#hoping to flesh out the design more once I figure out how to properly do it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jades-typurriter · 18 days

Text

Cache Clearing

A piece I did in a bit of a frenzy after working with (you guessed it) Bowsiosaurus on the design for a new OC: meet Posie!! The thought process here was literally, like, no sooner than we decided on "make a Renamon" i was like "hey what if she ate a bunch of data", so, I hope you enjoy it as much as she seemed to =^w^=

CW: Weight gain, tummy/breast expansion, stern office woman is so full from Information yum

A tall, stately fox moved down the drab, linoleum-and-drop-tile maintenance corridor with the same grace, the same level and unerring gait, that one of her four-legged, flesh-and-bone counterparts might display while stalking prey through the underbrush. Though her feet ended in points, modeled as a smooth taper from her knee to a single vertex apiece, the clack of high heels echoed down the empty hallway with each step. Her purpose was singular, and her focus undivided.

She was a Renamon who had adapted to a digital landscape that was as predictable as it was unforgiving; while her predecessors were more suited to the wild west of the adolescent internet, all the precision and discipline that they dedicated to roughhousing instead allowed her to operate within the razor-thin margins of error of the corporate world. She kept things running, and that was exactly what she made her way to the server room to do now.

She waved a paw over the electronic lock on the door, an uncannily smooth, mechanical motion, made with the other paw primly held behind her ramrod-straight back. It was a far cry from the jerky, stiff displays one might expect from a physical construct, though the knob turned under her touch as though she was solid as steel. As it swung closed behind her, she approached the subject of her attention for her next task: server rack B-0, a cabinet of solid-state drives stacked even higher than she was, each loaded to the brim with trade secrets, proprietary information, logs of confidential exchanges, schematics, financial records. All of it was outdated. She had been sent by the management to ensure that it was properly deleted.

Her lip curled into a sneer at the thought. Data disposal was so… undignified. It was beneath a woman of her stature. She had thoroughly demonstrated her particular capabilities: the multitasking necessary direct intra-system traffic in real time, reducing latency; her knack for optimizing data for the most efficient storage; she had even taken the initiative to create financial projections from the figures under her care. And still they expected her to perform a task so crude that any program picked up on a shovelware site could handle it without complication! She huffed, her eyes narrowed into her typical glare, as though she wished she could melt the damned server with the infrared beams she would otherwise use to communicate with it.

Nonetheless, there was no use putting it off any longer. The 2.6 seconds she had spent ruminating could have been better spent elsewhere, and she would be remiss to waste even more time. She was the Renamon assigned to maintaining the integrity of the company’s data center, and she would not shirk that duty, no matter how uncouth it was. She unlatched the wire-mesh cabinet door, reached into the rack, and removed the first drive in the array with a soft k-chk.

Closing her eyes and bracing herself with a deep breath, she brought the disk to her snout, opened her mouth, and moved as though to take a bite out of it. Her pointed, polygonal teeth passed harmlessly through the metal, phasing as she could through any of the other surfaces in the building (though she made a point of logging her activities by using her credentials at doors, like any other employee). The data on the two plates within, however, were far from unscathed—bits parted like the muscle fibers in a succulent cut of steak, zeroed out as she pulled the drive from between her lips, swallowing the information once contained within.

She let out an almost-gasp—Pahhh!—like she was trying not to gag. It wasn’t that the data were unpalatable. Far from it; she could, begrudgingly, understand why her wild cousins were so apt to chew through any unsecured files they could get their paws on. It was the task itself that was distasteful: this was only the first bite of the first drive in the entire rack! She resented that her superiors seemed to think of her as a bottomless recycle bin. Besides, work of this nature came up rather infrequently. Reacclimating herself to the sensation of eating was always a touch uncomfortable.

