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uvobreakmylegs · 4 years

Text

Importunity

a lot of people wanted a Shalnark fic so here ya go~

💕Happy Valentine’s Day💕

Warnings: kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of death, threats of violence

You'd gotten out.

Your brain was a little too high on the adrenaline of a successful escape for you to think over how exactly you had managed it, but you'd gotten out. The months of living with the man named Shalnark had been slowly wearing you down, exhausting you and at times you considered giving in to him. To 'let him love you', as he put it. Things would've been easier if you could just resign yourself to him and try to live that sweet lie that this relationship was normal and also one that you were still willingly part of.

But resilience held strong, and after many, many attempts at escape, you finally managed to make it to the outside while he was away.

Of course, you were only done with the first part of this plan.

For the second half, you needed to get out of the area before Shalnark came back. And so you were speed-walking through the busy streets of the city, keeping your head down for fear of Shalnark coming back and spotting you. You had never gotten this far before; if he caught you, whatever punishment you would receive for this attempt would be much worse than what he'd done to you previously. And whatever he did to you, he would have that same sickeningly-sweet smile on his face the entire time.

How could a person look so cheerful while they hurt someone else?

At one point you did like Shalnark. You would have gone as far as to say that you loved him. He was nice, if a little bit odd, but after your bad breakup with your ex, Shalnark felt like a breath of fresh air. He was happy to give you attention and eager to go out with you. When the two of you were together, his focus was 100% on you. And the sex was actually good. Shalnark was everything your ex wasn't, and you were happy that you had met such a man.

But after a little while of dating, once the exhilarating feeling of entering a new relationship had died down, red flags started popping up. Like how obsessive Shalnark was when it came to you. How he'd regularly go through your phone to delete contacts of yours, or how he had downloaded weird apps to your phone and computer so he could “keep an eye on you”. The phone made a little bit of sense, maybe, but the computer? You'd questioned him and tried to get him to uninstall those apps off your devices, but he refused.

“Shalnark, do you not trust me?”

At the time, you assumed that this behavior came from a fear that you would cheat on him, and that hurt you more than you had anticipated.

He sensed that as well, as it was one of the few times his cheerful expression vanished, watching you as tears began to well up in your eyes at the thought that he believed you to be a cheater.

Shalnark grabbed you then, holding you against his chest.

“It isn't that at all,” he assured you, stroking your hair.

“I really do want to make sure that you're safe. This is all just in case of a worst-case scenario. If something bad happens and I need to find you immediately.”

He pulled away from you slightly, cupping your face with both hands as he smiled at you again.

“So don't cry, okay?”

“.... What are you worried about exactly?” you asked.

“Lots of things.”

He didn't give you any answers beyond that.

You tried overlooking it. Tried to keep your mind on the positives, but more red flags kept popping up. How he would leave for long periods of time with no explanation, how when he came back, he was sometimes covered in cuts and bruises, and how he would always brush away your concerns and cheerfully refuse to tell you anything. Whenever he was back, he wouldn't let you be around any of your friends, insisting on taking up every second of free time that you had. But when it came to his private life he was willing to drop everything and leave you without explanation.

You felt like you were being used. And you reached your breaking point when he had tried to insist that you not spend any time with your friends when he was out of town.

“I can't do this anymore,” you said, head in your hands as the two of you stood in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to break up.”

Seconds passed by, and Shalnark said nothing. When you moved your hands aside to look at him, he was still smiling at you.

“I see,” he said.

He didn't sound angry, and for a second you wondered if he had been treating you badly to make you break up with him.

Without another word, he pulled out a strange looking needle.

You didn't remember anything after that.

All you knew was when you awoke next, you were in a completely different room in a completely different apartment with Shalnark standing over you.

“I guess I should have seen it coming,” he said to you, “it seems I pushed you a little too hard. But that's all right. We can start over now.”

You were at a loss for words for a few moments as you struggled to understand the situation.

“Start over?” you finally asked.

“Yep.”

“Shalnark, no. I broke up with you.”

“I don't care. I'm keeping you here,” he answered.

“No. I-I don't want to be here,” you said, shaking your head.

“Please Shalnark. Let me go home.”

He grinned, sitting down on the bed with you and grabbing you when you tried to pull away, leaning in until your foreheads were touching.

“Not a chance,” he whispered.

From there the nightmare worsened. You couldn't leave the apartment, and any time you tried, he would catch you and hurt you. Every time, he told you that he didn't want to do it. That it was your fault because you kept misbehaving.

“Things would be easier if you stopped lying to yourself. I know you still have feelings for me.”

You refused to think about that fact. Even though the way he had been treating you before the kidnapping had hurt you, part of you did still care about him. One part of your stupid brain still cared about this incredibly callous man even after everything he had done had you wanting to give in, and you hated yourself for it. It had to have been an act, right? The way he had been when you first met, and how he claimed that he loved you. There was no way he was capable of it. He just wanted to hurt you for his own sick pleasure, and you vowed to never give in to him. You would get away from him and tell the whole world just how much of a sick fuck he was.

You told him that. In the heat of the moment, you had said it right to his face.

He just smiled, and you blacked out again.

The next morning you had awoken to your whole body aching; your muscles were sore and you could barely move your arms and legs. When you stumbled into the bathroom to inspect yourself you found that there were also several cuts and bruises over your entire body.

“Something the matter?”

Shalnark was standing in the doorway, looking pleased with himself as he looked you over.

“.... Shalnark, what did you do?”

He ignored the question, giving you a closed-eyed smile and asking if you wanted breakfast.

You shook those thoughts from your head. Right now, you needed to concentrate on getting away. Once you were safe and had made certain that Shalnark wouldn't be able to touch you again, you'd find a therapist who could help you deal with your trauma and hopefully then you'd be able to go back to being a regular member of society. But right now, you needed to leave before Shalnark came back from his errand and found you missing.

You followed signs pointing in the direction of the subway, which was most likely the fastest way out and the only form of fast transportation that you could really afford, as the meager pile of change you had managed to collect behind his back was all that you had in terms of cash. Just enough to get you to a station on the outskirts of the city and then you'd figure it out from there. You just needed to get as much distance from him as you possibly could.

The streets were fairly crowded, and you needed to dip and weave your way through several groups of people that were walking far too slow and hindering your escape. You'd bumped into a few people, all of who were asking what your problem was as you hurried away. With all of the time that had passed since you were taken, you were certain that you'd been listed as a missing person, but being recognized as that right now wouldn't do you any good.

You spotted the steps that lead down to the underground subway, and against your better judgment, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you cut through the crowded street to make it down those steps. Things could still go wrong. You knew that. But you were so close and if you could just get onto that train you'd finally be able to get help.

When you were just a few feet away from the top step, a hand grabbed you by the upper arm.

Your mind instantly told you that it was Shalnark, but when you looked to your side, you found an older man with graying hair holding you in place. You didn't recognize him, but he was yelling at you in a language you didn't understand. What you did to earn this reaction, you weren't sure, but it was costing you time and drawing attention as people around you turned to look at the commotion.

“I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying,” you said, trying to pull your arm away from him. Instead his grip became tighter and he grew red in the face, virtually screaming at you.

You didn't need this. And you needed to go now.

“Please let me go,” you tried, but it got you nowhere. The old man was still screaming and the crowd around you had stepped back, creating a circle around the two of you. There were murmurings all around you that slowly grew louder, and at one point you swore you heard someone say your name, but all you could really focus on was the old man and the way your heart was beating in your ears as your panic grew at a rapid pace. This was already a scene and with how unstable the man was acting, it could easily become violent.

You were scared. Scared that this man would hurt you, but more so you were scared that Shalnark would somehow manage to catch wind of this and track you down.

No one helped you as you tried to pull away again, the old man responding by jerking your arm harder, making you cry out. Why was no one helping you?

You kicked him in the groin. Hard.

The old man's screaming finally stopped as he stumbled backwards, releasing his grip on you.

You sprinted away, pushing past the people who had gathered in front of the subway stairs.

Someone grabbed you by the wrist, and you were spun around as you yanked your hand back.

You didn't actually see how close you were to the top step, but the momentum of pulling your wrist away sent you flying back.

You were aware of how your heel slipped over the edge of the top step.

And then you were falling.

Down into the darkened space of the subway station, and away from the crowd of people that stared at you, making no move to stop your fall.

Why was no one helping?

Your head hit the bottom of the stairs.

You probably hit a few other places on your body before you reached the bottom, but it was impossible to tell once you'd hit your head. You were too disoriented to tell what else was hurting; you could only focus on the pain in the back of your skull.

God, it hurt.

The world around you began to blur and you could only make out shapes and colors. At a certain point everything began spinning and you needed to close your eyes to keep from throwing up. You threw up anyway. At least, you thought you did. Trying to move was a mistake, and you were forced to keep still while you heard people talking around you. Hands that were grabbing you, hoisting you up at one point.

When you heard sirens you cracked your eyes open slightly and you were immediately punished by bright white lights above you that forced you to shut your eyes again.

A hand grabbed your face and pulled it to the side, making the pain in your skull shoot through you. Someone was prodding at spot where your head had hit the ground, brushing your hair aside to look at the injury. They weren't being gentle, either.

You were pretty sure you threw up again.

Time passed in bits and pieces.

A lot of talking, though you couldn't make out what was said.

A lot of faces you didn't recognize, looking down at you. They didn't seem happy, and you wondered why.

A lot of different machines, that you were either put into or were placed around you. Needles, tubes and fresh white sheets.

You tried talking a few times. You weren't always sure if there was anyone around when you did, but you always tried when you felt like you had the strength.

It'd be nice to know why you couldn't smell anything.

If you were able to get out any coherent sentences, no one ever answered you.

A sterile white ceiling greeted you when you opened your eyes next. There were noises, too. A dull chatter of voices from beyond the room and a constant beeping that sounded from the machines next to you. The amount of time it took you to realize that the plain white room was a hospital room was embarrassing, really. It should have been the medical equipment that tipped you off, but it was only when you got a look at the plastic barriers around the bed that you were able to deduce where you were.

Your head was still aching. How far had you fallen? Would there be permanent damage? In your haziness you managed to remember that most hospital rooms had a button to call for a nurse. Best to find that and try to get some answers.

But when you tried moving your arm, you found that your wrist was stuck on something.

Looking down, you saw that your wrists and ankles had been strapped to the bed and you were barely able to move them a few inches.

They only strapped people down when they were acting violent, right? Why would they do this to you? You couldn't remember a lot, so maybe you had acted out at one point before you got here? What other reason would they have to tie you down?

Shalnark.

In the midst of your confusion over your current situation, you remembered the man you were trying to get away from. The fact that you were in a situation where you were tied down and completely vulnerable sent a rush of adrenaline through you and you struggled at your restraints. He'd be coming for you, and you did not want to still be here once he found this hospital.

One of the machines next to you began to beep rapidly, signifying your increased heart rate and echoing in the small room.

You hadn't made any progress on freeing yourself when the door burst open, a woman in a white nurse's dress standing in the doorway. She took only a second to assess the situation before she came at you with a needle in hand.

“Please, I can't stay here. He'll find me!” you begged her.

She didn't acknowledge you and only held one of your arms as she injected whatever substance was in the needle into your veins. Whatever it was, it worked fast as you felt yourself beginning to drift back off into sleep.

“He'll hurt me,” you whispered.

The nurse above you scoffed.

“If only.”

Days passed by, and you felt like you were getting better. Not completely better, but your bouts of slipping back into unconsciousness seemed to stop after a point, and the ache in your skull had dulled a bit.

The treatment from the few that were around you didn't get any better. As you slowly recovered from your fall, you were able to see the way in which the nurses regarded you: disgust, mostly, and a fair amount of resentment whenever they needed to come in to take care of you. The one you saw most often was the nurse you had seen when you had first woken up. She was an older woman, and refused to give you any painkillers.

“I knew Regina's mother,” she hissed at you one morning, “what you did to those people was monstrous.”

“.... Who's Regina?”

Your question had earned you a harsh slap to the face, and your evening meal that day came later than usual and tasted worse than the regular hospital meal.

Detectives came in sometimes. Strangely enough they would ask you questions about your relationship with your ex and the last time you had seen him, but they left pretty fast whenever you tried bringing up the fact that you'd been kidnapped. You would only ever get as far as telling them Shalnark's name before they were heading back out the door.

“We'll get the truth when you're well enough to be brought in to the station,” they had said on their last visit.

Based off how you had been doing, it probably wouldn't be long before you were moved to a more secure location.

With no tv or books to occupy your time and the fact that you remained with your hands and legs tied down, there was little else you could do during your time in that room besides think. No one was telling you anything, and you were left to try and figure things out on your own. You had been blamed for something, that was certain, and based off of the reactions of those around you and the fact that you had seen various cops sitting outside your door whenever a nurse came in, it was something serious.

It was Shalnark's doing. It had to have been. Had he framed you for a crime?

Those blackouts you would occasionally have came to mind, along with that morning you had awoken to your entire body feeling sore and overworked. It had been reasonable to suspect that he had done something to you during those times, but you had assumed he was fucking you in your sleep or something. It had never occurred to you that he was using you to do something more.

But aside from that, it was strange he was taking so long to come and get you.

Moving fast was the only way you potentially had any chance of getting away from him, and for you to have not seen him once since your very public apprehending didn't feel right. Once he had figured out where you were, surely he would have been fast in taking you back. It would have been easier than ever if he had come immediately after your fall. The fact that you had remained her for so long could only mean that he was planning something.

You remembered the detectives' words, on how they would be moving you to the police station once you got better. If Shalnark wasn't planning on coming into the hospital to get you, was he waiting for your relocation in order to make his move?

You needed to get out of the hospital before it came to that, you decided.

A frenzied escape attempt with no thought put into it was bound to get you caught. You had learned that much during your time trapped with Shalnark. You needed to keep calm and not draw any attention to yourself. If you freaked out too much and made too much noise, that nurse would come back in, inject you with those drugs and you would lose valuable hours that you needed to get away.

Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, you wiggled the wrist of your dominant hand around in an attempt to get it out of the restraint. Though the straps were made of fabric, it was a stiffer material, and after a fair amount of wiggling, the skin around your wrist was raw and bloody as you tried to loosen it while making your hand as small as possible.

Somehow, after hours of pulling as hard as you could, you finally freed your hand, gasping out a sigh of relief as you took a moment to rest. Luckily, no one had come to check on you yet, but it would be impossible to hide the fact that your hand was no longer tied down if they came too close. At least the remaining restraints were easier to get off, but now you were faced with your next problem: getting out of the room.

It was getting close to evening, around the time when someone would come in to feed you. Whoever came in always came with the sedatives, but you had noticed that most of the staff had been growing somewhat lax during your time here, and you would use that to your advantage.

When the next nurse came in, you were back in your usual spot on the bed, having arranged the sheets in a way so she couldn't see that you weren't tied down. She was a younger, quieter woman who avoided looking at you if she could. And as expected, a needle full of sedatives were on the tray she brought in with your meal.

When she set the tray down, you told her “someone slipped something under the door earlier.”

“What?”

You motioned with your head.

“Earlier, somebody slipped something under the door. I'm not sure what it was, but it looked like paper?”

“I don't see anything.”

“I think it went flying when you opened the door,” you explained.

She sighed, turning away from you to look at the area around the door. When she began to walk forward, you jumped off the bed as quietly as you could and reached for the needle.

“I still don't see anythi-”

Your hand covered her mouth as you stuck the needle into her neck, pushing its contents into her. She struggled briefly and went as far as to bite your hand, but within moments she was out, falling out of your grasp and onto the floor.

You felt terrible as you dragged the nurse across the floor and hid her behind the bed. There was no way you had the strength to lift her up and place her in the bed; you hadn't moved for weeks now and your muscles felt strained just from dragging her. Her neck was bleeding a bit, and you sincerely hoped you had just knocked her out and hadn't managed to do anything that would damage her permanently. If only it had been the nurse who had slapped you that you had come across, then at least you wouldn't have felt as bad.

You felt even worse when you forced yourself to remove her clothing. She was a bit wider than you were and her clothes didn't fit all that well, but it would hopefully work as a disguise so you could get out of the building. At least the long-sleeved sweater she had been wearing would cover the wound around your wrist. In an effort to give her some sort of apology, you placed a blanket over her.

“Everything all right in there?” a voice from outside suddenly called.

…. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You'd forgotten about the officer outside the room.

“Yeah, everything's fine,” you answered, trying to imitate the nurse's voice as best you could.

“Okay,” was the answer. You didn't think that you sounded much like her, but evidently it was good enough.

“Do you mind waiting in there for a little bit?” the officer asked through the door, “I need to use the restroom.”

