there, though— right now, he's a professor's assistant. it's less tiring, at least. still, he was capable of becoming something better.

as for annie, she majored in political science. unlike the other two, she worked to obtain a bachelor's degree. with that being said, she attended college for a little longer. eventually, she got her degree, and while she was a little lost after graduation, she made her way into the policy analyst game. she had the writing skills, sOmewhat of the drive, and while she's the youngest worker in her office, she's also the brightest. they're all also terrified of her, she speaks .6 words a day.

of course, what you did is entirely up to you! if you took two or three years to get your degree, you likely graduated alongside the boys. if it took longer, no worries, annie's degree took quite a bit.

now, the four of you are living in the same city, and you're all experiencing that said city's constant mournful, dingy atmosphere. the aesthetic is calming, actually; the weather is never nice, it's a rarity that you ever get an actual glimpse of the sun. no matter the season, so long as it isn't summertime, layers are a must. rainfall is a weekly occurrence, as well as the occasional thunderstorm. the merged stench of coffee grounds and burnt oil linger within the streets of the city, simply adding to the melancholy. basically, the general scenery is dark, cold, wet, and quiet. it's a gloomy place,, definitely comparable to forks, washington, but more of a metropolis than a town.

even with all of that being said, you and your friends have a good time. honestly, if you didn't all have eachother, you'd all probably go mental.

while reiner and bertholdt have their own seperate apartments, you and annie share a place. the rent was cheap, especially once split between two homeowners. two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a single kitchen & living area. it was too good of a deal to pass up. fortunately, you and her are compatible roomates.

with that being said, of course, it's often that the four lounge around at your guys' apartment. bertholdt always makes sure to check in before visiting, while reiner has the sour habit of showing up unannounced. you've both had to deny him a key, despite his pleading. you love him, but not that much.

sometimes, the two of them crash in your living room. typically, it's reiner on the couch while bertholdt takes up the floor, waking up the next morning in whatever flamboyant position he'd folded himself into during the night. every now and then, you and annie forget to head back to your rooms, and you crash right there with them. before you all fall asleep, you're typically all huddled up near the glass doored balcony, allowing the rainfall to serenade the four of you into a deep slumber whilst sitting within the crisp remnants of cigarette smoke and freshly opened liquor.

in a way, it's funny, because you all have a tendency to do that on a work night. just the four of you, sitting in your living room, drinking your alcohol, coating your furniture in the brisk stench of pure, solicited nicotine, watching your very own city drown within the darkening sky's tears as little to zero words are even spoken. when it comes to you and your friends, that's something that can never be contradicted; the quiet. these were how you spent your evenings together, especially after a rough day— silence, smoking, and the most peaceful sorrow imaginable.

of course, when you aren't wallowing in your own self pity, you're known to get drinks together. there's this certain booth in a local pub, it had burnt burgundy seats made out of leather. it's your guys' booth, and whenever you go out for a drink or two, that's where you sit. it's way back in the corner, where none of you can be bothered. one time, a couple of rascals had stolen it, and they refused to move. without a second thought, annie slammed one of those motherfucker's faces into the table. in suite, reiner took care of the other one, yanking him from the collar and kicking him to the floor. you and bertholdt only watched,, you were laughing, poor bert simply dragGed his palm down his face.

hey, at least you got your seats back! absentmindedly, you etched your initials into the bottom of the table with your pen. without a thought, the other three did the same, marking the corner as their own. don't fuck with that table, you'll be slaughtered.

when winter hits, it hits mercilessly. it's insanely aesthetic, seeing your group standing on the side of the busy street, all absolutely layered up in buttoned up winter coats and thickly knitted scarves. because they're both unnecessarily large, you depend on them for warmth every now and then. the amount of times you've buried your face within reiner's side while sitting on the subway during the midst of wintertime is stupid. as for bertholdt, he occasionally takes off his very own coat, draping it over you or annie's shoulders whenever either of you are seen shivering. he doesn't mind getting a cold, so long as you're warm.

speaking of the subway, your city has one. it's a pretty average way to travel, and due to none of you actually owning your own vehicles, it's where you go whenever walking or taking the bus isn't an option. the only one who isn't allowed to ride the subway alone is you. there was instance where on your way home from work, you had a run-in with an unpleasant bystander with the means to hurt you. ever since then, a code has been set where if you want to travel underground, you do it with one of them.

^ one time, you didn't listen, and you went by yourself anyway— unfortunately for you, reiner was boarding the exact same stop as you, and gave you quite the scolding. however, it's only because you're special to him. to all of them.

you and annie are actually closer than you'd imagine. being one of the only female friends she's ever been able to keep, you've grown to be an important figure in her life. of course, she'd never admit that to you, but you know. some nights, the two of you lean against one another on the sofa while black & white reruns play on the television, ultimately sending you both to sleep.

once a week, you have lunch with bertholdt at the university he assists at. you know just how glum the work makes him, and fortunately, you showing up every single sunday with coffee and sandwiches never fails to brighten his day. sometimes, you're the only one that can get him through the week.

bert's crush on annie is still very much a thing, even in this universe. of course, he's older, and for the most part, he's grown out of it. still, he stares. not as much as he once did, but he does. you and reiner only watch from afar, quietly sullen that he'd never quite gotten the guts to act on it.

bertholdt is also the group's umbrella holder. it's constantly raining, and due to his height, he's the one holding the bigass umbrella over the four of your guys' heads. when there isn't an umbrella, you just sort of seek refuse underneath his arms, which he gladly gives you. reiner and annie don't really mind, they get wet. it is a thing where you're all rushing to get out of the rain, the two men shielding the women's hair from the storm with their jackets as they run for shelter.

you all smoke. well, actually, whether or not you smoke cigarettes in this scenario is entirely up to you. if you'd like, ignore this part. anyway, cigarette sharing is a given. while reiner's preferred brand of darts is far more lucrative and more likely to kill him (he's dead inside, it fits), he won't hesitate to snatch a cigarette from in between the tips of your lips, bringing them to his own. it's something all of you do, even bertholdt. sharing is caring, you all say. you tend to do the same thing with wine glasses, or beer bottles.

it's practically gotham city, you're all dead inside grownups, god isn't real.

irllydidn'tlikehowthisturnedout-

[zero-cycle]

Rainy nights

TommyInnit, on Eret, betrayal and forgiveness.

Read it on AO3

***

The rain is heavy tonight.

Tommy knows Wilbur probably wouldn’t be happy knowing he’s out there but he’s a big man. He knows how to handle himself. He knows how to do the patrols even if it’s a dark and gloomy night and the wind threatens to sweep him off his feet.

The walls are slippery in the rain and more than once Tommy needs to steady himself on the merlons. The bright yellow concrete at least shines through the heavy drops and gives him the reminder he needs to not fall off and die an embarrassing death of fall damage.

The figure suddenly appearing out of the heavy rain makes him flinch and only Eret’s fast reaction keeps him from actually falling off.

“Tommy? What are you doing out here?”

“I’m just on patrol, nothing much,” Tommy deflects. “What about you?”

“Looking how the walls are holding up,” Eret answers and his accent is a tad more pronounced than usual. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll get sick. Didn’t Wilbur tell you to stay in the camarvan?”

“I’m a big man, Eret. No reason to worry about me.”

Tommy can’t see Eret’s eyes behind his sunglasses but he’d bet a lot that he’s rolling his eyes at Tommy’s antics. It’s probably better Eret’s wearing the sunglasses even though he looks incredibly stupid in the rain. Tommy still shudders when he thinks of those blank, white holes in Eret’s face.

“Then you certainly won’t mind me joining you during your patrol, won’t you?”

Tommy grins wildly. “Not at all, big man!”

They end up sitting on the wall together in the end. The rain hasn’t quite stopped but it’s not as heavy anymore.

There’s silence between the two of them.

“Do you like the rain, Tommy?” Eret finally asks. It sounds like one of those small talk questions that are essentially irrelevant but the way he says it makes Tommy think that there’s more behind the question.

“I don’t,” he shrugs.

“Why?”

“Are you serious?” Tommy turns and stares at Eret who’s still wearing his sunglasses. “Rain is cold and wet and horrible and it takes ages until your clothing’s dry again.”

Eret laughs. His laugh’s soft and quiet and you’re never entirely sure if he’s mocking you or not.

“What? Are you telling me you actually like this shit?” He wildly gestures around them, trees dripping with water and black stone gleaming wet in the slowly rising sun.

Eret goes quiet. “I do,” he answers, finally. “I don’t know why, exactly. It’s just…” They break off and stare into the distance. The sun touches the first trees in the forest before the walls. Tommy waits. The silence feels sacred somehow and the air is thick with some unreadable feeling.

“I just feel comfortable,” Eret finally settles on. “Like someone is watching over me.”

Then he laughs, nervous and uncertain as if he’d said too much and the tension breaks. “We should probably head back, Tommy. You’re soaked and Wilbur will have my head when he learns that I let you stay out here to get yourself pneumonia.”

Tommy grins and jumps to his feet. “What, are you scared of him?”

“You wish.”

Eret reaches out and ruffles Tommy’s hair which sends him scurrying away in the direction of the camarvan.

“Come on, Eret! Or are you so old that you can only move really slowly now?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Eret yells back and despite the sunglasses, Tommy can tell that he’s smiling.

Of course it’s Tommy who gets sick after that night. Eret, the motherfucker, walks around with not even a stuffy nose and even goes as far as bringing Tommy tea when he has to stay in bed.

“I’m going to throw the whole thing against the wall if you fill it one more time,” Tommy threatens.

Eret just laughs, bright and joyful and if Tommy wasn’t stuck in bed and slowly going insane, he might have appreciated it more.

“Listen, Eret, I’m fucking serious.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “I get it. No more tea. Is there something else you want?”

Tommy grins triumphantly.

*

It’s raining too, the night after Dream grants them independence. The night after the duel. The night after the war.

Raindrops are falling heavily on the hastily-patched roof of the camarvan where they’ve all bunked up together for the night but Tommy can’t sleep. The sound is making him nervous. Fundy is sleeping the farthest from them, curled into a corner. Wilbur leans against the wall, as if he’d fallen asleep while trying to stay up too long to read something. Tubbo is curled against his side in the only bed, breathing even but just a tiny bit shaky.

All of the L’Manberg citizens are here.

One is missing.

Hot anger bubbles up in Tommy’s stomach when he thinks of him .

Eret .

He’s probably sitting in his stupid, fancy castle now, on a throne that’s been bought with their blood. Damn traitor. Tommy hopes that the throne’s really uncomfortable. Well, Dream probably built it. And the man’s a shit builder. It’s probably really uncomfortable.

With bitter thoughts about the party the Dream Team – and what a stupid name that is – are probably celebrating over their victory and cursing them out in his thoughts, Tommy finally falls asleep.