She powered through regardless, knowing the feeling would settle as she got further underway. She brought the drive back up to her face, taking another bite further into the plate, as though she was gnawing off segments of a particularly thick chocolate bar; with her other paw, she disengaged another drive from the rack. She nibbled off the last morsel of data from the first drive and brought the second immediately to her maw; it was… more efficient to do it that way. As fast as possible. The sooner she could get all these units formatted, the better, of course.

Replacing the first, now-empty drive, she replaced it in its slot and reached for a third as she chewed on the second. On and on she went, paws working in perfect unison to maintain an unbroken chain of drives to deplete; she might have compared herself to a juggler if her cheeks weren’t already burning from the indignity. Electrons slid down her tongue—her mouth was watering more than she cared to acknowledge—and down the back of her throat. Bite. Swallow. Bite. Swallow. Replace. Switch. Bite. Swallow. Bite.

Her pace only increased as she continued. Of course it would. A computer performs better after it’s had time to warm up, after all. And, of course, she simply wanted this to be done and over with as quickly as possible. It was a mercy that she didn’t need to pay any mind to her volume controls, as far away from any other personnel as the data center was. Not that she was paying attention anyway, fully-focused on completing her task as she was. Nobody—not even herself—would notice the muffled mmphs and nnffs she made as she pressed on.

All the data on the disks had to go somewhere, and it was at this point in the process that that tended to become apparent. Beneath the fur on her chest, meticulously brushed and fastidiously fluffed, her breasts became gradually more prominent. At first, the tuft was enough to mostly obscure them—after all, so what if she seemed slightly fluffier that day?—but was soon outpaced. Electrical charges by the millions, now unmoored from their tidy array inside the drives, now sloshed into her, taking up more and more of her own storage space. In short order, the fluff was scarcely enough to cover just her cleavage.

One third of the way through the server rack, now. Still, her pace only increased, one drive in each paw.

Her thighs were already rather prodigious. They were the majority of her curves, under normal circumstances, and she took some pride in the matronly figure that she cut as a result. Now, they pressed closer and closer together beneath the skirt of fur that she sported, the conical abstractions of her lower extremities widening bite by bite (and byte by byte). They pressed further and further outward, straining the “garment” itself, pushing the hem further and further up along her legs; the circular patterns on her hips, reminiscent of loading symbols, became distorted, stretched. She would have thought it was a crude change, not unlike resizing an image file with improper scaling—if she were capable of focusing on anything other than the gigabytes upon gigabytes she was so doggedly downloading.

Well over halfway now. She was shoving storage into her maw two at a time, with both paws. If she was able to hold more drives at a time, she would have; as a matter of fact, it didn’t stop her from trying.

The largest component of her directory—her midsection—naturally took the brunt of the new load. Slowly, the soft, icy-blue fur of her tummy billowed out, first simply swelling as her stomach filled, then folding onto itself, rolls smushing down on each other under their newfound, still-growing weight. Soon enough, she found herself pressed up against the lower racks of the server, though even in her focused state, she hadn’t realized that she had stepped closer. She hadn’t moved any closer, of course, but she needed to step further back regardless: she found that she was beginning to struggle to bend over, straining against herself to reach the lowest-mounted drives in the array.

Finally, heaving for breath, she extended her paw for another drive and found none remaining that needed to be cleared. She blinked and, once she was more aware of herself, pushed down a sense of disappointment. Instead, she straightened herself (allowing the new mass to settle to a stop after the motion), dusted her skirt, and conjured a good riddance air about herself as she closed the server door once again. She could still find pride in a job well done, even if she was loathe to do the job.

As she stepped out once again into the hallway, ensuring that the door was securely closed—not that there was a single trace remaining of anything sensitive that had been stored there—she folded her hands behind her back and surprised herself with a burp that was most definitely ladylike. One paw flew to her snout as it echoed down the hallway, both in shock and to hide the near-glow of her cheeks. She glanced in either direction: mercifully, still vacant. Her shoulders slumped in relief, one of the rare occasions on which she relaxed her posture. Thankfully, nobody but her would know that she’d had to do one of her dirtier jobs today. She set off back the way she had came, her footsteps now playing at maximum volume—not even a clack anymore as much as a clomp.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it =^w^= If you'd like to see more of my writing, have a look here and here!