“Y-yeah, go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

At least there was a little bit of luck on your side, it seemed. You couldn't believe that you'd managed to forget that there was someone on the outside watching over you, but that problem seemed to have taken care of itself. Best not to try and rely on getting so lucky every time, though.

After a few moments, you peeked your head outside the door, and when you found the coast to be clear, you began to hurry down the hallway.

There weren't many people in the halls, and the ones that were there didn't seem to notice you in your slightly over-sized clothes and shoes. Still, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could, not willing to risk someone recognizing you again. A staff-only stairway caught your attention, and you pushed on the heavy door and entered the dimly-lit stairwell.

You traveled down several flights of stairs to get to the ground floor. It would probably be a bad idea to try to leave through the front entrance. Finding some kind of side or back door would be best; something like that shouldn't be too hard to find.

A directory caught your attention, and you noted the arrow that pointed the way to a loading bay. It wouldn't be an area that would be open to visitors or regular patients, but there was the chance that hospital workers could be in there. But you didn't know how much time you had left before that nurse was discovered and you were found to be missing, and you didn't want to waste time wandering the halls trying to find an exit. Right now you needed to hope you would just be lucky.

Your luck held as you made it to the loading bay, as the others roaming the hospital halls were too absorbed in their own tasks to pay attention to you. And to your delight, no one was in the loading area either. This was perfect. Just a few more steps and you'd be free. You stumbled a bit down the steps of the platform before you decided to cast off the ill-fitting shoes. It was dumb to run around a city barefoot, but hopefully you could find a change of clothes somewhere and get rid of the whole nurse getup completely.

The cement was cold against your feet as you ran across it. You'd be out of here and then you could focus on getting out of this goddamned city.

As you came up to a pillar, a figure jumped out in front of you. You were too slow to react, and you ran right into it.

“Found you~”

It was a voice that you knew well, and you found that you recognized the shirt that your face was currently pressed up against. Not a lot of men wore purple pastel.

Shalnark was beaming down at you as he wrapped his arms around your back and kept you pressed against him.

“I missed you so much!” he continued, “Really, words can't describe how miserable I was without you around.”

“L-let me go!” you cried, trying to get out of his grasp. He only pulled you in closer.

“But we just found each other again. How could I let you go after we've been apart for so long?” Shalnark said.

You continued to struggle, trying to slip out of his arms that held you in whatever way you could. Shalnark seemed content to watch you writhe in his grasp, but he seemed to tire of it as he let out a quiet sigh and released you. You immediately pushed off from him and ran back to the stairs.

“Who's going to help you in there?”

You had only reached the foot of the stairs when he asked that, and you stopped in your tracks. He had a point. Everyone hated you, to put it lightly. It was unlikely that anyone would come to help you even if you begged them to. Turning back to Shalnark, you found him holding his phone out. He had pulled something up on the screen but it was too far away for you to read.

“Don't you want to know what's going on?” he asked, “come back over and you can find out.”

You shook your head.

“Oh? I thought you would have had questions. You sure you don't want to know?”

“I do,” you admitted, “but I also don't want to be anywhere near you. You'll make me black out again.”

“I won't do that,” he said, “there'd be no point in doing that right now. I promise, I won't do anything. Just come back to me.”

Your hand gripped the railing of the stairs and you looked back to the hospital's back entrance. Every fiber of your being wanted to run back inside, even if you would just be restrained and knocked out again.

“C'mon,” Shalnark tried again, “I'm literally holding all of the answers. All you need to do is walk back over.”

This was some kind of trick. It had to be. Shalnark wasn't forthcoming in anything and his promises meant nothing. All this was some sort of way to entrap you.

But if that was the case, then you were trapped anyway. You had no chance of being able to outrun or outsmart him. Once he caught sight of you, you were caught even before he had held you in his arms. He was letting you move around for now. If you made another break for the door, you'd be knocked out again.

Your hand released itself from the railing, and you slowly walked back to him, every step hesitant as you waited for him to pull something.

For once, Shalnark stayed true to his word as he didn't move when you got closer. He even tossed the phone over to you when you got close enough. You caught it with shaking hands, looking back up at him while he held his hands up in mock surrender.

“See? Nothing bad. I just want you to read it.”

There was no way that was all he wanted, and though it was a stupid idea to take your eyes off of him, with how insistent he was being on this you complied with his demands and looking at the article he had pulled up on his phone.

You had guessed at what he had made you do. In your time stuck in that room, running through in your head the ways that people had treated you, how they had reacted to just seeing you, and you knew that he had made you do something horrific.

But it was still hard to read those words that proclaimed you to be a murderer.

Your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, a woman you'd never met named Regina, had been found outside of his car, beaten to death. That same night, the house where Regina's family lived had been set on fire, her mother, father and siblings having all been trapped upstairs and succumbing to the smoke and flames. DNA evidence at both crime scenes pointed to you.

There was a photo, too. Grainy and probably taken from a surveillance camera, but the details were clear enough: you, walking outside, stone-faced and covered in blood.

“Shalnark,” you said slowly, “what did you do?”

“Me? I didn't do anything,” he said, laughing, “it's pretty clear that you're the one who killed your ex and his girlfriend in a jealous rage.”

“No,” you protested, “I-I didn't. It was you. You controlled me. Made me do it.”

“Yeah,” Shalnark admitted. He stepped towards you to take the phone back, adding “but how are you going to prove something like that in court?”

“.... Why?”

The answer to that question was obvious, but you couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Because of that thing you said: that you'd expose me to the world or something. After all we've been through, it made me really sad that you still feel like that,” he explained, “I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere with you. So I decided that some drastic measures were in order.

“You've been really desperate to get away from me, but I wondered: would you still be like that if you knew there was no chance of going back to the way things were?”

“.... What are you saying?” you asked.

“I'll let you choose,” Shalnark answered, “if you really don't want to be with me, I'll let you go. But with all of the evidence there is against you, you'll probably be looking at a life sentence in prison.”

He hummed, hand on his chin as he thought to himself.

“I don't see you doing too well in a prison, personally. And with how bad your crimes were, you'd be sent to the worst one they can find.”

“A-and if I go back with you?” you asked after a moment.

“Then we'll go back to normal!” he said cheerfully, “you'll keep living with me and loving me, and I'll keep you safe. Doesn't that sound nicer than being locked up in some prison?”

“I.....” you began, trailing off. Shalnark waited patiently for you to continue.

“I-I could run away. Go to Meteor City....?”

The sentence came out more like a question.

“You could,” said Shalnark, “but Meteor City won't take you. In fact, if you were to step one foot inside you'd be dead in an instant.”

All of this was becoming too much, and you began to hyperventilate at the thought of what he had made you do to cut off an escape to Meteor City.

“Oh, don't worry. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the other murders; you just stabbed a guy,” Shalnark explained, “but Meteor City doesn't like it when one of theirs is killed for no reason, so if they find you, they'll retaliate in kind. You're pretty lucky the police here kept your location under wraps; I can't imagine how many attempts on your life there would have been if they'd managed to find out.

“But more importantly, what's your decision? Am I taking you back with me or are you going to reject me one final time?”

Seconds turned into minutes as the two of you stood in in that loading bay, Shalnark waiting for your answer while your brain scrambled to figure out what to do. You couldn't go back with Shalnark. Not after all he had done and all you had tried to get away from him. But he was right that you wouldn't survive in a prison. Not that you would have very long to live if you did go to one, as someone from Meteor City would be fast to find and kill you for the man you murdered.

Oh god, what were your parents going through? To have your name be blasted on the headlines as a serial killer. How many friends had they lost? How were they handling the inevitable ostracization they were going through? How many people were trying to hurt them because they couldn't get to you? And did your parents believe you had done all those things? Did they hate you? Was it the same case for your friends and other family? Or would they be able to distance themselves enough that the court of public opinion wouldn't judge them? All of that didn't even go into what you would go through if you were brought to trial. Your entire character would be picked apart and you would go down in the records as a crazed ex-girlfriend who couldn't stand the thought of the guy she liked being with another woman. And that would last until Meteor City came for you.

A potentially longer life stuck with Shalnark, or one that would definitely be much shorter as you were tried for crimes you didn't commit?

It had started to rain as the two of you stood there, and the cold rainwater ran down the slanted entrance of the loading bay and past your bare feet, making you shiver.

Then you heard police sirens in the distance.

“I think they've found out that you escaped,” said Shalnark, “it's now or never.”

You stood still, staring at him dumbly.

He hummed to himself.

“I see,” he said. Then Shalnark turned, and began to walk away.

True panic hit you at the sight of him leaving you behind. Without Shalnark, you would be at the mercy of the police. You'd be at the mercy of a whole world that thought you were a murderer and wouldn't care if you died. Shalnark at least cared a bit, in his own selfish way that didn't regard your feelings in the slightest.

If you didn't go with Shalnark, you would die.

That thought forced your legs to move you forward, and you reached out to grasp the back of his shirt in a desperate bid to keep him from leaving.

He stopped, and for a moment, the two of you stayed there like that.

Shalnark spun around suddenly, grabbing your shoulders to pull you into a kiss.

It was hard to not resist, and after a few seconds, you pushed forward to make yourself kiss him back.

He was grinning ear to ear when he pulled away.

“I knew you'd make the right choice. I knew you couldn't hate me so much to choose death over me.”

He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as he told you “don't worry; I wouldn't have actually let you go. There's nothing in this world that could ever make me abandon you.”

You weren't sure if you should believe him or not.

“We'd better get out of here. This place'll be infested with cops pretty soon.”

You wordlessly accepted the hand he held out to you after he pulled away, and you let him lead you out into the rain and the street beyond. He immediately walked you to an awaiting taxi cab, ushering you into the back before he slid in behind you. The taxi driver didn't acknowledge when the two of you entered, and when you looked over to him, you saw a familiar-looking bat shaped needle sticking in his arm.

The car drove off with the two of you inside after Shalnark typed in a few commands on his phone, and he set it aside to focus on you.

“I didn't mention it earlier, but I actually really like that nurse look,” he said, leaning forward to pull down the sweater so he could get a better look at the nurse's dress you had stolen.

“Hmm. It's a little big on you, though,” he commented as he pulled at the fabric a bit to prove his point, “if I buy you one that fits, will you wear it for me?”

You nodded.

Shalnark, grinned, bringing you into another hug.

You wanted to push him away like you had done before, but things were different now. You had chosen to stay with him. Now you needed to accept his advances. Even though he had said that he would never abandon you, how much could you really trust him?

Shalnark speaking your name brought you out of your thoughts, and he whispered to you “if you try to escape again after this, I'll cut off your legs.”

You couldn't see his expression, but his voice was serious, and you jumped when he pulled away once more.

That smile was back on his face, and he cheerfully said “just kidding.”

#yandere #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #shalnark #yandere shalnark #shalnark x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years

Text

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH1

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

He was giving you that look. not the look, that look - the one that told you to stop doing what you were doing. It wasn't often that you'd layer it on thick for the press, making sure that you're giggling as you press your hand to his chest. With each flash of a picture you make sure you're striking a different pose. It was hard work being a liar, but it was even harder work without the publicity you gained.

Your Publicist Cheryl or 'cherry' as she begged you to call her, had devised her own scheming plan to generate not only some amazing press for you, a well established quidditch player, but also some well-needed hype and sales for Fred Weasley's shop. After all, it's not every day that London's best quidditch player was dating Infamous Fred Weasley, Gryffindor Star beater and all-in-all stellar man. The plan had been well and truly in action for just over four months, With Fred the main face of the shared brand with his brother George, it felt like the best option according to Cherry.

You were leaning into Fred, answering press questions about the latest win, how you were feeling about the upcoming game and, of course the all too regularly asked update on the relationship. You were 'very happy with a man like Fred', he was smiling down at you, gushing sappily "She may be the best Seeker in the game, but my god is she a keeper." The line made you sick to your stomach, When Cherry had pitched it to you both, you were groaning in disgust, but as she pulled the lollipop from her bright red lips with a pop, staring at you with raised eyebrows, you knew it had to be done.

As the interview began to wrap up, you thanked the photographers and journalists, grabbing Fred's hand and interlocking your fingers with a beaming smile, you made sure the cameras could see, after all the last issue of the Daily Prophet branded it as a 'winning smile'. You were escorted away from the press, once out of sight from them, your hand dropped from Fred's grip. "Well done for not making that so not obviously fake." you quipped at him, going to pull your coat on and check your phone for any messages. He laughed, imitating your voice, "Oh, Fred, you're so handsome, won't you just kiss me right now?" You scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Your phone had three messages when the screen had lit up, your stomach feeling like it had butterflies when you noticed the name.

>> Do I get to see my beautiful girl later?

>> I got your favourite for dinner.

>> I miss your lips already

You felt like the luckiest girl alive in his presence, he made you feel like a princess - a queen even, with every night you spent with him. It all started at Hogwarts for you two, after all, It's not often you get to see the best Slytherin seeker and the Gryffindor star beater together. It really wasn't often because you'd been hiding your relationship for that long. He taught you quidditch skills that got you to where you are today during late, late night practices, often ending with makeout sessions on the grass as you straddled his hips,giggling into the bitter Scottish air.

You fell in love with George Weasley as a teenager, and for 6 years you had kept your relationship a well-guarded secret. Even through the war, you kissed each other goodbye, praying that it was only a see you later. You knew that one day you would marry the gorgeous man you loved so dearly. You tried to persuade Cherry, who had and still has no clue about your true relationship status, for it to be George you had a public relationship with, but she quickly shut the idea down because George was 'too quiet'.

<< I miss you so much Georgie… heading back to the shop with fred now

<< btw I'm staying over tonight, I won't suffer another night without kisses :'((

>> Just kisses? ;)

<< Shut up.

<< I love you xx

>> I Love you too, babygirl xx

>> Daddy can't wait to see you <3

George stood lazily, arms draped over the balcony as he was smiling down at his phone like a muppet. He was so head over heels with you that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. George wasn't mad that you had to fake date his twin, after all, he'd rather it be Fred than some random quidditch man, or worst of all, Krum. He knew and recognised how important it was to your career plus, what good businessman turns down the opportunity to rake in some sales? It hurt to read the papers sometimes, seeing how much attention you both got together, a part of him wished it was he who got to show you off.

When you entered the shop, you caught George's eyes immediately, a bashful smile spread across your face, immediately feeling like a schoolgirl again in his presence. Fred sulked off to his office, leaving you to browse the shop until your driver arrived to take you to team practice. You were browsing the upper back wall of products when you felt his stare on you, he was meters away from you and you ached to draw him in for a kiss. You reached out to him, making the grabby hands that he couldn't resist, he checked over his shoulder, seeing nobody, before waking over to you, he pulled you into a quick and needy kiss by your neck, his other hand finding your hip.

"I'll be home after practice," you mumbled between kisses. It was common for you to travel to his via floo, arriving at the place you truly called home, leaving a vacant and empty flat behind. He shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. "Too long to wait," he laughed softly, his lips pressing to yours again, you were just about to deepen the kiss when you heard Cherry yell out, "Y/N let's go or you'll be late for practice!" You sighed, leaving your boyfriend behind, fingertips being the last thing to separate as you walked away, leaving him dumbfounded.

Practicing with your team was always a long, tough grind, your captain worked you hard and she knew it was all for the best, she was due soon to step down from her duty as captain, leaving the team in your hands, so you felt like you were learning double constantly. The warm water running down your skin made you crave George's touch even more, pushing the thought of Fred's hand on your hip out of your mind completely, you simply couldn't wait.

When you arrived home, George, as promised had your favourite dinner ready for you. He was an amazing chef, using muggle techniques and tools to help create the perfect dishes without the need for magic. You shrugged off your jacket and bag, relaxing into the dining table chair as George brought out your bowl, his hands were massaging your shoulders as you ate, "Aren't you gonna eat, Georgie?" you questioned him, he smirked, "I've been waiting for you to get home so I could have my favourite." George was on his knees, hands reaching up to pull down your leggings, you lifted your hips up, allowing him to drag the material down each of your legs, hooking them over his shoulders,

You knew exactly what he was doing, your hands found his hair and he tutted, breath fanning over your pussy as he looked up at you. "I made your favourite for you, Princess, You always liked it when we eat together." His tongue darted out to lick over your covered slit, feeling you already wet through your underwear, he hummed in appreciation, his teeth pulling the material to the side before attaching his lips to your clit.

Every time he hummed against you, it made you shake, the task of eating dinner becoming more and more strenuous, as you struggled to swallow down the food while he was pulling such sinful moans from you. George's skilled tongue was fucking your cunt, swallowing everything he could like it was the last meal he'd ever eat, and godric did he think you tasted divine, his thumb came up to circle your clit slowly, bringing you closer and closer to the ege.

