#had to fix some colors that changed between screens:((

[lovelybeesthings]

Dancer

Coriolanus Snow x fem reader

Warnings: Smut, size difference

Context: what if Lucy Grey was forced to kill another tribute as it was down to the two of them and y/n kills Lucy and Snow gets caught with his actions of cheating and sent to distract 6 and meets the winner of the 10th hunger games?

As it was down to two tributes Lucy Grey and Y/n L/n Snow was anxious analyzing each step and preying hopefully Lucy could find a way to win as the snakes were close to Y/n she kept fighting, and her gorgeous hair looked still tactful she seemed innocent but her actions far from it using an axe and he own hands to fight back from dead tributes.

As snow thoughts raced he completely forgot to look at the screen until one sound came out a woman’s scream but..a voice he recognized, once he looked up at the screens he saw Lucy’s gray body lying with blood coming out from her body her dress and corset while the tribute who won y/n closed her eyes crying as she was almost disgusted with her actions and once she opens them she made sure to close Lucy’s a sweet act from a girl who used a salvage method to end another’s.

As he couldn’t look anymore he heard words coming out of the TV “I’m s-sorry, I’m so so-sorry” the girl cried out so innocently at the moment she caused him to snap out the moment he turned his head seeing her mentor cheer and some cheered for them while some watched the screen feeling sympathy for the winner.

As she got up wobbly her hands so slim and skinny were stained with blood from what she knew Lucy and y/n were a bit smaller poor young girls in a hunt and both had hobbies that they were talented about Y/n was credited for her dancing skills and sung a little. So only after the events, Coriolanus was punished for cheating by Highbottem and sent to be a peacekeeper in District 7 where the winner of the 10th games lived.

After settling down he heard from fellow peacekeepers that down at the hub, there was gonna be a little celebration for y/n she had been very popular in her district he'd heard that she truly their angle, and when she was reaped it made everyone devastated, and hopeful something that drew the line between the two Lucy Grey was a girl that was forgetful for distract 12 while Y/n L/n was a name everyone knew a girl who could not be forgetful.

As he went with some peacekeepers he saw her up on the stage in a lovely flower dress Brown boots with roses on them hair half up half down pigtails ribbons holding them she fixed the mic and went back to her bass roses crested on the base red and white which caught his attention soon the remainder of the members came out and the music started to play people danced smiling giggling though his eyes were drawn to Y/n and who playing the bass she had and another girl who seemed like her sister singing in the mic together as Y/n had a sweet smile this wasn't the girl who had murdered cruelly this was a girl who had to fight for her life for people she cared about in the arena.

As they soon changed songs Y/n hopped off the stage to dance with people on the floor a few young children older fellow and some peacekeepers… “would you like to dance Mister?”

He hadn't noticed her appear to him he was taller than the girl her hair was different from what he saw in arena hair (whatever your hair resembles color-wise) he was flushed with emotions but the only one he could think of was he was flustered “I uh don't know how to dance-” he said as he soon was interpreted with her sweet words that felt like honey “it's easy ill show ya” she says as she took his hands to the floor as the music played she put his hands on her hips and her hands to his shoulders and instructs his feet as he watches her boots and her dress and her hair in the wind as she dances he was amazed by her moves and her beauty at the moment.

His face was ridden with pink he was so happy at that moment and before he knew it she had slipped away dancing with the next person as he sighed the feelings she had left him were strong know something he felt with Lucy…but stronger than it as he realizes a ribbon was in his hand the ribbon she had in her hair he soon put it in his pocket and watched from the sidelines, she soon went back up to play her bass and sing.

Something he was surprised about was that she started dancing on the stage with her sister smiling and giggling then after that they wrapped up their instruments and got ready to leave before Coriolanus knew it his legs moved on his own she was on the stage packing her bass kneeling struggling to close the case “gosh dang it!” he was blushing as he swallowed his nervous and spoke “Need some help?” she jumped to the words spoken to her and turned her head softening to his words “Yes, please” he got down on his knees beside her shutting the case “I'm Coriolanus Snow” She beamed even brighter “Well nice to meet you Croyo” his face felt warm to her nickname for him

As he carried out the case for Bass she had led him to her home and when he placed it down he smiled as she began to say goodbye “Thank you again for bringing all the way home for me Croyo” She then tippytoed her boots and kissed him on his cheek and smiled blushing then shutting the door.

(Time skip)

Y/n had opened up about the nightmares and panic attacks she gets about the games and the haunting faces of the people she had to murder the most regret she had for Lucy Grey making her cry into his arms in the moment he didn't even care about Lucy grey he was more into the fact he was able to hold Y/n he felt bad but felt a need to make her always run in his arms aomoem she can turn to the only person she can turn to. He felt that it wasn't needed to tell her about his past in the Capitol he knew at one point he'd tell her but not yet.

“Croyo I want to take the next step in our relationship,” she says blushing not being able to look him in the face “All alright..” he says with a smug face but soon changes once she looks up at him as he runs light kisses down my cheek and jawline, his breath heated on my skin, making me quiver with happiness he began to unzip my dress leaving me in my custom undergarments with roses plastered on them I took him back a minute and then continued to take off his clothes until he was bare naked my eyes traced every bicep very ab and my face becomes red when I get to his “my little rose petal~” he says as I look back up to his eyes as he smirks and unhooks my laced bra and panties giving myself to him.

His hands began to trace the curves of my body and then study each other's mouths, savoring the sensation of each other's warm bodies pressed tightly against one another. He was now holding my breast in his hands and then began to Lick them and bite on the nip causing me to shiver and moan out blushing then His Dick pressed against the crack of my thighs, stretching my yearning pussy open for him the comfort of his touch quickly entered throughout my body.

He slowly sank inside me, filling me, his movements slow and steady. The feeling of his dick in me made me flutter as he was able to see his member in my stomach making me even harder the thrill of each thrust drew me closer to my release, the peak growing within me with each succeeding pulse of his body against mine.

As my eyes rolled back into my skull, his big cock buried deep within me, a loud gasp from my lips as he buried himself even further inside me, his balls smacking against me “Fuck you're so tight” he moaned “So close-e!” I moan as he nods and soon releases inside of me he kisses my forehead and falls on top of me as we both fall asleep to each other naked body.

“I love you y/n,” he says to me slumbering body waiting for a response then speaks again “You're mine forever I'll never let you go I've already made that mistake once I won't let it happen again,” he says possessive holding y/n in his arms and closeting his eyes.

THE END THIS A ONE SHOT

[extremedelusions17]

The 4 times Jessie realized she loved you, and the 1 time she did something about it

j.fleming x reader

w/c: 1400

a/n: really fluffy, hope you enjoy xx

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1.) Innocent touches

In the quaint town where you and Jessie Fleming  spent your formative years, movie nights were a cherished tradition. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the living room bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. The air was filled with the familiar scent of buttered popcorn, and laughter echoed as the both of you settled onto the plush couch, your eyes fixed on the flickering screen.

As you reached over to grab the popcorn bowl, your fingers brushed in a seemingly innocent gesture. "Oops, sorry," you chuckled, not noticing the subtle change in Jessie's demeanor. For Jessie, time seemed to pause in that fleeting moment. A gentle spark ignited within her chest, a sensation she struggled to comprehend. Lost in the movie, you remained blissfully unaware of the subtle shift

Jessie stole glances at her best friend, trying to decipher the warmth lingering in her chest. It was a momentary touch, but in that instance, Jessie felt the boundaries of your friendship expanding into uncharted territory. As the characters on the screen continued their antics, Jessie's mind was elsewhere, grappling with the newfound awareness. Could a simple touch hold the potential to redefine a relationship? She pondered the question, her thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and curiosity.

The characters on the screen continued your antics, but Jessie's mind was elsewhere, grappling with the newfound awareness. Could a simple touch hold the potential to redefine a relationship? She pondered the question, her thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and curiosity.

As the credits rolled, signaling the end of the movie, Jessie found herself lost in contemplation. The room, once filled with laughter and shared moments, now seemed to pulse with unspoken tension. It was a tension that Jessie wasn't sure she was ready to unravel, yet it lingered like a delicate thread, connecting her to a reality she hadn't fully explored.

2. The Shared Secret:

Under the watchful gaze of the moon, Jessie and you often found themselves immersed in late-night conversations. The symphony of crickets serenaded them as you confided a hidden passion. Jessie listened intently, not just to the secret itself but to the vulnerability in you's voice.

"That's amazing, you," Jessie responded with genuine enthusiasm. "I had no idea you felt that way."

you chuckled, a hint of self-consciousness coloring her cheeks. "Yeah, it's something I've kept to myself for a while."

As Jessie absorbed the weight of you's revelation, she realized the depth of the connection they shared. The trust and vulnerability exchanged under the moonlight created a bridge between them, revealing layers of each other's souls that went beyond the ordinary. It was in that moment that Jessie recognized her feelings for you were evolving into something deeper.

your conversation meandered into the late hours, topics shifting seamlessly between dreams, aspirations, and shared confidences. The night air held a certain magic, and Jessie couldn't help but wonder if this newfound intimacy was a prelude to a deeper connection.

As dawn approached, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Jessie felt a mixture of exhilaration and trepidation. The shared secret had opened a door to unexplored territories, and she found herself standing at the threshold, contemplating the path that lay ahead.

3. The Comfort in Silence:

By the riverbank, where the flowing water created a gentle melody, Jessie and you found solace in each other's company. A lazy afternoon unfolded as they lay side by side, the sun casting a warm glow on your surroundings. The rhythmic sound of the river seemed to synchronize with the beating of your hearts.

"You know," you broke the silence, "these moments with you are some of my favorites."

Jessie smiled, her heart echoing the sentiment. "Mine too, you. It's like we have our own little world here."

In the tranquil intimacy of that moment, Jessie acknowledged the emotions she had been harboring. The unspoken language of your companionship revealed a longing that hinted at something more profound than mere friendship.

As you continued to bask in the serene atmosphere, Jessie couldn't help but feel a gentle tug at the strings of her heart. The shared silence spoke volumes, and she wondered if you sensed the same undercurrents that were reshaping your connection.

The rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds became the soundtrack to your contemplation. Jessie's mind, now a canvas of introspection, painted scenarios of shared futures and unexplored emotions.

4. The Unspoken Jealousy:

An unexpected wave of jealousy crashed over Jessie one day as she observed you engrossed in conversation with a new teamate. Trying to conceal her emotions, Jessie walked home with you, a subtle turmoil stirring within her. you, ever perceptive, noticed the change in her demeanor.

"Jess, is everything okay?" you asked, concern etched on her face.

Jessie hesitated before responding, "Yeah, just had a weird day."

you studied her for a moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

The unspoken words lingered in the air, and Jessie, with a heavy heart, nodded in response. It was a moment of acknowledgment, a recognition that your relationship was evolving, and Jessie was beginning to grapple with emotions she had yet to fully understand.

As days turned into weeks, Jessie found herself navigating the intricacies of her own emotions. The unfamiliar pang of jealousy had unveiled a side of her feelings she hadn't anticipated. She questioned whether this emotional turbulence was merely a passing storm or a harbinger of deeper revelations.

The town, with its familiar streets and comforting routines, seemed different to Jessie now. Every interaction with you carried an undercurrent of unspoken tension, an uncharted territory that both fascinated and frightened her.

5. The Subtle Glances:

Subtle glances had woven an intricate language between Jessie and you. Across the bustling school courtyard or during family gatherings, your eyes would meet, linger, and then avert. Each stolen glance became a silent confession that spoke volumes.

One afternoon, as you sat on the porch, Jessie couldn't help but catch your eye. "What?" you teased, a playful grin on your face.

"Nothing," Jessie replied, her cheeks flushing. "Just... I don't know. Us, I guess."

you raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing on her lips. "What about us?"

Jessie hesitated before admitting, "There's something about the way we look at each other. It's different, i just don't know why."

Your expression softened, and for a moment, your eyes locked in a silent understanding. It was a realization that they were navigating uncharted waters, and the unspoken language of stolen glances was steering them toward something profound.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the porch, Jessie and you remained in your silent reverie. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, an invisible bridge that connected your hearts in ways words couldn't express. 

You leaned in closer and kissed Jessie's lips, embracing the feeling of her body pressed against you as the tension between you both heightened. Her breath came in quick and shallow breaths as you held her close, your hands caressing her skin and your fingers digging into her arms as your lips embraced. You felt her heart race against yours as the heat of your passion overtook you both. With the sun setting below the horizon, you remained in a silent reverie together as the unspoken words hung heavy in the air, connecting your hearts.

With the unspoken words finally broken and the tension finally let loose, you found yourself carried away in a flood of feeling. Jessie's body pressed up against you as your lips embraced in a heated kiss. Her breath came in quick and shallow breaths, her fingers digging into your arms as she embraced you. You could feel her heart racing against yours, the heat of your passion overtaking you both.

As your lips parted and your bodies separated, you both breathed a shaky breath, trying to catch your breath as you processed the wild moments that had just passed. and as you locked eyes, a shared smile broke across both your faces. It was a moment of realization, a turning point in the silent dance that had been unfolding for so long. With the weight of unspoken feelings finally acknowledged, you both leaned into each other, foreheads touching in a silent promise of more moments yet to be shared.

[kaciidubs]

Solely for You | Spooktober 2023

❣ Summary: It’s always the ones with the pretty faces who have the filthiest kinks, and Hyunjin was not an exception. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.4k ❣ Warnings: Kink discovery, feet kink, light mommy/miss kink, Sub! Hyunjin, Dom! Reader, smut, fluff, slight humor, slight cock stepping, clothed footjob, degradation, praise, begging, kinda forced orgasm, Hyunjin's embarrassed and Reader loves it ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Hyunjin is referred to as Hyune, my love, and pretty boy, Reader is referred to as my muse, baby, and miss. The pictures are solely for fishnet aesthetic only, there is no description of the reader visually or physically. ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

If there was one thing Hyunjin would say about himself, it would be the fact that he was helplessly in love with you in every sense of the word, for every sense of your existence - he loved you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.

Especially your feet.

Now, he wasn’t a man who advertised himself as having a feet kink - honestly, he didn’t even think he’d care what his potential partner’s feet would look like, but the more time he spent with you, the more intimacy that grew between the two of you, the more he realized his admiration for you stretched farther than he could’ve imagined.

It was fall, the season of coziness and embracing change, evidenced by the yellows, oranges, and reds of leaves decorating trees and spreading across the streets like pencil shavings - and with this change of scenery came the change of wardrobes.

Specifically, your wardrobe.

So many clothes came back into your rotation; hoodies, sweaters, sweatpants, skirts, leggings, and most importantly fishnet tights.

Oh, how he loved the fishnets.

The way you paired them underneath ripped jeans had his mind exploding, the variation of a slight grunge aesthetic or soft autumn vibe inspiring him in more ways than one - or the way you kept it simple by wearing them underneath a skirt of your choosing, he could never keep his eyes off of your legs.

However, the best of you wearing that stretchy netting would have to be the same way you were wearing them now; lounged comfortably on the couch after a small lunch date together, your outside outfit swapped for a large t-shirt that stopped just at the mid of your thigh while the coveted fishnets stretched down your thighs and around those pretty feet of yours.

The burnt red color of your nail polish was a nice choice - you always seemed to choose the perfect colors once the seasons changed.

Your legs were tucked slightly as you leaned against the arm of the couch, eyes glued to the tv as you watched the recap of some competitive show he had no energy to try to recall - nothing on that screen could’ve compared to the view of you right now, effortlessly beautiful without a care in the world.

“My love?”

Hyunjin blinked himself out of the stupor you fixed him in, humming, “Yeah?”

“I can feel you staring at me,” your lips pulled into a smirk as you fully met his gaze, “and I don’t know if you’re trying to make me catch a hint, or if you’re just really zoned out because you’re full.”

Gasping dramatically, his lips pulled into a pout, “I can’t just look at you because you’re pretty? Is this some new couple law? Do you have some handbook I don’t know about?”

“Oh my god,” a humored scoff floated past your lips, your right leg stretching out so you could nudge his thigh with your foot, “no, you drama queen! I just wanted to know if you wanted to say something, or if you’re waiting for my reaction because you watched this episode without me.”

His hand slid to lay over your ankle, a small smile gracing his lips when you settled into his touch, “You know I’d never do that-”

“Remember when you had that late practice and stayed at the dorms for the night?”

“I- You said it was okay!”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me!”

“I can’t read your mind!”

“I had to deal with Changbin sending me ‘spoilers without context’ pictures until I was able to watch it by myself!”

The silly argument dissolved into lighthearted giggles, your position now shifting so that your back was against the arm of the couch, legs splayed out and feet pleasantly resting against his sweatpant-clad thigh.

Your attention fell back toward the tv, and his would’ve followed suit if it weren’t for the subtle warmth radiating onto his thigh, his gaze dropping to your fishnet covered feet; the tiny pattern starting at your toes before branching up the tops of your feet and up your shins.

His left hand slid from your ankle to your foot, fingers tracing the nylon as his thumb grazed along the inside.

“Hyune, if you’re gonna do that, would you mind giving me a foot massage then? I promise I’ll give you one later, unless you want a back massage instead?”

Oh, fuck.

“Y-Yeah, I can do that, angel.”

Shifting so that he was mirroring the way you were sitting, he stretched his left leg alongside your right, corralling your feet near his crotch before scooting forward to give himself a comfortable position for the ensuing massage.

It started out perfectly fine, your right foot propped up on his thigh as his thumbs gently worked the pressure points he could recall from Felix’s many, many massage attempts on his own body - he could even feel you relaxing further, his heart swelling at the sight.

Though, his peace wouldn’t last for long; when the intro theme of the next episode floated through the speakers, you subtly danced to the catchy tune, humming along without a care in the world - and, as a further result, you began rocking your feet in time with the music.

Rocking your feet which were currently in his hold and personal space; wiggling your right foot as much as his slightly loose grip would allow, while rocking your left foot against his crotch.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched at the sudden pressure, glaringly aware of the chub he was sporting now victim to the light grazing of the bottom of your foot.

This could not be happening right now.

Just as fast as it started, it stopped - the sound of a commercial now floating through the air as your happy humming died down, though your left foot remained propped against the crotch of his sweatpants, the gentle pressure of the balls of your foot against his dick making his brain go haywire.

Could you feel him getting hard? Did you think it was weird? Why weren’t you saying anything- fuck, did you have to flex your foot down like that? 

He didn’t have a foot kink, he didn’t have a foot kink - or a stocking kink for that measure, he just thought you were gorgeous, you were always gorgeous no matter what you were doing or what you wore.

But-

But.

He stole a glance to his crotch, the sight of your toes - prettily painted in the polish you asked him for his opinion on - decorated in the criss-cross webbing of your tights earning a soft whimper from the back of his throat.

“Hyune?”

The man shivered, his hips gaining a mind of their own as they tilted further into the sole of your foot - the slight increase of pressure sending goosebumps spreading along his pale skin.

Then, the unthinkable happened; you fully pressed your foot against his clothed dick, your toes wiggling lightly against where the tip laid.

Hyunjin moaned, eyelids fluttering when you rolled your ankle ever-so-slowly, massage completely forgotten as he simply held onto your right foot for support.

“Oh, my pretty boy-”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, pretty pink lips set into a pout, “I- t-this is new, I swear, I haven’t- I never-”

“Easy, baby, relax - you know I’d never kink shame you, we’re each other’s safe spaces, remember?” You watched as he visibly relaxed, well, as much as he could with your foot still pressed against the erection straining his sweatpants. “If I’m honest, I kind of had a suspicion - nothing bad, but I’d always catch the way you’d stare, like you weren’t even aware you were doing it; or the times you’d go completely into ‘focus mode’ during foot massages, or when I’d ask you to help me with the buckle on my heels.”

A hot blush flushed his face in red, “Baby, my muse-”

“Your muse,” you hummed back, a soft smirk on your lips, “you always say how I inspire you, how I push you to do better, how you love everything about me - this is just you showing that you do, and this is me showing you that I accept it. Will you let me do that, Hyune? Can I show you how much I love your love?”

The sultry stare you were giving him made him feel like he was two seconds away from dying and going to heaven, the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth being the points of contact he had on you.

With a shallow breath, and a thick swallow, he found himself nodding his head.

“Please.”

“Alright, pants off for me, pretty boy - leave your boxers on.”

He fought the cry of disdain when you pulled your legs toward your body, taking away the sweet pressure he was quickly getting used to, and hastily made work of tugging his gray sweatpants down his slender legs and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor.

You eagerly took in the lengthy print of his dick through his red briefs, the matching elastic band adoringly labeled ‘loverboy’ disappearing underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

“Look at you, this hard for me already?”

An embarrassed whine of your name fell from his lips, the blush traveling down his neck nearly rivaling the color of his underwear, “It didn’t help when you kept grinding on it!”

Raising an eyebrow, you sat up straight, “It didn’t help, hm?” Stretching your legs back out, you pressed the sole of your right foot against his cock instead, applying more pressure than you did before, “So you need more than that, is that what you’re telling me, Hyune? Need to feel me harder?”

Hyunjin nearly fell back, managing to catch himself on a throw pillow as a desperate moan shot from his mouth, “A-Ah- oh fuck!”

“Answer me, my love,” you dug your foot harder, practically stepping against the throbbing shaft, “it’s not enough to see my feet all dolled up for you, no, you need to have them on you - worship them like you do the rest of my body.”

“Y-Yes! Yes - wanna worship them, m-my muse, wanna worship you!”

A sinister laugh bubbled from your chest, the sight of him falling apart without you having to touch him with your hands sparking a fire in your stomach as you ground your foot in slow, circular motions.

You couldn’t help but notice the darkened red fabric around his tip, the cotton soaking up the precum he was undoubtedly leaking underneath his briefs.

“It’s always the ones with the pretty faces who have the filthiest kinks, isn’t that right, baby?” Your lips curled into a smirk when he keened, hips bucking up against your foot at an uneven pace, “What else do you want me to find out, hm? Anything you’re waiting for me to discover? Hell, you already let me use you like a pussy drunk toy sometimes - you always come the hardest when I’m in charge, taking care of you like a mommy would.”