A couple hundred blocks away, the castle stands dark and empty. The usually colourful windows look pale in the ever-falling rain and the drops on the roof sound hollow.

*

It’s far earlier in the morning than Tommy wishes when he arrives at the front door of the mansion but Ranboo insisted. Something about wanting to use as much daylight as possible. It sounds stupid when they’re going to the nether anyway but Tommy’s too tired to argue properly against it and Ranboo’s learning from Tubbo to not take his insults seriously so here he is. At who-fucking-knows-o’clock in the morning. Definitely-too-early-o’clock. The soft rain’s not helping his mood at all.

“Anyone here?” he yells and pushes the doors open. If he has to get up this early, then at least others have to share his misery.

Ranboob Ranboo’s head pokes out between the railings of the staircase. “Hi Tommy! I’ll be down in a second.”

There’s no Tubbo around to bother so Tommy entertains himself by going through the chests still standing around in the entrance hall. Really, you’d think someone like Ranboo would have put them away by now. Sadly, there’ s nothing interesting there. Not even a forgotten gold ingot or something.

Ranboo’s searching through another pair of chests near the entrance.

“Are you still not done?” Tommy asks and rolls his eyes. First he orders him here at a time that’s frankly unworthy of being called a time of the day and now Ranboo himself isn’t even ready?

“Sorry.” At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “It’s raining.”

“Oh.” Right. Enderman. Tommy has to stop forgetting about that.

“Do you like the rain?” Ranboo asks and it’s half-muffled by the chest he hangs in with his entire upper half but it still makes Tommy jolt.

Yellow walls and thunder over their heads.

Do you like the rain, Tommy?

“Not really,” Tommy mumbles. Something in his throat hurts. “I don’t like being cold.”

He purposefully doesn’t think about the last time someone posed him this question. It’s old history.

History, like - It’s in the past. Past. Doesn’t matter anymore.

Ranboo makes a noise of agreement and then one of triumph.

“Found it!”

He drags the helmet over his messy hair.

“Let’s go then!” Tommy shouts and thoughts about black walls and conversations in the rain are replaced by the burning heat of the nether and the hunt for ghast tears.

*

It’s afternoon when Tommy finally reaches the Prime Church.

Honestly, it’s a wonder it’s still standing, considering the state of... the entire rest of the SMP. But somehow, the Prime Church survived this entire debacle intact.

...mostly intact.

It’d probably help if there was still a roof.

Fine , the Church is in pretty bad shape. But the walls are still standing, that counts for something, right?

Unfortunately, the roof being gone means that there’s no shelter from the rain. Which really isn’t helpful if you just came from a battle and all you wanted was to sleep, not getting soaked.

At least there’s people here. Punz, the red streaks on his hoodie blood for once and no longer the egg possession, leans against one of the non-cracked walls. Ant, blue eyes shining out of his dark, messy fur, is busy dumping a healing pot on his arm. Purpled’s talking to Ponk and Foolish in a corner and Tommy could have sworn he’d seen Badboyhalo and Hannah a moment ago. Maybe one of them has a clever solution to how they’re not all going to get incredibly wet.

The answer is no, apparently. But Tommy also gets pretty quickly distracted from his search for a dry spot by a familiar voice.

“Tommy! I’m glad to see you!”

Tommy turns and he won’t admit it but he’s glad to see Eret made it too.

“Hi,” he grumbles instead.

“Tired?” Eret asks.

“That too,” Tommy answers and like for proof he yawns a second later.

“Wait, I might know how to make you feel better.” Eret turns and yells “Foolish!”.

“Yes?” The totem – god – whatever raises their head in their vague direction.

“Could you stop that?” Eret gestures wildly and while Tommy has no clue what he wants, Foolish seems to understand.

“Of course,” the...god, Tommy decides to stick with, answers and his eyes flash.

A second later, the rain stops.

“What…”

“You don’t like the rain,” Eret explains simply.

Oh.

Tommy’s throat constricts.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

Eret’s cape isn’t straight. Half of it is missing, too, but that’s not the point. Tommy can see the jagged scars that go all around Eret’s neck to his throat and back again. He keeps staring at them, the most visible reminder that they’re in a different time now.

Eret’s not a traitor anymore.

Tommy’s not the stupid kid he was back then.

Dream’s…. Dream’s gone. And he won’t come back for a very long time at the very least.

“Everything alright?”

It’s still weird to see all of them, casually concerned for Tommy. But Foolish seems sincere in asking, the smooth scars on his throat a perfect match to Eret’s.

Tommy has seen both of them fight. He’s seen the sky and the earth move to their wishes, has seen the terrible, terrible consequences their synchrony can bring. He’s seen the ruins they left behind, not hesitating a second in the fight.

It’s nearly funny, in a way. Tommy can’t really say he understands it but he can see their friendship in every gesture they make. In the way they gravitate to one another, the way they seem to fit like he and Tubbo do.

And still, there’s a part of him that will always see Eret as the traitor. The final control room cut deep.

But he also remembered.

It wasn’t an important detail. TommyInnit hates rain. It’s not something you could use against someone. It’s just a weather preference.

Nothing else.

“Tommy?”

Tommy forces his attention back to his present situation. That seems to currently be having two concerned gods staring at him.

“Sorry big man, must have zoned out a moment there.” He laughs.

Eret doesn’t laugh with him but he does smile.

“No worries. After a battle like this, it’s normal to be a little bit shaken.”

“Shouldn’t we be used to it by now?” The question is out faster than Tommy can regret it.

“Not really,” Eret shrugs. “You could fight a thousand battles like this and still end up a bit shaken afterward.”

Tommy very purposefully does not ask if either of them have fought a thousand battles like this before.

“Alright, alright. Listen, Eret, is there any reason for this?”

“The conversation?” Eret laughs. Tommy suddenly gets reminded that he can’t remember the last time he’s heard Eret genuinely laugh like this. “Not really. I just wanted to ask how you are holding up.”

“I’m fine. You two?”

“We’ve had worse.” Tommy’s eyes catch on the scar on Eret’s neck again but Foolish throws his arm over Eret’s shoulder and again, Tommy thinks of Tubbo and himself. Eret didn’t flinch and there isn’t even a small hint of unease. He just stays there, comfortable with Foolish in his space in a way that speaks of long years spent together.

It’s about time Eret got someone he trusted

Huh.

Didn’t expect that thought from himself.

Anyway, talking.

“That’s great, big man. Anyway, I’ll go and look if my house’s still fucking standing, ok?”

“Sure,” Eret agrees with an easy smile on his lips. “If you need anything, just come to the castle.”

“Sure thing.”

A week later will find Tommy digging for Eret’s secret chest for some building materials and that counts, right? He didn’t see anyone around but he wakes up to a chest full of oak wood and cobblestone and other things for his house. The sign beside it says “You could have just asked” and Tommy laughs because Eret isn’t mad.

For now, he just grins at Eret like he’s not already planning the heist.

Tommy wants to leave but some part of him hesitates. In the end, he says it without looking either of them in the eyes: “Be careful, yeah? Would be a shame to die now, after all the hard work I did.”

He walks away with the sound of laughter coming from behind him but it’s not mocking for once.

Tommy allows himself to smile and maybe, just maybe he’s ready to think of Eret as more than a traitor now.

If only this damn rain could stop.

“Foolish!”

[doctorgerth]

Matchup for @basilisa-scorpii​

Hello Coop, you precious ray of sunshine, congrats once again on well-deserved 1000 followers <3 I’ll take the risk and ask for the naughty matchup, haha. Basilisa (short: Bas) here, female, 24, ISTJ, sun Capricorn rising Cancer moon Aries, bisexual with preference for men. Appearance: tall (180cm/5’11), on the chubby side of body type (esp. when it comes to boobs), Greek type of beauty (dark hair and eyes, olivish skin), rather tomboyish with huge love for punk style. Personality: shy and reserved at first, but I easily get attached to people, I have huge tendency to be gloomy, can come across as rude and insensitive for people who don’t know me well, since I don’t really care about social boundaries and I’m very hot headed (but I do my best to restrain myself, so I rarely explode – but when I do, well, things are flying); my personality tends to turn softer when I’m around people who I like or care for tho; I care a lot for my friends, can be overprotective and I’m extremely loyal; I love sarcastic and morbid humor, around the right people I can be goofy and chaotic. And I’m clumsy. Very stupid level of clumsy. The kinky part: I’m the bratty type of sub – the one who likes to be dominated in bed (bondage, restraints, control training, sensory deprivation, spanking, dirty, slight degrading talk etc.) but hates control taking part outside of the bedroom; besides that: anal sex, wax and slight blood play, teasing (both receiving and giving), biting and other forms of slight sexual pain – generally idea of rough sex and fight for control, followed by aftercare is a huge turn on for me. I’m not a switch per se, but I don’t mind switching roles with my partner, especially as a part of fight for domination and teasing. I hope I haven’t written too much info, lmao. Good luck with the event and continue being awesome <3 

Basssssss so very honored to do a matchup for you!! Honestly, I had a really hard time choosing between your main match and your first potential suitor…….but I think your main match is just a bit better! Also, since you requested a naughty matchup, that is what I will be primarily focusing on. Hope ya like these!! 😉💕

Your match is…

Zoro (Scorpio, ISTP)

Zoro meets most of your kinks and then some. He likes to feel in control during sex and definitely has a repressed dom side hidden underneath all that dorkiness. He didn’t expect you to be such a sub when he took you to bed considering how hot-headed you can be, but it all made sense once he realized you are in fact a bratty sub. And lemme just say he loves it and is constantly turned on by it. Zoro likes a challenge so he utterly enjoys trying to get you to behave and it makes your sex so so exciting as you two fight for dominance. He wants nothing more than to roll around with you, marking you up, roughing you up a bit, and reminding you who you belong to and who is in charge. Only in the bedroom of course! Zoro would never try to control you outside of the bedroom and that’s what makes the sex so fulfilling. As soon as you two get into bed (or wherever you’ve decided to fuck…) it’s like entering into a whole other dimension, one where you both can embrace your desires. Zoro respects you and cares for you outside of the bedroom, but once you two get down and dirty, he doesn’t hold back on dominating you and roughing you up.  

Zoro has impeccable stamina and can keep you up all night with multiple rounds. On the opposite end, Zoro can be pretty lazy and impatient when it comes to sex sometimes. This usually only shows when you two try to incorporate bondage, he doesn’t want to waste his time with intricate binding that’s gonna prove difficult to tie and untie. The most he’ll use is his bandanna, his sash, or maybe a pair of handcuffs if you happen to own any. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy tying you up because he definitely does, but he’s just a bit impatient and wants to go the easiest route. Just enough to keep you secured! He’ll use the bandanna or sash as a form of sensory deprivation for you as well, blindfolding you while he has his way with you, heightening your senses and bringing you to mind-blowing orgasms time and time again! 