Thing is with George, he doesn't stop till he's got what he wanted. "Finish your dinner, baby," he smirked, a long finger slowly teasing your entrance, "I'm not finished until you are too." he was a determined man, by your second orgasm you could hardly hold up your fork, but nevertheless you soldiered on, managing to swallow the last piece just before number three hit, your legs were shaking and you were moaning incoherent sentences. That was possibly the best meal of your life, your weak legs could hardly hold you up when you tried to stand.

George pulled you up into his arms, carrying you to the bed where he found your favourite shirt of his, helping you change into it, he left to make you a cup of tea, bringing it into the bedroom for you. sitting contently beside each other.

George's phone buzzed on the side, he read the message from fred. Laughing before showing it to you, the irony all too funny for him to resist.

>> George, if only you had to do this… Fancy swapping places at the product launch on Saturday?

<< Love to, but I'm not sure that's how the whole twin thing works.

>> With an ass like hers, I don't mind it too much… shame, she seems like your type.

The last text from him made george both laugh and be angry at him sexualising his girl. You laugh, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw before taking a sip of your tea, "He doesn't know George."

He hums a little bit before typing a reply.

<< It really is a shame, she does have a nice ass.

You scoff, rolling your eyes - Men.

///TO BE CONTINUED/// Chapter Two >>>>>

Taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #george weasley fic #harry potter #mutuals innit #weasley twins #fred weasley #harry potter fic #fred weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #harry potter smut #harry potter writing #Fake It Fic

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stufftippywrote · 3 years

Text

perfect

Cicadas sing a sharp song in the trees. The heat blisters the pavement. It’s a miserable summer afternoon for most people, which is why Wei Ying loves it. It’s nothing compared to sticky, swampy Yunmeng summers. In dry heat like this, the sun feels good and the trees are brilliant green and Wei Ying loves being alive.

He doesn’t love being in class, but at least everyone is miserable along with him in this heat. Lots of mopping brows, lots of unsatisfied murmurs. Is there any relief to be found in Gusu on such a day? Some have heard there’s a lake a bit further up in the mountains, big enough for swimming. But they’re not allowed to go up there; it’s off limits to everyone but Lan inner disciples. Only Wei Ying knows for a fact that it’s there; that’s because he’s been sneaking off up there every night since summer school started.

Lan Qiren enters and the room falls silent. The frantic wiping of sweat of brows continues, a current of activity in the quiet classroom. Lan Qiren surveys them silently and frowns. He’s sweating, too.

“Due to the excessive heat,” he says, coughing, “the upper grounds of Cloud Recesses will be opened to students for the duration of the day. That includes the lake. The back hills and the waterfall are still off limits.” Nobody picks up this last bit, because the minute Lan Qiren says “lake,” the room starts to buzz with whispers.

Not even Lan Qiren can quell them; there’s a torrent of nervous energy in this room, and it won’t survive an entire lesson. Sure enough, about twenty minutes before the end of the class students start gathering their things as though they’re ready to bolt. Wei Ying knows they’re only waiting for one of them to take the lead, and they’ll all start filing out with or without Lan Qiren’s say-so. Well, that’s a position he’s always happy to fill. He stretches out, grabs his backpack, and leaves the room without a word or a look back.

He heads up the stone stairs carved into the mountain, backpack slung loosely over one arm, whistling to himself. The other students will have some time catching up to him; he knows the way to the lake, and they don’t; besides, they have to go change, and Wei Ying always keeps his swimsuit in his backpack, just in case. So he climbs the stairs solo and pushes through the line of vegetation that lies between the path and the lake.

He’s about to emerge from the trees when a splash draws his attention. Quickly, he hides and peers over at the lake.

Someone’s already there and swimming. Wei Ying sees dark hair, pulled into a neat topknot, and the lines of what looks like a fairly strong body, blurred by the moving water. Some student has beat him to it. Which is a little surprising, because Wei Ying’s the only one with the chutzpah to sneak off in this direction when they’re supposed to be somewhere else. He watches in kind of dumb fascination as the swimmer moves to the near edge of the pond and surfaces.

Oh. Oh, that explains it.

It’s Lan Qiren’s annoyingly perfect nephew, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, who is too good to attend classes with students his own age. Lan Zhan who, rather than making friends with such students, serves as a sort of disciplinarian, regularly snapping unruly students back into line with nothing more than a cold glance from his admittedly perfect face. Lan Zhan, who Wei Ying had to learn to avoid early in the summer, because he kept catching him trying to sneak out or tiptoe into forbidden places. That Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying steels himself to be utterly annoyed by whatever happens next.

Lan Zhan lingers for a time, head and shoulders above water. Then he approaches a large rock where his things sit in a neat white bundle. In one fluid movement, he lifts himself up with both hands on the rock and swings into a sitting position, his toes in the water.

It all happens like slow motion. Wei Ying’s brain sputters, then lurches, then goes completely on the fritz.

He’s—he’s—he’s actually perfect.

Wei Ying knew he was perfect, but that was an annoyance like everything. The beauty of his face was a mockery of everything Wei Ying stands for. He could find words to speak when faced with that stern face, but his words have dried up now, because Lan Zhan’s body is – Lan Zhan’s muscles are –

He has no idea Wei Ying is watching him. His face is serene, his body relaxed, and the sun beats on him like a spotlight, turning the edges of his skin to gold. Wei Ying is gobsmacked. How dare he. How dare he sit there with that expression, not knowing that he’s turning Wei Ying’s insides into molten lava just by being there … with thighs like that .. and a bare chest like a sculpted statue … and good god his arms, and his shoulders, and he already has an annoyingly perfect face, only now it’s matched up with that --- that body, and Wei Ying has never wanted to close his mouth around a drop of water the way he does now, as water trickles down Lan Zhan’s chest.

Oh, and he’s wearing a fucking Speedo.

It’s common knowledge that a Speedo looks stupid on like 95 percent of guys, and yet Lan Zhan looks as though it was created solely to fit him. And nothing is left to the imagination. Holy fuck, that knowledge is going to burn though him until he’s cinders. He struggles to concentrate on something – anything but that.

It’s going to be a very different experience the next time Lan Zhan disciplines him.

Oh. Oh, now his mind is up and running again, but the direction it’s going is dangerous. Lan Zhan angry with him, Lan Zhan throwing him against a wall, Lan Zhan tossing him to the grass. Standing over him. Kneeling over him. Those powerful thighs and well-muscled arms. A hard hand on his wrists, unyielding no matter how much Wei Ying resists. Lan Zhan forcing Wei Ying to his knees. Lan Zhan between Wei Ying’s legs, edging forward, pinning him down as…

“Fuck,” he swears, suddenly and far too loudly. Lan Zhan looks up. Eyes suddenly sharp, he leaps to his feet and scans the tree line. Wei Ying has no choice. He just hopes Lan Zhan doesn’t glance between his legs when he shows himself.

He steps forward from the trees, waving a halfhearted hand. “Hi, Lan Zhan,” he says with a grin. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Lan Zhan’s brows knit. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, but I am!” Wei Ying keeps moving forward, despite his best intentions. Lan Zhan’s body is like a gravity well, drawing him closer. “They lifted the restriction so we could all come up and swim today. It’s brutal out,” he says, squinting and raising against the sun although he’s actually perfectly comfortable.

“Oh.” Lan Zhan looks at him warily. “So others are coming?”

He says it evenly, but Wei Ying wonders if there isn’t some trepidation there. He’s perturbed enough that Wei Ying’s entered his space; what are twenty-some classmates going to do to him? “They’re changing,” he says. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” He grins. “Just you and me for the time being.”

He thinks the look in Lan Zhan’s eyes is anger, but he doesn’t know for sure. “How do you know this place?” he asks, sounding unsure and not at all like his usual gentlemanly self.

“Oh, your uncle explained how to get here when he gave us the notice this morning,” Wei Ying lies. “I just didn’t have to go back and change like the others, so I got here faster.” He taps his backpack. “Swimsuit’s in here.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen. “You’re going to change … here?”

“Why not? Ain’t nobody here but us boys,” Wei Ying says, and winks. He’s suddenly terrified of showing Lan Zhan his naked skin, but he can’t afford to show it. He strips off his T-shirt.

Lan Zhan turns as though offended by the sight. Well, sure he would be, since no one else can measure up to him, Wei Ying thinks. “Hey Lan Zhan, is this what you do while the rest of us are suffering in class?” he asks breezily, stripping off his shorts and boxers. Lan Zhan’s back remains resolutely turned. “Just swimming out here like a fish all day long? I bet I could beat you in a race.”

“There’s not … room here to race,” Lan Zhan says. He still won’t look.

“We’ll go down to Biling Lake next time,” Wei Ying challenges. “You can look at me now. The swimsuit’s on. I won’t offend your sensibilities.”

“I’m not offend—” Lan Zhan turns, and then something clips the edge of his word. He stares at Wei Ying like he’s got three heads.

“Oh, well, glad to hear, then.” Wei Ying sits down on the rock where Lan Zhan had been. “So. Mind if I take a dip?”

The coolness returns to Lan Zhan’s voice. “Suit yourself.” But he’s still staring at Wei Ying.

For just one moment, Wei Ying remembers all those earlier fantasies. That’s exactly the look he imagined on Lan Zhan’s face in those moments. The look where he can’t quite keep his anger in check. The look that says Wei Ying’s getting to him. Wei Ying has no idea how he is gettingto Lan Zhan in this moment, just sitting on a rock. Unless…

Nah, couldn’t be.

The next moment, Lan Zhan’s diving into the water. His body is an arc of movement, a single curved line, and Wei Ying loses his breath again. Apparently he needed to be reminded that Lan Zhan’s body is a flawless machine. His brain is pinging madly and he wants with all his heart to just drop into the water and swim for Lan Zhan like a shark. That would probably be a bad idea. He knows he probably has an advantage in an underwater tussle, but somehow, he doesn’t really want to win anymore.

Lan Zhan has emerged, in a shallow portion of the lake, his head and half his chest visible above the water line. He has eyes on Wei Ying. “Well?” he asks, something curiously hesitant in his voice.

“Well, what?” Wei Ying feels like he should be holding his breath. He’s careful to keep his voice casual.

Lan Zhan looks down, then to the side, then to him again. It’s a very un-Lan-like action. After a short silence, he ventures in what is almost – not quite -- a tentative voice, “Are you coming in?”

Wei Ying stares down at him. The silence that follows is pregnant with possibility.

“Wei-xiong!”

Nie Huaisang bursts first through the treeline, then, following him, the rest of the students in noisy gaggles. “Wei-xiong, how did you find this place so quickly? We all got turned around looking for it—”

Splashes sound here and there as the students find their way into the lake. Soon, the whole place is echoing with the sound of laughter and chatter. Wei Ying’s gaze finds Lan Zhan, through an increasingly dense thicket of people. Lan Zhan is looking at him with eyes that are almost sad. A moment later, he turns away.

It’s disappointing. Wei Ying had thought – perhaps imagined? – that there was something starting to happen there, something thawing in the relationship between them. He considers giving chase. But Lan Zhan is striding through the trees and disappearing before he can say a thing. So much for that.

Still, Wei Ying has an image he didn’t have before. Lan Zhan, dipped in gold, his body bare and his chin uplifted toward the sun. It’s printed in indelible ink on his mind now, along with a memory of Lan Zhan’s gaze, softer perhaps than Wei Ying has ever seen it. He closes his eyes and savors both the picture and the memory for a moment. Then, grinning, he rejoins his friends.

#notenoughgatorade #mdzs #mdzs fic #mdzs ficlet #wangxian #modern au #summer school au #cql #cql fic #cql ficlet #stuff tippy wrote

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years

Text

The Covenant: A Mess

Poly! Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,497

Warnings: Slightly angsty

Summary: Reader has been struggling with magic and feels miserable. Caleb and Pogue try their best to be loving and supportive. Requested by / in collaboration with @dhampiravidi

Caleb trudged inside the apartment, the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes. Taking his gray coat off, he followed the smell of spices into the kitchen. Chili, if Caleb had to guess.

Pogue must’ve had dinner duty for the night. He made the best chili out of the three of them so they only ever ate it if he was the one making it. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the counter, his hair pulled back into a half ponytail, adjusting a setting on the slower cooker that was plugged into the wall.

“Chili?” Caleb asked, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“Chili,” Pogue confirmed. He turned towards Caleb, frowning when he saw Caleb massaging small circles above his eyes. “Another headache?”

Caleb sighed, lowering his hand. “Just a little one. They assigned me to that new case on Tuesday and I’ve been pouring over old court dockets ever since.”

Pogue didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to—the worry was clear on his face. Caleb was quick to smile and reassure him. “It’s like I said, just a small headache. No need to blow it out of proportion, Po.”

The longhaired boy wasn’t the least bit convinced, but didn’t push the lawyer further. Caleb was great at looking after people, but not so much when it came to himself. And if Pogue called him out on it, he would only draw further into himself. The key was to not bring it up and tread subtlety.

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.” He sat down at the table, but not before sliding a bottle of aspirin over to Caleb who accepted it with a quiet thanks.

They quickly updated each other on their days. One of firm clerks was inviting everyone out for drinks next week: Caleb had said he’d get back to them after checking with the significant others. A real nice ’68 Chevy Nova had been brought into the garage for restoration: Pogue was excited to pop the hood and get to work. But it wasn’t long until Caleb noticed who was absent from the table.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s never been able to resist the smell of chili.”

“Rough day. She was crying when I got home and she’s been shut in the bedroom since then.”

“Crying? Why was she—” He cut off immediately. He knew, they both knew. You weren’t really a crier. In all of the time the three of you had been together, there was only one thing they had ever known you to cry about. “She tried Using again today.”

Pogue nodded, a severe frown on his face. He looked down the hall at the shut door, no sounds or light coming from the other side of it. “Looked like it to me. The spell book was already put away when I walked in, but she left the candles out.”

Caleb released a long breath and stared unseeing at the ceiling. How could he fix this?

Magic was a touchy subject. All three of you were witches and even if he and Pogue weren’t regularly Using, they didn’t impose their rules on you. After all, your coven had struck a different deal to gain their magic so they didn’t have to worry about you sacrificing pieces of your life whenever you tried to use it. But that didn’t mean they didn’t worry about you.

Using was…hit or miss with you. You had no problem performing large, high-powered magic. You had no problem blowing thing up or putting an entire bar full of people under a spell. But as time went on, it became apparent that you did not have the same ease when it came to more precise magic. And your struggles weren’t from lack of dedication or practice (you gave even Caleb a run for his money when it came to studying.)

The guys were incredibly supportive of your continued magic studies, but recently your mood had shifted and not for the better. After putting in so much time and effort, and still not having much to show for it, Using was starting to bring some emotional baggage to the surface. Seeing as how you’d been upset in the room for hours, they thought you were close to some kind of break.

Caleb tapped the table with his knuckles. “I’m going to check on Y/N and see if I can get them to talk to me.” He scraped his chair back and moved down the hall. He didn’t wait for Pogue’s reaction. He couldn’t. When someone he loved was struggling his immediate response was to talk with them and find a solution to the problem.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door—he knew that you wouldn’t answer anyway and that you had likely locked the door with no intention of opening it. Eyes went black briefly as he Used magic to override the lock. Normally, his rule was to only employ magic in times of emergency, but this definitely qualified as an emergency.

“Hi Y/N,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. You were on your spot curled in the middle of the bed, body hidden under the comforter. “How was your day?” Your silence didn’t phase him as he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. “I heard you were practicing today, that’s great. I’ve always loved your drive.”

Still, nothing but silence from you.

He sighed and pulled the covers down so he could at least see your face. Your eyes were red and puffy but the crying was paused for the moment, your whole face lax as you stared through him rather than at him.

“Hey, now,” he whispered pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. “Come on, I want to hear about it.”

You pushed him away and he was relieved to see some reaction from reaction, even if it was annoyance.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Caleb,” you stressed turning away from him. He tried to bring you back into his arms but backed off when he felt you stiffen up.

“It can’t be that bad.” More silence. “Just tell me. Please.”

The strong emotions that you had been trying so hard to hide exploded out of you and you were so upset that it wasn’t until after you finished that you realized how aggressive it sounded. “You want to know? Fine! It was a telekinesis spell. A simple freaking telekinesis spell. All I wanted to do was lift the frame that had our anniversary photo in it and guess what! And I ended up smashing it to pieces instead! There was glass everywhere and the photo is ruined, happy?”