The minute that word left your lips, a shivering gasp left your black-haired boyfriend, lust fogged eyes gazing at you in equal parts embarrassment and pure need, “P-Please, I-”

“Mommy, hm? Is that what does it? Or, maybe something formal like mistress, miss-”

“M-Miss,” Hyunjin whimpered, hips jerking through the uncoordinated footjob he was trying to initiate, “mommy i-is… okay, but Miss-” a shiver ran down his spine, eyes rolling when your dragged your foot up, your toes grazing against the flare of his cockhead, “-fuck, Miss is b-better.”

The airy, lilted tone in his voice made your head spin, the title stroking your ego in ways you hadn’t expected - there would definitely be more chances to explore that.

“My love,” you cooed, a sickeningly sweet smile curling your lips, “My sweet, dirty love, Miss promises to take good care of you, okay?”

His head lolled back, eyes fluttering shut and pink lips parted in an unabashed moan, “I-I’m gonna come - oh my god, ‘m gonna come.”

“Really? We haven’t even kissed - I haven’t even seen that gorgeous dick of yours, and you’re already about to come? All because of my feet?”

He whined, a pitiful sound emanating from the back of his throat, hands gripping the cushions underneath him, “I-It’s not like that- shit, y-you’re so beautiful a-and - ah- the fishnets, they- oh, fuck, please let me come, Miss!”

“Look at me, my love.”

He brought his head back down, black strands tickling his sweat-slickened forehead as rounded, desperate eyes gazed into your focused stare.

“Come.”

His dick throbbed under the sole of your foot, urging you to press against him just a bit more, the frantic thrusts of his hips shaking your leg as he fucked himself against your foot; mouth falling open in a loud moan of your name.

Hot ropes of cum spread along his hip, the cotton of his briefs immediately soaking up his release with a dark red stain left behind, putting the previous stain of precum to shame and making him feel utterly filthy.

Eventually the twitching of his dick slowed, and the jerking of his hips stopped as he settled back onto the couch - a small flinch shooting through his body when you gently prodded at his softening length with your toe.

Bringing your legs back to your end of the couch, you maneuvered yourself onto your knees and crawled between his still open legs, “Hyune?”

He blinked dazedly, breathing heavily as he attempted to recover from one of the many mind blowing orgasms of his life. “Y-Yeah?”

Hands finding their way to his cheeks, you gently held his face as you placed an even gentler kiss to his lips - laughing softly when he tried following you as you pulled away. “You did so good for me, you know that? And I meant everything I said before; I love how much you love me - personally I think I love you more than you love me - and I’m glad that includes every part of me, too.”

The look in his eyes could have only been best described as adoration and pure, unadulterated love, his larger hands coming up to cover your own with ease.

“You could never know how much I love you - I don’t think they’ve discovered the words for me to even try to describe it.” Dipping his head forward, plush lips brushed against your own, “But I can show you, if you’ll let me.”

A short laugh escaped you, eyes shining in mischief as you nodded, “You know… I really, really love your hands, it might even be a kink of mine.”

Hyunjin smirked, eyes narrowing at your attempt of a tease, “Then let me show you how much I love your love - have you worship them like the rest of me.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means I'm unable to tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[wonik1ss]

Y/n’s Lovely Fimily —

synopsis : Little moments of Y/n and her members throughout the years

pairing : le sserafim x 6th member reader

song rec : cheeze - sarah kang, andrew kang

a/n : still on a break just! got the urge to write this!

“ Woah Woah Woah Y/n when did you become such a badass? “. Yunjin asked as your cheeks started to flush red.

“ Yunjin there are children here! “. Chaewon said as she blocked Eunchaes eyes that were still glued to the computer screen infront of her.

You all were watching your new mv for Unforgiven when your scene were you tore of a part of your dress revealing another one. The girls stared in aw as Yunjin made her comment.

“ Ya! What’s wrong with Y/n being a badass? “. Eunchae says as Sakura’s eyes went wide as Yunjin and Kazuha giggled as you sat in between them flustered

…

“ Ahh look at Y/n strut her stuff so fearless! “. Eunchae said as you walked the little runway in the fearless mv recording. She smiled at the camera as she zoomed into you. As soon as you saw the camera you winked.

Eunchaes eyes went wide as she turned the camera back to herself.

“ Our Y/n’s snatching hearts left and right! “. Eunchae said as you ran to her giggling.

“ I looked cool right! “

“ Totally ! You gave me chills ! “. Eunchae said as you beamed at the girl

…

Chaewon tried to close the dorms door as quickly and quietly as she could before she turned to see you waiting for her. Hands on your hips eyes furrowed and lips downturned.

“ Y/n what are you doing up so late! Kids under the age of 18 go to sleep at 10 in our dorms you know that “. You got closer to the older girl as you squinted and looks her up and down.

“ You look drunk “

“ That’s because I am! I had to film a video! “. You nodded as you got Chaewon a bottle of water as she sat down on your dorms couch.

“ So why are you up so late? “

“ We promised me you would watch a movie with me.. and Sakura didn’t want to do I just waited for you “. Chaewon nodded as your eyes furrowed again.

“ I’m still made at you! You promised me free snacks too! “. Chaewon sighed as she took of her Viking hat.

“ Will this be enough? “. Your eyes beamed as you grabbed the hat and ran to your room to take some pictures. As Chaewon smiled and went to her room to change.

…

“ Ahh look at our little princess Y/n! “. Yunjin yelled as you came out of your changing room with a little crown on your head. She bowed and escorted you to your set as you giggled.

“ Do I really look like a princess? “. You asked as Yunjin fixed your hair a little.

“ Mhmm with and with out the crown too “. Yunjin winked as you smiled and she ran of set so you could shoot your scene.

“ Everyone look over there that’s what a real princess looks like! “. Yunjin whispered to the camera as you giggled.

…

“ Hi everyone! “. You said as Kazuha waved and put a bag on the table infront of the two of you.

“ Woah! I wonder what’s in there! “. You said as Kazuha giggled and opened the bag showing a bead set.

“ Fearnots today we are making bracelets! “. Kazuha said as you set of the beads as she watched the comments fill in.

“ What colors should I make my brackets Zuha? “. Kazuha focused on the 4 beads that say infront of you as you giggled at the girls concentrated face.

“ What? “

“ Nothing you just look so concentrated looking at the beads “. You giggled as Kazuha did too.

“ Go with the Purple ones “

“ Ok then I’ll go with the blue ones then! “. Kazuha looked at you in shock as you giggled and picked out all the blue beads you could find.

…

“ 123 pose “. Sakura said as you posed in your antifragile outfit infront of the fire Chaewon was just infront of 2 minutes ago.

“ Y/n be careful! “. Sakura said as she took the last photo and grabbed your hand to be father away from the bright lit fire.

“ Wow these look so pretty thank you Kura! “. You hugged the girl as she patted your back and then gave you her phone as she posed infront of the fire.

“ Wow or Y/n should be a photographer! “. Sakura said as you she looked at the photos you talk as you giggled.

…

“ I think Y/n changed the most in the year from our debut “

“ She has really opened up to us and she really shines bright when she walks into any room really “. Chaewon said as she sat on the stool for eh first fimily party.

“ Oh Y/n has definitely changed a lot she has definitely become louder because of our group and I’m very happy about that “. Yunjin said as she smiled at the thought of you taking pictures with Eunchae in your bob for the Unforgiven mv.

“ Ohh I would say Y/n is my favorite member.. but don’t tell the other they’ll get really jealous! “. Eunchae said as she giggled.

“ She always treats me to food after I film at music bank and we’re basically twins! I see that some of the fearnots think this too since we are basically attached at the hip! “. Eunchae said as the video went to Sakura.

“ I think one of my favorite moments of Y/n was when fearless was uploaded and she hugged me as I started to cry.. and also offered to get me dinner after.. our Y/n is so thoughtful I’m really glad we debuted together “

“ Ahh me Y/n and Yunjin used to talk in English a lot but now me and Y/n just talk a lot in English to help me become better and I talk a lot in Japanese to help her get better! It’s really fun to teacher her because she always try’s to use it anytime she can and I just makes me so proud she cares that much to learn it! “ said Kazuha.

…

You cried as the mc handed Chaewon the award. Eunchae immediately ran to comfort you as the rest followed her. Yunjin whipped your tears as you whipped hers and your song Unforgiven starts to play.

You started to sing as your members hyped you up. In a matter of seconds you all were smiling and jumping around the stage.

What a beautiful fimily

…

[mama-qwerty]

Little and Broken

This started as a little Shortie for an ask from @wingsofthesun and instead turned into THIS.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eclipse pressed himself flat against the wall as he peered into the living room. The lightbox (teevee Silver called it) was on, and colorful images flashed across the screen.

Silver and the human woman sat on the couch, with the hedgehog snuggled up close to his mother. Her hands ran absently through his quills, and every now and then he would turn his nose to nuzzle against her side.

At first, Eclipse wasn't interested. They watched that teevee almost every night, sometimes laughing at what they saw, sometimes crying, sometimes cheering. He didn't understand--they were just some sort of transmission. He'd seen similar ones on the Comet--feeds of various planets the Black Arms were studying to destroy more effectively. (Even though they were the strongest warriors in the galaxy, they still didn't want to waste effort and energy in an attack that could be won in a simpler way.)

He didn't get the appeal. Or how they could become so invested and reactionary to the images. It seemed silly.

The darkling had stayed in his little closet, trying to ignore the noise from the other room as he napped. But then, certain bits of dialogue came to him, and his curiosity got the better of him.

"Monstrosity? What you see before you, is the first of a new species. I call it, Experiment 626."

Eclipse's brow furrowed. He poked his head out through the blanket acting as the door to his 'room'.

"He is bulletproof, fireproof, and can think faster than super computer. He can see in the dark, and move objects 3000 times his size. His only instinct, to destroy everything he touches!"

The darkling crawled out from his hidey hole, making his way to the archway between the kitchen and living room. This was sounding interesting. It sounded a lot like him! A creature created to be a fierce warrior! To be strong and capable and formidable and--

"So it IS a monster."

That stopped him in his tracks. Monster? No, he was created to be the best parts of the Black Arms. This, well, whatever it was on the teevee was also created to be strong, to be a warrior. That's not a monster.

Eclipse slid against the wall, being careful to stay out of sight as he watched the events on the screen.

"And as for that abomination, it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."

"The council has banished you to exile, on a desert asteroid."

That word made Eclipse's heart clench. He wasn't quite sure why he was on this backward mudball of a planet, but he'd always thought it was for some secret mission. Some valuable scouting mission for his father, the great and powerful Black Doom. It's what helped him keep his sanity in those early days.

But late at night, he thought of that word. Banished. And part of him whispered that that's really what happened. He'd failed his father one time too many, and now he was sent away. Banished to die alone on this pathetic planet, full of pathetic humans.

He tried to push that thought away.

On the teevee, Experiment 626 managed to escape. Eclipse watched with wide eyes as the ship he stole headed toward Earth.

~X~X~X~

"This is you. This is your badness level. It's unusually high for someone your size. We have to fix that."

Eclipse wrinkled his muzzle. Experimen--Stitch, wasn't bad. That was how he was created! It was just who he was. Changing him meant making him be a different person. That wasn't fair. That wasn't right.

He didn't like the humans in this transmission. Not at all.

~X~X~X~

"Look at him Lilo, he's obviously mutated from something else. We have to take him back.”

“He was an orphan and we adopted him! What about ohana??”

“He hasn’t been here that long!”

“Neither have I! . . . . Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.”

Silver laughed at this part, pointing to the teevee.

“Look! That’s just like what happened with us when Eclipse came!”

The woman laughed a little, nodding. “Yeah, that’s kinda the gist of it, isn’t it? You were all about keeping him and I, well, needed a little convincing, didn’t I?”

“You were just mad because he bit you.”

“Oh, and that was so unreasonable!”

The two laughed a little more, and Eclipse looked on from his hidden spot near the archway.

The hedgehog was right. That was very similar to how it played out. To be fair, the darkling still wasn’t completely sold on the idea of staying here. His arm was healed, but the weather was getting colder outside. He’d never survive without shelter. And the human had welcomed . . . well, accepted him into her home without any demands for repayment or compensation. Sure, he couldn’t fight or hurt anyone, but that was a small price to pay for warm shelter and a full belly, right?

That word kept repeating through his head, though. Ohana. The older human in the transmission didn’t seem to want to keep Stitch, but the little one was insistent they did. Because of ohana. Family. She saw Stitch as family, even though he caused trouble, and had only been there for a short time.

His eyes wandered to the couch. Silver was like that. He had wanted to help Eclipse from that very first night he’d appeared, trying to snatch food from their trash. And the hedgehog was so happy to have Eclipse here now.

But the woman wasn’t as sold. Just like the one in the transmission. She was more wary of Eclipse. She was more interested in taking care of Silver, like the one in the teevee was all about caring for her sister. They were just the same.

It was strange how similar it was.

~X~X~X~

“This little girl is wasting her time. 626 cannot be taught to ignore its destructive programming.”

“This is interesting. 626 was designed to be a monster, but now, there’s nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like to have . . . nothing? Not even memories to visit in the middle of the night.”

Eclipse stared at the teevee with wide eyes. Was that . . . was that like him? He had been created as the Black Arms’ greatest weapon. A prince to the most dangerous and destructive race the galaxy has ever known. His entire life, since he was hatched, has been dedicated to fighting, destroying, being stronger and better than everyone and every thing else.

But on this planet, he didn’t have to fight. He didn’t have to destroy. He didn’t have to earn his right to exist, or suffer the consequences of failure.

He was still allowed to stay here, even if he didn’t prove his strength. He was still allowed to eat, without having to fight others for the barest morsel.

But if he didn’t do what he was created for, what did that make him?

The only difference was, Eclipse did have memories. But they weren’t exactly the type he wanted to visit in the middle of the night. Because they hurt. And were scary. And reminded him of just how much of a failure he was.

~X~X~X~

The humans were on the beach. Riding some sort of boards on the waves in the water. They laughed and had fun together. Stitch watched them.

Eclipse watched, too. His gold-on-black eyes flicked to the couch, where Silver and the woman sat. Silver leaned closer, and the woman reached down to pull him closer, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She rested her chin on the top of his head, and a smile curled the hedgehog’s lips.

Stitch reached for the little human. Wanting to be included. Risking a return to his greatest weakness. Just to be part of their family.

The darkling stared.

~X~X~X~

“I hear you cry at night. Do you dream about them? I know that’s why you wreck things, and push me.”

“Our family’s little now, and we don’t have many toys. But, if you want, you could be part of it. You could be our baby, and we could raise you to be good.”

“Ohana means family. And family means nobody gets left behind.”

“But if you wanna leave, you can.”

Anger stirred in the darkling. He hated this transmission. He shouldn’t be wasting his time watching this—he was a weapon, a warrior, and should have been spending every moment training to be stronger. Better. What did this transmission do to help him? Nothing. He should just head back to his closet and rest, so he can get up at first light and restart his training. He’d gone too long without it, and knew his father would have found that disgusting and unacceptable.

He should. It was what his father would want.

But he couldn’t move.

His eyes moved back to the teevee. And he hated himself for being so weak.

~X~X~X~

“L-l-lost.”

“I’m lost.”

Eclipse nearly ran into the room to break the teevee. He hated this. Something was stirring deep within him, and he didn’t know what it was, but it made him angry and sad and scared and his stomach twisted and clenched.

His eyes burned with tears and he grit his teeth to keep them away.

Weapons didn’t cry. Weapons didn’t feel sad or scared. Weapons fought. Weapons won.

The darkling clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.

~X~X~X~

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Family.”

“Aaahh, you don’t have one. I made you.”

“M-maybe I could . . .”

“You’re built to destroy. You can never belong.”

That thing stirring inside Eclipse surged, and he swallowed down tears. Bit back sobs. He never should have started watching this transmission. It did something to him, and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control it.

The thought of breaking through the glass door and running off into the night flashed through his mind.

But he couldn’t.

~X~X~X~

A heartbreaking separation. An unlikely alliance. A daring rescue.

Stitch, this little monster, this abomination, this creature who was only created for destruction, became a hero. He found his family. Found his purpose. Found his place.

“This is my family. I found it, all on my own.”

“It’s little, a-and broken. But, still good.”

“Yeah. Still good.”

And now the feelings within Eclipse couldn’t be contained any longer. They churned inside, pushing their way out, whether he wanted them to or not. Tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking his muzzle and dripping onto the floor as he held his head. Sobs barked through his throat, and he scurried back to his closet, curling up with his tail wrapped around him.

Silver and the human appeared, identical looks of worry and shock on their faces.

“What’s wrong??” the hedgehog cried, his hands yanking on one of his long head spikes.

“I dunno.” The woman knelt in the doorway, looking like she wanted to touch him, but hesitant to do so. “Eclipse? What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Worried. They were worried about him. They heard him crying and came running to make sure he was okay.

Both of them. Even the human.

He squeezed his eyes shut, curling up tighter.

“Go away!”

He wanted to scream it, bellow it, turn and lash out at them. How dare they. How dare they make him feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to feel. He was only supposed to hate. To conquer. He didn’t want to feel like he could relax, and be comfortable, and not worry about being beaten or starved or punished for not doing just the right thing.

Because that was wrong, all wrong. His entire life was about strength and fighting and being better and never, ever, ever disappointing his father, even though he seemed to do it all the time. Even when he tried his best. His best was never, ever, ever good enough.

“Hey,” the woman called, shifting to sit on her ankles. She glanced over at Silver and encouraged him to do the same. “Hey, shhh. Take a deep breath, okay?”

Why should he listen to her? She wasn’t his guardian. His caretaker. His m-mother. She was Silver’s and that’s it. She only cared about him, not Eclipse. She only begrudgingly allowed Eclipse to be in her home, taking care of him only out of obligation, because that’s what Silver wanted. She didn’t want him here. She didn’t care.

“C’mon, deep breath,” she said again, her voice soft and soothing. “Focus on that for me, okay?”

He didn’t want to. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to just lash out—to slash and bite and punch and kick. He hated these feelings and wanted them gone.

But he found himself pulling a deep breath in, and letting it out slowly, following her lead. She smiled and said soothing words to him, continuing this slow breathing.

After a few more breaths, Eclipse’s tears slowed, and he uncurled, but kept himself in the furthest corner from them.

“Better?” she asked, a little smile on her lips. Eclipse turned away, but nodded once. “Good. Are you hurt?” He hesitated before shaking his head. “Okay, also good. Do you wanna talk about it?” Another head shake, this one more immediate. “Okay, that’s fine. You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. But both Silver and I are here if you change your mind.”

Eclipse grunted in response. He wouldn’t change his mind. What could he say? The transmission they were watching made him feel things? How stupid. It was stupid.

“How about some ice cream?” Silver asked, flicking his amber eyes between Eclipse and his mother. “That always makes me feel better after I get upset.”

The darkling turned slightly, an eyebrow raised. He wasn’t much for the sweet foods Silver seemed to like, but ice cream was something he could tolerate. Even if it was cold. He gave the hedgehog a little nod.

“That’s an excellent idea, Bug,” the woman said, pushing herself to her feet. “C’mon kiddos. Ice cream makes everything better.”

Silver quickly followed after his mother, a big smile on his lips. Eclipse slowly crawled out of his closet, watching as they gathered bowls and spoons.

This world was nothing like his home on the Black Comet. These people were nothing like the Black Arms’ or Black Doom.

But maybe . . .