He’s utterly obsessed with your body, unable to keep his hands to himself both inside and outside of the bedroom. He can’t decide if he’s a boob or ass guy because frankly, he loves all of you! Whatever he can get his hands on, he’s going to do so. The way you jiggle and squirm underneath him (or on top), he can’t get enough of it. He can’t help but praise you and your sexy figure, proving over and over again that only you turn him on this much and can make him cum so hard. When it comes to your tits, he can’t fight the urge of wanting to fuck them. Mouth, teeth, tongue, hands, dick, he wants all of him all over them. Zoro also loves your ass so spanking is definitely incorporated during sexy times. He gets insanely turned on seeing his large hand prints painted a striking red along your soft, gorgeous ass. It makes him feel oddly proud to see how he marks you up, especially if your ass is still bruised well after sex. Continuing on with the ass love, he was incredibly excited when you offered the idea of anal sex to him. He’s always been a bit curious on the idea of fucking your tight little asshole, so when you gave permission, he was in pure bliss. It’s definitely one of his top kinks now thanks to you. 

Zoro wasn’t the best at dirty talk, especially degradation, at first, so you had to be the one to encourage that from him. It proved very fruitful cause Zoro has quite the dirty mouth on him now. Wax play is not something he ever considered before, but he’s grown to actually enjoy it. He’s realized he has a bit of a temperature play kink, especially when he incorporates knife play, which leads to your shared kink of slight blood play. Zoro isn’t much of a tease outside of the bedroom but he can be a bit relentless when he gets you alone. Thankfully, it doesn’t ever last that long because Zoro is a bit impatient and wants to get to pleasuring you asap. But, having you beg for him is something he doesn’t mind entertaining for a while. He finds your teasing incredibly sexy and thinks you’re the best at it in the relationship. When you decide to top him and take control, my oh my is he a sucker for it. Seeing your gorgeous body atop his, riding him and using him for your pleasure, he could lay back and watch that tantalizing sight all day. Unfortunately, he usually gets too excited and doesn’t last long when you do this lol he always blames you of course - you’re just too good at taking him! Basically you two are pretty kinky motherfuckers and you both enjoy exploring your interests together! There’s been some things you didn’t particularly enjoy and some things you’ll never get tired of, the point is that you two have fun and love exploring different kinks with each other. Your sex is plenty rough and playful, leaving you utterly sore, exhausted, and satisfied every single time! Zoro puts his all into fucking you, no matter if you’re being rough or sensual, so unfortunately he doesn’t last long enough for intensive aftercare before he passes out beside you. But, he’ll usually aid in cleaning up and will make sure to fall asleep with you tight in his embrace! Rough Zoro disappears the moment he cuddles up into bed with you, in comes clingy post-sex Zoro. Make sure you go pee before he passes out on you because it is impossible to get him off otherwise!

Other potential suitors:

Kid (Capricorn, ESTP) - Two hot-headed Capricorns? You might not be able to survive each other outside of the bedroom, but he brings you everything you could desire and then some when in the bedroom. He’s a total dom so he never minds taking control of you and he fully embraces your bratty sub behavior. Like Zoro, he appreciates a challenge and loves to put you in your place. He also loves your curvy body and knows how to give it the love it deserves. You share a lot of similar kinks so there’s no need for any excessive exploring during sex. He’s definitely the best at being rough with you but the aftercare is nothing special honestly lmao he doesn’t put much effort into it unless you catch him in a good mood and even then the most he’ll do is throw you a towel and call it a night. He keeps you oh so satisfied and hungry for more during sex, afterwards...don’t get your hopes up. You might need to nag him a bit to make him more considerate during after care and who knows? Maybe you’ll come to find Kid is a total cuddle bear when he wants to be.  

Shanks (Pisces, ENFJ) - Very similar to Zoro and Kid in all of the best ways. You share some of the same kinks and Shanks is very intrigued and turned on by your bratty sub tendencies. He is a relentless tease both inside and outside the bedroom leaving you absolutely weak for him 24/7. He’d of course never try to control you outside of the bedroom, as with Zoro when you two have sex, you’re transported to another world. Shanks doesn’t mind taking over and domming you and he’s hella good at it. He can be rough when he wants, especially if you beg for it, and he’s insanely skilled at dirty talk. He loves your body and loves to mark it up even more. Post-sex cuddles are also a must with this man, especially with you because he is a sucker for you, and he knows you enjoy it. Shanks has all the experience to offer you in order to keep you utterly satisfied and coming back for more! 

O-Kiku (ISFP) - Okay hear me out, she’s a total softie but it’s always the innocent ones that have the kinkiest sides right?? We’ve seen her more “sadistic” sides come out a few times. Not to mention O-Kiku is more than twice your size so domming you is easy peasy to her. She might not always be the roughest, but she knows how to tease you and leave you begging for her. You share enough similar kinks to get along well in the bedroom. If she is ever particularly rough with you, you know you’re gonna be getting the best aftercare you’ve ever experienced in your life. She loves you and she never really intends to hurt you (even if you beg for it) so she will always make up for all the markings on you and any “harsh” words she’s said. Literally the best after care comes from her! 

[bindingties]

(( Obv I’ve been thinking abt a p.ersona 5 AU bc that’s who i am so im just gonna dump all the ideas i got in here & futz and add later or something idk i make aus via the ‘throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks’ method

also just bc this has been a problem lately & i lack the energy to deal w things after the fact rn: pls personals do NOT reblog my posts ^^ ))

Manfred

Manfred absolutely has a Palace.  Look at him.

The detention center / prison, courthouse, and prosecutor’s office all appear distorted, but I’m gonna go with the courthouse being the kinda ‘center’ and being where his Treasure actually is.

The detention center / prison looks like an extensive trophy room commemorating all of his won cases.  The trophies tend to have design elements that hint at the damning evidence and crime in question while also having the name of the defendant in question somewhere.  All of them are gold, except for the one representing the IS-7 case.  That one is a bronze and notably smaller in size.

Both the courthouse and the prosecutor’s office appear as temples that worship him as a god.  The office is a bit more like a bustling hub of priests that are incredibly incompetent.  The courthouse is grand and opulent with perfectly sculpted marble statues and busts of him.

There’s a slight infestation of insects which all have a pattern similar to the defense attorney badge.  They mostly scurry and run away from just about everything.  The Shadows take the form of judges, prosecutors, bailiffs, and detectives.

Safe Rooms correspond to defense lobbies.

There is a depiction of the DL-6 Incident actively showing Manfred shooting Gregory, but the style frames it more as a heretic being righteously smote than the reality of an unconscious man being shot by a petty fossilized man child.

There are cognitive versions of both Miles and Franziska and neither of them are great.  Cognitive Franziska actually still appears as child and would fight any intruders but, due to Manfred’s low opinion of her and her capabilities, she actually cannot win.  Cognitive Miles is dressed in that horrid Manfred-style red suit but like resembles Gregory to a much higher degree than Miles actually does.

The Treasure is held in a large, central courtroom.  In the Metaverse, it is a golden, weighed scale and, once brought out, is a prosecutor’s badge.

Also you bet him as a boss utilizes a lot of Electricity skills.  Also some Gun skills.  What can I say, I’m not that subtle. 

KAY

Kay vc: i can steal shit AND have superpowers?????? hell yeah!!!!

100% agree with @flairer Kay would be Sun Arcana with Yatagarasu P.ersona absolutely no doubt let’s go

Have nothing firm on how they actually.... get there???? Maybe during the Quercus Alba nonsense.

tfw an ambassador keeps flaunting diplomatic immunity so u just gotta come into incredible power to force the bastard to admit to murder himself

also just Akechi: my codename is Crow Kay: absolutely not u Mask☆DeMasque lookin motherfucker

not that im really trying to super integrate w the existing team, but kay was extremely offended by akechi’s codename choice & i have to share that

KLAVIER

Tragically started thinking that after Turnabout Succession, Klavier would develop a Palace due to worsening paranoia and lack of healthy coping. 

The distortion does cover the entire city... kinda? The thing is that Klav is very ‘the whole world’s a stage’ in an absolutely unhealthy way.  The layout and buildings are retained but it has the vibe of a music festival or other celebration?

Everything leads toward the courthouse though, which is 100% a very large and elaborate stage.  It’s hard to notice from the ground, but a tightrope is suspended way, way above it.  There is no safety net below it.  Just the cold, hard stage.

Shadow Klavier is always in the middle of a concert on that stage and the crowd oddly alternates between vicious heckling and overwhelming praise.  It turns on a dime and seems to have nothing to do with the actual performance.

Various cognitive versions of familiar faces exist in the Palace and perfectly match the mannerisms / personalities of the real counterparts... when talking to any Thieves.  If the subject of Klavier comes up, though, they tend to grow more harsh and disparaging toward him.

Cognitive Miles has the role of a manager and at first attempts to discourage any interaction with Shadow Klav because it might distract him and ruin the show.  He immediately relents, however, with the thought that he’s always wanted to fire Klavier and so any mishaps with the show would be the perfect excuse.

Shadow Klav isn’t that overly aggressive, but there are still traps and Shadows swarming the area.  While he is certainly civil, he does not hide his mistrust at all and can be surprisingly gloomy, though is somewhat like Shadow Futaba in that he’ll drop cryptic hints or express support for the Thieves’ actions.  

I love the idea of Klavier getting pulled into his own Palace due to Shenanigans™ and Cognitive Nick sees him and tells him he’s almost late for walking the tightrope and forces him toward it

Meanwhile Klav is just ‘wow idk what the hap is fuckening but my overwhelming sense of guilt compels me to do whatever Wright(?) says so i guess im abt to do a very dangerous stunt that will most certainly end in my death’

Shadow Klav does a very aggressive intervention because he does contain Klavier’s wish to help people.  He insists that Klavier cannot survive living solely like he’s a product to be consumed and destroyed.  A ticking time bomb of contradictory desires based on unknowable perceptions.

Meanwhile, Cognitive Nick grows more twisted and manipulative and begins to viciously antagonize and guilt-trip the hesitating Klavier.  The crowd likewise grows more and more restless and demanding of a spectacle.  Still, whether the crowd wants Klavier to succeed or fail is hard to determine.

Also like Manfred having a Palace kinda implies Nick as a Thief too and the idea of Nick also being there and seeing that this is how Klavier sees him is... oof ouch.

But yeah Shadow Klav is like “Are you going to continue to let yourself be chained to expectations?  Even when it will kill you?”

Obv Klav’s like “yeah, you know what? I will live for my own damn self.”  And comes into his P.ersona which is like... halfway unnecessary.  Cognitive Nick is just an asshole... not exactly a giant fucking sphinx

Can’t decide whether Klav’s Arcana is Death or Moon, though.  I like Death’s message of metamorphosis and change for him.  But also Moon’s got fun bits about facades and fear.