You felt tears swimming in your eyes, whether from anger or sadness you didn’t know, and you ran with a huff to lock yourself in the bathroom. No matter what kind of tears they were, you refused to cry in front of Caleb. That would only make him more overbearing than he was currently.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered as the tears started to flow. “All this time and you still mess up a basic spell. How can you call yourself a girlfriend to two Sons of Ipswich if you can’t even get that right?”

Caleb remained on the bed, looking at the bathroom door in grief. He had meant to help you and it seemed that he only made things worse. Sighing in frustration at himself he put himself back together and went back to Pogue who was still tending to dinner. There had to be something he could do, he just wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Well,” Pogue prompted, “How did it go?”

“Disastrous,” Caleb admitted. “I just ended up making Y/N even more upset and now they’re locked in the bathroom.”

“Hmm, that’s rough man.” A timer on the counter beeped, signaling that the chili was officially done cooking. Pogue took some ceramic bowls from the cabinet. “For both of you. Try not to get worked up about—Y/N will come around when they’re ready.”

“I am not worked up,” Caleb insisted. Pogue merely raised a brow and slid a full bowl to him. “Okay, maybe I’m a little worked up.”

“I knew it,” he smirked, pushing his long hair out of his face. “You can’t help it; it’s just who you are, man. But in this case, I’m telling you that you have to be patient.”

He sat down and took a bite from his own bowl, saw the worried look on the other man’s face. “I’m telling you. I learned this the hard way back in high school. Sometimes space is the best approach,” he said with a mouth full of food.

“If you’re sure…”

The two of them kept good on their unspoken promise and didn’t ask you about the incident again. You all still shared the same bed but even there they made sure to keep their hands to themselves, which you were grateful for. You didn’t feel the need for sex given your mental state. Just knowing that they were on either side of you was enough.

A part of you felt terrible for shutting them out, but an even bigger part of you couldn’t get over the hurt. Rationally, you knew that breaking the frame wasn’t that big of a deal. The guys would definitely fix it for you if you asked. Emotionally, however, you were a wreck. Productivity was at zero for the week. During the day you felt void, your brain numb. The night was worse, racing thoughts you couldn’t control as the continuous rewind of the incident playing on loop, preventing you from getting decent sleep.

Life was a mess. You were a mess. But there wasn’t much you felt like you could do about it; you were just hoping that you’d sort yourself out soon.

It was difficult for them for watching you going through it, especially for Caleb. He kept his word and didn’t question you like he had the first night but he hovering, struggling to master the need to make it better for you. Needless to say, he fed you breakfast in bed everyday that week.

Pogue was just as concerned. He never outright confronted you about it, that just wasn’t his style, but he did the dishes every day without complaint. He fidgeted more, even by Pogue standards. And unbeknownst to you, he was playing his guitar, something that normally happened when he was trying to sort something big out.

Somehow, he managed to hide it from you but he wasn’t so lucky with Caleb.

He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “How long have you been playing this one? I like it.”

“This week,” Pogue shrugged trying to downplay it. “The cords were easy to throw together.”

Caleb hummed and went to sit in front of the other man. Pogue started playing the tune again and Caleb found himself humming along after a few minutes. He wore a contemplative look. “Does it have lyrics?”

Pogue shook his head side to side, tossing his hair. “Nope. You know I’m not a good poet.”

Caleb nodded again, the same thoughtful expression on his face. “What if I wrote them?”

***

At the end of the week, you were slightly more recovered. The failure and unconference were still there but Pogue had convinced you to shower with him earlier in the day. It was nice to have clean hair and soft skin again. And you even managed to clear out your emails which always felt like an accomplishment.

“Hey, do you guys want to order takeout for dinner?” You walked out to the living room looking for your boyfriends. You were getting hungry and in the mood to socialize a bit more. For a second, you thought they were both out until you saw them out on the small porch. “Hello?”

They turned around with smiles on their faces and bid you to join them. It was a mild spring day and the setting sun left just enough heat to still be comfortable while sitting outside.

“Are you feeling okay?” Caleb asked, excitement just beneath the surface.

“A little better,” you answered eying the acoustic guitar in Pogue’s hands. Takeout cartons were arranged around the small glass table. “So…what’s all this?”

Pogue cleared his throat. “We wrote a song.”

“You…wrote a song?”

“A song for you,” Caleb further explained. “We’ve been working on it for you these past couple of days. Do you want to listen to it?”

“Y-yeah,” you said startled. This had not been what you were expecting when you came outside.

Pogue started strumming immediately, having already tuned beforehand. The pace was slower but purposeful, his fingers moving gracefully over the fretboard. Your heart fluttered, the notes sounding beautiful. Then Caleb started to sing. He was a graceful as ever, his voice blending in perfectly with Pogue’s guitar playing.

You were positively flushing. As romantic as the two of them were, they had never serenaded you before. In fact, no one had ever serenaded you. You were flattered. Giddy. Dazed.

The words touched your heart. The whole thing was so intimate, especially since they wrote it for you. They were pouring out the love they felt for you, the sadness that came with seeing you struggle. Unlaying the song was the assurance that things would get better.

At some point, you’re not sure when, tears started to blur your vision. The song had barely ended before you threw yourself at them, hugging with all your might. The hugs were returned and you felt a kiss on the top of your head—Pogue. Caleb wiped away a stray tear that had escaped with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured softly.

“Yeah, sorry baby,” Pogue seconded. Everyone was silent for a moment when he cracked a joke. “You should’ve told me that my playing was bad, I would’ve stopped sooner.”

You slapped his chest with no real force behind it. “Shut up. I loved it. These are tears of happiness.”

“That’s a relief. We’ve been worried about you, you know.”

You relaxed into their grasp, the oranges and pinks in the dusk sky further calming you. “I know. I tried to shake it off and be rational about it but I couldn’t. I’ve been…struggling.”

“We know. It’s alright. We’re here for you through the good times and the bad,” he promised.

“I j-just feel like a failure and I don’t want you to be embarrassed of me because I—”

“Stop it. We could never, never be embarrassed of you. You’re strong and kind and smart; what’s not to love?”

“Face facts, baby, you’re stuck with us for as long as you’ll have us.”

More tears gathered. “I love you two goofs.”

“I love you, too,” they said simultaneously, leaning in on either side to press a kiss to your cheek.

_______________

First poly fic I’ve written/published. Thanks so much for reading! And thanks to Jayn for the idea! 😊 If you want more Caleb content, here’s a recent fic of mine. Check it out! If you want more poly content, let me know that too.

#the covenant #caleb danvers #pogue parry #sons of ipswich #fanfic #caleb danvers x reader #pogue parry x reader

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stevenbasic · 4 years

Photo

Looking at the IG of one of the new applicants, Dr J thinks: What's this one's story?

About a year ago, huh..?

...

The reunion was in full swing, and Angie sipped the straw of her vodka tonic, alone for the moment at the edge of the crowd, watching him. She’d come into the evening like she did into most crowds: thinking she was the smartest person in the room. True, it’s not like she’d ended up top of her class - it’d been ten years since graduating from Middlesex High with these morons - or had found herself at a top-tier college. She totally could have, she always thought, if she had really wanted to. She just never put in the effort, it hadn’t meant enough to her. But she could have been valedictorian, for sure, right? And gone to an ivy-league? She just never set her mind to it, she told herself. Plus, back then, she didn’t have the tits...

Angie Wade was, certainly, what most people would call a “late bloomer”. Not only had her academic and career successes mainly come after her teen years in High School - she’d graduated with Honors from Bowling Green, got her Masters, and now managed two (soon to be three) branches of KLG Bank - but her figure had taken some time to come in, also. When she had graduated, she had been a mostly forgettable member of the drama club, the thin, unremarkable brunette with the big forehead. But, soon, things changed. Since high school she’d put on - haha - nearly thirty pounds, the majority of it generously deposited into the fleshy curves she’d squeezed into this low-cut black top and tight, tight knee-length white skirt. She wanted these people - him especially - to see what had become of Angie Wade, to realize what they had missed. And, the evening had gone predictably. Most of the girls, even some she’d been friendly with in school, either wanted nothing to do with her or treated her with snobby derision - fuck them. Because every guy she’d spoken to tonight had been very keen to chat. Most had given her at least a fleeting glance down her top, and many could barely keep from staring. But she hadn’t talked to AJ Shaw yet....

...and he was right over there.

...

AJ stood at the banquet hall’s bar, idly stirring his bacardi and coke, while Megan Rommety chatted animatedly in his left ear. He’d learned, among a prattling twenty minutes’ worth of other things, that she was a recent divorcee (“her decision”, to hear her tell it) She was trying to flirt with him, he had no doubt. He had been excited about coming to this thing, the 10-year reunion for his Middlesex High School Class. He still hung out, pretty regularly, with some friends from the football team; he’d even hired a couple to work on his construction team. He still touched base with old girlfriends from time-to-time, Facebook or wherever; it was cool to see them with kids and flirt with them behind their husbands’ backs. But maybe there’d be some people from out of town to catch up with. Like Megan here: they’d been in a couple classes together, she’d dated a friend of his, been on the tennis team. She was nice to see, for the first few minutes, but now she was beginning to overstay her welcome in the seat next to him. “...anyway, after I kicked Brad out, I sold the house and bought my own condo down by the lake,” Megan was saying, stirring the ice cube in her chardonnay, “sooooo nice. Real hardwood floors, a view. You just have to come see it! In fact, kids are at my mom’s tonight and…” WHoahhh...Who was THAT?

“Yeah, I uh….” he said Wearing a black, low-cut top that revealed an impressive bulge of soft, creamy cleavage, she was smiling over at him, from across the room. In fact, “smile” might have been too soft of a word. There was something dramatic about the look she was giving him, something….yikes. His stomach fluttered and everything Megan was saying was being droned out, dissolving to just a buzz on his left. Taking a sip of her drink, this woman held his eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, before she began to strut over towards him. My god, AJ thought, that is a strut. Straight back and proud, each step in her killer heels brought a new jiggle to her chest and an extra sway to her hips in her tight, white skirt. This was a woman who knew how to walk, he could see that for sure, and draw eyes to herself. Was this someone from his class?? He had forgotten that he was in the middle of a sentence, a conversation. Hell, he practically forgot where he was. He’d kinda found that happening, recently. Pretty women seemed to throw him off base more easily than they used to. Ones with boobs, especially. “Hiya, remember me?” she said, sidling up to the bar and unceremoniously boxing Megan out. He tried to keep his eyes up, on her face, on her wide, wide smile. He knew he would look like an asshole if his eyes dropped to her tits….but it was a struggle. “I…uh” he began, as his mind began to work. He was usually so good at this! He felt like he knew everybody from his class, or at least everyone important. Especially the hot ones! But he was having trouble remembering this one, her name. Her face was sorta familiar, but he certainly didn’t recognize those curves from high school. “Uhmmmm…”

“Angie Wade?” Megan interjected, from half-behind the newcomer.

Oh yeah, Angela Wade.

“Angie Wade?” AJ finally managed, lights beginning to click on, “You were in drama club, right?” “That’s me!” Angie beamed, biting her lower lip flirtatiously, “You DO remember me!” He...he did remember her, yes, Angie. But certainly not like this. The Angie Wade he remembered had been...skinny. Maybe not quite a dork, but not someone with whom he’d ever associate. If he recalled, his friends had told him she’d been an admirer of his. God, if he’d known she’d grow up into this...wow, she really grew a pair. “Excuse me,” Megan piped in, pushing her short, coiffed-blonde hair behind her ear, “We...were in the middle of a conversation?” Obviously annoyed, Megan could see how AJ’s attention had suddenly been drawn to Angie Wade and her big new tits. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Angie responded, not bothering to hide a note of condescension. She shifted to unblock Megan from the conversation, a move that just brought her closer to AJ’s left side, and in fact let her press her big right breast into his left arm. She felt him shudder, almost imperceptibly, but tried to keep her smile to herself.

Angie glanced Megan up and down with a coy smirk before turning back to AJ. “So...Nice suit! You look great,” she said, knowing men’s weaknesses for flattery, “Seems like you’re doing well?” “Um, yeah! Thanks!,” AJ replied, wincing as he heard the weird enthusiasm in his voice. He can’t come across as creepy, just talking to this girl ‘cuz she’s built. He knew he had to maintain himself, his composure. “I’ve been good,” he continued, “Staying busy with work and-” Angie cut him off. “Yeah, I saw that your company has a bid in to renovate the stadium downtown,” she said, letting her eyes sparkle in admiration. Men loved that. “That’s soooo great…” They also loved this bimbo talk, she’d learned. “Yeah well, it’s um… an exciting project,” He finished lamely, glancing over at Megan, whose glare had gone icy. What was he doing? This was rude. He should try to involve Megan some more, but found himself just really not wanting to. “But enough about me,” he said to Angie, admiring the dramatically dark makeup around her eyes, “How are you doing?” “I’m doing SO, SO good!” Angie sang, right hand reaching behind AJ’s back, resting on a shoulder. Megan scoffed, watching as her left hand then found his knee. What a tramp. “‘So so good’?” Megan finally snapped, the derision in her voice unmistakable, “Last I heard you were working at Hooters. Brad said he saw you th-” “Oh, did he? Brad, your husband?” Angie smiled, turning finally to address Megan, smile big and white.

“Ex...husband…” Megan said, voice quickly fading.

“Hm. Well, did Brad mention that he used to come in every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch, with guys from work, or sometimes just by himself?” Angie continued, a new edge to her voice, “And when I moved to just weekends, he started showing up then, too?” She smiled as she saw Megan’s eyes go wide. She loved doing this shit to prissy bitches like Megan, when they thought they could flex. “Did Brad tell you that he always asked to be sat in my section, and when I finally left he’d asked the other girls about me? Where I went? Asked for my number?”

Megan’s jaw had started to quiver, and Angie had to keep herself from laughing. She remembered Brad, though it had been awhile. Guys from their old high school had often come to Hooters to drool, whether it was over her or younger girls like Shanette or Missy. Brad had been no different. “I guess he just saw something he liked…. “ Angie concluded, straightening her shoulders and pushing her boobs forward - which drew a glance from AJ, she noticed. “Maybe something he didn’t have at home?” “Holy shit y-you bitch,” Megan sputtered, doing her best to sound appalled but glancing down at her own modest bust, unable to keep from feeling a little inadequate. Yes, Brad had been “a boob guy”... Ignoring the insult with practiced aplomb, Angie turned back to AJ, catching him looking down her top. “Besides, you don’t mind...do you AJ?” she asked him, squeezing her right breast more firmly into his nicely-muscled arm, rubbing his broad shoulder through his suit jacket, “That I used to work at Hooters?” “Um, uh, what?” he stammered, uncomfortable with the tense exchange that had just happened between these two girls, feeling weird that he’d just sat here, passively. How was he supposed to answer this? “No...not at all,” he managed, “I think, uh, service work is perfectly dignified…” “See?” Angie giggled, still rubbing his shoulder and rewarding him with an extra bit of boob, “Good boy.” Angie giggled again, so pleased with herself. Megan, for herself, looked aghast, watching AJ - who she always thought was a pretty well-put-together guy - fall for this bimbo’s simple little tricks. God, what a pair of tits can do... “I…” “..was just leaving” Angie finished for her, fixing her with a bright white smile and withering stare. She watched as Megan took her drink and stood from her stool. “You gonna go call Brad?” she added, for good measure, “Tell him Angie from Hooters said hello.” “Tell him yourself,” Megan sneered, and then turned to him, “And, AJ, nice talking to you. Have fun with the Titty Monster.” With that she stomped off, and Angie’s smile curled.

“‘Titty Monster’”, Angie repeated, chuckling to herself, “That’s rich. I think I’ll use that.” She bit her lip, narrowed her eyes. “So….” she began, turning all her attention back on AJ, her high school crush. She almost couldn’t believe it herself: here she was, little Angie Wade, proudly claiming Aaron Joseph Shaw for herself, just because she could. It was like wrapping him around her little finger. “Can I have a seat?” “Oh, uh, yeah,” AJ replied, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even said goodbye to Megan. “Of course…”

AJ half-stood, chivalrously, as if to help Angie up into Megan’s now-empty chair. He sat back, finally, and began to order them both a drink from the bartender with the dramatic mustache.

“Two vodka tonics, please,” Angie had insisted, speaking over him with a will that made his loins clinch.

From there, the flirting began in earnest, disguised by a conversation about their jobs. Angie avoided divulging too much about her situation, her successes at the bank. She knew the male ego could be a fragile thing, and she didn’t want to scare him away. AJ seemed to be a successful guy himself, in his own way, but boys tended to like their girls dumb, and she could play that up a bit when she needed to. So, no mention of the degrees, no mention of the awards. Instead, she had leaned forward towards him just enough to open her cleavage for his approval.