Maybe that was okay.

~~~

Like this? Check out my other snippets. Reblogs are appreciated!

[thepenultimateword]

I know you might continue it anyways but just in case, can you please write a part 6 for Sweet Dreams? I’m so invested in their story now and need to know what happens with their relationship! Thank you and I love all your stories by the way,

*Me writing this series:

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Cw: blood, needles, medical supplies/procedures, violence,

“Uuugh,” Villain grimaced, peeking through their fingers at the dramatic blood splatter speckling the tv screen. “How about I choose the next movie?”

They both lounged comfortably against the headboard of the bed, barrier still set firmly and conveniently down the center. The hotel staff probably thought they were crazy for asking for so many extra pillows, but the results were worth it. It had definitely made these last few days inside the hotel room easier. Henchman was certain their pounding rabbit heart wouldn't have been able to handle being so continually close to Villain otherwise. Yes, it was just feathers stuffed in fabric, but the principle of it was much stronger.

“Are you queasy?” Henchman said in disbelief, offering the skittle bag over the barrier.

Villain took a generous handful, though still shielding their peripheral vision with one hand. “Slashers are not my film of choice. They’re so gory.”

Henchman held back a scoff and crossed their arms on top of the mountain of pillows to peer over at them. “Don’t you kill people, like, all the time?”

Villain's head remained fixed downward, but Henchman still picked up on the little furrow between their brows as their entire face scrunched up with distaste. “First off, ‘all the time’ is a massive exaggeration. Second, when I do kill people, I don’t leave a mess. It's very different."

They had already begun pushing all the grape skittles to one side of their hand, cutting a tiny gap between them and the other colors; once they were finished, they waved for Henchman to extend their hand to them, and poured the little pile of purple into their palm.

Henchman had only mentioned in passing that grape was their favorite, but now Villain made a point of picking them out for them every time.

"I like strawberry best anyway," they'd insisted when Henchman tried to protest. It still felt strange. Villain didn't need to share anything with them, and they'd certainly never seemed inclined to before, not unless it was to their benefit, at least. But by now, after so many snacks and movies, Henchman just accepted it.

“What sort of movies do you like?” Henchman asked, clutching the handful tight at their side and ignoring the sticky stains coloring the inside skin.

No hesitation: “Romantic comedies."

Henchman barked a laugh and then hastily covered their mouth with both hands.

"I-I'm sorry,” they mumbled through their fingers, “I just...wasn't expecting that."

Villain shrugged, completely unabashed. "They're simple. People meet, they fall in love, they fight, they get back together. You never have to worry about the conflicts getting too big because you know there's always a happy ending. I think there's enough stress and fear in life; it's nice to escape into something optimistic once in a while."

"That...makes sense," Henchman nodded slowly.

It still came off as a little surprising. They'd learned a lot more about Villain over these past two days, but the revelation that they didn't crave violence was definitely one of the most eye-opening. They knew it didn't change the fact that Villain was willing to resort to such tactics, or that they were very, very good at them, but it definitely soothed some of their more fearful apprehensions over them.

A sudden blood-curdling scream blasted from the tv speakers, sending an electric jolt through Henchman's body that made their arms flail out to either side. Their fist slammed into one of the barrier pillows, making a small chink in the top layer and ending with their hand on the other side.

Villain seized on the balled fist as if they'd been laying in wait all along for such an opportunity, spreading their fingers tightly over Henchman's knuckles.

"Wait," they said after a couple seconds. "Are you still holding the skittles I gave you?"

Henchman blushed, wriggling their hand free and popping the entire handful into their mouth at once. That could have been the end of it. They'd had a real excuse to come back to their side. They could have folded their hands under their arms, turned staunchly back toward the screen, and pretended it never happened. But no, they had to immediately offer their hand back, purple dye and all.

Henchman registered the sweaty stickiness probably a couple seconds after Villain did. They blushed even more furiously.

"I...uh..."

They tried to draw back, but at the same time, Villain clapped their hand down onto the grapey mess, twining their fingers together without hesitation. Their skin clung together like adhesive as soon as their palms touched, but Villain barely reacted beyond a sly smile.

Henchman forced their eyes straight ahead and tried to keep them there for the remainder of the movie but, they couldn't help but steal a few harmless glances. Not that it told them much. Villain was too hard to read, and honestly, they weren't really sure what they were even hoping for.

However, they did notice that Villain treated the rest of the movie much more calmly than they had everything previous.

***

It was that very observation that still had Henchman's thoughts captive hours later.

They glanced at the red numbers blaring off their alarm clock. 5:15 a.m. Usually, they’d be dead asleep by now, but the questions kept itching at them. Did they really have a power? And if so what was the extent of it? Apparently, they could soothe nightmares, some pain, and, maybe, fear. Though there was still always the chance that it was all a major coincidence. They really wished they could know for sure. They knew only vaguely how the test worked and even less about how detailed it was, but they had enough information to know it was fairly simple and very accessible.

Maybe…they should check it out.

If you go, and it turns out you don’t have a power, Villain won’t want you near them anymore.

Henchman wasn’t sure if that was a pro or a con. They really didn’t want Villain to get close to them simply to use them, but then again, the possibility of the criminal dropping them was terrifying.

You don’t have to tell them the results, their inner scoundrel convinced them. Not right away. In the meantime, you’ll have time to decide.

That plan seemed reasonable enough. Though for it to work, it required Villain not to know they were being tested. They were supposed to lay low--they'd been ordering food by delivery this whole time precisely for that reason-- so Henchman would have no excuse to leave later. Meaning they needed to go before Villain woke up.

They needed to go now.

Henchman let their hand go limp in Villain's grip and with a little light, back-and-forth shimmying, very carefully slipped free. They waited a moment to see if Villain would stir, but when they simply let out a long exhale and tossed the other way, they swung their legs over the mattress and rose slowly to their feet.

They didn’t bother with their hair or their face, simply changing out of their pajamas into jeans and a hoodie and grabbing their shoes by the heels as they padded toward the door. When they turned the handle, the hinges let out a long, high-pitched whine that made Henchman wince, but once again, Villain didn’t awake.

Henchman plopped down on the nasty hallway carpet to yank their shoes on, and about 15 minutes later they were outside a pharmacy, though it didn't open until 8. Hopefully, Villain would sleep in.

Henchman gathered their legs up against their chest and rested their forehead on their knees. They must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing they knew somebody was tapping them roughly on the shoulder.

"You can’t sleep here," a tall, bespectacled man with a pinched mouth said, looking down at them from over their glasses. "Please move elsewhere."

Henchman blinked several times, eventually registering the keys in his hands and the slight way he angled himself toward the pharmacy door.

All sleep suddenly fled from their eyes, and they leaped to their feet. "Wait, no, I was just waiting for you guys to open!"

The man winced a little at their too-loud voice before shooting them an odd look. "In any sort of emergency, you should visit a hospital."

They must have misread their desperation.

"I'm not sick, I um..." Suddenly it was hard to say aloud. "Do you do...power-ability tests here?"

A new wave of understanding washed over the man. That sort of thing wasn't life-threatening, but it definitely could feel like it to some people.

"Yes." The door let out a little chime as he pushed it open. "You can go take a seat by the back counter, and I'll be right there."

Henchman stepped hesitantly into the building's sticky warmth. The air conditioning must be out, or maybe it just hadn't been turned on yet, maybe that was where the pharmacy man was going first.

Sure enough, a little chair was pushed into a far corner near the back counter, the seat all maroon and cracked leather. It wasn't exactly comfortable to sit on, but at least it was a distraction from the unknown ahead of them.

A P-A test costs about $150 dollars," the man said as he approached, a little square box in hand. "Do you want to pay that up front or fill out your insurance information?"

"Uh, upfront," Henchman said, fishing the leftover cash from their last paycheck out of their jeans pocket. They separated a couple hundreds, knowing they probably looked crazy suspicious, but if the man was bothered, he didn't show it. He disappeared around the counter for several moments and returned with two twenties and a ten for change.

"Do you know how this works?" he asked, popping open the tabs of the little cardboard.

"N-no," Henchman said, staring intently as the pharmacist pulled out a little needle and stiff, translucent piece of paper. "I know it's something that can be tested in the blood, but...no, I don't know much else."

The man crouched down and began wiping their index finger with a cold alcohol wipe, every once in a while fixing them with that serious gaze that had been unsettling earlier, but now suddenly brought comfort. "Basically, I take a few drops of blood from your finger, and let it land on this card. The card then changes color depending on whether you are positive or negative for powers or abilities. Red for positive, blue for negative. However, I won't be able to tell you what ability you might have or what level it is, for that you'll have to go to one of the institutions; they're all over the place."

Henchman nodded. They didn't really care about that part, powers or not, they were sticking with Villain's team, supposedly there were counselors and trainers available.

"What's your favorite color?" the man asked suddenly.

"What does that have to do--"

A sharp prick stung their finger, and they nearly yanked back with a loud yelp.

"That's the hard part done," the man said, unfazed by the outburst, and drew their hand over the translucent card. Three drops hit the center in quick succession, each one rippling a strange shimmer across the entire square.

"H-how long does it take?" they asked.

The man rotated the card up and down in a circular motion. "A couple minutes or less. Ah, here we go."

The color struck all at once. One moment, Henchman could see straight through the card, the next it bled a deep crimson.

"Look at that," the man said. "Powered after all."

Henchman stared with their mouth half-gaped open. They weren't sure why they felt so shocked; they'd come here because of the possibility that they had powers. Perhaps it was because they'd gone so long in their life not knowing, not even suspecting. Or perhaps it was that deep down, they really had been expecting Villain to be wrong. Because how could something like this ever happen to someone as average as them.

"Th-thanks," they finally managed.

The man nodded, seeming sympathetic but also ready to continue with his day.

"D-do, I keep that?" They motioned to the card.

"If you like," the man said, handing it off to them.

They stared at it for several more seconds before sliding it into their pocket with the cash.

"Thanks," they repeated and numbly walked out the door.

Once outside, they walked a couple blocks before finally stopping to look at the card once again. This was real. Really real. They had a power. And they possibly already knew what it was. Should they start testing it out to find the limits? If the mentioned it to Villain, would they have to tell them about the test? Would they even be able to keep that to themself?

With a grimace, they realized they had no story in case Villain was awake when they came back and asked them where they had been. Maybe a quick trip to the bakery would be enough. They'd be upset, but no too upset with a cheese danish in hand.

They only got a block before they were suddenly slammed to the ground.

Their head smacked the earth with an explosion of ugly stars. They twisted blindly, feeling the scrape of gravel against their cheek and tangling into their hair. This wasn't the sidewalk, this was somewhere else. Their fingers scraped toe either side, tips touching the leg of something cool and metal on one side.

They pressed past the throbbing pain beneath their skull.

A...dumpster perhaps? An alley?

Abruptly, both hands were pinned against their sides, gruff hands gripping their wrists so tightly Henchman wouldn't be surprised if they bruised. Warm breath blew across their throat and then warm skin pressed into their hair. The person inhaled deeply through their nose.

A shiver ran down Henchman's spine.

"You smell like them," a raspy voice whispered. It was one part curiosity and two parts self-satisfaction.

Henchman blinked as hard as they could without making the ache in their temples worse, and as the bright spots in their vision dissolved, they made out a long, wind-tossed hair and a crooked nose. The hair was a deep chestnut and it tickled their face as the man leaned over them, a sadistic grin plastered from ear to ear.

"You dear thing, why don't you tell me where you came from?"

"Jer!" a woman's voice said, followed by the crunch of footsteps. "You can't take off like that! What are you--"

She cut off, taking in the scene in front of her. Henchman could hardly see her around "Jer's" head, but they did glimpse the toes of a pair of long mint boots.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Our way to Villain."

Henchman had already begun to suspect, but that sentence dropped their heart into the pit of their stomach, churning it into heavy nausea. These were heroes.

"I smelt them from a mile away," Jer said, emphasizing his ability with another long sniff, this time in Henchman's neck. "The scent of Villain is all over them."

Some heroes had the power of enhanced senses, usually only one, though some ended up with a combo. This man seemed to have been gifted with an extremely sensitive nose.

The woman stepped up closer, cheeks puffy and ruddy from running, but eyes sharp and glittering as blades. "Where is Villain?" she said, smiling pleasantly even as every nerve in Henchman's body began to writhe in agony.

Henchman bit back the brunt of their scream, but it still escaped through clenched teeth loud enough to echo back to them off the building walls.

Completely unnecessarily, nose-man punched them in the ribs. "We asked you a question."

"I...don't know what you're talking about," Henchman gasped.

They couldn't break; they couldn't let them find out where Villain was.

"Your scent begs to differ."

Another punch to the exact same spot.

"I don't know!" they cried, almost a plead. "I've been all over the city! I could smell like anyone!"

"But you don't smell like anyone, " the woman said. "You smell like Villain."

By this point, their nerves felt stretched and stringy, maybe to the point of snapping.

"I don't know who that is," Henchman said. The ignorance card could probably only take them so far, but they needed to cling to it for as long as it worked.

"Come on," she said. "Just a few little words, and you'll be free to go. I'm feeling generous so I won't even report your involvement with Sun Agency's biggest thorn in the side.

"I don't know what you want!" Henchman begged, finding real tears streaming their cheeks. "I just want to go home! I want to go home."

The woman sighed. "They always choose the hard way."

Henchman wasn't sure how long they spent in that alley. They couldn't quite tell where the pain began or where it ended either. Every bit of them felt like one big wound, so excruciating, they could barely breathe. To their credit, they didn't give up Villain, but they thought about it with every blow.

It might have gone on like that forever if not for Hero.

The terrifying bag of muscle lumbered in and caught sight of Henchman's face, the bruises from the other day's run in a dull yellow across their nose, though it probably paled in comparison to the colors painting their face now.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he said, waving both heroes off of Henchman. "What is going on here?"

"They know Villain," Jer piped up defensively. "They smell just like that scent bottle you gave me to track them with."

Hero blinked a couple times then sighed heavily. "They smell of it because they ran into me the other day. I had it on me to give you and some of it got on my hands during packaging. I probably rubbed it all over them. That stuff is concentrated; it can last for days.

"Crap," the two minor heroes said in unison.

Jer looked over at Henchman with, not horror, but apprehension.

"What do we do?"

"There's nothing to do," Hero said. They paused, looking almost regretful. "Leave them. You can't get another strike on your record."

Jer nodded, and as Hero waved at them, the two heroes scampered off.

Hero crouched down by Civilian for all of three seconds. Their index finger traced a gash down their hairline, sending a crawling chill through their entire body.

"Sorry about this," they said, observing the blot of blood that now stained their skin and rubbing it between their thumb and index finger. And then they were gone too, leaving Henchman flat on their back, too injured to move and staring up toward the sky.

The building tops blurred together with the cerulean blue, twisting kaleidoscopic and sickening. They were so nauseated that eventually Henchman had to close their eyes to fight the acidic burn at the back of their throat.

Once closed, the dark took them quickly.

***

They awoke they didn't know how long later to soft fingers dragging gently through their hair and caressing their face with the delicate touch of butterfly wings.

Henchman suddenly became aware of the agony shooting up every muscle. They groaned pitifully.

"Hey, hey, hey. Dreamcatcher. Henchman. I'm taking you back. It's going to be ok, alright? You're safe now. I'll take care of you."

...

Yeaaah, this is one is definitely rough, another case of wanting to finish it even though I was super tired. I'll fix it up tomorrow.

Part 7

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @ghostfacepepper @vuvulia @inkbirdie

[shhh-secret-time]

Seasons Change to Someshing Cold

"Run away, run away and let go; you're carrying too much. You'll break under all the weight."

Prologue

It started when he was ten. Or maybe before that, and he just can't really seem to remember, but does anyone when they open their eyes for the first time? Waking up to a world that greets you with dim colors, colors that seem to fade in and out like the seasons. But if you're anything like he is, then colors don't pop like they should. Everything is dull like a filter over his eyes he can't peel off. Maybe that was a common way to describe it, but there had to be a reason why so many people said the same thing.

Dull. That word popped up so much that it was starting to lose its weight. Even he had to admit he used it too many times in his songs or the little poems he secretly wrote in the back of his warped composition notebook. But how else was he supposed to describe it? Why fix something that's not broken, right?

It started when he was sixteen. Cheap whiskey and crumbled cigarettes coursing through his body; hazy nights lost in the bottom of some backwashed alcohol. Waking up in the back of his truck with a few missed calls from his mother or sister, never his father, wondering where he was and if he was safe. That's when the texts asking him if he was alright turned into ones telling him to get his shit together.

Or maybe it started with the farm. Screaming matches between his father getting louder and louder he swore someone in town was bound to hear them. Where the bags under his eyes got heavier and his mind got louder, so loud that even his music couldn't drown out the thoughts. Some nights it was lying on the floor of the bathroom trying not to vomit the cheap gas station food as it battled the alcohol in his stomach. Some nights it was him curled up in bed trying to find a reason to get up and do anything besides doom scrolling on his phone.

What he would have given to just go outside with his friends and get the rush of doing something. Anything. Instead of watching some stranger on his phone, do it. Like he was trying to squeeze that feeling out of the little box in his hands. Instead of sunlight, he'd settle for the screen's light in a dark room. His only saving grace was his guitar and his poetry. It felt like the only thing that got him through it some days. That’s when the fog would lift, and the seasons would change into something warmer. Where he'd pick his pen and create, his addiction turning into creation. The guitar strings digging into his fingertips would ground him and bring the color back for a little bit.

It started last month. He finally pulled himself out of bed. Talked to someone outside of class or one of the million parties he showed up to. It was Michael, someone he hadn't put merit in since middle school, the two sitting behind the school wasting time and probably years off his lifespan with a cigarette. Michael was the only one he really showed any of his poetry too, the two sitting in silence as he flipped through the book. Smoke billowing from his lips catching the light of the early sun and disappearing up into the clouds.

"It's good. Maybe a little rough around certain parts, but I get what you're trying to say." Michael pulled the cigarette from his lips and in between his fingers, giving it a new home. He was getting at praising the things around him, something that he grew into when he hit his senior year.

He didn't say anything as he rolled the cigarette between his lips, focusing on the burn in the back of his throat. He didn't need it to be good. He just needed it...to be heard. Maybe he didn't believe Michael really understood what he was trying to say, but it felt good to hear.

"I think you need to talk to someone though." He turned towards the taller man as he stood up using his cane. The silver tip tapping the ground wordlessly asking him to take a step back and give him space.

"I didn't realize you cared." His joke falls flat.

Michael doesn't laugh. Doesn't give him that pity laugh or nervous chuckle others do when he tries to deflect. Not that the goth was known for his laughter to begin with. He liked that about him. He was real.

What he didn't like was the way the curly haired man stared him down and silently took another puff of his cigarette. It made his skin crawl as the silence crept back over the two, but it wasn't the one he liked. The kind of silence where two friends could just bask in each other's presence, the warmth of their bodies reminding each other that they were there. He hadn't had that kind of silence with anyone in a long time, but he felt something like that when Michael was reading his work.

"Stan. I'm not the type to give you a lecture, preach to you about how it gets better." Michael breaks the tension when he's decided Stan's had enough, "I don't make pretty speeches, so I'll just come out and say it. Get help, talk to someone about what's going on in your head."

Stan's jaw shifts as he blows smoke from his nose, his eyes immediately shooting towards the ground. "I didn't say I needed your advice. I just wanted you to read what I wrote." He grumbles.

"I don't care what you want. I do care about you though, as much as I can." Michael responds with a bored expression like the venom in Stan's tone didn't even touch him.

"What's that supposed to mean? Am I that hard to care about?"

"Sometimes, but it's not because I don't like you honestly. You're one of the few that don't drain me." Michael pauses in between snuffing the light out of his cigarette on the brick wall behind him, being careful not to put it out on some of the artwork. "It's because it's like you don't want people to care."

Stan scoffs and rolls his eyes; he's not taking pulls from his cigarette anymore so he can feel the wind brushing against his lips. The cold nipping against his skin reminding him that it's here. The seasons are changing again.

"At least that's what I got from your writing, now if I'm looking too much into it than that's that." Michael taps his cane against the dirty stone, brushing away some crumpled-up newspaper as he limps over towards him. "You could always tell me I'm wrong."

God does Stan want to, to tell him to shut up and to stop talking. The embarrassing memory of him losing his cool in middle school flooding back into his mind, he squeezes his eyes shut to try and blink the thought away. The thoughts clawing at his lips trying to push themselves out.

".... When I graduate, I'm leaving South Park. I'm getting out of this hellhole and finding another one to call my own." Stan looks up from his feet at him as he speaks, "I might not find anything but it's better than wishing I did. Find something Stan, do something instead of wishing you could." Michael goes to walk past him like he didn't just pierce through any wall Stan tried to put up, maybe his poetry got too much across.

Find something.

Fuck that. He didn't have the energy or the time to deal with that.

"Here." Michael presses a worn-out looking card in his palm. Stan looks down at the creases where it was folded and unfolded over and over again.

Some therapist's business card looked like a woman's name if Stan had to guess, the address and phone number written in small text. His brows furrow together, and suddenly everything feels too heavy again. He feels too tired to walk back to class or even try and eat lunch with his friends.

"Do it or don't, I can't control you, but I don't waste my energy on people I don't care about. I can just hope you'll be here when I come back one day."

And that was the last thing Michael ever said to him, the last time he smelled the clover cigarettes in the air. The last time he ever showed his writing to someone. Rumors floating around school that he just packed a bag and left in his hand me down car he got from his mother. He didn't even wait for the school year to be over he left exactly how Stan thought he would.