Nick afterward: hey um... i just wanna say that im so- Klav: i finally have some capacity to be mad at you without feeling like the scum of the earth for doing so so im gonna be 100% unashamedly pissed for a while just... give me some time. also im abt to sleep for 1000 years because holy shit

And yeah it’s not a 100% fix and Klav still has paranoia and the unhealthy perspective of being a product for consumption but like... he’s got somewhat better footing to seek and accept help.  And, likewise, does not have the subconscious desire to be hated so that he may self-destruct without guilt.  So, like, that’s a plus.

[komowah-blog]

Tied | Borusara Fic~

ahhhh, nights out series will come out soon, tmr or today. just wanted to make this fic. ill use this as a prompt.

Summary: The girls capture Boruto Uzumaki, questioning him to see if he’s perfect for Sarada Uchiha. Sarada doesn’t know about this... Oh boy, how will this end?

Genre: Fluff and a lil of angst.

Rating: T+ 

Word count: 1,599

Character count:9,101

Quick ad that you don’t have to read: My ask is open, and remember to like and follow if you like my fics! if you like this maybe you’ll like, Girl’s Night/The Nights series! ^^

Warnings: Language

I don’t do beta-reads so please reply if I made any mistakes!~

It was a new day, Sarada Uchiha, the heir of the Uchiha clan. She was hanging out with the girls; Sumire Kakei, Namida Suzumeno, Wasabi Izuno, and  ChouChou Akimichi. They all were close to the Uchiha. And there was also, Boruto Uzumaki’s group. Shikadai Nara, Inojin Yamanaka, Mitsuki, Iwabe Yuino, Denki Kaminarimon. Both of these groups had mostly someone who lead it, and inspired everyone of them. For the boys, it was the Uzumaki. For the girls, it was the Uchiha. They all just had.. like a quirk. Everyone around them just felt almost connected to them, y’know? 

“ ‘And then, he grabbed my hand..’ Sumire, what the hell is this?“ ChouChou furrowed her eyebrows to her with a glare. 

“N-Nothing! It’s just...Imagine Kagura if he would do that to one of us! He’d glazed to us, with the sun behind us...! And then, lean one of us to a kiss, and then get a good grip, and hug him tig-” 

Namida scratched her back and throwed a comment at her,”Sumire... you’re obsessed with him.”

“Kya! I’m n-n-not!” Her face was totally wrong for what she said, it countered her statement physically. Poor Sumire. ChouChou noticed Sarada, she was lost in her own thoughts. She kept on looking at her, and poking at her.

“You keep on saying that Sumire!” Wasabi also joined the argument between those two. Her headband threw a shine before she looked at those two. The conversation kept on going on, and Sarada still no response of her saying to the rest that Sumire is fine. This usually happens, but not today? What’s going on with that little Uchiha? ChouChou couldn’t handle it anymore and kept on glaring at her. Her eyebrows changed into a irritated expression. She DESPISED when Sarada was like this. ChouChou then roared,”Sarada!” Sarada blinked twice and then looked at ChouChou. The others stood quiet, the scream that ChouChou frightened them. Sarada just looked at the sight of a furious Akimichi. And boy, when they were mad, they can one-shot you and destroy millions of buildings. Especially when someone said the f word... (fat)

“Uh...ChouChou? Is there a problem?” her glasses released a shine, one side going to another. It fogged up her glasses by how embarrased she was, releasing a tear of sweat. 

“I-Is there a problem?” Sarada was feeling sheepish, and ChouChou the opposite. She was unhinged and upset. 

“Bitch, what do you mean if there’s a problem? You’re supposed to tell us, what the hell was that expression you just had?” ChouChou was boiling, she was like a red pepper.

“ChouChou..! Calm down!” Wasabi had the courage to say something.She put her arm around ChouChou’s to signal that she’s overreacting. Sumire and Namida were in shock, they’ve never actually seen ChouChou this mad. They see her swear all the time, but not have an expression or tone of voice. 

“How the hell can I calm down when my friends are gloomy?” Namida was to say something, but her mouth closed immediately. Wasabi released her hand, and Sarada was petrified. She then fixed her glasses, and brushed her hair off the sides.

“So? What is it Sarada? Is there something you wanna tell us?” ChouChou leaned in closer, and cracked her knuckles. “Do you wanna pick a fight with her? Friends are supposed to comfort them, right?” a smile from the shadows appeared on a rooftop. ChouChou’s mouth opened, and her expression went into a frown. “No! I’m not trying to do that at all! But friends are supposed to tell them what’s going on right?” ChouChou then furrowed her eybrows,”Wait...Who the hell are you?” She crossed her arms and looked down. Sumire was worrying and shouting all over the place,”Uwawah! What’s going on..?!!!” because now, ChouChou isn’t acting like she’s crazy. “I think you know me, I’m pretty friendly. The name’s Boruto Uzumaki!” He finally walked out of the shadows, with a big smile. “You little motherfucker! You’re the reason Sarada’s acting like this, huh?!” ChouChou started to crack her neck. Sarada felt bad, and gave ChouChou a note, then flashed away. 

“Huh?” Boruto was confused, why didn’t she give him a note. He was a bit jealous.  “Bratty Sarada, only caring about girls..hmph.” Boruto looked away in disgust. 

“The reason why I was spaced out was because my father isn’t coming home for about a year. He says it’s just him protecting us...” ChouChou gasped, and so did the girls. “Some dad she has!” ChouChou was mad again, jesus. but not that mad, because this isn’t her family. So she understood. But she also saw a picture fall off of Sarada when she flashed. Boruto’s eyes widened when she read that. He went closer to the Akimichi, and telling her to see it. She passes it off to him, and he furrowed his eyebrows. ChouChou went closer to the photo and grasped it. It was a photo of team 7. She started laughing, and the rest were confused. Sumire ran off somewhere with Namida and Wasabi when they weren’t looking, so she can calm herself. 

“Look, Boruto! It’s a photo of you when you were younger!”, she had an evil grin on. “Huh? Lemme see!” He ran in closer and until ChouChou went even more closer, her hand went in a flash and hit Boruto’s head with some what big hands, not partial expansion jutsu. He collapsed and ChouChou was dragging him on the floor with his jacket. She released an evil laugh when they went to the forest of Konoha. She tied him up with a rope onto the tree. “Sarada would kill for a guy like you, huh?” She was talking to herself at that time. She reached in her pockets and grabbed her phone. She dialed class rep, Namida and Wasabi.

“Time for a mission, girls. It’s called Sarada Uzumaki.”

“Sarada Uzumaki?! Eh? isn’t that Boruto’s last name?! Kyah!” 

ChouChou released a sigh,”Yeah, she’ll be an Uzumaki soon.”

“Give us your location!” Namida said with excitement.

“On it.” ChouChou pressed home and texted all of them where she was located. 

“I’ll see you there in 2 minutes?” Wasabi informed them, then she hung up.

“Uwah!!! I’ll go there in a sec!” 

“Same.”

They all hung up. ChouChou opened a bag of her favorite, chips. The salted ones, just regular. Soon after, Sumire and all of them appeared. Boruto just started to open his eyes. 

“So what’s the details?” Wasabi then stretched her arms.

“Interrogate him. Let’s see if he’s perfect for her.”

“What? For who?” Boruto eavesdropped and closed one eye.

“Sarada Uchiha.” They all released giggles and it made them look super scary.

“Oh god..” Boruto released a sigh.

“You know ‘ttebassa, could you at least try to be nice?” he left a grin for them. 

“You’re still breathing, that’s me being fucking nice, asshole.” ChouChou then cracked her neck in a threatening way.

“Jeesh. If Sarada hears this, she’d just be in love with me after all, I need to deal with you guys.” 

“Shut it, Uzumaki!” the Akimichi was pointing to him.

“I’m sorry...!” Sumire whispered out to him.

Boruto left out a wink. And the rest were signaling that they can hear her...

“So, do you like Sarada Uchiha?” ChouChou sat down infront of him. Brushing her hair aside, in a diva mode.

“Hmm... I dunno. That’s tough. She nags me alot, though.” Boruto was actually cooperating? ChouChou and the rest widened their eyes. “Huh. You’re not that tough to talk. I envy you for that” Wasabi added. “If I had the chance, I would ask her out. Too bad she’s into Kawaki.” Boruto was blushing, and had a tone showing some sorrow. He looked away, and later added,”Just let me go ‘ttebassa..” ChouChou was suprised and giggling. “She’s not into Kawaki! Oh Kaguya, Wasabi is into Kawaki, not her. She actually likes you, but she also gets sad about you. Like when you get hurt, or sometimes when you make fun of her. She’s tough, but she has her weak spots, y’know?” ChouChou closed her eyes, and poked Boruto’s face who was super flustered. “Really? I have a chance?!” Boruto started to dance in the rope, like a little worm. His eyes brightened. “Just like a child... goddamn it Uzumaki.” Sumire, Namida and Wasabi flashed away in a second, just like usual... ChouChou released out a deep, she brought out a kunai and cut the rope. “Just go to her...” “She in her house, she’d be more than happy, Sakura isn’t home, either.” 

“Thanks, Chubbs.” 

“Uh-huh..whatever..” She was waving bye to him while facing the other way. he flashed away, and she left a smile. “Lady Uzumaki..”

Boruto randomly got flower, he probably stole them from the Yamanaka flower shop. Oh well, he’s friends with the owner, after all. He’ll pay sooner. He hid the flowers behind his back, and rang her doorbell. He could her the footsteps coming from upstairs to downstairs. His eyes brightened. The Uchiha opened the door, suprised that it was Boruto.

“B-Boruto?” She had her glasses off, she was resting. He looked away, and said,”Mrs.Uchiha... will you be my girlfriend?” He had the color of bright red all over his face. Sarada’s eyes widened, she then got embarrassed.. And grabbed his hand to pull him inside. He closed the door with his leg, and placed the flowers on the table. She then pulled him close, smashing their lips together. They were kissing for about 10 minutes, their mouths numb and on the couch now. 

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” Boruto grinned.

Sarada sighed ,”Yeah..” 

In the window of all of that, Mitsuki and ChouChou were recording everything.

Thank you all for reading! Sorry if this didn’t have proper development.. It’s kinda late, but oh well! 