God, she has great tits, he thought to himself, marveling at their swell and mass, and I’m really getting to be a tit-guy these days. His eyes just could not keep themselves from falling down her top, and she seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, after their second drink together, her hand had found its way back to his knee and seemed to give him an encouraging squeeze every time his gaze strayed to her chest. She...she actually likes that I’m looking at her tits, he finally convinced himself, and had slowly started to relax.

After another drink, Angie finally sat up, stock straight, and slowly stretched her shoulders back to look around the room. Some of their old classmates had begun to leave, and the room was less abuzz than it had been. Predictably, his eyes had gone straight to her chest, and shot away before she met his gaze again. She waited for him to talk, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“So, it looks like things are starting to quiet down here,” he finally asked, “do you, uh, need a ride?”

Bingo. “No, I drove myself,” she answered, watching his face, seeing the old gears turning.

“Well, I was thinking about, y’know,” he began again, poking at the remaining ice in his drink, “heading back to my loft, downtown, if you wanted to, like, come with me…?” Angie smiled, and leaned in towards him, squeezing her arms together in a dramatic show of cleavage. “Hmmm, well,” she purred, watching his eyes struggle to maintain her gaze, “how about you come to my place tonight sweetie. It’s closer....”

At that, she leaned in to his ear, and whispered into it with a voice thick with seduction. “And I still have my Hooters outfit at home. I can try it on for you….see if it still fits?”

============================================

Angie attacks! A little GITJ tangent thread being co-written with AgeoftheGiantess, who you may know from GTScity. Look for her story to continue.

Next post, our first entry by new contributor Joyce Julep, available at my Patreon

#Growing Into the Job

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silenthillmutual · 3 years

Note

hey for the prompts thing, maybe artemy's children and daniil? Also if you wanna stretch your utopian characters writing muscles, something with peter and grace(artemy helping him parent her, since the man was ready to feed her worms)? eva and daniil in the friendship way?? idk, something of that sort. I love your work, you have a delightful grasp of the characters and the english language itself

this isn't my best bc i've just been practicing writing to keep that skill strong, but i decided to do a little of all three :)

-----

“Please, Eva, you have to help me.”

Eva tilts her head at Daniil, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. Daniil knows she’s not that dense; it’s not the with what question, but the why. “Really, Daniil. I think you have a handle on things as it is.”

He absolutely does not have a handle on things. He is in way out of his depth. Over his head. However the saying goes - what’s been expected is far beyond him. Cats, he can watch over easily. They’re mostly self-sufficient, independent, but children? Daniil does not know the first thing about children.

“Humor me, then,” he says. Eva ducks her head, struggling to hide a smile. “Pretend for a moment that I don’t have a handle on things. How am I meant to keep children entertained?”

“Ah, I would think you would remember what it was like to be a child!” Daniil only scowls at the floor, shuffling his feet. “You remember how you wanted to be treated, don’t you? It’s not that different from now. You treat them with respect.”

“I know how to talk to children,” he says, and hopes he isn’t lying, “but how do I keep them entertained?”

“It’s only for a few hours. I think you’re worrying over nothing.” Daniil looks over his shoulder. They’re already seated at Eva’s piano, fingers toying with the keys. Every once in a while they will make contact, a soft plonk as a flat note plays in the open space, accompanied by a giggle. “Besides, Artemy left you in charge, not me. He trusts you.”

“He trusts everyone.” It sounds like more of a complaint than it’s really meant. The haruspex’s undying faith in others is admirable, really. Burakh’s favor is probably the only thing that’s kept the town’s inhabitants from running Daniil out into the steppe. But in this one occasion, that faith seems misplaced. “I should have said no.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Daniil has no answer. Or at least, he has no good answer. Judging by the smile creeping its way onto her face, Eva knows the only one he has. He tries to fan away her concern, and is met with her soft laughter, like the tinkling of glass. “Anyway, I’d feel much safer if you were here to help me.”

“Safer? Daniil, they’re just kids. You’ve done much more dangerous things in the time you’ve been here.” Daniil purses his lips, and Eva sighs. “I’ll help you, on one condition!”

“Name it.”

“Yulia.” Eva huffs, fiddling with her gloves. “I’ve invited her over to dinner, but she hasn’t sent her response. I think she’s nervous about seeing the Stamatins again - tell her they won’t be coming if it makes her so upset! Whatever you have to say, just make sure she agrees. I’ve been dying to see her.”

Much as he’d rather not get involved in anyone else’s affairs, he is sort of desperate here. Yulia can be difficult to convince when her mind is made up on something - impossible, even, he’d say - but he knows how fond the two women are of each other, and maybe his assurance that Andrey will be otherwise occupied will be enough. And really, all he has to do is try. “Fine,” he says, and Eva squeezes his arm in excitement before turning to the kids in the sitting room.

“I see you’ve found the piano. Would you like me to teach you a few scales?”

When Artemy agreed to help Peter prepare for Grace’s visit, he had no idea what it was he was signing up for. He’d thought an hour or so - enough time to leave his kids with Daniil and see how they fared together without overwhelming the other man. But it’s been two and a half hours now, and Peter doesn’t seem to be any closer to grasping the basics.

“You need milk, Peter. And eggs. Basic food items.” He stops just short of asking if the man is even aware of what constitutes food. He can’t be certain that the man even eats. He’s malnourished for someone of his height, and from what Artemy can tell his main consumption is twyrine. And that won’t be good for poor Grace.

That’s the main reason Artemy’s stayed so long. He wants to get back to his kids, to spend time with Daniil before the man returns to his work, but he worries about how Grace will fare here when Peter can’t seem to grasp the importance of a clean cooking surface and fresh ingredients. “Forgive me, old boy. It’s been so long since I have sought these things out for myself.”

Artemy tries not to groan. That’s about what he’d figured, and it’s not exactly what he’d call promising.

At least the apartment is looking marginally nicer. There’s space enough for them to walk around in, the empty bottles of twyrine have been discarded and the couch has been cleared of its debris. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Artemy can appreciate how difficult even this was for the architect.

But it’s still not quite enough. Grace will be over within the hour, and Artemy’s not sure how much more help he can be to the man.

Before he can suggest they hold Grace’s visit off another day, a knock comes at the door and the girl herself enters. She doesn’t look quite sure of herself, her fists curled tight around the fabric of her dress, her eyes cast down; but she enters all the same, and stands just outside the door, waiting.

Artemy is the first to address her. “Grace.” He nudges Peter with his foot under the table. “It’s good to see you.”

Peter looks at Artemy, solemn, and follows his lead. “Welcome, girl.” There’s an awkward pause, and Artemy kicks his shin again. Peter stares at the table. “Come in from the door. There’s room for you by the couch.”

Grace smiles shyly and tucks her hands behind her back as she enters. Her eyes widen, taking in the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. And since Peter doesn’t seem to clean regularly, she very well could be.

“What happened to your paintings?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“I’ve moved them.” Artemy is preparing himself to nudge Peter once again, but this is something he’s more well-acquainted with. He’s slow to stand, one hand on the table to steady himself, and makes his way to what passes for a bedspace in this loft. Artemy watches from the table, chewing his lip, as Peter presents a painting to her.

At least it’s one of the more appropriate ones, though there’s something frightening about the splashes of paint. He’s no art critic, and he won’t pretend to understand, but there’s something very angry about this painting. Artemy wonders how obvious it is to Grace, who hasn’t seen much outside of the graveyard. He can’t imagine there’s much experimental art in the Saburov’s house.

A sudden pang hits him, watching the two interact. He may be frustrated with Peter, but it’s obvious the man is trying his hardest. It’s just been too long since he’s even taken care of himself, that of course it will take a while before he’s able to take care of another person. And Grace has such different needs that Artemy’s unsure the Saburovs will be able to meet. The way they talk to each other, he can sense an understanding between them, even when they’re not talking about exactly the same thing.

He’s going to wind up regretting this, for sure. He didn’t mean to leave his kids with Daniil for so long, but he can’t just give up here.

“It’s about time for lunch,” Artemy says. The two turn to look at him with matching looks of surprise. “Why don’t I show you how to cook something?”

Artemy dropped his children off around ten. Daniil expected him back around noon. He doesn’t mind making food for the children, except - well, he’s not the one doing it. Eva caught him attempting to make some excuses to head into the kitchen and beat him to it. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, with a look in her eyes Daniil found almost threatening, “I can handle it. You stay in here and get acquainted.”

“We’re already acquainted,” Daniil pointed out, but it didn’t matter much. Eva was determined to ignore him, making her way out of the room and leaving Daniil with two bored kids.

Murky had moved on from the piano some time ago, laying on the floor with charcoals and sketch paper Peter had left out the last time he’d come to visit. She didn’t ask for permission, but if Eva wasn’t going to tell her off then neither was Daniil. He can’t imagine Peter minding much or even remembering he’d brought the items with him, and as long as it’s keeping the girl occupied Daniil doesn’t have it in him to complain. Sticky, on the other hand, has taken to snooping around the house.

“Looking for something?” Daniil asks, watching him open up an end table drawer.

Sticky shrugs. “Not particularly.” He closes the drawer with a little more force than necessary and turns his gaze to the staircase, his eyebrows near to his hairline. “What’s up there?”

“My room.”

“Can I see it?” The sudden excitement catches him off guard. Daniil fiddles with his gloves. “You have a microscope, right? I’ve never used one. I know Rubin has one, but he won’t let me see it. Do you have slides? Can you show me something? Can you show me blood?”

“One question at a time,” Daniil says, huffing with amusement. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I was the same at his age. “I suppose you can come upstairs and see it, yes. I do have a few clean slides, yes, but I don’t have any samples lying around. I suppose I can come up with something, but…” he turns to look at Murky.

“She’ll be fine,” Sticky assures him. “It’s not like we’re going far, right?” He turns to his sister. “Murky, we’re going upstairs.”

She pauses in her drawing, looking at Sticky before her eyes turn away. “Do I have to come with you?”

“I don’t suppose you have to, no,” Daniil answers. “But if you need anything, you can come up and get us, alright, dear?” She doesn’t seem all that comfortable with the term, her mouth turning into a little scowl. She doesn’t answer, either, going back to her drawing as if no interruption had occurred.

Daniil leads Sticky up the stairs, listening to his babbling about the things he’s managed to glean from listening to Artemy and attempting to follow in his footsteps, from his discussions with Rubin when the man’s come to visit. Once they’re upstairs, he wanders around the room, picking up Daniil’s books and looking at them carefully, trying to pronounce the words aloud to himself. Daniil takes his distraction as a time to prick himself for a blood sample, readying the slide and pulling the chair back out from the table.

He clears his throat, and Sticky spins around, nearly dropping the heavy tome in his hands. “You wanted to see a blood sample, yes?” Sticky nods, scrambling his way over to the desk. Daniil has to guide him in how to use the microscope, in how to get a clearer picture of what he’s looking at. And Sticky has plenty of questions for him about what he sees, about how blood works in the body, about cells and warmth and movement.

As he’s speaking, Daniil simply forgets to be nervous. It’s not all that different to lectures - and to have someone honestly listening to him is actually quite nice. He’s so engrossed in directing Sticky that he doesn’t notice when Murky joins them. When she speaks, it startles him. “Why do you have a bunch of grass in a jar?” Sticky stifles a laugh as Daniil nearly jumps, moving around to the bookshelf where Murky is on her toes, peering at a glass jar. “They’re not even the right herbs. You can’t make anything out of that.”

“It’s not all grass. Take a closer look.” Daniil takes the jar off the shelf and holds it out for her to better see it. He watches her squint, and directs his finger about halfway up the jar. “Do you see the eyes here? This is a conehead grasshopper.”

Her eyes widen. “You keep a bug in a jar?”

“Well, I’d like to get a terrarium eventually, but you don’t seem to have any in town. I’d have to order one from the Capital.” He pauses. People usually find his collection of insects strange, but Murky seems fascinated. “I have books on insects, if you would like to…” Can she read? “Take a look?” Murky nods, and Daniil takes the jar back, looking through the bookshelf for the guide he’d brought with him.

Sticky’s not particularly interested in the bugs, but he entertains himself looking through Daniil’s medical textbooks while Daniil reads passages off of the insects Murky points to. When Eva comes to get them for lunch, he has to agree to bring the book downstairs with him to get her to go.

“Dad won’t let me keep bugs,” she mumbles around her food. “Says they don’t belong in the house.”

“My mother felt the same,” Daniil tells her. It feels strange to admit it, when it’s been so long since he’s spoken of his parents to anybody. Murky turns the pages of his field guide very carefully, silent as Sticky speaks up to ask him more questions about blood flow and circulation.

Now that he’s found ways of connecting with the kids, communication isn’t nearly as difficult as he’d thought it would be. He feels a little silly for winding himself up the way he had this morning - and these are Artemy’s kids, why had he imagined they’d be such a handful? Sure, they’re precocious, but not any worse than the other children in town.

They’ve just made their way back into the main room when the door to the Stillwater opens and Artemy appears. He looks exhausted, and Daniil can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He knows what dealing with the Stamatins can be like, especially given how poorly Peter takes care of himself. He can’t begin to imagine what took Artemy so long, but things must have been pretty bad if it took him such a long time.

Artemy offers Daniil a small smile. “Thanks for looking after them, emshen.”

“It was my pleasure,” Daniil says, and he finds that for once it’s not simply a nicety. “They’re wonderful children, Artemy. Clearly you’re doing a fantastic job in raising them.”

“Truth be told, they raised themselves.” His smile is fond, turning from Daniil to his kids. “You guys ready to go?”

Murky looks up from her drawing - a new one, an attempt to freehand an illustration of a phasmid from Daniil’s field guide. She still has a slight frown on her face as she looks up at her father. “Now? Bachelor was going to show me how to catch insects with a net,” she tells him.

Artemy looks back at Daniil with some surprise on his face. Daniil can feel himself flushing as he tries to look anywhere but at Artemy. “Why don’t you come another day, Murky? It’ll give me time to get a second net.”

“I’ll be ready to go in a minute,” Sticky pipes up. “I just gotta finish -”

“Oh, you can borrow the book,” Daniil says, waving his hand. “Don’t mind the markings I left in it from school. And if you have any questions, well - you know where to find me.”

#icarus.docx #icarus.txt #pathologic

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dawnrider · 4 years

Note

yeeeeeeeessssss . fluff 12: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Soooooo.... A million and a half years later, I’m finally getting to this prompt that @superpixie42 has now officially forgotten she sent me. 🎉

This hails from the Stocking Stuffers Universe which also included Dinner and Dancing. A nice fluffy “how they met” type story. It also happens to coincide with @inukag-week‘s prompt for the day of Acceptance. Enjoy, Lovelies!

The grassy knoll at the bottom of the biggest hill on campus was the best spot for a break between classes. Kagome made a point to meet up with friends there at least once a week, but often stopped alone to sit under the large maple that remained its central focus. There was a large retaining wall higher up the hill that was a frequent spot for the architecture students to sit, sketching the buildings around them, analyzing the lines… usually horsing around. Kagome favored a book in her spare time, since she did so much studying at home, but today she had a test to finish reviewing for in her next class.

A chorus of laughter caught her attention, drawing her eyes up to the wall. There were several male students and a lone female student, sitting with a sprawl of meal bags and large sketch pads. One young man, with dark hair pulled in a low tail, was playfully elbowing another in the ribs. With silver hair that nearly glinted in the sunlight and a look on his face that promised retribution, the other young man fairly vibrated with irritation.

Until it burst.

"Fucking...fine!" he shouted, vaulting off the wall with amazing grace and landing as though it were nothing. Which Kagome realized had to mean he was at least part youkai, because that wall was high. She read in the campus paper a month or so before that a human student had broken a leg and arm trying to impress friends by jumping down and miscalculating the height. And the fact that there was a hill at the bottom.

Kagome went back to her textbook, paging to her next sticky referencing the basilar membrane and set in for a very technical read.

"Um…"

Blinking, Kagome looked up and found the silver haired guy standing near enough to obviously be addressing her without getting too close. "Hi?” His eyes widened at her soft greeting and she could see that they were golden in color. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh. Well… I…” He clearly hadn’t thought that they would get this far into the conversation. Still not sure what his goal was, Kagome slowly sat up and set her book aside. “My friend has been giving me a hard time and…”

“I noticed. I’m Kagome, by the way,” she cut in when he was struggling to continue.

“I-Inuyasha.” She smiled at his light blush. “See, he thinks that you’re probably a freshman, but I thought you were older.” His eyes widened when her eyebrow went up at his choice of words. “Not that you look old or… Shit.”