Now it starts here. With him staring out the window, wondering what exactly it was that Michael was going to find out there. Stan presses his lips into the palm of his hand, hiding behind the fingerless gloves. The card tucked away in his worn-out brown jacket with his other hand, palming the card repeatedly bending it over and over.

Prologue | 1 | 2

[weekend-whip]

What phone cases do they have? Backgrounds? Fancy widgets/little digital pets on the black bar at the top of apple phones?

was gonna draw these but i don't have the patience nor time lol

And I dunno nothing bout no widgets or digital pets, but everyone's got a Borg phone, and if anyone had anything wacky it would be Miranda (and her digital pet would be a dog) or Olivia (with a shark)

Kai: His phone case is a super-cheap plastic one that's just solid red, but he decorates it with fire stickers to "spice it up". Never drops his phone cuz he's always paranoid vigilant about where it is. Home screen is a pic of himself; lock screen is a photo of the main gang just hanging out <3

Jay: Black heavy-duty case with glow-in-the-dark blue lightning bolts, custom made. Very often drops his phone—or it gets knocked off of him—hence the extra padding. Has only broken his screen once. Home screen is a pic of Nya; lock screen...is also Nya.

Cole: Fancy black heavy-duty case, with the rubber on the corners for extra cushion. Swaps between the rainbow-rimmed one he originally had and a glow-in-the-dark lava one Jay made for him, depending on their current endeavors. Lock screen is a pic of his mom; home screen is his current crush.

Zane: Plain white case with a single black bird (falcon) design. Has ironically dropped his phone more than anyone else; only cracked the screen twice (in which Pixal was quick to fix it). Doesn't like photos as a background, as he finds them too distracting, but does eventually change the home screen to a solid icy blue and the lock screen to purple.

Nya: Has one of those cases filled with liquid and glitter that swooshes around when you tilt it. The phone itself is gray, the case itself is clear, but the liquid + decorations are various shades of blue. Has a bad habit of throwing her phone when upset (but eventually has Lloyd to fix it). Lock screen is a scenic beach photo with a dolphin; home screen is a silly photo of Jay.

Lloyd: Doesn't want to bother with a case, since he could just fix any dings on the spot, but eventually gets a cheap one like Kai. Has two: one solid green + trimmed in gold, one black and covered in Starfarer stickers. Swaps them out as needed like Cole. Puts some of those phone charms on the Starfarer case. Both screen backgrounds are photos of the main gang—lock screen is casual wear, home screen is ninja wear (with masks on, of course).

Jesse: Very heavy-duty light pink case with extra padding, due to how accident-prone he is, and covered in dense silver glitter. Doesn't even have to drop his phone to wind up with a cracked screen somehow—but they're usually fixed by Jay or Lloyd. Lock screen is of him and Miranda performing; home screen is a marigold flower.

Antonia: Plain orange case with phone charms of various things that seem to change by the day. Her phone has a strange habit of only breaking during a crisis. Lock screen is of all the student council members; home screen is of her, Jesse, and Harumi (until it is replaced to be her, Jesse, Mira, and Nelson).

Harumi: When she does eventually get a phone, her case varies by whichever "phase" she's in—first one is green and white with spider lilies, second one is black and navy trimmed in silver, third one is pink and purple marble. Her backgrounds are the Shark Army symbol and/or Garmadon's symbol off and on; when they're neither, the backgrounds are just pure black. Maybe a pattern if she's feeling daring.

Olivia: Cheap case, deep blue with a mermaid scale design. Waterproof. Screen is cracked to high heaven but somehow still works; too lazy to fix it. Lock screen is a majestic shark; home screen is her and Nya back when they first met (until it isn't). Lock screen may also sometimes be of any individual she's currently got her eye on, however.

Miranda: Her phone case has one of those "Game Boy" designs in bright blue (that you can play games on); her tablet case is black with neon stripes that change color (which she programmed to stay pink and blue). Drops things often, especially when one-handed, but her stuff is so sturdy that you'd never know. For both items, home screen is a wallpaper of the Borg Tech logo; lock screen is the same picture as Jesse's.

Pixal: Doesn't even need a phone, as all her communication is near-exclusively through the communicators, but is given one due to her father's insistance. The case starts just solid purple, but she feels a little plain with it and winds up bedazzling it. Home screen is a huge group pic; lock screen is of her and Zane.

Skylor: Has one of those cases that changes color with heat, and also works like a mood ring. Is not actually all that phone savvy; has to work up to it. Lock screen is a pic from a girls' night out; home screen is a candid of a very flustered and blushing Kai.

[crashional-thinker]

i had a dream two nights ago about a society of robots that i (or maybe my oc) found myself in, flesh amongst a sea of circuits

the designs for these anthropomorphic robots were still decidedly humanoid, but still distinct enough to be visually interesting.

unfortunately, i don't remember many of them, or the encounters that happened to the dream protagonist, except for one of them:

i do not remember the name of the robot in question but i do know what they looked like and what happened to them.

their general color scheme was gray, with teal-blue and yellow highlights. perhaps about 6.5 to 7 feet tall, they had relatively spindly limbs with some exposed wiring. the digits of these limbs were fairly rudimentary and boxy, but still with five fingers on each hand, which were perhaps the most human-looking body part; the feet had two "toes" each. the elbows and knees had exposed servos and gears that would move as they bent those limbs.

most notably, they had a sort of "tv head", but it looked more like a computer monitor; it was not a flat screen, but instead a row of very thin lights that varied in brightness from being completely off to a light blue. they also had two long antennae off the top of either side of their head.

these lights seemed to supposed to be on by default, but for whatever reason, about half of them were in an inverted state, distributed somewhat randomly, so their "face" looked like a barcode. the lights would change in brightness (and between on/off) whenever they spoke, kind of like a futurama robot.

during my encounter with them, one of their legs had supposedly been destroyed, and they were next to a bench in the middle of a park, nobody helping them. the damage had rendered their other leg unusable, so they were sort of sat there defeatedly, staring at the exposed wires, occasionally sparking.

i stumbled upon them and offered my assistance, to which they begged for a replacement leg. after scrounging one up, i managed to find one; didn't quite fit their color scheme, it looked more red, but it would work suitably and was the same size. after some hassle attaching it, their legs still didn't work.

the problem was a lack of electricity. to fix this, i grabbed a tazer and something metal to act as a conduit, attached one end of the conduit to their new leg and the other to the end of the tazer, and fired the tazer. the resulting shock had them faint, but after coming to, their legs were working again. they were overwhelmingly grateful and i stuck to them like glue for the remainder of my trip through the strange city i had found myself in

i think they even gave me a ride on their shoulders.

[underspacegame]

Patch 2.25 for Underspace's official demo is now out! Demo 2.25 is mostly a series of bugfixes, but there's a fair amount of new features and new content here. Check out the full changelog below, and as always be wary of known issues.

KNOWN ISSUES

Interior detailing and colliders to prevent falls on a majority of stations are not in.

Voice acting is currently unimplemented, unbalanced, or placeholder for several quests and dialogue lines.

Joystick and controller support vestigial and more or less not implemented and having a controller plugged in can introduce weirdness.

Cockpit textures are unimplemented. 

Several large filesizes are currently uncompressed and unoptimized.

Trading in ships may have a UI mismatch between ammunition counts on a ship and the actual ammunition.

NEW CONTENT & FEATURES

The abyssdrive. At top speed in highengines you can charge an even more powerful, even faster version of it. Be wary, it can’t be used too close to gravitational bodies, 

Planet Vauldric now has a trading center. No more buying chorm off the streets from a shady figure, now you can do it out in the open like a proper member of society.

NPC loadout randomization. You’ll find NPCs have a habit of using different attacks, including missiles, mines, better thrusters, more guns, etc.

Automatic targeting! Killing an enemy in battle will automatically switch you to your next closest target.

Distant horrible objects in storms are now animated. 

Jump holes now distort the camera when near them. 

The in-game manual is now implemented, along with full videos for all topics!

Musical stings for leveling up, completing campaigns, defeating bosses, defeating storms, and more.

You can now access the storage menu from the cargo trader’s menu, on stations.

CHANGES & BUGFIXES

Fixed black screens and softlocks related to taking on new missions.

Fixed issue where starting a new game aftering having quit to the main menu could cause a crash.

Rebalances of countermeasures, mines, and autoturrets.

Autoturrets can now take down incoming projectiles.

Heavy equipment now displays in full its stats, damage, etc.

In-game graphics options, such as FXAA, resolution, run in background, and more, all work properly.

Fixed issue where certain effects weren’t getting colored by the customization system.

Minimine is now an animated pet.

Resized several equipment pieces on your ship to better fit it.

Fixed issues with NPC avoidance and infinite idling. 

Fixed several issues with player autopilot avoidance. 

Fixed issues with shadow rendering in various places.

Fixed issues where certain weapons platforms couldn’t die.

There is now a slight autolock when emerging from a laneline. It can be overridden, if you so choose.

Fixed issues where some equipment didn’t report every stat it had.

Fixed price mismatch issues between the trading UI and the money readout UI.

Fixed issue where you could buy too many or too few hull webbing units, shield caches, and ammunition.

Ship headlights now illuminate a much wider area.

Leaving a conversation early will now piss off any ship if it’s a demanding conversation.

Added options for eye adaption and disabling different kinds of spacedust.

Fixed several saving and UI issues relating to destroying storms.

Fixed issues where several player stats, including garage size, weren’t saving.

[powpowpunchout]

Spending Time Together

Octave laid across the dark brown couch in his living room. His bare chest was pressed against the cushions, his feet hung off the armrest, and his face was buried in a pale yellow pillow. He shifted his legs around, trying to get comfortable, but his bruises flared up.

He dug his fingers into the cushion as he hissed to himself.

He doesn't care how much pain he’s in, he’s been lying in this position for hours, he can’t stay like this forever.

Octave pushed himself up. His arms felt like they were about to snap. His legs felt like they’d been set on fire. His whole body felt so, so heavy. Despite it all, he managed to turn around and lay on his back.

He let out quiet curses in between his slow, heavy breaths. He hated that. His body hated that. But he’ll take a few minutes of pain over staring at that stupid pillow for another second.

As he waited for the pain to fade, he turned his head and stared at the TV that stood across from him. His ‘old, clunky piece of junk’ as the seller he bought from called it. The shape of it was odd, sure, especially compared to the TV he’s seen at Aran’s place or the ones hanging on the walls at WVBA’s bar. It was boxier. Longer. It went just past his hips in terms of height, and a small screen took up the top half, while the built-in speaker took up the bottom. Despite how ‘clunky’ it looked, it still worked fine.

He could watch his old movies without a problem, he could turn it on and off no issue, the audio was almost alway clear, but those knobs…

He narrowed his eyes, trying to get them adjusted to the darkness.

He needed to fix those knobs. Eventually.

They weren’t completely broken, yet, but it was getting harder to use. He had to walk over, spin them around some, press them in, spin them around some more, then he’d get frustrated and shake the entire TV before he went back to spinning them again. Just thinking about all those steps was annoying him. He needed those knobs. He needed them to adjust the size of the picture on the screen so he could see the films normally.

Octave let out a long sigh.

If he had the strength, he’d turn the TV on right now, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

His stomach was still killing him.

He wasn’t sure if it was from the boxing match, or because he hadn’t eaten since he’d gotten home–oh, jeez, that match was yesterday. It felt much longer than that.

Octave clutched at his stomach.

It felt like someone was twisting a knife inside of him.

When was the last time he ate?

He remembered coming home, throwing his stuff aside and wanting to take a shower, but he only had enough energy to change into a pair of black shorts before collapsing on the couch.

Has he really been laying here for an entire day?

He probably reeks.

His stomach’s probably hurting because he’s hungry, but he wasn’t in the mood to get up and drag himself to the kitchen.

He let an arm dangle off the couch and touch the light beige carpet below.

Beige.

Browns and beiges. That’s all his living room consisted of.

The walls were beige, his carpet was beige, the tiles in his kitchen were beige, the counters? Beige. The small dining table was brown, its chairs were brown as well, as was the coffee table that sat between him and the tv. The end table pressed against the left side of his couch was brown, heck, every piece of furniture he had were all some shade of browns and beiges.

The only things that had any pop of color were his collections of old vinyls slipped into shelves, whatever decor he hung around the house, and the stack of old books and record covers atop his TV that looked seconds away from toppling over. Everything else though? Browns and beiges.

Tonight, though, his house had been consumed by the deep, cold violet of the evening.

It wasn’t often he got to see his living room washed in another color.

He brought his eyes up and saw a bright yellow streak of light going across his wall, hitting the string of decoration he had put up some time ago. They weren’t anything too fancy. Just pennon flags of boxers’ initials, old movie tickets, newspaper clippings of his past victories, simple things, but he liked them. He then glanced at the window beside the dark brown front door. It was cracked open, as were the blinds, allowing the headlights of his neighbor’s car to shine through. Idiot must’ve forgotten to turn the dang thing off–

The phone on his end table started to ring. Octave rolled his eyes and stayed put.

He’s not answering that.

Whoever’s calling this late can go rot.

He stayed still. His black candlestick phone shook with each loud ring.

It kept ringing and ringing and ringing.

And then it stopped.

And then it was quiet again.

He laid still, a cold but pleasing breeze hitting his face.

He looked at his body.

His poor, bruised body.

Even with how dark it was, he could still make out the disgusting purple marks across his chest. He–

The phone started to ring again.

Octave groaned and shoved the pillow into his face.

He stretched his arm out and felt around for the phone. He cussed when his fingers hit a sharp corner of the table. Great. Wasn’t like they were hurting enough.

His hand managed to find the table top. He continued to feel around, knocking off crumpled papers, an empty cup, and whatever else was on there before he finally felt the base of his phone.

His fingers traveled up before curling around the thin, cylindrical spine. He sat up, brought the phone to his face, tore the cone-shaped receiver away from its hooks, then pressed it against his ear.

“Yeah?” He said, tightly wrapping the phone’s cord around his finger in an attempt to ignore the surge of pain rushing through his body.

“Aye, Overload.” Aran said, his voice grainy, “Ye busy?”

“Yeah.” Octave tilted the phone so that the mouthpiece on top was closer to his mouth.

Aran clicked his tongue, “Awh, that’s too bad. I was hopin’ we could spend some quality time t’gether.”

Aran’s voice kept getting overpowered by… Something loud.

Octave ignored whatever Aran was saying and listened closely. It sounded like he was in a car, but that can’t be right, Aran’s license got revoked.

He kept listening.

Was that…

Was that cheesy 70s music?

“Aran–Aran are ya with Disco?”

“That obvious?”

“I can hear his stupid music through here. Why th’heck are ya with him?”

There was some shuffling around on the other side before Aran spoke again.

“He was jus’ drivin’ me back home is all. Wan’ me to tell ‘im ye said hi?”

“No.”

There was a bit more shuffling.

“O’erload says hi.” Aran’s voice was quiet, but Octave heard every word perfectly. Along with Disco Kid’s little ‘Hi!’

Octave groaned. Aran’s staticed snickered creeped through his ears.

“So, wan’ go out for a bite?”

“I’m hurtin’, Aran.”

“Sure y’are.” Aran said. Octave could hear the grin growing on his face. “C’mon, when’s th’last time we hung out?”

“I ain’t goin’.”

Octave heard Disco speak again, but he could hardly make out a word.  

“How bout tomorrow night then? Y’pick th’place, I’ll pay. My treat. It’ll be fun. See ye then.”

Aran hung up.

Octave sat there, hunched over, staring into the mouthpiece of his phone.  

He tightened the cord around his finger.

Whatever.

He can’t stay on this couch forever, and he needs to eat eventually.

It’ll be a good reason to finally shower too, maybe he could even dress decently. Maybe he does need a night out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Great Tiger lifted his head off a pillow. He opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the sunlight. He hissed and looked away, only to see he was surrounded by more colorful pillows.

He slowly blinked.

Did he fall asleep during Bald Bull’s training last night? That’s embarrassing.

But this was Bull’s room. He doesn’t remember stepping foot into Bull’s room last night.

Did Bull carry him here? That’s even more embarrassing.

Tiger sat up, but a lock of his dark brown hair snagged onto something. He looked down and saw it got tangled around the beaded edges of a pink pillow. He grumbled as he placed the pillow on his lap and carefully pulled his hair free. After that was done, he ran his fingers through his hair–his face scrunched when he felt how tangled it was. That’ll be a joy to brush through.

Tiger then patted down his low, white v-neck long sleeve shirt. It looked horribly wrinkled. His loose, sand-colored, wide-legged pants weren’t as bad, thankfully–

His eyes scanned the bed.

Where in the world was his turban?

Where in the world was Bull?

His turban was surely… Somewhere… On this bed, but what about Bull?

He looked ahead and saw the thick, pastel purple curtains that surrounded the bed were parted at the very front. That allowed Tiger to peek into the bedroom. It also allowed that accursed sunlight to shine through and assault his poor eyes.

Tiger crawled towards the curtains and poked his head through. His brows lowered when he saw there were still no signs of Bull.

Bull wasn’t by his redwood dresser that was pressed against the wall getting clothes out, he wasn’t sitting on one of the colorful, patterned orange couches and cushions placed in the far right corner of the room, and when Tiger leaned a bit further to get a better look through the archway that led to the balcony, he couldn’t see Bull there either.

Tiger pressed his lips together. Perhaps Bull was already downstairs preparing breakfast? The sort of breakfast that was always far too sweet for Tiger to ever finish? The sort that always left a giant mess behind? That left behind a syrupy scent that lingered in the air for hours? It’s possible.  

However, before he checks down there, he needs to find his turban.

Tiger started digging through the pile of pink, yellow, purple, and who knows how many other colored pillows that buried Bull’s bed.

You know, Tiger could tell you every little thing about Bull’s room. He could tell you about the large, arched windows on both sides of the room, how you could get an excellent view of the garden and city on one side, while getting a wonderful look at the rich, neighboring forest and the wildlife that passed on the other. He could talk about the decorations for hours, from the mosaic lamps that hung from the ceiling on brass chains, to the strings of beads and cut paper that dangled from the walls. He could talk about the giant, round red rug in the center of the room with tiny, intricate, embroided patterns that could mesmerize you for hours. Oh, and the fabrics that were tied around the four large, elegantly carved, light-peach columns that were placed in each corner of the room? Magnificent.

He could ramble for hours about the fabric alone, honestly. The way they were tied to the tops of the columns and stretched across the ceiling? The way they met in the middle where a big mosaic lamp hung and circled around it? The way each fabric had such different colors and patterns from one another yet still harmonized? From magentas to purples to pinks, from stripes to speckles to plain, each one was splendid, and even more so when they were all tied together. And the way the sun bounced off them and tinted the tan floors and walls in a gentle hue of pink? The only word that he could use to truly describe the look of it all was: ‘Magnificent’.

The lamp in the center of the ceiling was broken, unfortunately. It’s been broken for as long as he can remember. He keeps offering to fix it, to fly over and change to bulb, but Bull always says he’ll change it himself. Eventually.

And Tiger may or may not have influenced Bull to hang up a tiger-patterned fabric.

He didn’t mean to!

He just made a comment one day, jokingly saying: ‘Oh? No tiger stripes? How disheartening.’ Or something along those lines, and the next time he came over, Bull happily pointed out his latest purchase. It honestly did make Tiger’s day. Even looking at the fabric now, a feeling of delight fluttered inside of him.

So many of Bull’s things had all sorts of stories to them, stories he’s told Tiger all about, and Tiger could spend all day sharing every single one of them with you, but if you asked him about Bull’s bed? Tiger would have no idea what to tell you.

He’s never seen Bald Bull’s bed before. It’s always been covered with pillows and thick, patterned blankets.

The bed sheet might be purple? But that could’ve been another pillow for all he knew.

And sure, even though the pile of pillows were comfortable, it’d be nice to sleep on an actual mattress. Something that didn’t snag his hair every time he tossed and turned. Bull always tells him that the pillows don’t tangle up hair that badly, but he’s not the one with hair going past his back.

Tiger sat up and put his hands on his hips. No luck finding his turban so far, and he did not want to spend the entire day looking for it.

He snapped his fingers. Then waited.

And waited.

Suddenly, his unraveled white turban teleported onto his lap. He smiled. A little bit of a delay,, but it still appeared! Perhaps his magic won’t be too much of a hassle this morning.

He got to his feet and started shuffling through the pillows as he carried his turban, wondering what Bull made for breakfast. Pancakes? Muffins? Did he order donuts again? Whatever it was, Tiger knew it was going to be delicious, and that he'd only have enough stomach to eat a single bite.  

Tiger felt his foot get caught underneath a blanket. He flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, but as he fell closer and closer to the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut.

‘Teleport me back onto my feet!’ He told himself.

That’s all he needed.

To be back on his feet.

That’s all.

The sensation of magic sparked inside of him.

That familiar, sharp, cold sensation that started at the tips of his hands and feet and shot right into his chest.

Then the feeling of high winds started to hit his face, and though his eyes were closed, his vision was filled with an array of colors that swirled together and whirled past him.

His hair flew. His grip on the turban tightened. Everything got faster and faster–

And then it stopped.

His hair fell down to his back. The fabric drooped. And his feet touch the ground.

He breathed out then cracked an eye open.

“Ah.” He said as he saw he was no longer in the bedroom, but the kitchen. He’d be mad at this teleportation mess-up had it not been for the fact he wanted to be here in the first place.

Tiger’s mustache twitched. Plenty of sunlight came through the small window above the kitchen sink, and through the sliding glass doors nearby that lead to the backyard, leaving the kitchen perfectly lit and warm, the perfect conditions Bull loved to cook in, but despite that, the kitchen was completely spotless.

The umber countertops weren’t covered in batter or flour, none of the cream-colored drawers were open, the sink wasn’t filled with a mountain of dirty dishes–heck–all the clean dishes from yesterday were still untouched on the drying rack, and there weren’t any pots or pans sitting on the black stove. In fact, they were all still hanging on the metal rack above the kitchen island, which was also perfectly clean.

His eyes flickered to the light tawny shelves placed along the white tiled walls. The small bags of sugar, the little containers of baking soda and powder were unopened, the thin, cylinder baskets that held Bull’s cooking utensils looked unmoved. The only sign that Bull had ever stepped foot in here were the houseplants sitting on those same shelves; fresh water droplets adorning their leaves.

He caught a glimpse at the timer on the stove. 8 AM.

Tiger mindlessly started to circle around the kitchen island, the wooden floor creaked with each step he took as he stroked his beard and wondered where Bull could’ve gone off to.

He wrapped his turban into a tight ball and placed it inside the pocket of his pants as he slowed and brought his attention to the white pantry pressed against the wall. His eyes trailed down and landed on the small, chestnut-colored prep table sitting beside it. Bull was originally going to put it in the living room, but he kept forgetting, so here it remains, holding stacks of boxed snacks and an assortment of fruit.