[pennys-th0ughts]

Pale As The Snow ❄️

Hope you like it Emilee  💕  

Winter and its cold light blue velvet had finally come to Derry, to freeze all in its path, to turn everything white. Down in the sewers everything was frozen and the cold could literally get into your bones. Fortunately I didn’t feel cold since I didn’t have any blood in my veins but a dark substance you could call blood. It was that freezing afternoon when I saw her, playing near to the woods in the company of some friends. She was surrounded by them but I could sense that she was actually feeling alone. I was behind a robust tree watching how the young people played with the snow despite the merciless weather, throwing some snowballs at each other. The sky was white as the snow and you could barely know what time was unless you take a look at to your clock, I figured the young humans must had realized that it was getting late since they stopped playing and began leaving the place each of them in different directions leaving one of them behind. After they all said goodbye, this girl with colorful hair and plump cheeks stayed for some more minutes sitting in one of the benches pretty close to where I was. It seems she got upset because her mood became gloomy and disturbing; I poked my head from behind the tree in the exact moment when she decided to throw a snowball right in my direction. The object hit me in the middle of my forehead with such overwhelming strength that knocked me down. “¡Holy fucking Christ!” – I heard her cursing and running towards me looking completely guilty. The snow got inside my nose and by the time she got close to me I started sneezing vigorously. She kneeled by my side and took a handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and handled to me. “I'm terribly sorry – she apologized-. I didn’t see you…”, then she stopped talking and covered her mouth with her eyes open wide. “¡Oh, shit!” –she cursed again but this time her voice was soaked in horror. My blood had started floating out from my nose and I could see it right in front of my eye. Her gasp was a mix of surprise, terror and confusion. I took the handkerchief and put it quickly on my nose to stop the bleeding. She stood up and, stepping backwards, she suddenly fled running as fast as she could, crossing the clearing until she got lost from sight. I got up and cleaned the snow of my clothes, and then with slightly unstable steps, I went back to the sewers, grabbing onto the trees within my reach. That same night I dreamed about this young lady and the peculiarity of her colorful hair that reminded me some unique sunsets, with their orange and purple tones when the sun was slowly dying, hiding its body behind the hills to come alive once more the next day; an ancient and endless natural sacrifice ritual that kept happening since the dawn of mankind. I also dreamt about her body lines and her image got reflected in one of those utterly gorgeous porcelain dolls made by hand. “She is definitely a human doll” – I thought with a dumb smile on my lips. Having such images in my head I couldn’t help but start also having dirty thoughts and that same night I had to please myself with my bare hands.

Next day I tried to locate her by any means, I wanted to give her the handkerchief back and have the opportunity to see her again but there was something that kept worrying me. “¿What if she freaks out when she sees me again?” I kept asking myself the same question over and over and I was starting to lose my will to return her belonging until I finally gave in to that awkward feeling. My best guess was that if she came frequently to this part of the park that was nearby to the woods, she would surely find her handkerchief so I decided to tie it to a post of the gazebo that was close to the hammocks. I headed there in a rush to do that but once I got close to the place I saw some people there, there were two young men and apparently there was a third but the last one wasn’t reachable to my eyes since he was crouching. There is when I heard her muffled screams calling for help. I let go the handkerchief and speedily ran towards the place where her voice was coming just to find that these motherfuckers were trying to rape her; she had been tied to one of the legs of the bench with a rope and the guy who was violently trying to take her bottom clothes off had already hit her in the face. When I saw one of the corners of her lips bleeding my blue eyes turned to yellow of rage. I appeared behind her so she couldn’t see me but these bastards would have a nice clear view of my nightmarish aspect once they see me. The three men almost got their eyes out of their sockets when they saw the three extra pair of arms and what was even worse is that they weren’t human. Before they could possibly do anything to save themselves from what was coming I had already teared apart some limbs, ripped some organs off their cavities and spilled lots of blood. “What a fucking waste” – I thought whilst taking one of my paws out of the ribcage of one of those men and although I was feeling deeply satisfied with that well deserved massacre, I didn’t feel remorse nor guilt. I turned around and ducked by her side then I took the gag from her mouth at the same time I was trying to calm her down. Fortunately she didn’t try to kick me, not even when I released her hands from that filthy rope, then, our eyes met and she finally lost conscience. It was going to get dark soon and I just couldn’t leave her there but I was also concerned about taking her with me down to the sewers. Despite my restlessness my protective side prevailed and then I found myself picking her up and carrying her to my lair. On my way back I picked the handkerchief up, I was sure that she would want it back.

Her skin was turning pale and the temperature was dropping incredibly fast. The space inside my wagon was big enough for me to start a small fire and bring some warmth back to her body. Luckily I had some blankets which I would use to cover her little body until her normal color returned; in the meantime I would clean the blood of her mouth and the dirt of her violaceus hair. A couple hours passed until I saw her opening her eyes. She sat down looking disoriented and asked me where we were. Fidgeting with a piece of cloth I told her where she was, feeling a little uncomfortable and waiting for her to flee once more but she didn’t. “You saved me from those assholes” – she finally said with a lovely smile, I nodded a bit shy then she asked me if all the mess I caused was real too. “I just couldn’t help it, they- they were hurting you and I had to do something” – I grabbed the back of my head feeling even more embarrassed. After giving her some hot cocoa and talking for a long couple of hours I remembered I had her handkerchief waiting inside my pocket, I took it out and handled it to her saying: “I believe this is yours. I was going to leave it tied to a post in that gazebo when I heard your chocked screams”. The white piece of cloth had some blood stains but they were not mine or hers. “I can’t believe you still have it. Thank you…” – she waited for me to introduce myself, when I told her my name she chuckled playfully, then extending her hand for a handshake she told me her name was Emilee. I took her little fingers and kissed her knuckles in a so intense way that made her gasp. When I raised my eyes to fix them with hers I saw her biting her lower lip in a very tempting way. Without seeing it coming she grabbed me by the hair and fused her mouth with mine. I must admit that her courage took me by surprise but in fact it was a really pleasant surprise. I played along with her pink and tasty lips until I felt her sit on my lap, pressing the lower part her body against my thighs. She took her time, showing me the secret of each one of her kisses, from little and short ones to the longest and most passionate ones. The last ones were inevitably turning me on and the excitement she was causing in me was enough to wake up my most wicked instincts and also a part of my anatomy that was dormant. “Let’s take these clothes off – she proposed smiling mischievously whilst pulling my pants down-. They are too dirty; I will wash them for you later”. She undressed me with such skill that in a blink of an eye I was completely naked and experiencing an almost painful boner. When she discovered the most private part of my body and its length, she threw at me a lustful look. Emilee crawled over me like a feline about to pounce its prey; her warm naked silhouette subjugated me with no mercy and her panting mouth attacked my neck hungrily. A faltering moan came out from my throat. “¿Do you want to fuck me now, Penny?” – She asked me while rubbing her wet pussy against my cock. I growled a loud yes and placed both of my hands on her hips and once I could take control over her I finally made her mine, feeling delicious shivers running down my spine. The shadows of the erotic dance our bodies were performing were also dancing at the rhythm of the fire in my once cold and lonely wagon. We didn’t stop making love until we ended up completely covered in sweat reaching the highest point of ecstasy and our loud moans echoing in each tunnel. Emilee didn’t leave her place; she just lied down right where she was, hiding her fragile and little face in the hollow of my neck. That night the cold winter wouldn’t exist for us, only the memory of a warm and wild fantasy coming true.

[activatingaggro]

shake me / wake me / go, man, go

NANAKO BONJOU | 12 SWEEPS / 26 YEARS OLD RICCIN KAYATA | 10 SWEEPS / 20 YEARS OLD

Temasek, Alternia | 4151 words

CW: references to drug / alcohol abuse

When you knock open the hotel room door, smoke rolls out in one big fume, thick enough that you can see it in the air. Or you could, if your eyes would stop fucking watering. They're streaming yellow right down the slopes of your cheek once you finally stop coughing, heavy enough that you lay a frond to your face, just to see.

It comes back smog.

"Goddamnit, Loxias," you snap, and stalk inside.

The hotel that you've had her holed up in isn't expensive. The fuck would you ever drop that sort of cash on some illbred rustblood, so long that she's bypassed the dirt and gone straight to mud in her veins? It'd be a waste. It ain't that your girl's just broke: it's that she's nasty, through and through. There's bottles strewn all across the keratin tile of the floor. A week ago, shit was white. Now, it's got fucking stains. Worse yet, your shoe keeps fucking sticking.

There's a lump sprawled across the frayed fabric of the sopor loungesack. At the start of things, you'd thought Loxias might've passed off as pretty, if she ever tried. But that was when she was possessed, long-limbed and feral and with an energy that'd burned straight out of her core. Now she's just limp-limbed, like her bones have been cored with jelly and her spine's been yanked clear through. There's nothing pathetic about this shit.

It's just aggravating, and when you misstep, your heel slipping on a bottle laying half-full on the ground, you ain't ashamed to say you fucking shriek.

She stirs in a rattle of braids, but is it enough to pull herself all the way up? 'course it fucking ain't. She lifts her chin. The braids shift, just enough, to reveal one gloomy eye, skin swollen with the mud of her blood underneath it. "Hey," she says, plainative, like you ain't nearly just hit the floor: "- hey, 'm tryin' to sleep over here."

"It's high midnight, sister," you say, "and the roaches are comin' out."

"Huh," she says, contemplative, and drops her head back down into the cushion.

In the end, you snatch her up by the scruff of her shirt, your fronds curled to keep clear of her braids. She hangs limp from your hand all the way to the bathroom, and even when you toss her into the tub, the motherfucker just oozes. It takes the water hitting her skin - cold as you can make it, cranked hard as it will fucking fall - before she finally stirs, mouth twisted into a mouie, and pushes her braids back.

She doesn’t bother to get out of the tub. She just lets the water run down her in rivulets, practically radiating the sulk coming from her glands, and looks up at you.

“Unnecessary, brah,” she says, and a drop rolls off her nose.

“The fuck are you still sleeping for?” You yank down the shower head so it sprays right onto her, but the only response you get is her flopping onto the side of the tub, looking like nothing better than a wet barkbeast.

“It’s only midnight.” How can one troll sound so fucking petulant?

“Who sleeps until midnight?”

She doesn’t have a response to that. She just oozes deeper into the tub, for all the world like she’s going to sink under the water pooling in it entirely. If you let her, would she drown? The thought’s tempting. Girl’s useful to you, but --

-- you have never seen someone so old, who’s quite this much of a fucking mess. It’s a wonder she’s survived to be as old as she is! It’s a fucking tragedy, in more ways than one, and maybe the kindest thing to do would be to call Chiloa over. Make him handle this shit, pull her into the program, or toss her to the IPC as good will, or whatever the fuck he deems necessary.

But then you wouldn’t know what to do at all. Loxias’s the only guidance you have right now, the yarn to follow out of the maze of your goddamn life, and that means she’s your mess now, until she’s served her purpose.

So you snatch her by a horn instead, and haul her up until she’s draped like a dishrag across the rim of the tub instead.