Kagome grinned, resting her chin in her hand while looking up at him, nearly sweating under the collar with anxiety now and ready to abandon his mission. “Sit down a sec. You look like you need a break.” He complied without a second thought, plopping into the grass beside her. They both pretended not to hear the jeering calls from the wall. “Is this a bet? ‘Cause you won. I’m a junior.” Inuyasha’s golden eyes flashed triumphantly, then he winced. “I’m guessing you lot are younger?”

“No. I’m a senior. Miroku, my friend, he’s a senior on a victory lap. Maybe a second one… I can’t remember now.” Kagome giggled. “We’re architecture.”

“I figured. I see you guys up there a lot.” She noticed the intrigued look in his eyes just before she noticed the pair of fluffy ears that seemed to appear on top of his head. She let out a little delighted gasp, which caused them to lay back again and his face to shutter. “Saw that landing too. Nice. Way to not break anything.”

Inuyasha froze, then slowly relaxed. He obviously sensed the acceptance in her demeanor. “Yea, well that kid was human and didn’t know how to roll into the impact.” They chatted for a few minutes about the incident, then fell into a faintly uncomfortable silence. “What are you studying?”

“Oh! I have a test on the cochlea in a bit. Reviewing the basilar membrane functions…” Inuyasha stared at her with no indication of understanding. “It’s part of the inner ear. It moves when sound waves impact the…” She paused again. “It’s pretty boring, really,” she murmured shyly.

“So you’re like, in pre med?”

“No. Audiology. Or I will be. Have to do grad school for that. Right now I’m Speech and Hearing Sciences.”

“That’s cool. You study ears and hearing.” Kagome wasn’t sure he realized that he was wiggling his very prominent ears at her in his excitement. She grinned and nodded. “Wow. Do they have anything on… on canine hearing in there?” he wondered.

Kagome laughed. “Not really. This book focuses on human hearing, but I have another textbook at home that compares human to non-human hearing. I could… Well… if you wanted...”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” he jumped in. She nodded. “Keh. Bring it then.” A light flush lit her cheeks. “I-If that’s alright?”

“Yea. It’s alright.”

The pair continued to meet in the grassy knoll almost every day for a week, only the intense rain one afternoon keeping them from seeing each other. Kagome realized after the storm that she had no way to contact him. They could have chosen one of the libraries to meet instead! The next afternoon, she put on her brave face and sucked up her nervous feelings so she could ask for his number.

“Oh! Yea! I mean,” he paused, clearing his throat, “that would be cool. Or whatever.”

He crouched beside her, starting to put in his password. So focused on the pattern, Inuyasha didn't notice Kagome glancing over his shoulder. He yelped when she grabbed the handset out of his long fingers, studying the screen intently for a moment before looking at him with a faint frown. “Am I your lockscreen?”

She could see the proverbial "oh shit" in his eyes before he snatched the phone back. Kagome waited for him to respond but found that he was speechless. It was a candid shot, obviously taken from the wall, with her casually laying on her stomach, reading a book. The distance and zoom made it a little blurry, but it was definitely her.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he finally squeaked out. Kagome could see by how flat his ears lay against his head that he was about to panic. She had picked up on some of his tells in the last week, as well as done a little research about canine youkai.

What she had also picked up on in her brief search was that hanyou, like Inuyasha, were in an odd place in society. She had never really met anyone with mixed heritage before, so she wasn’t aware of the stigma. Inuyasha was likely made very aware of it, regularly and from an early age.

“You didn’t get a very good angle,” she said lightly, pulling up her own phone and flipping the camera so they could see themselves on the screen. Inuyasha still looked confused and terrified. Kagome smiled brightly and caught one shot that way, then nudged his shoulder. “You gonna smile or what?”

It took him a moment to process what she was doing, how she was reacting to him. That she was… accepting him. When he finally understood all of that, he relaxed, gaze softening, ears returning to their normal position and a faint grin lifting the corner of his lips.

“That’s better.” Kagome snapped another couple of shots to make sure they got a good one. “Here. Give me your number and I’ll send them to you so you can use one of those instead. Much better angle.”

Inuyasha chuckled even as he took out his phone again. “That was pretty slick, you know that? I wouldn’t have guessed you had that in you.”

Kagome grinned as she put his number into a text and shot off the pictures with a heart emoji. “I think there’s a lot of things you’ll find out about me that you wouldn’t have guessed.”

Inuyasha matched her smirk with one of his own. “I accept that.”

@lemonlushff , @fantastiqueparfait , @heavenin–hell, @clearwillow , @mamabearcat , @thunderpo , @keichanz , @meggz0rz , @disgruntledbeast , @sarah-writes-stories , @zelink-inukag , @rikareena , @cammysansstuff , @mcornilliac , @redflamesofpassion , @superpixie42 , @underwater0phelia , @cstorm86 , @noviceotakus-blog , @lavendertwilight89 , @hinezumi , @wenchster , @hnnwnchstr , @lady-dark-69 , @itzatakahashi , @juliatheanimelover7 , @kazeinori , @theinuyashareader , @inupotter , @eternalnight8806-3 , @smmahamazing , @willowandfog , @gaysonthefloor , @sistasecbhere , @jennybean91

#Fluff Prompt #Stocking Stuffers #Inukag-Week #Acceptance #Dawnrider Fanfiction #superpixie42

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lutrain2020 · 4 years

Text

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission: I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media: Tumblr: @sky-squido AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"

#Meet The Creator #lutrain2020 #linkeduniverse #lu

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bisexualpirateheart · 4 years

Note

"are you smelling me?"

The morning light enters the hut slowly. There are still shadows in the corners. There’s no drive to rise yet and for once Flint has little inclination to do so. He finds himself strangely content in bed here with Silver.

Silver, who’s still soundly asleep, one arm thrown over his head, his face turned away from Flint’s. His hair spread messily over their joined pillow. Silver who is still naked underneath the blanket that covers them both. Flint had pulled his shirt back on after they were finished last night. Old habits die hard and even here he intends to be ready in case of attack. But he likes that Silver is different, that he feels safe enough to sleep bare beside Flint, that he even leaves the metal leg off now, discarded at the foot of the bed.

Flint turns his head so that his face rests closer to Silver’s curls and breathes in the scent of him. Silver smells of the sea, understandably, even though they’ve been at the camp for over a week this time. He smells of sweat too, also understandably. Flint can’t remember the last time Silver joined them at the bathing pool. Silver usually satisfies himself with washing privately in the hut. Flint had thought he had accepted the realities of his leg by now, but there are still moments such as this that he realizes he’s mistaken. Silver still needs privacy in some things and Flint has to let him have it.

There’s also the scent of the oil that Silver uses to soothe his leg, a faded bitter ointment that reminds Flint of flowers pressed into books, long preserved memories held captive between brittle pages. He watches Silver rub the oil into his stump every night before bed. It’s a familiar sight by now and yet Flint still finds it as intimate as the first time Silver ever performed the act in front of him.

He moves closer to Silver, tracing his bare shoulder with his thumbnail as he buries his face deeper in Silver’s curls. It’s not enough. These quiet mornings with Silver after the long fervent nights in the dark. He rests his face at the base of Silver’s spine as he smells his skin, all of those different scents mingling to simply make up the essence of Silver. A perfume that Flint fears he will crave for the rest of his natural life.

He closes his eyes and sighs the quietest of sighs as his palm brushes a slow path down Silver’s slumbering shoulder. It has been over a month since this started. There is no knowledge of how long it will last. Whether they can sustain it once they’re back regularly at sea. But he wants to. He wants Silver to remain at his side, closer than before.

It terrifies him. This realization that crept up on Flint in the night like a ghost. That he cared for Silver far more than he had ever intended to do. Not that he had ever intended to care for Silver in any regard. If you had asked Flint that the first day he set eyes on Silver, would he ever love the man before him, he would have sworn no immediately.

Well. It would have been a broken oath.

He feels Silver stir faintly against him and yet he can’t bring himself to pull away. His hand remains on Silver’s hip where it ended.

“Flint.” Silver murmurs sleepily.

“Yes?”

“Are you…smelling me?” Silver turns his head slightly so he can look at him.

“What of it?” Flint says in response.

He lets his hand drift over Silver’s thigh and Silver raises an eyebrow. “I thought we had a meeting with the crew this morning.”

“Time enough for that after.” Flint murmurs. His hand closes over Silver’s cock and he gives it a long deep stroke. He watches Silver’s face as he does, watches the way his eyelashes flutter against his eyes as he struggles not to moan in response.

Flint can hold back no longer. He pulls the blanket off Silver and slides down between his thighs.

Silver turns on his back, bracing himself on his elbows as he watches Flint take him in his mouth. One hand reaches for Flint, fingertips grazing over his scalp.

Flint knows what he’s thinking.

Silver had once let slip while drunk how he wished they had fucked while Flint’s hair was long. “I wanted to run my hands through it so much.” He bemoaned over his rum.

It had made Flint roar with laughter in spite of himself. But he had never admitted that he understood the urge. That his hands seek Silver’s hair every time their bodies are joined; the need to tug and hold and claim those dark curls rising up like a tidal wave within himself.

Now he presses his fingers into Silver’s skin as he sucks him, digging deep as though he’s trying to hold on to him when Silver hasn’t even tried to go anywhere. But he will. One of these days he will realize this life is not for him. In spite of the way the crew has welcomed him in and in spite of the way he has a place here, and in spite of the way he possesses a place inside Flint’s chest, a place carved with lies and betrayal, with schemes and plans and the most tentative kiss Flint had ever felt in his life. He had thought he was dreaming the first time Silver kissed him. Sometimes Flint thinks he’s dreaming still.

He feels rather than hears Silver’s groan overhead, guttural and low and he feels himself hardening in response. He moves up on his knees, pushing Silver’s thighs further apart to make space for him.

Flint draws off for a moment to spit on his fingers before lowering his head again. He pushes the tips of two fingers inside Silver while he teases the head of his cock.

Silver squirms under his touch, legs held open by Flint’s knees. There’s a bead of sweat in the hollow of his throat and Flint wants to lick it from his skin.

He presses deeper, watching Silver spread his legs even wider for him, even as he grunts faintly from the intrusion.

This too is still new to him. The first time Flint had pressed him down upon the pallet hungrily, kissing his throat and his chest and his mouth, now that he could indeed kiss him so, he’d not expected Silver to be prepared. To have thought ahead in advance for this. So he wasn’t surprised when he had asked for oil and Silver had shaken his head.

It had been momentarily awkward to rise from the bed and have to go seek some. There had been a brief hesitation when Flint returned to the hut. He had paused at the door, the small bottle in his hand, wondering if he should turn back now. But then he had pushed the door open and found Silver waiting for him.

He’d gotten undressed during Flint’s absence and was half sitting, half reclining on the bed, the thin blanket drawn up loosely over his hips. The metal leg rested against the bed, within easy reach if Silver needed it.

“I thought it’d be easier off.” He started, then, “I can put it back on if you prefer.”

“I prefer you like this.” Flint closed the door, leaning against it. He should go over to Silver. But for a moment he wanted to stand here and drink in the sight of Silver waiting for him.

Silver leaned back against the headboard, gazing back at him. The lantern overhead cast a soft golden glow over his bare chest. “I take it you like what you see?”

“Yes.” Flint said simply. The oil was clutched tightly in his grasp.

Slowly, Silver pulled back the blanket and let it fall to one side. He drew his good knee up, resting his arm on it as he looked at Flint. “What are you waiting for then?”

And Flint had gone to him.

* * *

Now, he reaches for the oil, slicking his fingers before returning them to Silver’s body. Silver’s dying to come. Flint can feel it in the tremors of his body, the tightness of his chest, the short, needy groans he makes as Flint fucks him with his fingers.

Flint takes one last lick of his cock and lets it bob free.

Silver makes a moan of protest and Flint reaches for his legs, lifting them slightly, tilting Silver’s hips as he enters him. Every thrust inside Silver is deep and long. Flint feels Silver react, his back arching, his hands clutching at the bedclothes, his head thrown back across the pillow, his mouth open with need.

Flint lets his hands slide underneath to cup Silver’s buttocks, thrusting deeper and deeper, until Silver’s shuddering with the force of it, his back arching higher and higher.

“Come for me.” Flint growls, fingers squeezing hard into Silver’s bare flesh. He wants that scent too, here on both their bodies.

Silver obeys almost immediately, cock jerking in tight throbbing jerks. He spills over his own stomach and legs, splattering across Flint’s shirt and legs as well. His body goes limp under the release of it.

Flint feels his body responding in kind, letting himself spill inside Silver until he goes still. And yet he lingers a moment, unwilling as ever to end this, to withdraw from Silver’s body.

When he does so at last, Silver raises an arm in invitation.

Flint lets himself be drawn down beside him. He doesn’t complain about the mess drying on their skin, doesn’t care about any of it. He lets himself press into the curve of Silver’s shoulder, lets his arm rest over Silver’s chest. Lets Silver whisper soft words into his skin.

The good moments in life are so painfully short. Flint gazes at Silver as he turns his head. He won’t seek the end of this any sooner than he has to. He doesn’t need to know the day or the hour. He needs only to know Silver wants it now, wants him. That is enough. He leans in and presses his mouth to Silver’s, waiting a beat, as always, until Silver kisses him back.

#black sails #black sails fic #silverflint #prompts #ficlets #bs ficlets #silverflint fic #season 3 fic #this will go up on ao3 when I have a title lol

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tsunflowers · 5 years

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anime featuring adult women

there are a lot of great female characters in anime, but sometimes it feels like they’re all supporting characters in shows about men or they haven’t graduated high school yet. I wanted to compile a list of some anime with adult women front and center

kidou keisatsu patlabor on tv:

in the sci-fi future as imagined in 1988, human-piloted robots called labors are used regularly by all kinds of people, including criminals. to combat labor crime, the police develop a special unit of patrol labors—patlabor. instead of following the prestigious division one, we follow a cast of quirky characters in second-string division two, as they solve cases ranging from mundane to dangerous to paranormal

izumi noa, and why I love her:

she’s incredibly strong-willed and stubborn. she’ll stand up to anyone. she’s obsessed with labors, not just piloting them herself but repairing them and learning about new developments in the field. even though division two is primarily men and there is the “men at work” vibe of so much military and police fiction, noa fits in easily with the guys and no one excludes her. the few times people do question her skills bc of her gender, they’re immediately shut down

other women in the cast:

nagumo shinobu, the captain of division one. we never actually see her or her unit at work, but they have a great reputation. I just love her bc she’s very funny always shutting down the captain of division two and I like that in-universe there are women in leadership roles like this

kanuka clancy, a visiting cop from new york. her relationship with noa is very strong, definitely shippable. she’s adept with a gun, a sword, and a giant robot. she’s the serious member of the team who yells at the others for being dumb but there are still times where she goes completely off the rails and ignores the law to do what she knows is right

wotakoi: love is hard for otaku:

momose narumi is an office worker and a fujoshi. she wants to keep the fujoshi part a secret this time around because things went south for her at her last job once people found out she was an otaku, but it turns out several of her new coworkers are fellow nerds. most importantly, her game-loving childhood friend hirotaka works at the same company, and the two of them reconnect as friends… and soon more than friends. it’s a romance drama involving only nerds

momose narumi, and why I love her:

she’s a lot like your standard high school girl protagonist who runs out of the house because she’s late for school, but this time she’s late for work. she’s really funny and straightforward, except she thinks she has to hide that side of her at her job. she and hirotaka have a great childhood friends to lovers relationship. she’s kind of rude to him but he adores her (though he’s kind of bad at showing it). I love a cheerful girl/serious guy romance that’s done well and I think this one really is

other women in the cast:

koyanagi hanako, narumi’s new coworker who’s a fellow fujoshi. she’s also a cosplayer, specifically a crossplayer who specializes in cosplaying as handsome guys. she and narumi only met each other under their fandom nicknames before, but they were big fans of each other and hit it off instantly when they meet at work. they’re cute friends even if they always argue about who tops in their ships

psycho-pass:

in a futuristic society, people’s mental health is constantly measured by “psycho-pass” readings which track their emotional state and judge the likelihood that they will commit a crime. naive rookie cop tsunemori akane leads a team of enforcers, people who are considered “latent criminals” too dangerous to live in normal society but who are still useful to the police. akane develops a close relationship with enforcer kougami shinya in particular, but kougami has his own intense relationship with the elusive criminal makishima shogo. as the team of detectives investigate him, they uncover secrets about the system they never wanted to learn and their fates become entwined with makishima’s

psycho-pass is written by urobuchi gen (madoka magica, fate/zero) and if you’re familiar with him you know what to expect. the show is pretty grim and gory. content warnings for rape, violence, gore, body horror, police violence, the predatory lesbian trope, forced institutionalization, and probably a lot of other things I can’t remember. not a light watch, is what I’m saying