He stared at the fruit, specifically at a red apple.

He flicked his wrist. The apple poofed away then reappeared in his hands. He smiled.

Then a banana teleported into his hands.

No, no, no he doesn’t want that vile thing. Put it away.

He glared at the banana. It teleported back onto the prep table.

The apple suddenly teleported back as well.

He huffed and flicked his wrist again. The fruit disappeared and…

Tiger’s head darted around.

Where the heck did they go?

He stopped when he spotted them sitting on top of the sleek, gray fridge, but before he had the chance to reach out for them, they poofed back onto the table. Again.

Tiger looked at the apple. He folded his arms, sighed, then hung his head in defeat as he did the walk-of-shame over to the table and picked up the fruit like a normal person.

‘Blasted magic.’ He thought to himself as he went over to the sink and washed the apple, ‘Hopefully it decides to wake up sooner than later.’

As soon as he went to bite the apple, he heard a phone ring. It sounded rather… Muffled.

Tiger’s eyes darted about. Was it coming from outside?

He turned to the small window above the sink and leaned close to it. He cracked open the blinds and peered through–Oh, Bald Bull! He’s out there!

Tiger set the apple aside and hurried to the glass doors.

“Good morning, Bull!” Tiger said as slid them open and stepped out onto the patio, the feeling of cold concrete against his bare feet was more than enough to wake him up.

“Ah–” Bull looked away from the chained punching bag that hung from the balcony overhead, “Morning.”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt–that was tossed over one of the many magenta cushions that surrounded the pale, wooden round table placed under the patio. His shorts a shade of warm purple that reminded Tiger of the jars of fig jam Bull kept in his pantry. He wasn’t wearing any shoes. Or socks. But seeing how the grass he stood on was glistening with dew, it was probably for the best.

“I was looking all over for you, you know.” Tiger put his hand on his chest. The subtle smell of pollen and just-watered flowers was growing stronger with each passing second. “Why–”

A loud, obnoxious phone ring interrupted him.

He shot a nasty glare at Bull’s maroon flip phone. He grabbed it off of the table, being careful not to knock over the water bottle beside it, and raised it in the air.

“Would you like–” Tiger stopped and quickly stepped onto the large, red, pink, and blue striped mat beneath the table. He couldn’t bear to stand on the frigid stone floor for another second. “--would you like me to answer the phone for you?”

“No, no. Probably another photographer.” Bull’s voice trailed off as he gave the punching bag a half hearted swing.

“Another…?” Tiger tilted his head. His mind blocked out the constant rings as he… Well… He was a bit worried about Bull. He didn’t sound nearly as energetic as he usually does. Usually Bull was always the first one to give a loud, hearty ‘Good morning!’, then he’d ask how Tiger slept, if there’s anything he’d like for breakfast, but here he was–

The caller hung up. Tiger flipped the phone open and gasped.

“Good heavens, over 50 missed calls?! What happened?” Tiger exclaimed.

“Macho man.” Bull said as he rubbed his eyes, “He did not show up to the photoshoot like he had promised.”

Tiger raised a brow, “I didn’t know Macho had your number.”

“Neither did I.”

“Are all these calls from Macho Man?”

“No, he–”

A voicemail started to play. Tiger hit a button and put it on speaker.

“Hey Bull buddy! Ya accidentally blocked me again.” Super Macho Man’s voice came through. Tiger glanced at Bull, who looked absolutely exhausted.

The voicemail continued, “Anyways, Super-Macho Sorry bout th’photo thing again. And th’guys constantly callin’ ya. Totally didn’t think that’d happen. Any way I can make it up t’ya? Drinks? Couple hundred bucks? A wig? Cake? Ya like cakes, right? Jus’ lemme know when ya get th’chance. Later.”

Tiger stood there. Mouth hanging open. Before he slowly turned to Bull.

“Super… Macho… Sorry?”

Bull groaned and rested his head against the punching bag, “Tiger.”

“Yes?”

“Scroll down.” He made a little motion with his finger.

“Alright?”

“Do you see the small red box at the bottom of the screen?”

“The one that says ‘Block Caller’?”

“Yes. Click it.”

Tiger did so. A little ‘blip’ came from the phone.

Bull nodded then brought his focus back to his training.

“So,” Tiger twirled the tip of his mustache, “who else has been calling you?”

“Photographers, journalists, fans.” Bull said as he struck the bag, “Macho told me he had given my number to some people on the night of the photoshoot for some reason, and since then things have been getting worse and worse.”

The calls didn’t start coming till yesterday afternoon, while he and Tiger were taking a break from their work out. It started off slow. Every other hour he’d get a call here, a few messages there, nothing to pay much mind to, but before he knew it, those ‘couple of calls’ turned to hundreds.

‘...I just thought that–ya know–if th’fans were so bummed bout not seein’ ya, they could give ya a quick call ‘n say hi!’ One of Macho’s voicemails said. Bull’s face soured at the recollection. Thanks to him, he’ll have to change his number. Again.

Bull gave the bag another punch.

“I could hardly get any sleep last night.” Bull muttered. He remembered laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with wide, aching eyes as the muffled rings of his phone taunted him. Tormented him. Even with it being shoved in the far back shelf of his pantry on the first floor, he could hear it so clearly.

The fears that plagued his mind certainly didn’t help either. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to sleep, the voice in the back of his brain kept screaming at him to check the windows. Lock the doors. Make sure no one was standing in his driveway. Make sure no one was getting closer to them–

“Is that why you got out of bed last night?” Tiger asked.

Bull stopped, “Did I wake you?”

“I felt the bed shift around,” Tiger shrugged, “and I saw you leave the room, but I thought it was a dream.”

“Ah.” Bull’s face grew warm, “I apologize.”

“Oh, don’t be. I fell right back asleep.”

Bull raised his fist and lingered for a moment before hitting the bag, “I took my phone outside, thought if it was not in the house, I’d sleep easier.” He hit it again, “I did not.”

Tiger leaned against one of the thin, pale-peach colored columns that supported the balcony, “Well, if you’re tired, why not rest? You’ve earned it.”

Bull didn’t take his eyes off the punching bag, “I do not want to fall behind.”

“Oh, ‘fall behind’.” Tiger scoffed, “You’ve been training all day yesterday. It’s not a crime to relax! Have you even had breakfast yet?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Tiger folded his arms and frowned, not like Bull could see. He then sharply exhaled and stepped forward, “Well, at the very least let me help you.”

Bull stopped.

“Are you sure? Is your magic awake enough?”

Tiger raised his hands into the air and started making quick, little pulling gestures. His turban slithered out of his pocket and into the air. He then made small, circular motions with one finger, his hair tied itself into a tight bun before the turban wrapped itself around. And with one flick of the wrist, his gem appeared right in the center of his turban, securely placed between the fabric.  

He gave Bull a smile, “I think it’s waking up quite nicely.”

“Showoff.” Bull lightly rolled his eyes. Tiger could see the tiny smile underneath his bushy mustache.

“We’ll start off the way we did yesterday.” Tiger said, pulling out one of the cushions with his magic and sitting on top, “I’ll move the bag around a bit, make it dodge your attacks, all that delightful stuff, and then we’ll pick up the pace. How’s that?”

“Perfect.” Bull said as he walked further out into the backyard, watching as Tiger used his magic to take the bag off its hook and fly it over to his side. Bull’s eyes locked onto the bag. He dug his feet into the ground, swung his arm back, then–

As soon as he went for a hit, the bag quickly moved aside.

Bull tried again. Only for the bag to dodge again.

He watched as the bag jumped from place to place, and once he caught onto the rhythm, he reeled his arm back and socked it square in the center.

The punching bag went flying across the garden–Tiger quickly stopped it before it could crush any of the flowers.

Bull’s smile widened as Tiger teleported the bag back in front of him.

Bull tried to hit it again. The bag moved.

He tried again, only to miss again.

He kept trying over and over to get another punch, but it felt like with every missed swing, Tiger made the bag faster.

After another missed hit, Bull grit his teeth.

He let the bag dart around before he uppercut it.  

A loud ‘BANG’ shot out from the impact. Music to the ears.

Bull put his hands on his hips and let out a confident laugh. He repositioned himself, hands curling to tight fists, energy flowing through him as he was ready to–

Ready to…

Where did the bag go?

Bull scanned the backyard.

That’s strange. No traces of it anywhere–

Bull stopped when his eyes landed on the patio. On Great Tiger.

“Tiger.” Bull folded his arms.

“Oh goodness! It seems the punching bag has vanished into thin air!” Tiger covered his mouth dramatically.

“Tiger.”

Tiger hovered off the seat and gravitated towards his unamused friend, “And it seems the only way to make it reappear is by… Having breakfast!”

“Tiger, where is it.”

“Ah-ah, a magician never reveals his secrets when he’s hungry.” Tiger grinned.

Bull raised his brows.

“Alright. I will make us breakfast.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Octave stood outside, hands shoved into the pockets of his high wasted, dark gray pants as he leaned against a lamppost, waiting at the corner of one of the city’s blocks. The one that was right beside the laundromat he goes to; where he’d help himself to a small handful of candies from the dispensers right beside the counter as his clothes were in the washer, or go for a walk outside as he waited for the dryer to finish.

It was the only laundromat he knew of that was close to his house and open 24/7.

‘Brightest building on th’block. Can’t miss it.’ Octave told Aran over the phone this morning. Heck, it was probably the brightest building in the whole city. That’s what made it the perfect place to meet up.

Sure, the outside wasn’t too flashy, it looked like every other brick building with a worn down sign,, but the inside? The bright, blinding white lights on the inside that shone through the wide, rectangular windows? It was enough to illuminate the entire street. 

It didn’t matter what hour it was, what day, or if a giant storm swept through the city, the laundromat kept its dang lights on at full blast.

Octave took one hand out of his pocket and fiddled with his black tie. He wished he had brought a watch. He was starting to get hungry.

Octave was starting to get hungry.

Aran was taking forever.

Where the heck was he?

Octave’s hand went from his tie to the buttons of his white shirt.

Aran better not be hitching a ride from Disco again. The last thing Octave needed was Disco’s stupid face pulling up in his stupid, flashy car, all while blasting his stupid, obnoxious music.

If Aran’s not here in five minutes, he’ll just go to the diner by himself–

“OY! O’erload!” Octave heard someone shout, “Izzat you?!”

Octave turned and saw Aran hurrying across the street.

“Bout time. Was startin’ to think ya got lost with how long you were takin’.” Octave said, pushing away from the lamppost, “Was ya daddy Disco not able to drive ya tonight or somethin’?”

“Ay, trus’ me,” Aran huffed, “I was thinkin’ bout ditchin’ several times.”

Octave scanned Aran up and down. There wasn’t anything good to look at. His t-shirt was plain and green, his shorts a dark indigo, his shoes were a dark seagreen–he didn’t even bother to tie his laces or brush his hair. Yeah, his hair always looked like a wreck, but it was especially bad tonight. It was more than obvious this outfit had been thrown on at the last second.

“Kinda wished ya did. C’mon.” Octave muttered. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and tilted his head. Aran followed behind.

The diner they were heading to was a straight walk from here, but as Octave stared ahead–stared at the line up of lampposts and buildings–he sorta wished he had picked an earlier time to meet up.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved how quiet the city was at night. He loved how there were hardly any cars rushing through the streets, playing their awful music, he loved how the sidewalks weren’t filled with hundreds of noisy people constantly bumping into him, and he loved how cool the air was, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the colors at sunset.

Instead of the sky being filled with pinks and purples, it was filled with a deep, dull indigo. Usually that wasn’t an issue, usually there’d be stars to look at, but tonight, the sky was consumed by thick clouds. Instead of the city streets being washed with a hue of orange, everything was just dark.

Octave looked to the left, trying to see if he could sneak a peek inside the windows of the stores they passed by, but all of their lights had been turned off, and the lamp posts certainly weren’t any help. They produced just enough light to dimly illuminate the sidewalk. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was kind of a downer, not seeing anything through those windows. He felt stupid for feeling that way, but there was something pleasant about seeing stores wrapping up for the day. Catching a glimpse of them cleaning up, waving goodbye to their last few customers, or locking their doors before they head home? It was strangely pleasant.

But there was nothing tonight. Nothing to look at besides the barren street ahead of them. Nothing to hear except the buzzing of street lamps.

Octave felt Aran tug on his dark gray, cropped suit, “What’s wit th’getup? We gonna have a fine dinin’ experience tonight or somethin’ tog’ther or somethin’?”

Octave pulled it away, “Wanted t’look nice.”

“Ye look bad.”

“Thanks.”

Octave kept staring ahead. Aran’s smirk twitched.

“Y’still mad at me bout a couple’a days ago?”

Octave didn’t answer. He heard Aran sigh.

“C’mon, I was jokin’ bout all that.” Aran rolled his eyes, “Thought it was somethin’ we could laugh at.”

“If I wanted t’laugh I’d lookatcha face.”

Aran cackled then wrapped his arm around Overload’s neck, “See? There’s that bite I love. But if we’re both bein’ honest ‘ere…” He leaned in closer, “We both know y’can’t see past that nose o’yers.”

Octave shoved Aran off. Aran stumbled a bit onto the road before jumping back into place.

Octave twisted a button on his suit. He was thankful he decided to pop in some painkillers before heading off tonight. While his body still ached a tad with each step he took, it was nowhere near as bad as it was yesterday.

He brought his head up. A yellow light coming from one of the apartment buildings’ windows caught his attention. It was rather high up, but when he narrowed his eyes, he could make out the silhouettes of house plants. His eyes darted over to another lit room where a couple was talking to each other. There were several other lit windows scattered across the buildings, all allowing little peeks into the evening lives of those inside. From cats resting atop their cat-trees, to people sitting on their balcony having a smoke, to others leaving their windows open to let the aroma of their dinners out into the world, it was nice. It wasn’t the same as passing by stores at sunset, but it was nice.

When Octave lowered his head, his eyes lit up when he saw a familiar red glow up ahead. He picked up the pace. So did Aran.

At the end of the block, sitting across the road, was his favorite diner.

He felt a small smile make its way on his face.

“Course y’chose this dingy place again.” He heard Aran grumble.

“If ya don’t wanna eat here then there’s a trash can right over there.” Octave motioned to the overflowing bin nearby. Aran elbowed him before rushing across the road. Octave hurried behind.

As they grew closer to the restaurant, the warm, welcoming red glow of the restaurant’s sign that read “DINER” grew stronger.

They made their way to the white door that jutted out from the otherwise perfectly flat front, white lights from the overhang shining down on them.

Octave has a clipping from an old newspaper that shared the story of when this diner first opened decades ago. The paper was worn down, partially stained and torn, but it was still legible, and the picture was in decent quality too. He has it framed and hung on his wall, along with several other old clippings.

The outside of the diner today looked the same as it did all those years ago. Simple. Not that simple was a bad thing. Its colors were nothing but white and shades of metallic grays, the only pop of color being the red stripes that ran across. The metal roof and its rounded corners still looked as sleek and stainless as it did when it first opened, the only thing that looked aged was the diner’s sign. Its red lights kept flickering, sometimes a letter would fizzle out and stay that way for a couple of weeks before the owners fixed it up.

Octave remembered how many cars were parked in the driveway of that photo, how many people were lined up by the door. Tonight? The parking lot tonight was empty, and from what Octave can see through the windows, so was the inside. Perfect.

Octave held the door open for Aran before slipping inside the diner.

The first thing to greet them were the strong smells of warm butter and pancakes. Enough to make a person’s mouth water, yet somehow overpowering enough to dwindle their appetite.

The second thing to greet them was an orange haired waitress who wore a white apron that stopped just below her knees and covered most of her pastel red, collared t-shirt, along with her tan khakis.

“Hi there!” She hollered from the other side of the diner, cleaning off one of the many white tables pressed against the walls, “You two sit where ya need’ta. I’ll be there to help in a sec!”

Octave walked over to the long, white counter that nearly stretched across the entire checkered floor.

The inside of the diner was on the narrower side and split into three ‘sections’. The first section–the side where the front door stood–was where all the booths laid. Most people liked to sit there as they all had windows beside them. The second section was the white counter with a whole bunch of red bar stools placed on one side–if you’re too tall, your knees’ll keep hitting the edge of the counter–and on the other side was the drink station and the black door that lead to the kitchen. And the third section? That was the area placed between the booths and the counter. The small bit of section of actual, visible floor that you could walk on. The section you need to walk through to get to the bathroom on one end of the diner, or to use the jukebox on the other end. The section you have to be the most careful in because so many people stuck their legs out there, making it incredibly easy to trip and crack your head open.

Octave sat down on one of the barstools at the edge of the counter. Aran sat beside him, but not before spinning around a couple of times in his seat like a five year old, chuckling to himself.

Aran grabbed one of the menus in front of them. Octave didn’t. He already knew what he wanted.

Something simple, something filling. Pancakes, maybe with a side of sausage patties.

As Aran skimmed through the menu, Octave let his eyes wander around the diner.

Only two other people were in here, not including the waitress. They were sitting rather far from the counter as well. Hopefully they won’t smack their lips or slurp too loudly.

Each table and small sections on the counter had their own salt and pepper shaker, napkins, and a couple of condiments that all looked replenished and neatly arranged. They must’ve been restocked recently.  

The old jukebox–which color had always reminded Octave of copper–was playing jazz from a band he didn’t recognize.

“Pah, nothin’ but th’cheap stuff ‘ere.” He heard Aran hiss. Probably complaining about the beer again. He threw down the menu and whipped his head over, “Y’know, th’last time I had th’hashbrowns ‘ere, they made me sick.”

“Yea, ya ate like three plates of ‘em in three seconds. Course ya got sick.”

“They nearly killed me.”

“Too bad they didn’t.”

Aran threw his arms up, “I put up wit th’crappiest food for ye ‘n ye can’t even–”

Octave jabbed him with his elbow, shutting him up.

Aran rubbed his arm as he grumbled strings of curses to himself. He was about ready to ask what that was for, but then he saw the waitress coming over with a notepad.

“Hi, hi! Sorry for th’wait! How’re you two doin’ tonight?” The woman asked, the corner of her eyes crinkling and the wrinkles around her mouth stretching to perfectly fit her big smile.

“Fine.” Octave said.

“Not too shabby.” Aran added.

“Good, good. Have you two decided what ya’d like to drink?” She asked, taking out a pen that was placed between her hair and ear before clicking it.

Octave opened his mouth–but Aran cut him off.

“Ay, two bottles o’ Stellar Soc’er for us.” He said as he placed a hand on Octave’s shoulder. Octave gave him a glare.

“Alrighty,” She nodded as she scribbled away, “and have ya decided what ya wanna eat? Or do ya still need some time?”

“Nah, we’re ready. I’ll have th’--uh–” Aran grabbed the menu again and quickly flipped it over, “Ham ‘n cheese omelet.”

“Any sides?”

“Ay, two things of hashbrowns.”

Octave shot him a ‘Seriously?’ look.

The waitress then turned to Octave, “And for you?”

“Silver dollar pancakes for me.” He said, propping his head up with his hand.

“Any sides?”

“Nah.” He wasn’t feeling as hungry as he was earlier.

The woman finished jotting down their orders before flashing them another smile, “Okay! I’ll be back with ya drinks in a minute!”

Octave watched as she went to the other side of the counter, black shoes squeaking across the floor. She turned to the drink station and bent down. She opened one of the cabinets and took out a bag of coffee, probably for one of the other customers.

Octave’s eyes started to drift away from the waitress and to the drink station itself.

Is that even the right thing to call it? Was there a specific name for it?

It’s an area.

That has drinks.

Well, it had more than just drinks, and it wasn’t an ‘area’, it was another counter on the other side–black–and the same height of the one he and Aran sat at, but it wasn’t as long.

Most of the countertop’s space was taken up by blenders, various coffee machines, and an electric kettle, and while those were all spaced out evenly from each other, the same couldn’t be said for everything else on there. The bags and canisters of different coffee brands? The small boxes of tea bags and leaves? The containers of sugar, cinnamon, and other spices? Those were shoved together in whatever space was left, piled on top of each other in such a way that they looked like their contents were about to spill all over the floor.

The staff would probably have more room to work with if they got rid of the large, clunky coffee dispenser they’ve kept since they first opened, or tore off those old, silver soda tap towers, but Octave would miss them. Sure, the coffee dispensers no longer worked and were decades old, but they looked great, and the tap towers still worked fine. It gave the place charm, what can he say?

Maybe it’d be better if the staff sorted through those dark brown cabinets below. Octave’s caught glimpses of what was inside of them before; the clutter was concerning, but it was honestly impressive how much clutter those cabinet doors could hold back.

There were a couple of shelves above the counter, the same color as the cabinets. The first shelf held stuff the diner actually needed. Stacks of cups, extra silverware, plenty of straws, but the other two? Those were filled with empty bottles of discontinued soda and beers they used to sell over the years. Octave remembered talking to one of the women who works here, he remembered how she took a vibrant, red bottle from the highest shelf to show it off. She made sure he got a good look at the fancy-looking arched logo plastered on the front while she rambled about how the owners used to have this soda shipped from a friend all the way in Russia.

‘Dang thing’s older than Popinski!’ He remembered her laughing.

In between the bottles were pictures of family members, along with souvenirs the owner’s collected over the years, and little toys their kids apparently used to play with.

If the staff shoved everything on the shelves into boxes and stored them away, they’d definitely have more room for their ingredients, but then the drink station would look boring.

Octave heard Aran’s seat squeak. He looked over and saw Aran had hopped out of his chair and wandered to the front door where a newspaper rack was. He squatted down and started sifting through them.

Octave thought back to the newspaper clipping of the diner he had.

He wondered how much the inside has changed over the years.

The article never gave any pictures of the interior when it first opened; ‘As clean as a whistle.’ Was the only description given.

He wondered if these white walls were barren in the beginning, if there weren’t any of these flags with colorful initials on them, photos taken by the owner, record discs of old bands, and business cards of neighboring stores held up by stickers when it was starting out. It’s hard to imagine the place without them.

Octave’s eyes traveled across the crowded walls. Framed pictures took up most of the spaces. Pictures of family, friends, and favorite customers, pictures of special events and holidays, there were even pictures of WVBA boxers who’ve eaten here.

Only the big names, of course.

Some of the men Octave’s only ever seen in old recordings, but there were a few familiar faces. Mr. Sandman has a picture where he’s posing with the owner, who looked absolutely puny standing right next him, there’s a picture of–ugh–Super Macho Man. Octave does his best to never look in that photo’s direction. And apparently there was a picture of Popinski somewhere, but Octave’s yet to find–

Octave stopped when his eyes landed on one of the customers at a booth licking the sauce off their fingers. His body tensed and he scowled.

Disgusting.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.

What’s so hard about using a napkin?

Aran’s excited laughter cut off his thoughts.

“Ye’ seen this yet?” Aran asked as he hopped back into his seat, shoving a newspaper in front of Octave’s face.

Octave yanked it away and read the front page.

‘Super Macho Man’s Amoooosing New Look?!’  

Octave hated that he actually chuckled at that joke.