Loxias growls at you, but it’s half-hearted. She’s as dull-fanged as they come, in mind and tooth: the fire’s banking as fast as it flared, her lids falling heavily again as she seems to sink onto the end of the tub. “Lemme sleep,” she says, coaxing, “I’ll dreamwalk. Show you something cool, brah. Don’t have the energy for fortunes.” Her tone oozes towards the accusatory: “- didn’t think you were coming until tomorrow.”

“I’m not keeping you up here ‘cause you’re pretty, sister.” But dreamwalk - now that’s a word. You eye her up, curious, but.. nah, you decide. She ain’t lying. She’s too limp for that, too spineless all the way through to muster up a fib. “You’re here to work. Not get high and fucking drink.”

“Dreamwalking is work,” she argues doggedly. Then she squints at you, pauses like she’s turning over words in her mouth. “Been worrying, yeah? I’ll get you a dream to fix that.”

“If,” she says, “you let me sleep.”

When you open your eyes, you’re in the Hanhai.

Loxias always looks better in dreams. Younger, too, maybe your age, with dewy eyes and clothes that’re several sizes too big: a black jacket, all leather, that hangs loose on their shoulders, and white patched pants held up by a belt wrapped tight.

When she’s awake, her skin’s always covered. Now, with only a bandeau on, you can see the signs that curve across her collarbone and dip towards her chest, a hundred thousand symbols in every shade of red that look almost like Pheres. The Arietids, shining bright as the meteors they’re named after, and you’re curious on how far back they might’ve gone. Tempted to ask, too, if she didn’t go and clear her throat.

She just raises her eyebrows when you look at her. “Brah,” she says, disbelieving. “Braaah. You comin’?”

There’s always that moment of pause, when you spot the veins in her eyes and the bags underneath and remember: yeah, this’s the same manky-ass trashfire underneath. And the urge dies.

“Yeah,” you say, disappointment curling in on your gut, “sure.”

You’ve never liked the Hanhai much. It ain’t like it’s ever done nothing to you. The fuck is there to do? Once, it’d been a sea. Then the Empress had drained it, and now it’s all sand, white and pearlescent as far as the eye can see. If you dug deep enough under it all, you’d find the spires and buildings of the old seadweller cities, or the personal homes that trolls built and lost in the centuries since. Pheres loves the Hanhai. For a troll willing to work it out, it’s full of shit worth plundering, artifacts best locked away or destroyed, to make sure nobody ever uses ‘em.

But as far as you’re concerned, it’s never been worth enough to work it out, not when there’s zombies to contest. Let the dead keep their secrets. They guard ‘em well enough. And the few towns and settlements within have just never been worth visiting. Port Mina is the shining jewel of the desert, the only place you reckon is really worth visiting, and that’s as far as you’ve ever wanted to go.

That ain’t the case for whoever’s dreaming, though, ‘cause the sun’s high up in the sky, but there’s no sign of anything to be seen. You’re in the heart of the Hanhai now, so close to the center you can’t even see the mountain, and there’s nothing as far as the eye can see.

“Are we even in the right spot?” you hiss at her. “If you’re fucking with me, sister, I will wake both of us up before you can even -”

“Sh!” she hisses back, and then the saddleback mounts the nearest dune.

By the time it’s reaching the bottom, there’s six of them all in a trail, ribbons tied onto the notches of their shells, bells and beads setting off like noisemakers on their sides. Saddlebacks are the finest of mounts, this far into the deserts.

There’s trolls on their backs, covered in white fabric from head to toe, with the fine arches of their horns shining red under the suns light. You’re stepping forward before you think twice about it. Lunatics are a rare lot, content to live in the deep deserts and rarely coming far out of them. You’ve heard about them. Who hasn’t? Back before the Ascension, when adults still roamed freely and the Fleet was little more than a fucking pipedream, motherfuckers had been as common as salt.

Now they’re dead, mostly, save a few straggling remnants, and the survivors hide. You’ve never seen the sect before. Chances are, you never will again, and certainly not like fucking this. So you scramble up the dune, feet slipping on the sand, hands splaying to catch yourself when you fall. It bites into your skin, but shit’s a dream. There’s no gold blood spilling, no matter how much you scuff, and there’s no pain to keep you slow.

So you catch up soon enough.

The trolls pay you no mind on their beasts. Why should they ever? It’s a dream, and you’re a figment, some bit that they won’t see now, and won’t recall in the morning. So you can take your time, drink these motherfuckers in.

You reach out, tugging on the cloth. It’s cotton, you think, left so thin that you can see your fronds through it, and worn soft by exposure. There’s colours woven through it, pinks and limes faded near-white, but they don’t make any signs you’ve seen before. Nah, it’s something different -

- then it jerks free from your hands when the saddleback rears back, affronted.

It rips open its maw, flashing those many-ringed teeth at you as its eyestalks pull back. You’re already moving, hands up - you can’t die in a dream, but like hell you’re going to see - but then the troll onboard murmurs something, warm and musical. The saddleback settles, sucking its eyestalks in reluctantly. Then it starts inching on past again, steadily trundling, and you let out your breath.

“Haha, holy shit,” Loxias says, “why’d you touch it?”

“Did you just say haha, sister?”

“Yah,” she says, smug, and that’s about all the sass you feel like hearing from her.

But you keep your hands to yourself after that, locking them firm behind your back as the procession goes by. Now that you ain’t touchin’ ‘em, they’re back to ignoring you. Six saddlebacks, each hosting a troll on its humps. The eldest ones - the largest ones - of the Lunatics are up front, and behind ‘em are their get, the pupas they collect.

The rumour in the seatowns, back when you were real young, was that they stole grubs straight from the caverns, to raise ‘em up as fodder and cultists. But all the tales of the Navigressors and the Lunatics get merged, out on the coast, and you don’t reckon that’s true. These aren’t the newly pupated, fat-limbed and round-cheeked. Nah, these are wrigglers, with lusii that trot neatly beside the saddlebacks, or ride in the pouches on their sides.

Wrigglers wrapped up so tight in their shawls and laces that you can’t tell their colours, and you’re so busy peering at ‘em, trying to puzzle it out, you almost don’t notice when a saddleback stops. Then there’s dust in your face as one of the pupas hits the ground next to you in a plume of sand. Standing up, she shakes her hair and wipes her hands like anyone could even fucking notice the sand on her.

Then she tilts her head back, as far as it’ll go, and then back some more. Little mite’s probably one of the smallest on the train, but the rest don’t seem to notice her absence: the saddleback’s trundling on, unbothered, and you’d feel bad for her abandonment, if it weren’t a fucking dream.

“Hi!”

“Hey there,” you say, but she’s not paying you any mind. She’s looking you up and down, ears pinning back, and then -

“Alamekkk,” the pupa says, despairing, and there’s something familiar about the shape of her horns. They’re almost a foot long, looking almost as long as her goddamn body, but when her shawl slips low, you can see a bone brace around her neck, curving across her shoulders for support. “Your skin! So pale - here.” It wasn’t a slip. She’s shimmied out of it in a moment, then she’s just holding it expectantly out to you. “Take, takee, takeee.”

It’s not a question. It’s too small for you at a glance, but this is the way of dreams: it stretches as you pull it up, until you’re slipping something sized to you over your head, settling into the shadows. Were you hot, before? You must’ve been, because even this scratchy fabric’s a relief.

The pupa nods, brisk, like she’s satisfied. “Who’re you?”

“No names,” Loxias says.

“Riccin,” you say, and you’re not expecting the elbow to your side. It might be a dream, but turns out shit still hurts; you double over with a snarl, clutching the spot, but the fucking brownblood’s just glaring, her lip curled with more ire than you’ve ever seen her manage.

“Brah, what the fuck?”

“She asked!” you snap back, sidling to the side, and the pupa’s just watching the both of you, thoughtful. “What’s it gonna hurt, answering a question? I ain’t a fucking savage. I got manners, sister, and there ain’t no call to go ignoring shit, just ‘cause you’re all twitterpatted over the fucking answer.”

“You’re dumb,” Loxias tells you, brisk, and you don’t dignify that as a response, save turning your back.

The wriggler’s sun-dark, with a hide striped green with wounds. You whistle as you bend down, squinting against the light, but ain’t that just the wonder of a dream? It shifts to match you, the moons themselves dimming to let you see all the better.

Poor wretch! There’s jade-bright wounds dug deep into her skin, swirls and designs in a writ you can’t read. It forms lines and circles and triangles within, all curving in on themselves, tangling up like sentences tripping atop of each other. It’d be gorgeous, if it weren’t for the way the skin’s swelling. It’d be depressing, if you didn’t feel like you were a moment from reading the secrets within.

There’s a hundred things you could say. Sympathy’s at the tip of your tongue, but - this is devotion, you think, and the curve of your spine aches at even the thought of that kind of slap. “What’s it say, little jade?” you ask instead, mild.

She’s been watching you. But now she turns over her arms, peering down at the lines carved in like they’re new. “Oh!” The pupa shrugs. “They’re moon writs,” she says, plain. “They hurt. But they’re worth it. Can I ask you something?”

“A question for a question’s only fair,” you tell her.

“Why the fuck are you in my dream?”

“Told you,” Loxias sings from behind you. “Told youuuuuu.”

The pupa’s been squinting up at you. But now she turns her gaze towards Loxias, who takes one look at her and scatters back. Like an afterthought, she grabs hold of your shirt. It’s a dream. It is absolutely a fucking dream, because there’s no way this skinny waif of a reed should ever be able to yank you anywhere - but Loxias hauls you like you’re nothing more than a sack of bananas, back three steps and all the way down the dunes.

The pupa is shrieking, racing after you. Not fast enough: girl’s nothing but a blur in your vision as her body distorts and twists, into something you don’t see. There’s sand in your eyes, kicked up with each kick of Loxias’s step, and tears in them where the dirts getting caught. You squeeze them shut, hard -

- and when you open them, you’re back in the bathroom, where you’d been curled up against the far wall of the room. There’s water lapping at your heels now. The bathtub’s so filled that it’s overflowed, and Loxias’s just lying like a limp fish over the edge of it.

She looks up at you through her eyelashes. “Thirty percent chance water weight causes floor collapse,” she says, eyes still glowing with psi, and with a curse, you fling yourself at the tub to turn it off.

-- cofaireLeh [CL] is now trolling obstructedAntiquity [OA]! --

CL: hello, helloo, hellooo.

CL: is nananaaa. talked before, lah, you remember?

OA:

OA:

OA: 'cOURSE I FUCKING Do.

OA: tALK LIKE HALF THE AUNTIES ON THE GODDAMN STREET, SISTER, SHIT IS A BLAST OF FRESH AIR IN THIS MEALY-MOUTHED HELL. HOW IS A MOTHERFUCKER MEANT TO FORGET A VOICE LIKE THAt?

OA: a FACE LIKE THAt? ;o)

CL: ew.