tsunemori akane, and why I love her:

she’s incredibly principled. she sticks to what she believes is right despite immense pressure. it’s precisely because she’s naive and doesn’t understand the system that she is able to fight against it. she grows a huge amount over the course of the series but she never loses her compassion or her sense of right and wrong. she’s pretty badass too

other women in the cast:

karanomori shion, a lab analyst at the public safety bureau. she’s your typical sexy and flirtatious anime character but I think her position within the setting is interesting. although she’s categorized as a “latent criminal” unfit for society, she seems to be valued more than the enforcers. she’s also bisexual and dating a woman, though she plays into the “bisexuals can’t settle down” trope a little. she is not actually the best character or peak representation but I’m pretty attached to her and a certain type of woman will be too

kunizuka yayoi, a lesbian former musician and the only female enforcer. she’s shion’s girlfriend. there is a predatory lesbian character in this series, but it’s not kunizuka. I think her being a lesbian is handled pretty well. she has romantic and sexual relationships with women that are important to her, but she doesn’t hate men or flirt with every woman she meets (traits I hate to see in lesbian characters written by men). she’s really serious and calm but still cute and I love to see her growing respect for akane over the course of the show

death parade:

two people wake up in a strange bar with no memory of how they got there. a mysterious man with white hair named decim and his assistant, a woman known only as “the black haired woman,” ask them to play a game. the games are both absurd and dangerous, and as the contestants play them dark sides of themselves are revealed. decim’s job is to judge them based on their behavior while playing the games, but the black haired woman’s influence causes him to wonder if he’s doing the right thing

like it says in the title, the anime deals with the topic of death, and death by suicide comes up as well. I don’t remember everyone’s backstories but I think violence and abuse come up several times. there are also mannequins that move around on marionette strings which is kind of freaky

the black haired woman, and why I love her:

it might be wrong to say that she’s the main character when she isn’t introduced until the end of the first episode and her name isn’t revealed for half the show but listen. she’s the emotional core of the show and the person who sets the events in motion. she’s a very emotional person and that’s her strength. her relationship with decim is the classic “woman teaches cold-hearted man to feel” trope but I think it’s an outstanding example bc it centers her emotional experience and the two of them are not explicitly in a romantic relationship. I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers but for her it’s almost unavoidable. I love the way that her story is slowly revealed over the course of the show culminating in an incredible sequence in episode 11. I think her depression is handled so well too. it’s heartbreaking

other women in the cast:

nona, the boss of the arbiters. she’s a schemer who knows a whole lot of things she’s keeping from everyone else. I really like her outfit above all else. baggy pants with suspenders… a great look

mayu, a high school girl who is a contestant in one of the games. she tries to be cutesy but is prone to anger and makes incredible faces. I like that she’s an obsessive fangirl character who’s played for humor but is also shown as being noble and sympathetic

sakura quest:

koharu yoshino is a woman who moved to tokyo to find a job but has no luck. when she finally gets a job offer, it’s to become “queen for a day” of rural manoyama village. upon arriving in manoyama, she learns that she was only hired because they thought she was someone else but they still want her to work there for an entire year. now she lives in a small town and is tasked with both revitalizing the citizens and drawing tourists in, along with the help of four friends. it may not sound funny and heartwarming but it really is. it’s a good story about connecting and reconnecting and also the head of the tourism board wears a chupacabra mask sometimes

the main characters, and why I love them:

koharu yoshino, queen of manoyama. her struggle in the job market is unfortunately relatable to many people today and I love that she wishes she could have a job as a queen. she’s great and she really comes to love the town despite everything

shiori shinomiya, a very sweet manoyama native. she’s almost too nice but it makes it all the funnier when she gets intense

maki midorikawa, an aspiring actor who is famous among manoyama citizens for a small role she played in the past. she’s serious about acting but her family wishes she would get a more stable job. she can be kind of rude but she does love her friends and her town

sanae kouzuki, a web developer who moved to manoyama to escape the intensity of city life and the negative effects it had on her mental health. the problem is she hates rural life and is afraid of bugs but is too proud to admit it on her blog. the only true city girl among the five

ririko oribe, my favorite of the five. she’s shy but loves cryptids and the occult. it’s very easy to read her as autistic and the other characters affirm her interests and behavior. her love of cryptids even helps the town out when Spanish tourists come in search of a local legend. her relationship with her grandma is really good as well, with the two coming to understand and love each other over the course of the show

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haifengg · 4 years

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The Dutch Room - Chapter 5

Find all chapters here!

The people working at Panoma were as different as they could possibly be. There were only a few things they all had in common and one of these things was the love for Barbara. Pretty much every Panoma employee was coming here at least twice a week and it wasn’t just because the place was run by their close friend Taeil but also because Taeil was offering the two most appealing things humankind knew about: Booze and Girls.

Even though the ladder only appeared to about 95% of Panama's personnel, at least one half of the 5% was a regular at Barbara herself and June was in no way inferior to her male colleagues.

Perhaps she liked Barbara for other reasons than maybe Doyoung or Johnny but she liked it. The money they spend on girls, she invested in drinks. Every time she came here she remembered how important this was to her. Just like now.

Taeil was part of the Panoma team from the very beginning. In fact he had already been there when June joined the company so wasn’t really able to tell how he got there or what he was doing before he became a male madam. All she knew was that the lady who used to run the place was the actual Barbara but she never got to meet her just once.

That in mind June sometimes wondered what the place had looked like before it was passed on to her friend. The premises were located on the first floor above a copy shop a few blocks from their office. Which made it reachable and a place to go for a drink after work. Or for something else to do after work.

Taeil once told her that he refurbished the whole space except the bar. According to him it was hard to arrange the counter, drinks and shelves in an actually effective way and when he first started working here it was the first thing catching his attention: How easy it was to operate behind the counter and how everything was at the most ideal place possible. So he decided to keep it this way and it remains the same until today.

“I heard you helped out the big boss.” June stated, sitting on one of the high stools, stirring in her drink.

Taeil just showed up again after picking something off the floor. “Pardon me?”

She chuckled. “I said: I heard you helped out Jaehyun with something?”

He grinned. “Please, you don’t need to act as if you don’t know. I’m aware he’s telling you everything.”

June shrugged. “Not everything.”

“You know, even though Doyoung is officially his boy for everything and Johnny’s acting as his right hand, you’re the one he tells things.”

“Speaking of which-” June turned around as she spotted Doyoung from the corner of her eye. “There is our boy for everything!”

She grinned at him widely, watching him approaching with a woman closely following him.

“How’s it going pal?” June asked and thrived on the annoyed look he responded with.

Doyoung might not like being teased but if he would be serious about that he surely wouldn’t make it so damn easy for her.

“You do remember you have work tomorrow? That means getting out of bed on time.” She reminded him, her voice raised, as they walked past her.

Doyoung didn’t stop as he answered “You just go fuck yourself.” and disappeared with his usual hostess to the usual room.

June scoffed and mumbled into her glass “I would still be doing a better job than any guy I had lately.”

Taeil laughed. The Panoma people not just became friends to him, after years of being loyal customers, but some of them turned this place into his home away from home. And June was one of the people he got so close with he would consider her a sister.

“To answer your question: Yes I did.”

She looked up. “Did what?”

Taeil sighed and leaned forward. “I helped out Jaeyhun with this problem of yours.”

“So I was right. He didn’t tell me anything but I had a feeling.”

“Someone had to. Your boyfriend left quite a void we had to fill. That was some hell of a talk we had the other day and I’m glad we came up with something.”

June’s lively vibes died the second Taeil not only mentioned Lucas but also called him her boyfriend. She hated it when people knew better and still don’t care.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. How many times do I have to tell you? I thought you would especially get it.”

“Why?” Taeil scoffed and handed a drink to one of his employees. The woman had just walked up to the bar and left with the drinks in her hand, without wasting a thought about the two of them or what they were talking about. “Because I own and run a hostess bar I would know about you don’t catch feelings for anyone?”

“Yes?”

“Honey, exactly because I do what I do and see what I see I know how it looks like.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “And that makes you an expert about what I feel?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that I saw how you were letting yourself go just a little bit. People who didn’t know you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“But you do know me, huh?”

He smiled. “I imagine I know you quite well. I learned a lot about you the past few years and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Well”, June said and chugged the last bit of her drink: “I’m sorry to tell you you’re mistaken if you think i could actually have cared about Lucas.”

She got up and grabbed her purse. “The only thing I cared about by that time was how the hell we were going to fix the catastrophe he caused and how we would be able to pull off everything we’ve worked for. To think a man - no - a fling was more important to me than the actual cause is foolish of you and you should know better. Good night.”

***

He dearly enjoyed her presence.

In this place of dozens of women it seemed to him as if she was the only sane one.

Compared to some of her coworkers she wasn’t actually pretty in a way which only meant she wasn’t hitting every single beauty standard society had come up with.

But she was ticking all the correct boxes for him. Her face was symmetrical but it looked like someone started to draw a portrait with a lot of motivation but lost track halfway through the process. And she knew that.

But instead of trying to cover it up or undergo plastic surgery she wore it with pride. Anong was never wearing heavy make-up and at some point Doyoung wasn’t sure if she even knew how to put it on.

In any case: He prefered her this way. Natural and approachable.

He was seeing her for almost 2 years every time he visited Barbara and he enjoyed her company up to this day. She made sure to always book the very same room beforehand when she knew he was visiting. Anong could sense how important consistency was to him.

“You know I’m discreet.” She said carefully and sat up. Anong never bothered to cover up her chest with the sheets or anything. Doyoung had once asked her about it and by that time she just laughed it off, replying that he had seen it anyway so why bother? Doyoung nodded at her question, calmly smiling and responded: “I know. That’s why I like you.”

“And you also know I am not into gossip. At all.”

He nodded again. “I know.” By now he could sense something was weighing heavy on her shoulders and he was impressed how well she hid the entire time they spent together this evening.

Anong rubbed her arm and avoided his eyes for a sheer second before taking the courage to ask:

“I am not asking this for myself but” She looked up meeting his gaze. “why has Lucas not been around for a while?”

Doyoung pushed parts of the sheets aside to sit up a little bit more straight. “What do you mean exactly?”

She tugged her hair behind her ears with both hands and took a deep breath.

"I'm asking this for two of the other girls. They are worried.”

“Honestly” He put up his hands. “I don’t know anything about his habits and who he is seeing.”

Anong sighed. She could sense how his mood changed, even though his face didn’t and immediately regretted having brought it up. But she had no choice.

“That’s not what I mean. You know some of us have children who they have to provide for. Those girls, the ones he was seeing, they’re struggling. So bad. And I need to tell them something. They know I am seeing you regularly so they keep asking me. They are my friends, please.”

The bagging tone rang out and made Doyoung get up and reach for his clothes.

“I can’t tell you anything about work.” He said terse as he pulled up his pants.

“I know but -"

“I can’t tell you anything about work.” He repeated with more emphasis and turned around. “If I were them I wouldn’t wait for him, there are plenty of other men out there.”

Anong looked him directly in the eye and understood what he was saying to her even if he didn’t exactly put it into words. She also knew that he wasn’t mad at her in any way. He understood she had to ask and she understood that he couldn’t talk about it. His job was at stake. Maybe more.

She watched him putting on his remaining clothes and eventually got up on her knees to check his tie. The rooms at Barbara didn’t have any mirrors for some weird reason so this became their little ritual because he hated looking sloppy.

As he walked up to the door she carefully asked: “You got nothing to do with it, right?”

Doyoung turned around, one hand on the door nod. “You know what I do for a living.” Then he paused, taking in the picture of the naked woman sitting on the disarranged sheets. This flawed woman that eventually got under his skin without him planning on it.

“You’re not one of the ones with children, right?”

Anong smiled softly. “You know what I do for a living.”

Navigation

#nct127 #nct127 scenarios #nct127 scenario #nct127 imagines #nct127 imagine

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kerenitychan · 5 years

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this is stupid lol but like , i've been drawing everybody wearing the friendship bracelets so i feel like i owe y'all an explanation as to why the *fuck* squid would be wearing/have made one in the first place. i'm still working of a picture of the gang actually making them but yeah. basically the friendship bracelets act as a "you see this squid? , this is a symbol of you're stuck with us and we have your own permission to kick your butt if you act like a jerk" they don't wear them a lot cus, ya know all them bracelets can be kinda uncomfortable and annoying but they do wear em every now and then especially when they've planned an outing cus friendshippp

" BECAUSE I LIKE YOU! " Squidward heaved , trying to catch the breath he lost in his tantrum as he defeatedly locked eyes with the man before him . Spongebob scoffed. He wasn't even sure anymore when the fight started or what it was about but it sounded like his teal haired opponent was reduced to his last trump card, again. The one he knew would usually defeat the sponge, but not this time. He was so tired of this. " Yeah yeah I know, *hmpf* 'you don't really hate me' even if you regularly remind me. And maybe somewhere deep down you can stand me. I get it Squid you have that revelation twice a year, it's getting old. " He sighed crossing his arms as he tore away his gaze to look at the floor in disappointment whilst the other blinked before reaching out, more in an attempt to materialize answers from thin air then anything else, as he started again, still panicked and frustrated. " H- no! It's not....Agh! Look I don't! UGH why do you have to make this so DIFFICULT! " " I'M making this difficult!? This ...this-this SHERADE has been going on for 10 years squidward! " Cerulean eyes pierced trough carmine ones with a look of rage, confusion, and frustration as the man threw up his freckled arms in desperation before they slunk back to his sides with a huff of defeat. To which the guilty scowl on the cephalopods face deepened. " Look I-ugh. I was TRYING to say that I like you. Not just that I don't hate you, which I also don't... do? Too many negatives. ANYWAY...I...I uhm....I don't like admitting defeat I- I uh, I guess... ehm an- and I have a hard time accepting things sometimes ... and I guess- I guess I just bottle things up until I explode... " He grimaced and looked around, vaguely gesturing . " Which is why we're discussing this stuff at 3 AM in the pattyvault instead of at home like normal people, ...I guess. " Sponge blinked a bit snapping out of it...oh yeah, right, squid was sneaking out and eating patties behind everyone's backs instead of ordering one every now and then like a ding dang normal person because for SOME INSANE REASON he seems to insist people will ... will... NEPTUNE KNOWS WHAT HE THINKS PEOPLE WILL DO WHEN THEY FIND OUT HE LIKES PATTIES! HE'S JUST BEING SO- SO ARGHHHG! That last grunt escaped it's mental confides and rolled out between the gap of his buckteeth. " I just. I don't get it Squidward you ALWAYS do this. With everything!!! With anything you KNOW is fun!!! With everyone you know you actually like!!! with.... With me... Forget it, I'm just gonna... go count the sesame seeds, I suppose. Just... Don't fill up on patties until you explode again. " He turned around shaking his head with a sigh to head to his destination, but was brought to a halt by a suction cupped hand wrapping around his wrist " Spongebob wait!" A sigh. A grimace. A deep breath. " I. Am. Sssorry. There, I said it, I'm sorry! I don't want whatever this is to keep going either! I just.... I am.... I am afraid of change, I guess? You always say things will be fine but what if they're not??? I'm not lucky like you Sponge! Destiny always seems to want good things for you but my karma is ATROCIOUS. KELP! I could land in a hospital just for thinking about my karma! " " Well then that's even more reason to try!!! Your "karma" wont get better if you don't! " " Ugggghhh I, You- This- GAH! Can we talk about this some other time!? All I'm gonna get out at this rate is more nonsensical rambling I'm gonna regret saying because: It's LATE, I'm EXHAUSTED and I STILL haven't had a darn krabby patty! " " Then just eat the darn thing and get on with it because I'm not letting you chicken out again! " " Can you at least close the door for a minute and give me some privacy! " " YOU ARE GOING TO EAT A 🐬ING BURGER,WHAT PRIVACY!? " Oh... wow... a... that was... that was a swear. ....Spongebob just swore. ......uh-oh. Squid's really gotten himself thrown in the deep end now. He gulped nervously before submissively nodding and taking a bite of his burger... oh sweet mother of pearl it was good! Neptune! Why does he always deprive himself of things he wants so bad? Oh, right. Because he always has to make a big show of telling everyone that he actually hates the things he likes and he would DIE of mortification if he ended up having to admit defeat like a.... like a loser. With a light shake of his head he brushes off the thoughts and focuses on savoring the taste of his burger... 1 because he really needed one and wants to enjoy it. And 2 because ...ehm... he's a tad scared for what awaits him when he's finished. Spongebob was rarely enraged to the point of screaming,.. to the point of swearing and when he was he was a force to be reckoned with, Squidward knew that much. He peeked over in between bites to see his colleague standing there, arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot, he was scowling so hard his buckteeth were hidden behind a pout and his eyes were squinted to half their normal size. " How is it? " It was near impossible to gauge what kind of reaction the blonde wanted by his intonation, he was curt, near emotionless, ... Sarcastic? Squidward gulped down what he was chewing and smiled sheepishly. " Just as good as I remember...heh. " " Hmmhmm. I bet. " Oh boy. With another awkward chuckle squid finished his burger before taking a deep breath. " Had your fill? " " Heh, eh y-yeah. I kinda want more but I don't want a repeat of the last time. " " 3 times. " " H-huh? " " you loaded up on patties until you had to be hospitalized THREE TIMES. " The freckled man's gaze got the octopus who normally towered over him shrinking in shame before him. Just a little short of going into a fetal position.