The picture below was blurry, but there was no mistaking it was Macho Man in an ink stained robe. Octave skimmed the article. It just talked about how Macho was ‘potentially’ shifting to a new cow-themed appearance, and how Macho refused to answer any questions. Octave noticed there were comments left by fans and actually took the time to read them.

‘I was definitely shocked to see Mr. Macho of all people wearing such a tacky pattern! I don’t know WHAT he was thinking.’ One woman said.

‘I could see Bald Bull wearing it, but THE Super Macho Man? Guy must’ve gotten hit in the head a bit too many times.’ A man stated.

‘Looks bad.’ Another fan said.  

Aran pulled the paper down, “Good stuff, ay? M’sister had a holler when she saw it.”

“Yeah, yeah, good stuff.” Octave tossed the paper onto the counter. The corner of Aran’s mouth curled down

“Thought ye’d be a li’l happier than that. We go through all that effort ‘n for what?!”

“Look, I’m still hung up bout the fight a couple’a days ago, lay off.” Octave grumbled.

“Awh, izzat th’problem?” Aran spoke in a sappy, fake, sympathetic voice, but before he could continue, two blue bottles slid in front of them.

“There ya are! I’ll be back with your food in a few.” The waitress waved then walked off to help another customer.

Aran grabbed a bottle, popped the cap off, and started to down the beer, each gross gulp getting louder than the last. Octave grabbed the other bottle and held it firmly. The cold glass stung his skin.

Aran tore the bottle away and wiped the bit of beer off his face, “Y’gotta git ov’r it. People lose all th’time. Y’think whinin’s gon getcha anywhere?”

“I got 21 losses on top’a gettin’ beaten to a pulp, don’t I get to complain bout that?”

“Ye got 21 wins.”

“Second lowest in th’circuit right next to Bear.” Octave muttered as he twisted the cap off. Aran groaned.

“I wanted t’have a good time t’night. I wanted t’do somethin’ nice ‘n cheer ye up, but no, y’just gotta go ‘n make it some pity party, don’tcha?”

Octave stared at the bright purple ‘STELLAR SOCKER’ logo on the bottle. He then stared at his reflection. At the giant bruise on his face.

“I lost m’last match, ‘n ye don’t see me cryin’ bout it, do ye?”

As Octave brought the bottle to his lips, he remembered how much he hated beer.

He hated the smell.

He hated the taste.

And as he took a sip, he remembered how much he hated the burning feeling it’d give the back of his throat.

“Ye lost 20 times before ‘n survived, this isn’t gon’ be any different.” Aran’s nails started tapping along the side of his bottle.

Octave watched it.  

“If it really bothers y’this much, spend th’rest of th’week trainin’ away. Keep practicin’ till yer on the brink of death.”

Aran’s fingers were getting faster. So was the sound.  

“Or keep mopin’ th’moment ye get back home. Keep feelin’ sorry for y’self, like that’ll do ye any good.”

He kept tapping.

“But not here. Not when we’re suppose t’have good time tog’ther.”

“Knock it off, Aran.” Octave mumbled.

He kept tapping.

“So why don’tcha suck it up for th’night ‘n try to have fun.”

Octave wasn’t listening to Aran’s words anymore. He wasn’t looking at the scowl he was wearing. He wasn’t looking at how close Aran’s face was to his. He just kept watching.

Aran kept tapping.

Clink clink clink. That was the awful sound his nails made.

Clink clink clink.

Octave’s grip around his bottle tightened.

Clink clink clink.

His heart was racing.

Clink clink clink.

His breaths were getting faster and faster.

Clink clink clink.

An urge was starting to fill him.

The urge to raise his bottle in the air.

To bring it down on Aran’s head.

To drive the jagged glass into his skull.

The terrible scene played in his mind so clearly.

The blue shards of glass that’d fly in the air.

The blood that’d fly with it.

Aran’s body hitting the tiled floor–

Octave squeezed his eyes shut before he grabbed Aran’s bottle and pushed it away.  

Aran spun around in his seat and watched as the bottle slid to the far opposite end of the counter and stopped just before the edge.

He turned back to Overload and glared.

Octave narrowed his eyes back, “I said knock it off.”

Aran pushed himself off the seat and muttered to himself as he went to get his beer.

A plate of small pancakes was suddenly set in front of him. Octave blinked then looked at the waitress.  

“There ya are!” She sang as she placed Aran’s omelete down, “Need anythin’ else?”

Octave shook his head. The woman walked off.

Octave stared down at his pancakes.

He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ah ha! Look! Macho Man covered in ink!” Tiger exclaimed as he flew a newspaper over to Bald Bull, who was sitting across from him on a tuscan red sofa, “I told you I wasn’t making things up yesterday.”

Bald Bull set the instruction manual for his phone aside, “Huh.” He mumbled as he looked at the photo of an inky Macho Man, gently tugging on the end of his coral-colored shirt, “I am sorry, it sounded so ridiculous that I…” His voice trailed off as he skimmed the article, but he didn’t get the chance to read much as Tiger pulled the paper back towards him.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Tiger said as he flipped a page, he shifted around on the other couch–this one having a royal-blue blanket tossed over it–until he was laying on his back. Well, he wasn’t exactly on the couch, more like hovering above it, but regardless, he needed to be comfortable, “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Oh!” His eyes lit up, “Apparently a new face might be arriving to the WVBA soon, isn’t that exciting?”

Bull brought his head up, “Really? Who?”

Tiger read a bit more before he let out a scoff, “No one interesting, that’s for sure.” He looked at the tiny picture provided, “Boring name, boring face, it wouldn’t surprise me if his fighting style was as boring as he is.”

He looked up from the paper, expecting to see Bull pushing himself off the couch so he could walk over and tease him for being oh-so-mean, that the man couldn’t be that boring, let him see! But instead, Bull just sat there. Staring down at the low, sienna colored coffee table that was cluttered with phone manuals, an empty box of sugar cubes, and two drunken cups of tea.

Tiger lowered the paper and drifted down onto the couch. He sunk into the cushions slightly.

Were his jabs a little too cruel?

“Are you alright?” Tiger asked.

Bull didn’t say anything. He looked tense.

Tiger saw that Bull was staring at his phone. His eyes narrowed.

That accursed thing has been going off all day.

Today was supposed to be their day to relax, the day where they’d lounge around and do absolutely nothing after the constant training Bull put himself through yesterday, but instead? They had to deal with the constant calls of fans and paparazzi who couldn’t grasp the basic concept of privacy.

Bull kept telling Tiger the calls weren’t that bothersome, but Tiger’s seen agitation that flickered in his eyes everytime the phone started to ring again. He’s seen the way his smiles faded every time he had to stop whatever he was doing to hang up on the caller. He’s seen how his movements grew stiffer throughout the day. Tiger knew those calls bothered Bull as much as they bothered him.

Tonight they were supposed to sit outside and ramble about their weekday plans, which would slowly change into them exchanging stories from their past for hours as their evening talks always went.

Tonight Bull wanted to bake cookies–whether it was from scratch or those pre-made cookies from the store, Tiger wasn’t sure, but he always enjoyed helping him.

Tonight was the perfect night to sit outside and spend the last few hours of the day together.

But instead, here they are.

In Bald Bull’s living room.

All thanks to Macho Man.

How miserable.

Tiger didn’t have any grudges against Bull’s living room. It looked… Fine.

The couches were fine, the golden and orange pillows scattered around were fine, the house plants placed beside the window–which Bull had cracked open–that was placed behind the couch Bull sat on was fine, the shade of honeyed orange for the walls was fine, the wooden floor was fine, the mosaic lamps hanging from the ceiling was fine, the unlit candles held up by their long, thin holders were fine. It was all fine. Fine, fine, fine, but it wasn’t where they were supposed to be.

“Bull.” Tiger said again, raising his voice. Bull shook his friend and looked at his friend.

“Sorry, sorry.” Bull scratched his sideburn, “I was–perhaps I should apologize to Macho Man.”

Tiger's eyes widened and he immediately sat up.

The moment Bull reached over for his phone, Tiger snapped his fingers and teleported the phone into his hand.

“Absolutely–!” A phone call cut Tiger off. Tiger rolled his eyes and hung up before continuing, “Absolutely not. What on Earth would you even apologize for?”

“Last night he had texted me that he was unable to do the photoshoot because he had been, ah, ‘tarnished’, as he said. I didn’t believe him. At the very least, I can apologize for that.”

Tiger furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, but he stopped himself and took a big, deep breath.

He exhaled, “Macho Man should be apologizing to you.” He started, “Now perhaps I’m being a bit harsh when I say this, but I think anyone with half a brain can understand that handing someone’s number out to strangers is the worst thing to do. Especially for a man of your reputation!” Tiger used his magic to raise the blanket off the couch and twisted it until it was one, long line. He then forced the blanket to create a simple outline of Macho Man’s face, “I think his careless act is far worse than you not believing a story.”

“He has already apologized several times.” Bull said.

“Super. Macho. Sorry.” Tiger chanted, “That doesn’t sound very genuine to me.”

“Trust me, from personal experience, that is as genuine as he can get.” Bull said as he pushed himself off the couch and walked over to Tiger, “He is not completely to blame either. Whole situation could have been avoided if I had gone to that photoshoot.”

“Oh–what? Are you blaming yourself now?!” When Tiger saw Bull try to grab the phone out of his hands, he used his magic and sent it flying to the ceiling, “This whole situation could’ve been avoided if those men in their fancy little suits actually bothered to tell you about the photoshoot ahead of time instead of at the last minute.”

“Tiger, my phone.”

Tiger stared at his friend. He huffed and flicked his wrist. The phone teleported into Bull’s hand. Bull then slipped it into the pocket of his dark blue shorts and picked up the cups from the table.

“I will get us refills.” He started making his way to the kitchen. Tiger followed behind.

Tiger tried to break the strange silence that filled the air, “So, are you planning on relaxing tomorrow? Make up for the time you lost today?”

“No. Not likely.” Bull said as he placed the cups on the counter, “After I finish changing my number, I will… Go to bed, wake up, and train.” Bull grabbed his copper teapot on his stove by the wooden handle. It’s been sitting here for a while. The tea’s probably cold now.

“Again?” Tiger didn’t even bother to hide the woe in his voice, “Bull, you’ve been training for nearly three days now, your fight isn’t for another few weeks, a day of rest isn’t going to kill you!”

“I know, I know, I–” Bull threw a hand up, “It just… It will help take my mind off of–of everything.”  

Bull rubbed his temples before he sighed, “I am sorry. It’s–”

The phone rang again.

Bull quickly set aside the teapot and hung up on whoever was calling.

“I want to rest, believe me, but with this fight coming up so soon after my most recent one, I can't risk falling behind.”

“You won’t!” Tiger said as Bull started to refill the cups, the smell of apple tea not nearly as strong as when it was first poured, “You’re Bald Bull, you’ll do excellent as always.”

Bull didn’t say anything. He just grabbed one of the cups and handed it over to Tiger, who gave him a whispered thanks.

It was quiet again. Tiger took a sip of his drink.

Bull searched around the counters for an extra box of sugar cubes he had taken out earlier.

He dragged his fingers across the umber countertops as he slowly walked around.

“I should have gone to that photoshoot.” He said.

Tiger raised his head.

“If I had shown up and posed for the pictures, I wouldn’t have been dealing with these calls. Macho wouldn’t have gotten covered in ink. We could have had a normal day together.” He let out a heavy sigh. He tugged at one of his sideburns.

It didn’t matter how much he hated having his picture taken, it didn’t matter how much he hated the flashing lights, the constant clicks, how the photographers followed his every step to capture every second of his life, he needed to get over it.

The tugging turned to pulling. It felt like he was about to rip his hair out.

He’s been dealing with paparazzi for years, yet the fear he feels–this childish fear–has never dwindled. How stupid was that? A grown man too afraid to show himself in front of a couple of cameras. Why can’t he just get over it? Other boxers have been dealing with the exact same thing for just as long, why can’t he be like them?

“I’m sorry.” Bull said again, his voice a brittle whisper.

“What for? Things out of your control?” Tiger said, lifting his feet off the ground and flying towards Bull, who was leaning against the counter, facing away. “That photoshoot was announced at such a short notice, there’s only so much you can do in such little time. You have a life outside of the stadium, people need to understand that.”

“I know.” Bull said. He stayed quiet for a moment. “Ah, look at me, making you worry.” He forced a smile on, “How about cookies to make up for it?”

“Oh, there’s nothing to make up for, but that’d be wonderful.”

Bull went over to his fridge and opened the door, “Is the one from the store okay?”

“Of course.”

Tiger watched Bull turn the oven on and tear open the yellow package.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you this before…” Tiger said as he slowly drifted towards Bull, “...But I have a rather special magic power I keep hidden.”

Bull stopped and turned his head, “Do you now?”

“Not many people know of it, but I’m able to detect when you’re horribly stressed.”

“Is that so?” Bull spoke in that teasing ‘Oh really?’ tone.

“Yes! And when I do detect it, my gem flashes horribly.” Right on cue, his gem started blinking an array of colors, “Oh dear, would you look at that!”

Bull shielded his eyes, a sliver of a smile gracing his face, “Very strange how it has never done that before.” Traces of a familiar liveliness were weaved in his words.

“Well, you see, I have to suppress it because it is one of my most draining of tricks. It takes all of my mental and physical strength to contain it.” He put his hands over his heart, “And don’t get me started on the side effects.” He inched closer to Bull’s face.

“Oooh no. Even more of those?”

“Oh yes.” Tiger said with a smirk, “As soon as I sense the stress, I teleport immediately to the source. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’m whisked away against my will.”

“Really?”

“And if you ever want a moment of peace from me,” Tiger wiggled his fingers under his chin, “you’ll have to do nothing but relax tomorrow.”

“I am not really seeing a downside to spending more time with you.” Bull raised a brow.

“No! That’s not what you’re supposed to say!” Tiger shot his arms out. Bull’s smile widened.

“You’re supposed to promise you’ll get plenty of rest tomorrow and take it easy!”

“Ah, that too then.”

Tiger pouted as Bull took out a baking tray from one of drawers, along with a sheet of parchment paper.

“Why don’t you prepare the cookies while I go and turn the patio’s lights on? We can sit outside as we wait for the oven to preheat.” Bull said as he walked over to the sliding glass doors.

“Oh! I’d love that!” Tiger wasted no time using his magic to break the cold cookie dough into even pieces and place them in neat rows on the tray. He heard Bull open the door and–

He froze.

He zipped over.

“Wait Bull, hold on! Don’t slam the–!”

Bull gave him an odd look right as he slammed the door shut. A loud ‘THUD’ was heard right behind him, making both of the men jump.

Bull whipped his head around and turned on one of the lanterns.

Sitting right outside the patio was his punching bag.

Tiger cracked the door back open and poked his head through.

“You–” Bull started, but stopped and stroked his chin, “Did you put the punching bag on the roof?”

Tiger stared at the floor, face getting red, “Yes.”

Bull looked up at his roof, “Were you planning on keeping it up there all day?”

“No, I–I sort of… Forgot. About it.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Octave swung his door open and dragged himself inside.

His pain medicine had worn off. He felt sick to his stomach. All he wanted to do now was go to bed.

He held his take out box tightly. The last thing he needed right now was the smell of pancakes creeping into his nose. Just the thought of it made him want to vomit.

He kicked the door shut behind him and trudged over to his kitchen so he could shove the leftovers away and never think about them again.

He didn’t care what junk he was stepping on, he didn’t care that his hips kept running into corners, he didn’t care for the pile of dishes in his sink or the mess on his kitchen table, he just. Wanted. To sleep.

The moment Octave stepped foot in the kitchen, his phone rang.

Octave cussed and threw his box down.

What?

What did Aran want now?!

Octave stomped over to his end table.

This better be good, this better be worth his time.

He snatched his phone and shoved the receiver to his ear, “What? Whaddaya want?!”

“Oh–is this a bad time?” Great Tiger’s voice came through.

The anger in Octave dwindled. He exhaled heavily through his teeth.

“No, jus’ been a long night.” He finally said. He slicked his hair back and sat on the couch. Despite how much his bruises stung, despite how exhausted he was, he kept talking, “How’ve ya been?”

“Fine, I’ve been spending most of today with a friend of mine. You?”

“Yeah.” Octave sunk a bit deeper into the cushions, “Same here.”  

[lonesomedreamer]

SNW Liveblog: “Charades”

In which Ethan Peck gets to have some fun, the writers also prove they know nothing about Vulcans, and the last fifteen minutes redeems the whole episode.

What exactly is “sub-impulse speed”?

God dammit.

The fellowship only lasts for two months? What’s even the point?

I hate to complain about a female character working out on-screen—life in space would definitely necessitate some kind of exercise regime! For everyone!—but at what point in her TOS appearances did Christine Chapel strike these writers as the type of girl who spent a lot of time beating on the Enterprise’s punching bag? Maybe if we hadn’t just seen La’an in this exact same scene two episodes ago…

This…this outfit is almost mod! Earrings and all! I’m shocked. Give it some color and you’d be onto something.

In fact, all three girls (La’an, Christine, and Ortegas) are wearing black here. Why do SNW the costume designers HATE fun?

“Oh, things are kind of weird between them.” I don’t use this word lightly, but between her being mean to Spock for no reason last week and now casually betraying her friend’s confidence like this with a little smirk (while Christine is visibly uncomfortable): Ortegas is just a bitch.

Do Vulcans consider their emotions to be “suppressed”? And would M’Benga, Vulcan expert or not, really be able to teach the native Vulcan how to better control his emotions (when he’s been learning that his whole life)??? Do they ever think before writing, or…?

Or: canon only matters when the SNW writers want it to.

“My mother felt this would be best.” A lot of Vulcans on this show throw that verb around awfully lightly. It’s almost like the writers don’t understand Vulcans.

If T’Pring’s mother doesn’t approve, why were they ever engaged in the first place? (I know that this show’s never going to acknowledge that they were betrothed as kids for an arranged marriage. But that’s the canon.)

Bitch, please.

A sweet reversal of her sneaking a glance at him in the Turbolift earlier.

Them.

Spock, please don’t look at your girlfriend when you’re supposed to be steering the shuttle away from the “rupture in space-time”.

Oh, his hair is so much better this way.

Why is everyone calling Uhura “Nyota” all of a sudden? I get that she’s just an ensign, but it’s weird.

This sounds like a casual phone call rather than the first contact between the Federation and an unknown species. Up the professionalism a few notches, Pike.

He does not.

“Mixed instructions? You don’t mean Spock.” I’m no scientist, but it’s obvious they’re talking about his DNA—keep up, Mr. Starship Captain!

“Uhura, get ‘em back.” Maybe if Pike hadn’t stumbled over his words and had gotten straight to the damn point, this wouldn’t be a problem! Kirk and Picard would both have said, “Excuse me, but the way you ‘fixed’ my science officer was not correct” rather than mumbling and stuttering until the call cut off.

He is adorable. You can pry human!Ethan!Spock out of my cold, dead hands.

“My fiancee’s mother? She hates me.” My fiancee? She hates me. Fixed that for you!

“I’ve already spoken to T’Pring and to your family.” That is really crossing a line! Kirk—Spock’s undisputed best friend of all time/brother/soulmate/true love (however you see them)—didn’t know about T’Pring or even that the Vulcan ambassador and his wife who were coming aboard were Spock’s parents until he met them on the Enterprise. But Pike is just casually contacting Sarek, Amanda, and T’Pring without consulting Spock first?! It’s not like he’s in a coma! He could easily have waited and let Spock tell his family himself. Accidents happen in Starfleet all the time. It’s a dangerous job.

Spock always seems to be played by men with the best smiles. ♥

Not Spock drinking alcohol and eating meat! He’s going to feel awful about that when his genetic code is “fixed”! (His dietary habits are cultural, not biological—why would he want to change them with or without his Vulcan DNA?)

If this was a TOS episode, Bridge crew would still be working on getting back in touch with the aliens who did this to Spock…but we have to show Spock enjoying some crispy bacon instead.

Again, I think control is a better choice of words.

“You just need to work on impulse control.” I don’t think taking his Vulcan DNA away would invalidate/negate his years of intensive mental training. He had to work extra hard as a mixed-race child to be a “real” Vulcan, so in theory he should still have access to about emotional control. If not, he should have been stripped of his memories of childhood and whatnot, too.

Spock’s sass is coming out so strongly in this script, which is great, but he should always be sassy! (“Gentlemen, I am in command of this vessel, and we shall continue on our present course…unless it is your intention to declare a mutiny.”)

I’m sure Christine enjoys seeing a more demonstrative version of the man she loves, BUT I hope they also show that she’s mourning the loss of the true Spock. She’s one of the few who really sees him for what he is—half Vulcan, half human, wholly himself.

To culminate his total lack of respect for Spock’s privacy/boundaries, Pike announces that his mom is on board in the middle of a busy hallway.

This Amanda is a babe (though there’s no way she’s old enough to be Ethan Peck’s mom).

I love this nod to the classic “Spock wearing a funny hat to hide his ears” trope.

Could they not get a costume to fit this actress? Not shaming her at all—I’m intimately familiar with the struggle of finding clothes that look flattering with a larger chest! But this ain’t it.

Why is Pike even still here? At this point, Amanda’s business is with her son. Pike can butt out.

“The engagement dinner has been moved several times due to your Starfleet schedule, a fact which they are not understanding about—” A few issues here: a) It seems, well, illogical that a family of Vulcans refuses to understand why Spock’s professional schedule would postpone personal obligations; b) this is the first time we’ve ever heard about this engagement dinner, 15 episodes into the season. That wouldn’t be an issue if (as in TOS) T’Pring had just been introduced—but she’s now been in numerous episodes including the pilot. Yet somehow this has never come up before?

Also, bold of this show to expect me to care that their engagement might get broken when they’ve already faked the audience out about that once and when I know T’Pring’s ultimately going to dump Spock anyway…

Incompetence.

So T’Pring’s family disapproves of Spock’s career (and we know from previous episodes that T’Pring isn’t thrilled about it, either), but they agree to hold this traditional and (apparently) super-important engagement dinner on the starship where Spock works?

I don’t think “Spock, you’re human” would be a human mother’s natural first reaction here. Idk. I know Amanda’s been on Vulcan a long time, but we know she’s still very warm, very human, and seeing her son so changed would have to be shocking/upsetting/concerning, right?

“I couldn’t even fool you.” That’s kind of funny.

First of all: Spock can lie with the best of them. Secondly, I don’t think you can learn to be a genuinely good liar in a few hours. Finally (and again): his years of Vulcan discipline/training shouldn’t have been erased (he obviously still has all his memories and knowledge), so he shouldn’t have to lie at all.

Seriously, Spock doesn’t have amnesia! He was raised by Vulcans—he knows how they speak!!!

Okay, but…Spock can’t perform the mind meld, and Amanda would know that. I feel like she should be saying, “My son was in a serious accident and is in no state to socialize” but then someone else—maybe even Sarek—overrules her. That would still leaves plenty of room for drama.

Just contact the aliens for help! I’m begging you! This is Star Trek!!!

“We can’t do it, but we already know who can” Thank God someone on this show can keep up.

I kind of hate her. :) At least she didn’t make a snarky comment, too.

I am weak (even if this is the least-flattering Vulcan look I have ever seen on any version of Spock).

T’Pring has some funny lines re: her difficult relationship with her mother, and I guess it’s a nice parallel to Spock’s difficult relationship with Sarek. I can sympathize with her, but I refuse to like her.

There’s no way a conservative Vulcan couple would be satisfied with a human preparing the traditional food for their daughter’s engagement dinner.

The majority of Vulcans in this show continue to look like a parody.

T’Pring’s dad being a foodie is funny. Him being obviously subservient to his scary bully of a wife is unoriginal and not so funny.

They stole a shuttlecraft and no one even alerts the captain?

Christine being willing to do anything for Spock: canon in every universe. ♥

I get that they’re in “interdimensional space” and in a state of semi-shock as a result (understandably!), but why can no one communicate effectively in this episode, including Uhura of all people???

Christine’s straight-talk with the aliens is just making me angry that Pike didn’t speak up about their mistake when he was communicating with them earlier.

She’s stunning.