OA:

OA: sORRY, SHIT'S A HABIt. :o(

CL: no berak, leh. bad habit! feel bad!

CL: anywayyy. good that remember. iunno if know? daya out.

CL: am in temasek. get lunch, yeah?

OA:

OA: uh.

CL: am meeting friends, lah. woke up, went, ah, ahh, ahhh - do not know daya's friends.

CL: should know friends! am battery, why not?

CL: and friend right in town, lah.

CL: easy fixxx. d:K

OA: sHIT, SISTER, AND YOU THOUGHT OF ME? I AM FUCKING flattered.

OA:

OA: yEAH, SURE, WHY NOT? A MOTHERFUCKER CAN SPARE SOME TIME FOR LUNCh. :o)

CL: greattt. d:K

CL: see you then!

OA: wAIT, SHIT, WHERE At?

CL: ummm.

CL: iunno! will text. (:K

CL: wait, no leh, you text! you choose! are local, yeah?

OA: uh.

CL: you pick by noon.

CL: bye!

-- cofaireLeh [CL] is no longer trolling obstructedAntiquity [OA]! --

Pick a place, since you're the local, Nanako says, like she ain't the one talking like a common fucking wharfrat.

Still, you figure it's probably a test. Isn't that the way that folks from the IPC just go? Everything's a fucking test, everything's a goddamn trial. There's no common courtesy in the way they act, just chances to prove yourself worth their time or not. Even Vadaya pulls that shit.

And Nanako, you're starting to think, is just one of the same.

How many times have you seen Vadaya's battery? Ain't like the two of you have ever been that flavour of close. But it'd make sense, with the way she acts and the way she bites. Nah, this is a trial to see if you'll haul her to hawker food or the real shit, and that's why you've purchased an actual fucking reservation at the Kā Kā Lah. It’s the sort of place a Scimitar ought to appreciate, you think.

Least, up until she walks in the door, takes one look, and wrinkles her nose.

Girl’s covered from head to toe in fabric, with a cowlneck that cuts low just to reveal black leather, and a hood that hangs heavy over her face. With the red on her clothes, she could pass as any fucking fleet member - but you know it’s her, because it’s impossible to miss those goddamn horns, the same spiraling mess from your dream. You’d thought she might grow into ‘em, but nah. Now they’re a foot and a half long, if not over fucking two, and it’s only the fact she’s small-framed that keeps her from slamming them straight into the doorframe. As is, she still keeps her head angled low as she makes her way towards your table. When she slouches into the chair, it’s only then that she lifts her head.

The scars have healed well over the sweeps. Pink swirls across her face and under the bright red of her eyes, and psi-eye or not, there’s something uncanny about seeing the Empire’s own colour shining out of a troll.

But the Scimitars are the Empire’s hand on the planet. It makes sense.

“Ka Ka Leh?” she says, dubious. “Really lah?”

More sense than the idea of her wanting to talk to you, just out of the goddamn blue.

“Uh.” You do not sink down in your chair, but you’re tempted. It hadn’t struck you, really, until she went and sat down, but - shit, she’s Sunyah’s age, older than any of you all by fucking half. “They got the best noodles in town, sister,” you say, slow. “Why, ain’t anybody worth comparing.”

Maybe she hasn’t figured out you’re the same troll yet. Maybe she’s just waiting -

- then she leans forward, snatches hold of your ears in one hand and drags you in by the two of ‘em.

“Why you in my dreams?” she demands. “Not cute! Not welcome! Rude!”

This close, her face's a scarce inch from yours. She's not pretty, not really. Girl's got a beak the size of the Empress's horns, and the sort of fangs that'd gore a fucker for trying. But there's something a little charming about the way she's scowling at you.

And familiar.

"Aw, sister," you purr, even as your pan squalls, because you’re about to fucking die, "what, your legs tired? 'cause here you are, castin' around some fucking accusations, but way I see it, you were the one walkin' through my dreams all damn day -"

She cracks you right across the face.

It's a casual little thing, more noise than pain, and that's the worst bit of it all. There's nothing personal about it. Motherfucker smacks you like she's tapping her lusus on the ass, perfunctory as fuck, and when you splutter, indignant, she just clicks her tongue at you.

"Nah lah, no jokes," she scolds you. "Gross! Pupa! Look like robbing school creche? No lah, do not, behave!"

"I am behavin --"

"You are not! Be serious! What you thinking? Cannot just go, eh, am bored, will go through dreams! Go through military dreams!” She shakes her head, hard enough that her hair catches on your nose. "Rude! This because clowns? Clowns no good for morals! No can do voodoos for fun!"

"Sister -"

"Stop. Am talking," she barks, and holy fucking shit.

Vadaya’s so relaxed. Have you ever seen your cousin with anything less than the utmost of chill? But you’re starting to see why, when his batterymate’s like this. You’d thought him a doormat once. Now, it’s setting in that thought was just some base-ass cruelty.

After all, there’s a difference between being a doormat, and getting stomped into the ground. How the fuck are you supposed to respond to this? What are you even supposed to do with this, save show your throat and pray for mercy? You’ve maligned your poor cousin, but now, you can see where he’s got it all from.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and she lets go of your ears. You sink back in your chair so fast that your knees practically hit the table, then clear your throat, ‘cause she’s watching you, and you know what that shit means. “For gettin’ all up in your dreams. Shit was unintentional. Sister of mine said she’d show me how it was done, just for a lark - didn’t realise it was going to end up with you.”

She leans back in her chair, settling her hands on the table in front of you. She’s got the same metal digits as Vadaya, the amplifiers gleaming under the lights. “And?” she prompts.

Turns out you don’t know shit at all. You’d been scrubbing at the tips of your ears, but now you pause.

Nanako sighs.

“And sorry went in any dreams,” she scolds you. “Without permission, liao, is wrong, wrong, wrong - cannot go foraging in pans for, eh, what, funsies? Is wrong. Is horrible. What if clown, yeah, and you do that? What if sergeant? Lady? Would not worry about ears. They’d take ears.”

You let go of your ears entirely. “Uh -”

“No respond! Just stop. Listen.” She clicks her fangs at you. “And think. Am nice, because Daya friend. Others, no. Don’t do it again. Now respond. Say it.”

“I,” you say, hesitant, “won’t do it again?”

“And sorry,” she says.

“And I’m sorry.”

She nods, brisk. Then she starts undoing the clasps on her hood, where they’re looped in tight around her horns. When she pushes back the hood, her hair’s stark white underneath, with gray roots still setting in up top. Girl’s not pretty. Not even handsome, really, but you’ll give it to her: she’s striking.

And terrifying.

When she looks at you, her eyes still lit with psi, you decide: mostly terrifying.

“Then it’s settled. You clown, lah? Half-paint? Navigressor? Tell me about religion,” she orders, and waves the waiter over. “And you. How you meet Daya, leh? How old are you? Why so much purple?”

[thekidultlife]

Reverence + high-school!seungcheol

Of all the four seasons, you’ve always liked it when fall comes around. Especially when you get to wake up early on the first day all the leaves fell, red, green, gold, and all colors between them. And, now, walking on a sidewalk covered with the glorious carpet of fall, you smile as the leaves got into your hair and got crunched by your boots. This is one fine day, you said to yourself, smiling, as you skipped along and relished the sound and the smell of leaves and the sun.

You found yourself imagining the scent of your

favorite brew, of beef stew and salted seafood. You found yourself imagining festivals and bright lights, and you thought of school and the project you were making. Then your phone vibrated, and you knew that your one fine day was not going to be fine anymore.

SIX: Hey, it’s me. Can we talk? I’m at the rooftop.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. What is it, this time? Whenever your boyfriend sends you messages like this, he either needs help for homework or wants to—

“I caught the first leaf that fell from our tree this morning,” a deep, bright voice said from behind you, breaking your reverie. You spun around and all the gloomy thoughts that Six sent with his message melted away. You smiled brightly at Seungcheol, who was holding out a beautiful red maple leaf.

“Seungcheollie,” you gushed as he tenderly placed the leaf on your palm. “This is so perfect!” “I made it a point to wake up early to wait for that leaf to fall,” he said nonchalantly, his beautiful large eyes gleaming and his smile infectious. “I almost gave up, but I caught the first leaf.”

He was talking about the first leaf that fell on the maple tree you’d planted when you were both nine years old, at the playground just across the street where you lived next door to each other. The whole planting thing had been an inside joke and a secret at the same time, because you and Cheol had only dumped some seeds one day while playing house but you guys never actually expected the tree to grow. But it did, and it got its own uniqueness, too: it was the last tree to ever shed leaves, come fall. The people in your neighborhood have noticed this, and they’ve always wondered how a maple tree grew in such a small patch of soil right in the middle of a cemented playground, but there you go.

You didn’t know how Seungcheol did that, but he always caught the first one. You had no cause to disbelieve him; you’ve seen him do it three years ago, when it was nighttime and you both were sitting on the rusty swing set facing the maple tree. He was talking about going to college and becoming a teacher, and you were looking at the way the streetlamp was illuminating his deep black hair and you were so engrossed with the mole on his cheek. You remembered thinking that you hadn’t noticed that mole before when Cheol’s eyes suddenly lighted up and he quickly went under the maple tree just in time to see it shed its first leaf, which was followed by a cascade of red and gold beauty. In one swift motion, he caught the leaf, and turned to you with his face shining with delight.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said now, tugging at your arm, “we should make our wishes.” Seungcheol tucked your hand in his and you both walked towards nowhere in particular, enjoying the swirling of the leaves around your feet.

You and Seungcheol have always made it a point to make two wishes each on the first day the leaves fell. One wish was to be spoken aloud; the other was to be spoken by the heart.

And you both did it again, as the leaves danced softly on the sidewalk.

You looked sideways at your best friend since you were six, and you made the first wish. “I wish,” you declared, “that Seungcheol would go with me to Seoul so that we could still be together.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, and he tackled you in a bear hug. “Y/N! Don’t tell me—”

“—Yep,” you said smugly, holding up the letter of approval you’ve received from your dream school. “I just got accepted! I’ll be continuing my senior year there, Seungcheollie!”

“You’re so amazing!” Seungcheol laughed with glee as he snatched the letter from your hand. His face scrunched up as he read the contents. “Wow. You’re getting a full scholarship all the way to college.” He looked at you with endearing eyes and gave a big thumbs-up. “I’m so proud of you.”

You elbowed him. “But you have to follow me there, you hear? I’m not going anywhere without you.” For a few magical heartbeats, Seungcheol just stared at you with an unreadable expression, the smile he had on his lips faltering for a fraction of a second.

Don’t look at me like that, you heart pleaded. Please don’t look at me like that.

But Cheol always does.

He has this way of looking at you like you were some sort of person to look up to, a girl to be revered, to be worshipped, adored. He always looks at you this way. You never did anything that special to make him so attentive, so doe-eyed frozen looking at you like you were all he sees.