" Why do you do this Squidward? What on earth does karma have to do with you being a stubborn seamule about things until they go horribly wrong!? You could just order a damn patty every now and then, EVERYBODY loves krabby patties, no one would blame you! But no mr. Tentacles is too good for a krabby patty, mr. Tentacles would rather be miserable until the kettle boils over and he loses control! " That got a huff out of the other who gathered some courage to stand up straight and glare back. " That mocking mr. Tentacles talk is exactly why! Because I am trying to uphold an image here, and the moment I don't live up to it I know damn well that everybody here will jump on the opportunity to remind me that I'm just a poser! That I'm not actually the hot shit I pretend I am! That I'm lucky they even tolerate me breathing the same water! That I should feel honored anyone is willing to admit they're acquainted with me! That I don't actually have any talent! That I'm....that I'm just.... That I'm a nobody! A filthy peasant! A wannabe show-off! That I'm a-a ... a... That I'm a LOSER. " Squidward clenched his fists, sniffling trough heavy breaths, he's not sure when it happened but he started crying. Oh Neptune this is humiliating. He feels kinda dizzy, oh please don't ink! This is bad enough as it is! As he looked up defeatedly his eyes met blue ones, glittering from the moisture collecting in them as a scowl made way for a worried frown. Great, somehow sympathy felt worse then rage. " Squidward... " " No, please just... don't. That's what I meant with 'I'm just going to ramble'. Pretend I didn't say anything. I gah- " He yelped as he suddenly found himself in a tight embrace. Of course. He grunted uncomfortably and squirmed a bit trying to break free from the surprisingly strong hold his normally rather weak companion had. " Sponge I'm serious let's just pretend tha- " " Nu-uh! We, we're done pretending anything! Squid please! Talk to me about these things! " Two watery blue eyes look up at him, accompanied by a deep frown and trembling lip that only deepen the pained feeling in the octopus's chest. " Please. I'm here for you Squidward. " Gahhhh why does he always! Why is this always so! And he just! And, oh blowfish. He's crying again. " That's the damn problem here ! You have Patrick and Sandy and your parents and whatever stupid friends you made in your clubs to fall back on if you mess up! I..... " He sighs and against his better judgements, feels himself lamely hugging back, tiredly resting his chin in fluffy bottle blonde hair as he looks up at nothing. " I can't go to mother, she's not getting any younger and she's worried about me enough as it is, I can't stress her out more.... Father would just tell me to stop being a baby and man up... he'd mean it well but that doesn't mean it's any help. And "friends" I have acquaintances I guess, people I know by name that are willing to say hello to me.... I used to think Eugene was my friend but he's chosen being a boss over being a companion time and time again so... I only really have only one friend... and he's used to me not treating him as one. So what if.... what if I did make an effort? And he starts expecting things from me, but I start chickening out or relapsing or decide I can't do it after all and he finally gives up on me!? I wouldn't blame him... I would have given up on me years ago... but I'm not sure what I'd do when I end up being completely on my own in this ..." Oh jeez... now Sponge feels bad. Obviously Squid has been struggling with this for a long time, he could tell he'd been struggling with his own happiness ever since he met him really... he pouts and gives his tall friend a comforting squeeze. " Well... have you tried talking to him about it? " A lame chuckle was the response before he was slightly pushed back so the teal haired man could look at him with an awkward lopsided smile and a shrug. " I'm trying to right now. Heh. " A blink. 'Trying to right now'? Another blink. 'Only one friend that's used to not being treated as one' ? The gears in his spongey head were turning. 'I would have given up on me years ago'? With one more blink the short man started looking around wide eyed before carefully pointing at himself with a trembling hand. " Muh... me? " " No I'm talking about the krabby patty. yes you! Ever since you moved in next door... well before that really, ever since your little weirdo butt started "growing his first house" next-door you've been pestering me day and night! With your incessant laughter and unconstrained joy and endless creativity and unmatched imagination and- and... and I just... I just... I kinda wish I could have been a part of it... without having to be the mature adult that's too good for your childish games I guess? " Squid shrugged sadly before his friend released his grip on the hug, to instead take hold of his hands and make determined eye-contact. " You still can be part of it squidward... it's not too late, I told you didn't I? You're one of my best friends, I'll always have your back. You don't have to act a certain way or do specific stuff to be a mature adult you know? I've seen you Happy and exited before.... not as often as I'd like. But that's when you feel most you when you're in a good mood and forget about who you 'should be ' for a moment.... I want to help you feel like that more often. " A soft sad chuckle left the octopus who shook his head and rubbed his teary eyes with his free hand. " You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. " " I think I've got a pretty good idea. " He chuckled back with a playful look. " Wait hold up I have an idea! " " Huh? What are you doing? " Squid blinked watching his...friend. Yeah, his friend. As he fumbled with something on his wrist before tugging at squid's arm. " Now, I want this one back because Patrick made it for me but that's gonna be our first friendship exercise! " He beamed a shiny bucktooth grin revealing the colorful macrame bracelet he transferred to the other's wrist. " Tomorrow you me and Pat are gonna get together and we're making this friendship official with a 3 people set! Oh maybe we could finally convince sandy to join, she never wants to do crafts with us. She always says it's boring and starts karate chopping everything." " Wait- hold up, what? Friendship exercise? Official? Crafts? Karate chopping? " " Well yeah! I told you mister! No more pretending anything, we're gonna go out there as friends and you can be tsundere about it all you want but that's final " " I can be what about it???? Wait no never-mind that! Look don't you think you're going a bit fast here???? Do we have to do this, like... now??? And so... publicly???? " " Yesss we dooooooo~ " The blonde singsonged as he playfully flicked the other's nose " No more snail-footing around squidward! You're miserable and as your friend it is my duty to help fix that! So starting tomorrow we're doing this friend thing and you're gonna try or so help me I WILL get the ticklebelt! Nyahahahaha! " A sigh turned into a chuckle as Squid shook his head before he erupted in laughter along with his freckled friend... oh boy. What has he gotten himself into now??? " Hawhawhaw! " " Nyahahahaha! " " Hawhawhaw! " " Nyahaha. But seriously, I will. I know where they keep the spare key to the mermalair. " " Huh? "

#my...Stuff i guesss #not really art #just drabble #i wrote this for myself at some point but it's become so engrained in my personal canon that i can't not share lol #squidbob?#but like #early platonic friendship squidbob #sponge is tired of yo shit squid #squid is just tired in general #this is gon be good for him #he wont like it at first tho #i just copy pasted this from da idk if the format is fucked lol

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thesnowinthemountains · 4 years

Text

NCT 127 helping you study

(a/n: i did my best but i apologize in advance if there are inaccuracies in certain fields of study, i also acknowledge that the lengths of these are hella inconsistent. oops.)

Taeil

He thought it would be a good idea to have music playing in the background while you tried to study. Tried. You kept getting distracted by a particularly good lyric or interesting instrumental arrangement until you were eventually about to crawl out of your skin. He was sitting across from you at the dinner table, your papers scattered everywhere, scrolling through his phone.

“Taeil, turn that off please.” You said it softly.

“No.”

You look up at him now.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Yes. Turn that off,” you laugh it off, but you’re the slightest bit annoyed. This is one of the biggest exams you’ll have this semester, and if you don’t straight up ace it, you’ll be struggling for the next few weeks. He shakes his head.

“Taeil-”

“I read somewhere that if you can associate sounds or music to words, it helps to memorize them. I’m trying to help.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Well, maybe try it again later, for now I don’t even have my definitions down.”

He finally looks at you.

“Fine.” The music stops and you fall back into a peaceful silence.

Johnny

“Alright, who painted ‘Composition with Red, Blue and Yellow’?”

“Mondrian. Come on, at least give me something difficult, I’m trying to pass this final,” you whine, head hanging over the side of your bed. Johnny sits at your desk across the room.

“Okay, how about some added incentive?” Your study sheet falls from his face and you realize you haven’t actually looked at him in about a half hour.

“Yes?” You lean up onto your elbows.

“Every answer you get right now is a kiss you’ll get later.” He cocks his head. You don’t even have to think about it.

“Deal! Come on, next question.” You plop back down. A few minutes later, after a lightning round of names and dates, colours and details, you sit up to find him writing on your notes.

“What are you doing? Those are important.” You frown.

“I’m keeping a tally so I don’t forget one later. We are at...” He smirks without looking up and counts his marks on the page. “Seven, so far.”

“Ah,” you blush, “carry on, then.” You think to yourself there’s no way in hell you’ll ever be able to focus on that particular page of notes again.

Taeyong

You were supposed to memorize the entire periodic table and you were absolutely overwhelmed at the prospect. This was one of those moments you wished you had some superhuman photographic memory that would require minimal effort on your end. Taeyong had you study piece by piece over a long period of time. At first, you hadn’t even noticed he was doing it - he was being sneaky.

“Hey, what’s the first row of the periodic table?”

“That’s a weird question.”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know, I just had a weird flashback to science class in high school, it was up on a wall next to my desk. I think it starts with helium, right?”

“Hydrogen and helium, technically, yeah, but that’s not really how they’re grouped.” You explained.

“Oh? So how are they grouped?”

“Well, you’ve got your metals, halogens, stuff like that.”

“Huh. And what are they?”

That’s when you started to catch on. You cocked your head at him.

“Which ones? There are a few different types of metals.”

“Well, whichever.” He shrugged, still playing his part perfectly.

Yuta

It wasn’t an exam, per se, but you had to put together a final portfolio for an art class, one you hated. It was supposed to be basic drawing techniques, but the professor was all over the place; not all that surprising for an art professor, but still annoying to follow. You were sitting on your living room floor, papers strewn everywhere, barely knowing where to begin. You had a drawing of a flower that was nice and simple, you had gotten the shading right, you liked it enough. One was of a hallway; same deal, the technique was alright, you set it aside, but you had to pick a total of ten drawings. You had dozens, some of the same thing over and over again because you, or the professor, were never satisfied. When Yuta walked into the apartment and found you in that state, he started by sitting quietly beside you on the floor.

“What are we doing?” He murmured after a minute.

“Freaking out.”

“I see. Anything I can help with?”

You didn’t answer, but held up a decent-enough drawing of a hand.

“Do you think the details on this are okay?” You asked. He looked at you and then the drawing. He liked pretty much anything you did, but he knew you needed brutal honesty if you were ever going to be finished with this. He took a long, deep breath.

“So, the index finger on this one looks a little wonky, I think this one,” he reached for another drawing of a hand, “has better lines, better dimensions. All the fingers are good.”

“Oh, I hate the thumb on that one, though…”

He shrugged.

“This one?” He picked a drawing of a desk under a window. “The light looks really cool.”

Doyoung

For your final assignment, you were to make a long, detailed marketing proposal to your class. If it was picked up, you passed, if not, you had an opportunity for a do-over, and a private presentation to the professor alone. You didn’t want the second option, you had other things to do after passing this class that did not include a one-on-one meeting with your middle-aged professor some time after the end of classes. You had been reciting the whole thing to yourself for days, you had prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a ton of visuals to aid you, but you needed a second opinion. You had gone out with Doyoung a handful of times, you both figured it was a matter of time before things between you were made official, so you had him over, sat him down, and launched into your presentation. At the end, you took a breath, then asked:

“How was that?”

He gaped at you.

“Well, hot, we’ll start there.”

“No, Doyoung, I meant would you go for this idea if you were the CEO of something?”

“Honestly, yeah. You made some good points, you had valid, real reasons for what you wanted to do and how you wanted to market this thing. I think it works.” He shrugged.

“You’re a business major, you better not be bullshitting me.”

“You’re a marketing major, you could probably tell if I was.”

Jaehyun

You had given Jaehyun a key to your apartment months ago. He let himself in regularly, and a lot of the time, he was there when you got home from school or work. This time, though, he walked in to you sitting on your living room floor, laptop on the coffee table, facing the couch. There was paper all over the floor, some crumpled, some ripped, some simply abandoned. He had to tiptoe and side-step all the way to you. Your hair was a mess, which he would’ve found endearing if your eyes hadn’t been bloodshot.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly jumped out of skin, startled.

“Fuck, when did you get here?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Just now. You know you have a desk.” He nodded to the wooden furniture in the far corner of the room. You sighed.

“I couldn’t sit there anymore, I was going out of my mind.”

“Well, what are you doing?” He asked again, picking up notes on the couch to sit, facing you.

“My final portfolio for my fiction class is due tomorrow and I haven’t worked on anything in weeks.”

“You’re always writing.”

“Yeah, I’m always writing, but I had two of these stories workshopped months ago and I hadn’t looked at them since. God, they needed so much work, Jaehyun, I can’t believe I actually submitted that. Plus, I was missing a good ten pages for the portfolio, which I’ve written now, thank god, but I have so many drafted versions, I don’t know which one I want. I wrote seven different endings. I’m not even sure about my characters’ names. Or if I want them to be named, nothing’s coming out like I want it, I don’t know what I’m going to do-”

“Okay, slow down, slow down,” he moved to sit on the floor now, facing you at eye level. “How long have you been writing?”

You looked down at the time on your laptop. You frowned, confused.

“That can’t be right.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“There’s no way-”

“Alright, go take a nap, I’ll order some food.”

Winwin

“I need you to play judge.” You told Sicheng.

“Judge?”

“Yeah, sit,” you placed him at the center of the couch, and looked around before handing him a spoon. “Tap that on the table if you need to interrupt me.”

He stared at the spoon.

“Isn’t that for weddings?”

“So, I’m basically defending a client accused of theft and-”

“Don’t I get, like, case notes or something?”

“So demanding.” You rolled your eyes but went for your notes. He looked them over for a few minutes before leaning back comfortably.

“Proceed.” He declared, voice loud and clear. You smiled before launching into everything you prepared for your final. He did a fine job of rebutting if possible and interrupting when necessary, though you had to stop him from objecting! about anything he disagreed with.

Jungwoo

As an education major in your first year, your big final assignment was to prepare an elementary-level language class to teach your fellow university-level education major peers. To prepare, you had Jungwoo come over and told him he’d be playing the role of a seven year old, which pleased him.

“I’m a baby, you know that. This is perfect,” he grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

“Yes, now shut up, we’re learning vowels.” You said in your regular voice before switching to the over-enunciated, slightly higher-pitched voice of a first or second-grade teacher.

Mark

“How’s the essay going?” Mark asked, coming into your dorm room. He plopped down on your bed behind you.

“Well, so… get this,” you swiveled around in your chair to face him, leaving behind you a handful of novels, two different notebooks, and your phone open to pictures of your friends’ notes. “I’m supposed to write a compare-and-contrast essay about James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, of all people.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Mark, have you ever read Beckett? It’s like an acid trip in slow motion. You finish it, you have straight up no clue what you just read, but now you have to write about it.”

He frowns.

“And that other guy?”

“Joyce? He’s okay, I’m just glad writing about Ulysses isn’t a requirement. There are just certain things I’m not willing to put myself through.”

“Well, mind if I keep you company?” He leans back on your bed.

“Go ahead, just try not to distract me too much, I want to get this done today.”

“You won’t even know I’m here.” He puts his headphones in and lies back against your pillow.

Haechan

This boy had arranged a whole game night just for you. He had friends over, set up a whole tournament bracket in which he was, of course, your partner, and he made sure even if you didn’t end up winning, you would end up learning, memorizing, and having fun getting ready for your most dreaded final. Food was ordered, drinks were made, and finally everyone involved in this evening was sat around the dinner table, in a heated trivia competition.

Some days later when your exam came around and you saw the first questions, your mind flashed back to Haechan shouting the answer at the top of his lungs and standing up so fast his chair fell backwards. It had been a ridiculous, slightly stupid idea, but damn if it hadn’t worked like a charm.

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