Spock being protective of/afraid for Christine is precious.

“During the accident, the other being diverted the shields away from himself to protect you.” Even though I’m unsure how that would work (isn’t the shield around the entire shuttlecraft?)—that is SO Spock and so adorable.

“Are you so obtuse that you don’t even see that [you have feelings for Spock]?” It’s always one step forward, three steps back with Ortegas…

The writers were kind enough to grant my wish: Christine acknowledges that a wholly human Spock isn’t really Spock at all. The writing is less than phenomenal, but Jess Bush really sells it anyway, and it alludes nicely to Christine’s heartfelt confession of love in “The Naked Time” about seeing Spock as being greater than the sum of his genetic parts.

I’m tearing up.

The scene where Spock tells T’Pring’s mother off and praises his own isn’t super believable/in-character, but it’s satisfying!

Once again: the Vulcans on this show use that word way too much…

They really have wanted T’Pring to always be the victim/wronged party in this relationship ever since the first episode. But why?! She’s going to leave him! In canon, she makes him fight his own best friend to the death to have her when she doesn’t even want him! No matter how they resolve the relationship in this show, it’s all drama I don’t care about!!!

T’Pring’s mother was overtly racist towards Amanda and Spock during the entire dinner; she doesn’t approve of him; and she told him that he deserved to be disowned by Sarek/didn’t deserve to marry T’Pring. She would probably continue behaving that way towards him for the rest of her life. But after he endured all of that for her sake and after she repeatedly warned him not to mess the dinner up, T’Pring expresses neither concern for Spock’s ordeal nor relief that he’s been healed/that the dinner was a success nor gratitude for what he put himself through. She expresses only disappointment that he didn’t confide in her.

Crying in the club.

There’s a lovely reciprocity to Spock and Christine’s dynamic so far—he kissed her in Season One; this time, she kisses him. He risked his life to save her earlier; then she goes back and risks hers to make him whole again. I know these writers are going to screw it up eventually, so I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Overall, this episode was way too long (a full hour!) and was bogged down with a bunch of nonsense in the middle in the name of comedy. Its dialogue in particular was just as poorly-written as most SNW scripts have been (i.e., “you look constipated,” “you messed him up,” numerous crew members mumbling and stuttering in the heat of the moment…these aren’t Starfleet professionals, they’re high schoolers!) BUT there was an extra helping of heart in this episode. Between Amanda Grayson’s tenderness towards her son, Spock’s protectiveness towards Christine, and Christine’s fierce loyalty towards Spock, I almost cried more than once. And since Spock/Christine is THE reason I started watching this show in the first place, it’s nice to finally see some payoff fifteen episodes in!

The Good: Ethan’s face without Vulcan make-up + his gorgeous smile!—a surprise Amanda cameo—Spock and Christine mutually being protective of each other/risking their lives for each other—some funny moments—Jess and Ethan both acting their socks off—really cool visuals during the “interdimensional space” scene—a few excellent costume designs—finally, the big kiss!

The Bad: Childish/unprofessional dialogue throughout—Ortegas being a bitch even to her friends—writing human!Spock like a teenager who forgot everything he knows about being Vulcan (even though his memories are in tact)—Pike’s total incompetence—name-dropping Roger Korby (ugh)

I can’t wait to see how this show is going to disappointment me in the Spockstine department going forward.

[pbandjesse]

I am wrestling with emotions. Or my lack of emotions. Because they accepted our offer on the house. There was a little back and forth. But they accepted. And we move forward with an inspection. But I'm not like screaming excited. I am measured. I am thrilled they said they accept the offer, but it is only one part of the process. This is just the first time we have gotten to this part. Next comes the inspection. And then we have more steps. I will not be excited in a real way until we have the keys in our hands. But this is huge. Maybe it'll hit me tomorrow.

Today was an alright day. I think the emotions and everything from signing paperwork and getting excited last night made my sleep very very weird. Very weird dreams about camp. I woke up not feeling great.

This sort of unwell feeling would linger through the afternoon. I had a little headache, I had a lot of pain in my eyes, my body ached, I just felt very unwell. I slept an extra half hour and left later then normal but it was okay. I still beat everyone to work.

When I got to camp I was just not feeling good so I had my breakfast hoping it would fix me but it did not. I would go up to the attic to sew for a little while. And would eventually come back down as Heather and Sarah came in.

I would switch between computer work, to sewing, to knitting. I tried to stay busy.

When I got bored I would take some walks. I went to the lodge to measure a piece of furniture and found the fire marshall there checking all of the fire extinguishers. We had a really interesting conversation about the origin of phrases and how when he was a kid the idea of being send away to camp was scary and viewed as a punishment. But he thinks our camp is beautiful. Very nice old man.

I went and found Joe doing some plumbing work in the musuem. Took the whole sink off the wall. We chatted about buying a house and the stress and excitement of that. And then I went back to the office.

But only for a moment. I would get a mug full of dried corn to try to make friends with the crows on the field. And when that didn't work I went and laid in a bed in the pioneer cabins for a couple minutes.

I had lunch and continued working on my sewing. I went through both spools of thread I had at my desk but I am almost finished sewing all the pieces I had already made and now I get to figure out what I still need to make to finish the piece. Very exciting.

I would spend more time playing with chatgbt to create program ideas I can build on. And then I decided I wanted to start plotting out my temperature blanket for next year. I did a rain blanket earlier this year but that was just until mother's day. For this one I was each month to be a 20x20 square. So making that on my look I had a lot of math to do. 4 rows of 3. So it will be around 60x80. Give or take. I also picked a bunch of really nice colors. I think it's going to be a really interesting one.

The afternoon would drag a bit. But Heather's daughter Sophie brought their dog Timber to camp and they were so cute!! Some kind of Chihuahua/pincher something or other. They apparently love wearing sweaters and has the softest fur.

After everyone left the office to do other tasks, me and Heather had a really nice conversation about camp and some issues I've seen and things we want to see moving forward. I am a pretty positive person, glass half full, most of the time, so I really hope everyone can live up to my expectations and we can have the best summer. And stop comparing it to 2019!!

I continued to work on my knitting until my stomach started hurting and I thought maybe I was hungry. So I said goodbye to Heather and headed to Wawa for a sandwich.

This did not go super well. Firstly something was wrong with the screen and I clicked whole wheat and had to ask the lady to change it and then when I tired to pay on the self checkout I hit cancel when I didn't mean to and get stuck on the help screen with the machine yelling at me and finally someone came and helped but I was feeling very stressed. And while my sandwich was fine the bread was very crumbly and it did not have enough mayo. I was glad I ate but it didn't make me feel as much better as I had hope.

And then I got stuck in so much traffic. With people driving so stupid. But I had good music and the sun was mostly not directly in my eyes. And I got home by 5.

James beat me home again by a few minutes. And we talked about our evening. We thought maybe we would go see lights but decided to wait for Monday when it might not be as crazy. Instead we chilled together on the couch while I finished my knitted square example for the temperature blanket. So I have an idea of scare and what it might look like and how my loom will work. I pulled the extra pegs out to make it the size I need so hopefully I will have no mistakes.

That took a good long while. And I was mentally really tired after that. I really struggle to hold numbers in my head and had to keep asking James to help me. I would get confused when I would start like say row 34. I would say I'm starting 34. And then get half way through and be like wait. This is 35. I finished 34. Or did I? Maybe this is 33. And that happened on every single row. So I would announce when I was starting and the number. And then I would announce I was done and James would tell me the number I just finished. It helped with not having to count over and over. For the real one it will be easier I hope. Because it's just two lines a day (I'm going to do the highs and lows instead of just the highs).

Harold the realtor would call us around 7 and let us know that the seller said no. Unless we didn't get an inspection. And we were like. Hmm that doesn't make us feel great. This is dumb it's off the market, what is a week going to hurt you for us to get an inspection. So after discussing it with Harold and taking his best judgement and advice we asked for a 5 day window for an inspection. And it took almost an hour of waiting. But they came back with a yes!

So now we have next week to get an inspection. Crazy. Absolutely crazy. Cutting it so close to Christmas for serious but like. What a Christmas gift it could be. And I'm trying to be realistic. Something could go wrong. But also it could be fine and great. And we could have the keys in hand by the middle of January. And then me and Jess go to Disney World to celebrate.

I am trying to be normal about everything but also it's so exciting but also never wracking. Dad called and it was exciting to hear them excited but also I'm trying so hard to not get my hopes to up so I don't become so sad. But also the day dreaming is so real.

I would take a shower and try to feel normal. My stomach is all in knots so that is tough. James sent a follow up email to Harold just so we know what we have to do and if we need to make the inspection appointment ourselves and if so if I need to be there. So many unknowns.

Now me and James are in bed. And Sweetp is running around being a baby criminal. And we are laughing about being poisoned by internet culture in very different worlds. And I feel happy and excited and nervous. Send good thoughts.

I am excited to have the day off tomorrow. I hope to clean and sew and wrap some Christmas gifts. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[littleliteraturersj]

Chucky Teaches the Wishmaster How to Use a Remote. (HoH:DC excerpt)

-After what felt like an eternity of moments, a drawn-out montage of Djinn pressing the damn buttons all at once and at random, growling and murmuring in his extinct language to no doubt swear and throw obscenities, lighting the both of them in a mirage of different colors of various different menu screens and selections to obstruct the view, he had at last given up on his pride. There were just so many infernal 'buttons'. So many different symbols. Soo maanny different shapes and colorings. How was he to possibly determine what was what from such a large selection?

The remote sat in his dejected grasp. Chancing a glimpse at the doll, he saw that the doll was not even looking at him. Apparently content to watch him fail. He almost considered retrying his hand at working the device, solely out of spite, but this battle could not be won by him alone..

Begrudgingly, he spoke; "You've no longer a need to hold your tongue. I require...Assistance."

"I dunno," Mused Chucky sarcastically. "Looks to me like you've got it all figured out."

"Nothing has been figured out!" He snarled.

"What'd I tell you?"

"I will not cry." He said petulantly. 

Chucky snorted and beckoned him with an open palm; "Gimme."

The remote was not given. It was held away, as if the genie expected the toy to try and take it from him. He said childishly; "I want to know how to work the picture box."

Picture what? Holy.. "And you will know, just give it over. Let me fix all this shit you did," 'This shit' referred to the boxes and options clouding the screen in front of them. "Then I'll teach you how to work the...The picture box." Squinting suspiciously, Djinn handed the remote to him. Chucky shook his head to himself and his fingers naturally aligned into place along the rectangular shape of the device. Djinn, noticing this, fixed the plastic fingers with concentration. In only a matter of moments, and a pressed combination of buttons, the screen was clear. The previous doubt stepped closer to genuine attention.

"Alright. First thing's first," Chucky held the remote control up between them vertically. "This button up at the top in the far corner, here?" His freehand motioned to the distinctly colored button and tapped near it. "This is ON and OFF. You want the tv on? You press it. You want the tv off? You press it. Got it?"

Djinn's eyes honed in on him; "Got it."

"Now these," The hand adjusted to lower towards the lower half of its shape.

"What of the other buttons?" Asked Djinn accusingly. "You skipped so many of them."

"Nevermind those. I'm gonna be straight with you. You ain't gonna need most of these," His fingers gestured specifically in a few places. "The only buttons you're gonna need to know is: ON/OFF. The volume. And the ones to change the channels. That's it."

"Then why are there so many buttons?" His tone of voice and current expression heavily insinuated that the Lakeshore Strangler was lying to him in some way, like he fully expected to have a wool pulled over his eyes at any moment. As if he truly believed that the toy was trying to keep the secret of the buttons all to himself. "It's a lot to explain and if I try and explain it to you in a way you're gonna understand, we're gonna be here all night. And I dunno 'bout you, but I don't wanna do that. I know it ain't easy and bear with me, it's gonna be a wild fuckin' concept, I know, but.."

Djinn stared at him and Chucky nodded almost condescendingly; "You're just gonna have to trust me, okay?"

Replaying what had been said, a visual of the both of them sitting on the couch took over the forefront of his mind. Imagining them arguing and questioning one another until the sun rose...Did not sit well with the djinn.

"Okay."-

[dragimalsdaydreams]

[image ID: 4 images of Tighnari from the game Genshin Impact. the first 2 images are the same front-view, full-body screenshot, while the next 2 images are the same back-view, full-body screenshot.

the first front and back views are unedited screenshots of how Tighnari appears in the game. he’s light-skinned with teal/brown eyes. he has straight, smooth, black/teal hair cut straight at chin length, with some neon green, “leaf-like” accents in his bangs. he’s got tall, pointed black fox ears on the top of his head, and a black/teal fox tail with green diamond/circle patterns. he’s wearing midnight blue pants with red accents, and a midnight blue hoodie with green/magenta accents. the hoodie has one long, skin-tight sleeve, and one short, loose sleeve. he’s wearing one white sash with red/blue/gold accents wraps around his upper body, and a magenta wrap with white/yellow accents holds the white wrap up around the waist, along with a cyan/magenta/grey rope. another large, green, leaf-shaped sash hangs off the back of his right shoulder. a silver latch with cyan accents sits on one shoulder, while the other shoulder has a large yellow flower, which pins up the white sash. a large golden disk with tangerine/pink/lavender accents and long extensions of filigree sits on the back of his right shoulder. he’s wearing black gloves with gold/grey/orange/cyan accents, and dark blue, calf-high boots with black/white/gold/neon green accents.

the next two front and back views are heavily edited versions of the original screenshots. Tighnari’s skin is now dark brown, and the hair and ears are dark teal. the ears have been widened, rounded out, shifted down, and given green accents matching the tail. the hoodie has been changed to a dark teal vest over top a yellow/orange long-sleeve, striped shirt. the pants have been shifted to dark teal, and the boots now have a magenta/orange/yellow color scheme. the two sashes have been reduced to one green sash with some leaf-shaped corners hanging off the shoulder. the gold disk on his back has been changed to a gold chain hanging between the two shoulder latches, holding smaller orange/pink/lavender-accented golden disks. more pink/purple flowers have been pinned around the large yellow flower on his shoulder. most of the red/blue/cyan/neon green accent colors have been shifted to appropriate yellow/orange/pinks, all the silver has been shifted to gold/bronze, and all the blacks/whites have been shifted to a different color.

end ID]

I can’t believe Genshin released a character catered to me specifically (field ecologist, bio nerd that loves to share botany facts, antisocial academic, foxboy, etc.), then nerfed him with the worst design in the entire game. his color palette, clothes design, general silhouette... it’s all just a huge mess. even knowing this going in, he ended up being a lot more involved that I’d originally anticipated-- even more than Yanfei, who used to be the most ambitious one of the bunch! I still a lot of fun, but good god I’m glad to finally put this lad to rest...

I have a lot more thoughts about my process/choices, so if you’d like to read on, my full design notes and more detailed image descs are under the cut!

EDIT: I added some orange/yellow/green to the pants to break up the blue, I think they work better now

before I get into it, I have to admit... I messed up the light source on Tighnari’s back view. I had assumed that the light source was locked to the character rather than the screen itself, so I thought the light source would flip to the right side of the screen when I flipped the character around. I only realized that the light source had actually stayed on the left side of the screen after I’d already shaded most of the edited aspects, so it was easier to just flip the light source on the unchanged aspects too (mainly the tail and hair). to be clear, the flipped light source is not meant to be a “fix”, that’s just a silly blunder on my part, and there are prolly still some wonky shadows I didn’t catch...

and one more note for clarity: while I usually refer to “viewer left/right” when describing these things-- that is, the left/right that you, the viewer, see on your screen-- I’ll be doing something different this time. since I’ve got both the front and back views here, I’ll be referring to “subject left/right”-- that is, the left/right that Tighnari himself experiences. it may get a bit confusing when describing the front views, but it’s the best way I can think to keep the directions straight

now, let’s first discuss the broadest aspect of this redesign: the color palette

I think we can all agree that the OG design is... a lot. there’s firetruck reds. there’s midnight blues. there’s neon greens. there’s tangerines and magentas and cyans... it’s Too Fucking Much. which is shocking, because as much as I complain abt half of Genshin’s designs, I’ve almost never had a problem with the color palettes. Genshin palettes can be boring at worst, but I usually love most of them!

if this were any other character, I prolly would’ve just cut some colors from Tighnari’s palette and called it a day. I prefer limited color palettes in my own art, and I find it more effective to capture a character’s tone/vibe with just a few colors. however, given the bizarrely hectic approach compared to other Genshin designs... I get the impression that Tighnari is supposed to be a wild mix of colors, to represent his botanical work and the vibrant flora of his home

thus, rather than using my typical visual art perspective, I approached Tighnari’s design from my florist perspective-- hello friends, genuine florist here, at your service!

while I’m hesitant to use too many colors in my digital art, I have a completely different perspective at work-- I LOVE to make vibrant, multicolored arrangements! I think floral work has honestly improved my color theory in a very hands-on way, but I never considered extending that approach to my art before, which feels silly in retrospect lmao

anyways, I get requests for “bright and cheery” arrangements a lot, so I reconstructed Tighnari’s palette around that idea-- a mix of mostly bright, poppy colors, tempered with deeper, richer jewel tones; warm and cool colors complementing and enhancing one another rather than clashing

another problem is that the colors are all so completely separate from one another in the OG design, it feels like my eyes hit a wall every time they shift from one part to another. I see the midnight blue, then my eyes slam into a wall of firetruck red, or I see flat white, then my eyes hit a wall of magenta. in my redesign, I tried to make the colors flow into one another-- blue to teal to green, then yellow to orange to red. there are clear sections of warm vs. cool colors, but I tried to make sure that little accents of one section would dip into other sections, and that no one section of color felt too overwhelming

additionally, I use black/grey/white verrryyy sparingly in my own work, unless black/white serves as one of the big base colors. Yanfei and Yoimiya, for example, both use black/white as broad base colors, so I was happy to continue that. in Tighnari’s OG design, the black/grey/white just clashes with every other color in the piece, and especially with the “bright and cheery” floral palette of his redesign, so I tossed them completely

also, I need to point out the black gradient on Tighnari’s hair specifically, cus’ it’s just so unbelievably ugly 

[image ID: the OG back shot, cropped to just Tighnari’s head. the ears and crown of the head are a flat, dull black, which sharply fades into a dark teal down to the tips of the hair. END ID]

the black is so flat, and stops so hard before the teal, it looks like a fine layer of dust or drywall fell on Tighnari’s head! dust your head, boy!!

also note that there’s no more silver metal in the redesign

[image ID: the OG and edited front shots, cropped to the left shoulder latch. the OG latch is silver, while the redesign is gold. END ID]

mixing metals is considered a big fashion faux pas b/c different metals usually clash. obviously this isn’t a hard rule, cus’ mixed metals can work, but they have to be balanced very intentionally-- like with Zhongli’s design. Tighnari’s metals, on the other hand, are mixed very... messily. none of the metals match each other or any other part of the design, and they just look ugly all together

since gold complements Tighnari’s new palette better than flat grey, I just cut all the silver. however, the “golds” vary across my redesign b/c they already vary in the OG, and I’m not sure whether that’s the lighting or genuinely different metals. I’m more willing to mix bronze/brass with the gold, though, because they’re all warm metals, so I just kept it

finally, palette talk DONE

so, Tighnari’s ears.

[image ID: the OG front shot, cropped to Tighnari’s head + ears. his ears are tall thin, and sharply pointed. the outsides are black, while the insides have bare pink skin, with some tufts of black fur lining the inner edge. this gives the ears a thin, delicate look. the ears are based at the very top of the skull, sticking straight up near the crown of the head. a dangly gold, leaf-shaped earring hangs off the base of the right ear. end ID]

good god.

as a furry and connoisseur of fluffy ears, I gotta say: Tighnari’s ears look like shit. they’re naked and flat, and they move like flimsy pieces of wet paper. I get that fennec foxes have somewhat less fluffy ears than other foxes for heat dispersion, but this just ain’t it.

to fix them, I took some tips from the best ears in the game-- Gorou’s!

[image ID: a front-view screenshot of Gorou, cropped to just his head + ears. he’s got smaller, triangular ears, modeled with rounded fluff inside the whole ear. the backs are a golden brown matching the hair, the inner edges are creamy white, and the innermost ear is pale, fleshy pink. end ID]

it’s like Mihoyo forgot they already had the golden standard here to reference from, smh

anyways, my redesign works off of similar design principles:

[image ID: the edited front shot, cropped to just Tighnari’s head + ears. the ears have been widened and the tips rounded, matching real fox ears. the bases have been shifted forward and down towards the sides of the skull, with the outer edges of the ears leading down towards the same level as the cheeks. the bases are dark teal, matching the new hair color, with lighter teal fluff ringing the inner edges, and a pale teal for the innermost ear. the dangly leaf earring has been flipped to the base of the left ear, and two studs (one pink, one tangerine) have been added to the outer edge of that ear, while the right ear has one lavender stud. end ID]

using real fennec foxes as reference for the shape and fur distribution, I tried to mimic the way fluff is modeled in Gorou’s ears, to give the ears a fuller shape

I flipped Tighnari’s leaf earring from his right to his left ear b/c it interfered with the flowers on his right shoulder. the extra studs match the colors of the glass circles on the gold disk (or gold chain in the redesign) on his back

I also mirrored the circle + diamond design from the tail onto the backs of the ears, to extend the shape design across more of the character

[image ID: the edited back shot, cropped to Tighnari’s head + ears. the base color of the ears is dark teal, while the tips are green. a half-circle of dark teal is cut out of this green, and a green circle sits inside the half circle. a green diamond sits at the center of the ears, straight down from the circle. the dangly earring and the gold backs of the studs are visible from the back. end ID]

I also shifted the ears down because... look, I’m a biologist first, human second. while I appreciate that Mihoyo doesn’t do double-ears for their animal people, I still get a lil insane about ears based at the top of the skull. I’d ideally move the ears down a little further, but it felt a little too off-model from OG Tighnari, so I settled for the current redesign. I’m just imagining a little more ear hidden behind the hair that leads down to the ear canal, since the new position already implies that. maybe the ear canal is even a tiny bit higher than in regular humans-- I’m willing to allow that

and since we’re already here talking furry biology, I shifted Tighnari’s tail down as well