Six never looked at me like this. And you had this tiny part of your heart that wished you could be something more, but you knew Six well enough to expect as such.

In order not to get flustered with the way Cheol was gazing, you continued, rather hastily, to speak. “Fulfill my wish, will you? You know I’ve always been the scared one when it comes to trying out new things and going to new places.”

Seungcheol recovered long enough to laugh again, shaking his head, as if trying to shake off the look he was giving you moments ago. “Yeah, sure. My turn!” He looked at you and said aloud, “Please let Y/N and I fulfill our dreams together just as we planned!”

You grinned up at him and held out your hand. “BFFs for life, eh?”

He grinned back, but his eyes didn’t follow his smile, and as you looked back at this moment later on, you couldn’t help but wonder why. “Of course. Best friends. For life.”

He said the words so softly, like a whisper, but it pierced through your heart so deeply that for a moment you were unable to return his smile. Then you caught yourself, and you nodded, smiling brightly for him. You honestly didn’t know what was wrong with you two, because lately, everything’s been too mushy between you and him. But you sort of didn’t think much about it; if anything, it just made the both of you closer.

At exactly that point, your phone rang. Hands shaking, you answered it.

“Six?”

…

As far as Seungcheol was concerned, Six was a sleazeball and a jerk all rolled into one pathetic human being. And even before you had been acquainted with the asshole, he’d been irked by the guy. Something about Six just rubbed Seungcheol the wrong way.

It probably started when Six began lording all over the campus with his good looks and playboy charm. But he found that he hated Six more when Six started dating you.

“That guy’s no good for you, Y/N,” he had said, scowling as you pulled your hair up in a ponytail and primped up for your first date. “I really don’t like the idea that you’re dating him.”

“Oh, please,” you had said as you put on some makeup. “I hated Seol, too, when you first started dating her. You’ll get over this best friend touchiness and love Six once you get to know him.”

But that day hasn’t come yet, and Seungcheol doubted that it would come anytime soon. He hated the fact that you hadn’t listened to him.

“I thought you were gonna break up with Six when he started playing around with Eunbi,” Seungcheol said as he followed you onto the rooftop where you said Six was

waiting.

“I thought you were gonna break up with Seol when she started playing around with a lot of men,” you spat back as you went up the steps. Then you stopped going up and turned around to face Cheol. “Look, you didn’t have to come here with me.”

And now, he was even more pissed off that you’d gone home crying. Again.

He knew this was Breakup No. 7, with the Crying Encore that left him feeling even more of a jerk than your ex.

He shouldn’t have left you all by yourself. He should’ve waited for you, because he knew this would end badly. He was cursing himself as he bounded up the stairs to the condo unit where Six the Sonofabitch was staying.

He pounded on the front door, shouting out Six’s name.

And when Six opened the door, Cheol couldn’t help it. He knocked him down, relishing the moment when his fist made contact with the sonofabitch’s sorry little nose. The Crying Encore was forgotten; the crunch of Six’s nose was enough to send Cheol singing “hallelujah”.

He got a little more angry, though, when Girlfriend No. 2 came running out of the bedroom door wearing nothing but a thong. Cheol furiously pointed at the door. The girl left, half-naked, screaming.

“I don’t know why you had to fucking mess with Y/N’s head every fucking time, but I’m done watching you, you motherfucker,” Seungcheol fumed, his eyes flaring up with an intense anger. “And I don’t care about the cops taking me in for the night. I’d do this all over again if I had to.”

“You sonofa—” Six sputtered out, holding his broken nose. “You were one of the reasons she and I don't work out. You always had to butt in on our—”

“—she’s the most important person in my life,” Seungcheol swore, “and I’d fucking kill you if you ever come near her again. You made her cry for how many shit-days, you moron. That will not happen again.”

“I always knew you weren’t serious about Seol,” Six taunted. “I’m gonna make fucking sure—”

“—oh, spare me your threats.” Seungcheol slammed his foot down on Six’s stomach, and Six screamed with pain. “Don’t ever come close to Y/N again. Know your place, you little shit. You don’t deserve her.”

“And neither do you, fucker,” Six growled, his eyes daring Cheol to say otherwise.

But Cheol just smiled sadly.

“I know.”

- Admin Leanne

Send us a word + an AU + a member!

[willgayers]

80 for reddie because I love anGNSt

some good ole angst! ending with fluff tho. and this is inspired by Kelly Clarkson - Piece By Piece !!!!warnings; abandonment 

Richie Tozier was crying, his hands tugging on his hair as his upper torso was bent over his lower half; he was sitting on the sofa of the living room of his house, rocking himself back and forth.

“Richie?”

Richie’s head lifted immediately from the voice he recognized, turning his face towards the front door where his boyfriend was now standing.

Eddie was looking at him with worry; he’d gotten a text, only saying “Get here”.

Richie’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, his lips swollen and his face stained with tears.

Then Kaspbrak started to look at the bigger picture— there was a certain feeling lingering around in the house. A cold, dark, even scary feeling. The house was gloomy, only the already setting sun trying to shine it’s last peeks  through the curtains, but failing.

The house looked… empty. Then Eddie realized; furniture was missing. Like the TV, the carpet from the floor, the toaster from the kitchen counter…

“Richie, what’s going on?” Eddie asked, walking over to the boy on the sofa and grabbing his hand, giving it a squeeze.

Richie didn’t say anything at first, and Eddie didn’t force him to speak; he gave him the time he needed, stroking the palm of his hand with his thumb,

“They left,” Richie finally spoke, his voice surprisingly steady.

Eddie frowned.

“Mom and dad,” Richie said again, and now his voice broke. “They left.”

Now Eddie fully understood what Richie meant, and his mouth started to hang open from shock.

“They… they didn’t even leave a note, Eds,” Richie closed his eyes, more tears bursting out.

Eddie’s gaze wandered down to the floor, where he had noticed a bag of Chinese take-away as he walked in; and the thought of Richie coming home with food for him and his parents only to find the house empty made his stomach turn around. 

“Richie, I am so sorry,” Eddie breathed out.

How could they do that? 

Even if his mother was an alcoholic and his dad was an abusive asshole and Eddie had always thought that Richie would be better off without them; he was only seventeen years old.

“Come here,” Eddie said, wrapping his arms around Richie, pulling the taller boy against him.

Richie leaned on Eddie’s chest, staining the salmon pink fabric of his shirt with his tears.

“Richie—” Eddie started, his voice soft and quiet. “I want you to know, that it was not your fault.”

“You don’t know that,” Richie sobbed.

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie said. “It was not your fault.”

This angered Richie— he jumped up from the couch, Eddie gasping lightly from the sudden movement.

Richie didn’t believe it; ever since he could remember, his dad had called him names— worthless, rat-shit, bastard, little bitch, piece of shit. And the same one goes with his mother; she’d said that she would have wanted a daughter instead and even that she’d rather if Richie didn’t even exist.

“You don’t fucking know that, Eddie!” He shouted. “They left because of me!”

“But you haven’t done anything wrong, Richie!” Eddie claimed, getting up too.

“You just don’t get it, Eddie!” Richie yelled, holding his hands out in distress. “I'm— I’m doing something wrong with just fucking existing!”

He threw his hands up with the last word, before starting to scratch his scalp in anxiety.

“What? That’s not true, Richie,” Eddie said, trying to reach out to his boyfriend but Tozier just stepped away with a shake of his head.

“No, it is,” he said. “My fucking parents didn’t even want me, so what does that say about me, huh?! My parents, Eddie! The only people who are supposed to love you!”

“They’re assholes,” Eddie said but Richie wouldn’t listen.

“I am such a fucking failure— I’m a motherfucking stupid worthless piece of shit, and I’ve never done anything right in my entire fucking life!” The anger started pushing through in Richie’s voice.

Eddie’s heart hurt because of his words; it killed him to see Richie think so little of himself.

“FUCK!” Richie suddenly shouted, knocking down the sofa table, making Eddie jump back.

“Richie—!” He blurted out. “Calm down!”

“No!” Richie shouted at him. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

He threw a vase against the wall, and Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“If even my own fucking parents won’t stay—!” Richie didn’t even wanna finish the sentence, because the thought scared him. He was afraid that if he said it out loud, it might spark the idea in Eddie’s head.

“—then why the hell would you?” He whispered, and Eddie stared at him, shocked.

How could Richie even think of that?

“Eventually; you’ll leave too.”

“Richie,” Eddie breathed out, walking over to him.

“You will leave too—” Richie was starting to panic, shaking his head.

“I will never leave,” Eddie said, grabbing Richie’s head to stare deep into his eyes.

Richie swallowed.

“No matter how hard it gets or how rough things are, I will always be here.” Eddie spoke steadily. “Through sticks and stones, I will fucking always be here, you understand me? I will never leave you.”

Richie’s heart twisted; he didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand why Eddie bothered— how could someone like Eddie care about someone like him so much? He was… he was just Richie.

He was just Richie Tozier. Nothing more.

“Why?” Richie breathed out.

Eddie raised his brows.

The fuck did he mean why?

“Because I am sick of your parents making you feel like you’re worth jack-shit.” Eddie spat. “Because to me— Richie—” Eddie took a shaky breath. “You mean everything to me. So please don’t say you haven’t done anything right in your life.”

This made Tozier’s stomach drop out of his ass; before he burst out in tears again.

Eddie pulled his body against his, holding his head as he sobbed.

 “How could they do that?” Richie cried. “How could they fucking leave me, Eddie?”

 “I don’t know,” Eddie breathed out. That was the truth; he didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how someone could abandon their own son.

 “But I promise you, Richie; I will help you with everything.”

And Eddie kept that promise.

He helped Richie get his own place; he helped decorating it; he stayed there for the first week so that Richie wouldn’t have to be alone. Whenever Richie got caught in his own mind, thinking it was his fault all over again, Eddie would cuddle him and hold him as he cried it all out. When the losers asked about his apartment, Richie just shrugged it off as telling them that his parents left for a vacation somewhere in Europe. Eddie was the only one who knew the truth; and every night Richie looked at him, snuggled up to Richie’s side on the mattress on the floor of his cheap-furniture place, sleeping so peacefully, Richie knew that he wouldn’t need his parents. 

Because the only person who had ever truly been there for him; the only person he felt safe with; the only person, he knew he needed around him to survive, was Eddie fucking Kaspbrak.

Because he knew, that being in love didn’t just mean showing yourself physically naked.

It meant showing yourself emotionally naked, too. 

But piece by piece, he collected me upOff the ground, where you abandoned thingsPiece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me at six years oldAnd you knowHe never walks awayHe never asks for moneyHe takes care of meHe loves mePiece by piece, he restored my faithThat a man can be kind and the father couldstay

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