[image ID: the OG and edited back shots, cropped to the tail/pants area.

both tails have a dark teal top half and a green bottom half. a half-circle of dark teal is cut out from the green, and a green circle sits inside the half circle. a green diamond sits at the center of the tail, straight up from the circle. while not visible from this angle, this pattern repeats on the sides of the tail as well. the pants on both designs are long and puffy, with wider, flared-out bottoms that pinch into slightly thinner cuffs. the base fabric is split into vertical strips or folds, giving the pants a visually ‘striped’ pattern.

the OG tail is based at the waist, just under the magenta waist wrap. the base of the OG tail is also more black, fading into dark teal further down. the pants framing this tail are midnight blue, with single strips of red fabric on the outer sides of the legs.

the edited tail is based at the bottom of the hips, just under the bottom edge of the shirt. the base of the edited tail is fully dark teal. the pants framing this tail are dark teal, with lighter teal cuffs, single strips of green on the outer sides of the legs, and single strips of orange along the inner thighs. additional strips of lighter teal fabric cut diagonally down the rump and back of the upper thighs, angled down towards the inner legs.

end ID]

now the base of the tail actually extends from the end of the spine~

also note the lighter panels on the redesigned pants, framing the tail. the pants and tail are the same dark tone in the OG, so it’s hard to tell them apart. changing the pants to a teal hue only exacerbated the problem, so those lighter panels help block out the tail as separate from the pants

this is also part of the reason I made the inner section of the pants lighter

[image ID: the edited front shot, cropped to the pants. the cuffs are lighter teal, with a single stripe of green on the outside of each leg, and a single strip of orange fabric vertically bisecting each pant leg. the outer half of each pant leg is dark teal, while the inner sections are a very pale teal. the fly section has a strip of dark teal fabric, with yellow ties lacing the sides together. end ID]

but as you can see, the pale inner section of the pants is only visible from the front, so it didn’t help the tail issue much, lmao. I kept it anyways, tho, cus’ it breaks up that big block of dark pants from the front, and helps the eye move more smoothly across the figure

now, let’s talk sashes

[image ID: the OG front and back shots, cropped to the sash areas.

the main white sash is wrapped loosely around the waist and pinned up to the front and back sides of the right shoulder by the big yellow flower and gold disk, respectively. this sash has stripes of firetruck red, blue, and light gold around the edges, with some gold diamond accents. either a matching white sash or an extension of the white sash hangs from the front of the right shoulder, pinned in place by the yellow flower. it’s long and squared-off like a scarf, hanging down to mid-thigh and folded into a few vertical strips. this sash also has red/blue/god accents, with some metallic gold diamonds hanging off the end. an additional small block of fabric hangs over the scarf-like sash, folded wave-like so that both the outer midnight blue and inner orange are visible.

a magenta-purple wrap holds the looser white sash in place, wrapping snugly around the waist in an wide strip. this wrap has yellow stripes/patterns with some zig-zag patterns. a white cord is tied around the center of the wrap, holding an orange bead, a cyan bead, a Dendro vision, and magenta hip bag. a couple of cyan/purple/grey ropes hang from the bottom of the wrap, the ends pinned to either hip.

a different sash hangs off the back of the right shoulder, large enough to end around mid-calf, and pinned in place by the giant gold disk. this sash is leaf-shaped, with a couple of additional thin, tapering strips of fabric hanging underneath. the sash is green, starting lush green at the pinned base, then fading to yellow-green near the tips. some darker green patterns emphasize the leaf shape.

end ID]

I already discussed my thoughts on white in this design, but I just need to emphasize how jarring this white sash is in Tighnari’s design. it’s weirdly distracting, and feels especially bland compared to the leaf-shaped sash on his back. why relegate the lush leaf symbolism to just his back?

it seems obvious to just combine the two sashes into one single design

[image ID: the edited front and back shots, cropped to the sash areas.

the first white sash is now fully green, with darker, dull green stripes and circles lining the edges. the scarf-like sash has been changed to a couple strips of green fabric in long, tapering shapes, ending around mid-thigh. the additional block of fabric has been changed to a couple small blocks of fabric shaped like leaves, framing the yellow flower. the large green sash on the back has been downsized to a very small, single leaf shape, ending just past the elbow. all the sashes and leaves have stripes/patterns/circles of darker, dull green that emphasize their shapes, and their tips fade to yellow.

the cord over top of the magenta wrap has been changed to yellow, and the grey parts of the hanging ropes have been changed to pink for a pink/purple/cyan color scheme.

end ID]

this pulls the leaf shapes and green palette onto his front, mixing the shape/color design more evenly across the body

you may have also noticed that I drastically reduced the size of the sash hanging off the back shoulder, and I have a good reason for that!

it’s not visible in a still image, but in-motion, the sash creates a flowing, trailing shape behind Tighnari when he runs/walks. that would be fine if the sash was the only thing back there... but he also has a tail. so Tighnari has these two big, distracting shapes trailing out behind him when he runs, and it really muddles his overall shape in-motion

but even in the still image, that massive sash covers too much of his upper body for my liking-- cus’ who wouldn’t want to get a full view of Tighnari’s stupid shirt?

[image ID: the OG front shot, cropped to the upper body.

underneath the white sash, Tighnari is wearing some kind of midnight blue hoodie. the hood has a magenta back, and is pooled around his neck, black drawstrings hanging down his chest. the left sleeve is short, wide, and loose, with thin, vertical blue stripes. this leaves the left arm bare at the elbow, before the glove. the right sleeve is skin-tight and covering the full arm, with some vertical stripes of neon green down the outer arm. there’s a light green, “leafy” filigree symbol across the chest of the hoodie.

Tighnari also seems to be wearing a midnight blue, skin-tight shirt underneath the hoodie, which hugs high up his throat. this may be the source of the skin-tight sleeve? but it’s unclear, considering there’s no loose hoodie sleeve on that side.

while the right side has a yellow flower, the left side has a shoulder latch hanging over top of the shoulder. the main strip of the latch is teal edged in silver, and each side of the latch (front and back of the shoulder) ends in a round, silver buckle. the buckle has a clover engraving, and a decorative tassel hangs from the front buckle-- cyan with an orange bead at the top.

end ID]

like, what is this? what the hell is this?? one long, skin-tight sleeve, and one short, loose sleeve? hello??

the “hoodie” look is also weirdly anachronistic. like, I know Genshin is a silly mix of “modern” and “ancient” fantasy, but the hoodie makes Tighnari look a little too much like... just some guy I could meet at work.

but before I could reconstruct the shirt, I had to figure out what stylistic base to work off of-- that is, what cultural base. but because Sumeru is a horrific frankenstein of a country, I had to make some executive decisions

so I looked up Tighnari’s namesake, then the natural range of fennec foxes, then chose the country that was closest to modern-day Spain, and got Algeria. then I googled Algerian fashion and worked from there. but looking at Tighnari’s wiki again, it seems a new note about Amazigh influence was added more recently, and I wish I had known about that earlier so I could’ve referenced more Amazigh fashion too 😭... ah well, at least I chose one of the right countries, and his sash is kinda reminiscent of Amazigh fashion...

ANYWAYS, I settled on this

[image ID: the edited front shot, cropped to the upper body. the hoodie has been changed to a vest/shirt combo.

the shirt is a long-sleeve button-up with loose/puffy sleeves tucked into the glove cuffs. the base is pale yellow with a burnt orange collar + edging, burnt orange vertical stripes across the fabric, and gold buttons. the collar of the shirt is lower than before, leaving more of the throat bare.

the vest is open at the front, with a high, straight-up collar. it has a dark teal base and lighter teal collar + edging. there are also a couple of visible pockets on either side of the vest, each with lighter teal top edging.

the shoulder buckle has been mirrored underneath the yellow flower, though it isn’t very visible. the silver on the latches has been replaced with gold, and a little circular pocket magnifier hangs next to the decorative tassel on the left shoulder.

end ID]

a lot of the Algerian fashion I found seemed to favor vests, which was a great way to balance warm vs. cool hues in the shirt vs. vest. a lot of the shirts I saw were usually white, but since I’m staying away from white, I just made the shirt a nice dull yellow, to complement the vest’s teal. I also tried to give the shirt a “loose-sleeve” look, as I saw in references-- a bit similar to Kaeya’s loose sleeves, but still distinct in shape. I think it gives his upper half a nice silhouette~

I also gave the vest a bunch of pockets, as a nod to the utility vests field scientists love to wear, to store all our small tools, samples, and cool rocks <3. realistically, Tighnari would store his pocket magnifier in one of those pockets (and the magnifier would have a little flippy cover to protect the glass), but I thought it would look fun hanging off his left shoulder latch~

and since the front is essentially split by the vest, I shifted the green symbol from the front to the back of the vest instead

[image ID: the edited back shot, cropped to the upper body. most of the back of the vest is visible underneath the green sash, showing the light green, “leafy” filigree symbol that was originally on the front of the hoodie. when the top of the symbol hits the collar, it circles around the bottom of the collar in two lines. end ID]

but speaking of baubles, let’s get a load of that flower!

[image ID: the OG front shot, cropped to the right shoulder. a big yellow flower is pinned to the front of this shoulder, while large, swooping, gold filigree curls up behind the flower from the gold disk on the back. end ID]

y’know what I thought as soon as I saw that big yellow flower? I thought, “oh, Tighnari saw a broken flower and stuck it on his shirt! I do the same thing at work when I see a broken flower-- I stick them in my headband! :) ” then I heard his “hobbies” voice-over and I felt so vindicated!! YES SAME HAT!!! I’ll just paste the voice line here, it’s very cute:

“Leaves and flowers often drop onto the ground of the Avidya Forest, sometimes perfectly intact. Leaving them on the ground would be such a pity... I can't help but pick them up and keep them as biological specimens. They can be used as educational materials for Forest Rangers or as decorative pieces. Very versatile.”

anyways, Tighnari needed more accent colors on the sash, and I was already treating him like a flower arrangement anyways, so I just added more flowers! I think I spent a good 2 hours researching Algerian flowers for this, lmao

[image ID: the edited front shot, cropped to the shoulders. the flowers have been labeled, and are as follows:

Anacamptis morio: this is an orchid, with many small, purple flowers growing off a long, thin, stalk-like inflorescence. the flowers have the typical orchid resupinate shape, with a modified “lip” and surrounding petals. two stalks of these flowers sit just behind the original yellow flower, curving up and out, high over the shoulder.

whatever the hell: the original yellow flower. it has bright yellow petals and a dark center with what might be a few yellow stamens. the petals are broad, round with pointed tips, and arranged in a double-layer radial pattern.

Iris tectorum: this is an iris, with three long, drooping sepals, and another three shorter petals. most of this flower is purple, with lighter patches near the center. this iris is pinned just underneath the yellow flower, hanging a bit downwards.

Linum grandiflorum: this is a flax flower, with the typical 5 broad, round petals arranged in a neat radial pattern, and 5 small stamens. this flower is pinned just to the side of the yellow flower, just underneath it.

Moricandia arvensis: these small pinkish flowers have a cruciform pattern of 4 petals with a few yellow stamens. a couple of these flowers are pinned just to the side of the flax flower.

end ID]

anyways, please ignore the fact that these flowers prolly all grow in different biomes than the jungle-type biome of Avidya forest; I already had a hard enough time trying to find the right color flowers to fit this palette... also ignore that the sizes are off b/c I couldn’t draw them too small (I KNOW the flax is way too big..)... also ignore that that the flower structures are a bit off b/c it would’ve been WAY too much detail for a Genshin design if I drew them accurately... please just be gentle, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to be academic about it all...

I have no idea what exactly the yellow flower could be, though. it’s so generic, it could be literally anything. but before anyone suggests it-- I doubt it’s a sunflower, since it doesn’t look like a capitulum inflorescence, and the petal shape/arrangement is wrong

and fun fact! the Iris tectorum is Algeria’s national flower!

also note that the orchid serves as a replacement for “thing sticking off the right shoulder” in Tighnari’s silhouette, b/c the gold disk on the back is just too stupid for me to handle

[image ID: the OG back shot, cropped to the shoulder/upper back region.

the main disk is massive-- at least the size of a spread hand. three glass circles of different colors/sizes/placements are set into the gold-- one large tangerine circle, one medium light pink circle, and one small lavender circle. floral engravings decorate the disk, surrounding the glass circles. elegant, swirling, filigree projections curve from the side and top of the disk, curling high over the shoulder.

additionally, there’s a large gold loop set on Tighnari’s upper back, underneath his hood and the sashes. vine patterns are engraved in the loop, and two flowers (respectively purple and pink) sit on the loop.

end ID]

like, ok I admit, it’s very pretty. I like the orange/purple/pink palette with the gold, and the filigree is pretty on its own

but like most of Tighnari’s design, it’s just too much, y’know? I can excuse impractical accessories if they fuck hard enough, but this just crosses the line into obnoxious. like what even is that thing??

but since I still like the idea of a gold accessory on the back, I just reconstructed it into something else:

[image ID: the edited back shot, cropped to the shoulder/upper back region. both the shoulder latches are visible from this side, and a gold chain drapes between them. three gold disks hang from the chain, each with a single glass circle set into the disk. the center disk is the largest with a tangerine circle, while the two smaller disks to the sides respectively have a light pink and lavender circle. each glass circle is engraved with a simple 5-petal flower, while zig-zag patterns are engraved in the bordering gold disk. a few small, flat gold coins hang between the disks. end ID]

I think this is an elegant way to keep a shiny-gold trinket on the back (complete with the tricolor accents~), as well as nod to that... flower loop(?) on Tighnari’s OG back, under the sash

speaking of filigree, I also removed the excess “filigree” design on Tighnari’s boots

[image ID: the OG and edited front shots, cropped to the boots.

the OG boots reach mid-calf, leaving a small gap of bare calf between the top of the boots and the bottom of the pants. the main block of material around the calf and sides is midnight blue, the tongue and top of the foot is white, and the toe box is black. the thick cuff is midnight blue with two horizontal stripes of neon green. filigree patterns decorate the sides of the shoe-- lighter blue on the midnight blue sections, then midnight blue when they trail into the white. the outsole/tread is gold, and the laces are very dark blue with silver latches.

the top of the edited boots has been lifted to reach the bottom of the pants, leaving no gaps of bare skin. the main block of material around the calf and sides is dark magenta/purple, the tongue and top of the foot is orange, and the toe box is magenta. the thick cuff is light magenta with a horizontal stripe of orange around the center. the filigree patterns are gone, replaced with a single yellow diamond at the center of the top of the foot (in the orange section), framed by a small yellow circle on either side. the outsole/tread is still gold, and the laces are yellow with gold latches.

end ID]

shape-wise, the filigree just doesn’t do much for Tighnari-- it’s too “flamboyant” and “wispy” for his character, if that makes sense? the “leafy” symbol on his vest feels floral enough to stay, at least, and it feels more intentional than the other filigree designs. imo, circles/diamonds feel more simple and “practical” for Tighnari’s overall shape design, and better match his ears, tail, and sash.

you may also be wondering why I lifted Tighnari’s boots up higher, and to that I say: have you ever heard of ticks??

any field scientist (or even just... hikers...) knows that open cuffs are just begging for ticks and burrs and bites. Tighnari knows better than that!

which brings us to the gloves-- why are the cuffs so damn wide?

[image ID: the OG back shot, cropped to one glove. while the glove is slim-fitting around the hand, the cuff widens into a thick, wide flare up the arm, reaching midway up the lower arm. this forms a wide, open cup around the wrist area. the base color of the glove is black, with some horizontal stripes of cyan and silver around the cuff + a small bronze buckle. the main palm of the glove + small patches on the pads of the fingers are orange. this glove sits on the left arm-- the one with a short sleeve and bare arm. Tighnari seems to be wearing a skin-tight, purple glove or sleeve under the main glove, ending just under the elbow. end ID]

Tighnari could collect rainwater in those things!! time to slim down

[image ID: the edited back shot, cropped to one glove. the cuff has been drastically reduced in size, now tucked snug against the sleeve of the arm with no open gaps. the cuff is still thick, reaching about midway up the lower arm. the main glove is dark teal, the cuff is teal, and a small section between the glove and cuff is light green. the cuff also has a thin yellow strap around the middle, latching with a small gold buckle. notably, claw-shaped points have been added to the tips of the fingers, to accommodate claws underneath. an additional screencap of the palm in full view shows how the palm “padding” has changed-- now all yellow. the main palm padding has been split into three sections-- one large section under the base of the fingers, one large section under the base of the thumb, and one small section opposite the base of the thumb. the patches at the pads of the fingers have also been enlarged a bit. end ID]

now the sleeves can to tuck comfortably into the glove cuffs; ticks BEGONE!!

added claws b/c all the animal people in Genshin deserve claws <3

and I only changed the padding cus’ I prefer to follow the natural curves of the palm in my own art. emphasizing those rounds and shapes makes for a much prettier design than just laying one flat cover over the palm, imo. especially for gloves that are meant to subtly nod at fox pads~

and finally, Tighnari’s skin tone

[image ID: the OG and edited front shots, cropped to Tighnari’s face. the OG face is pale-skinned, with black lashes/eyebrows, and two-toned brown/teal eyes with light teal pupils. the edited face has dark brown, warm-hued skin, with dark teal lashes/eyebrows to match the hair, and the same brown/teal eyes but with dark brown pupils. end ID]

I mean, there’s not much to say tbh. Genshin’s colorism wasn’t necessarily excusable before, but at least the reference nations before this point aren’t necessarily “““known””” for having darker populations (weak excuse, dark people are everywhere, but the bar is on the ground, here). but Sumeru? the stand-in for Africa/the Middle East?? a nation where most of the dark-skinned characters are enemy npcs?? where the dark-skinned characters are barely even dark in the first place??? disgusting

anyways, Tighnari just looks better brown too, imo. his silly lil leaf hairs stand out better against dark skin, and the warm tone I used works well with his new clothing palette. I considered giving him cool undertones rather than warm, but I think contrasting the warm of his skin against the cool of his hair/ears works better, considering the mix of warm+cool across his whole outfit

also gave him dark pupils cus’ he just looks so dead-eyed in the OG...

oh and I changed the shade of his lashes/eyebrows to dark teal, to match his hair. not very noticeable, but it’s important to me lmao

[irlkisukeurahara]

Just some writing practice using my Pokémon AU -- Most of the context is explained. Hop is Irish and his accent is typed out. Might be difficult for dyslexics or screen readers.

The laughter settled down from Leon's mouth, his expression growing even more saddened as tears streamed further down his face. Whirring magical sounds began to die down as the pink color faded from his eyes. His energy went down as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Wow… I really am a fraud." The ex champion spoke with a weak voice. "They always praised me over you for not having dad's substance problems, being so successful and important, and not having his psychic powers like you do." Leon avoided eye contact with his little brother, looking down at the ground with a sense of shame and burden. "And, well…" His voice was meek and unconfident, something unbefitting of the man. Hop stared at him blankly. The professor had been using his brother as an outlet to vent his struggles, to a degree you would certainly describe as toxic. But Hop's eyes were slowly opening, learning more about his brother that was previously blinded by his obsessions. He realizes just how malicious he was towards his older brother, despite all he did for him. Hop's lip tightened, processing everything thrown at him before in Leon's sudden breakdown. The professor leaned into his brother's face for a moment, thinking for a second before suddenly raising his voice.

"So what?!" Leon looked back up at Hop again after this, tears still streaming down his face, unsure where Hop was going with this yet. "Yeah, a Pokémon master is somet'in ultimately kinda arbitrary to be and makes ye feel like ye wasted years of yer life on it when you lose your title…" Hop leaned away for a moment, glancing his older brother up and down, seeing the crumbled mess he had become. And for the first time in so long, Hop felt bad for him. Hop realized that was actually a good thing. He suddenly shot back forward into Leon's face again, "But so what?!" He shouted again. Leon leaned away, the brothers both just sitting there on the ground beside each other. "Are ya just gonna… Give up on life? Over Pokémon battling?" Hop spread his arms out suddenly, almost hitting Leon in the face. Hop had an angry look on his face, but it was different. When he'd yelled at Leon before, he was just looking for something to yell at after years of abuse. But for once it seems, he came from a genuine place of concern, after so long of falling down his dark path. "After, you know, all you've said to me? After you told me not to give up on life over Pokémon battling?" He suddenly grabbed Leon's face, squeezing his cheeks in between his thumb and pointer finger, forcefully tilting his head and digging his sharp talon-like nails into his face. "What kind of role model are you?"

"I–" Leon was fully caught off guard by Hop's change of heart. He wondered when Hop started caring about him again. He sighed, rubbing his tears away again. "You're right. I've been too depressed ever since… Well, I suppose the day Rose released Eternatus." He lightly put his hand on Hop's wrist, "That's not the type of person I am." He tugged on Hop's wrist slightly, and Hop let go and set his hand down beside him. "I haven't been like myself. I've been faking it out of some hope of fixing you…" he chuckled a little, "You could tell, couldn't you?"

"Of course I could, Lee." Hop crossed his arms, "I'm an expert of faking t'in's wit' a smile. You should know t'at." Hop tilted his head slightly, glancing up at the sky in thought. His ponytail twitched as he thought, a passive effect of the psychic powers mentioned by Leon that they both possessed. His expression then became almost sad, sighing as he looked down at the ground. He then looked back up at Leon, his expression still serious, but a different kind of serious. You could call it sincere. "Look, Lee. You kept sayin' t'at ye want t'e real me back. T'at ye miss yer brot'r." His voice now reflected that sincerity, "Well, the kid ye knew was never t'e real me. In… multiple ways…" Hop looked away. He didn't plan to clarify on what that meant, but Leon did make a mental note of it. He leaned back into Leon's face again, "But! I've been actin' so cruel to avoid t'is!" He grabbed Leon by his shoulders, tears starting to well up in his eyes too. "I want my dad back. I didn't want to admit it." Leon's eyes lit up, practically glowing with stars as he heard Hop say that. Admittedly, their relationship had always been father-son rather than brotherly, just due to their awful upbringing.

"I want my son back too." After a second of hesitation, Hop let go of Leon, then proceeded to hug him. Leon held onto Hop gently, as to not hurt his fragile back. It's been so long since he gave Hop affection like this as Hop pushed him away, so he still wasn't sure of his own strength compared to Hop's extremely low constitution.

"I'm sorry, Lee." Hop paused. "No. I'm sorry…" he nuzzled his face into Leon's shoulder, "Dad." Leon started tearing up again, he couldn't help but hold Hop firmly. "I'll try to be better. I–" Hop was about to continue onwards, but Leon let out a quiet 'shh' noise.

"I will too, bud." He spoke quietly, a sincere smile on his face as Hop held onto him. He didn't audibly cry, but he was teary eyed as everything came to a head. For once, he'd face his problems in a healthy way. With the help of his real dad.