24 notes · View notes

jewlsreigngallery · 13 days

Text

I was inspired by @inkprovised to share a time line post. I've been really hard on myself recently about trying to find a style when it comes the mario bros specifically, and reading their post just reminded me that I've already come really far into my journey.

The first drawing of Mario I had ever done is on the left and the most recent one (traditionally) is in the right. There is so much improvement with this and I'm honestly really proud of this! I have been drawing for a full year and am starting to see so much progress.

Luigi has always been easy for me to draw. Surprisingly, my most recent drawing traditionally of him was back in my fourth sketchbook. I didn't draw him in my fifth one oddly enough.

The first portrait I had ever done was of Jungkook of BTS. I really wanted to do realism and that was my first attempt at that. The girl on the right is my most recent portrait. You can see the improvements when it comes to the color and anatomy.

My first ever digital drawing is on the left. Like I said, Luigi has always been the easier of the bros to draw. But on the right is where I really improved with anatomy, lighting and color!

On the left is my first ever digital Mario drawing. On the right is my most recent completed one. His design has changed so much cause I'm so indecisive and he is difficult to draw!

So on the left is my first ever drawing of Branch and Poppy. On the right is my most recent. I'm starting to figure out here how to properly render. Seeing a video on YouTube really unlocked something in my brain that made me go "oh... that's how you do it!" and it has helped me ever since!

These are my OCs! I love creating OCs and can see improvement in each one! Now Nick, the OC on the left, this particular drawing is a redesign. Even then though, I see some mistakes. Jace, the OC on the right, has way better anatomy and I am so pleased with how I drew his clothes!

___

Honestly, seeing this has given me motivating to continue drawing. I have improved so much with rendering, anatomy, digital art and traditional art. My goal is still to one day make a realism portrait and I'm closer each day I practice!

I decided to post this time line because recently, I have been developing my own AU of the Mario Bros. I've posted about it once before but I'm developing it a bit further so it's more fleshed out. I would love to create a comic of my own AU but I've been so hard on myself for finding an art style I like when it comes to the Mario Bros.

It's cool seeing how far I've come and I have to remind myself that every so often so I don't get stuck in a constant loop of doubt, which could lead to me stopping art.

I hope this also encourages you all to continue your art and other passions and to not give up on them!

#my art #art time line #au #super mario bros #my ocs #dreamworks trolls #digital art #traditional art #fan art #response post

0 notes

angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

the crimson shell (II)

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 3.5k (drabble series) — warnings: mentions of death, mentions of drowning — notes: well, it wasn’t supposed to take four months to write the second part but here we are lol. still, mermaid jk works well for spoopy season too!! the next and likely last part of this drabble series will be inTEnse, so you better prepare yourself!

Part I / II / III / IIII

— summary: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

You wake up with a gasp, your chest burning as you begin coughing up the remaining saltwater in your lungs. You stare down through bleary eyes at the pearly white sand beneath your fingers as your whole body heaves, your limbs shaking with exhaustion. You let out a choked cry as something wet laps at your toes, sending you scrambling further up the beach to escape it. The fresh water on your skin brings back memories of the night before, of how helpless and trapped you had been underwater, and how the ocean had judged you as unworthy and left you to drown – to die.

You roll onto your back, squinting up at the blue skies as you attempt to catch your breath. There’s no sign of the storm that threw you overboard, no dark ominous clouds looming on the horizon. Only an endless blue, stretching on infinitely. You groan as you push yourself up, your muscles aching and protesting as you test them all out to make sure nothing’s too badly injured. Your arms are blooming into hues of blue and yellow from where the ship knocked you around during the storm, but for a person that was thrown off the side of a ship and almost drowned, you’re surprisingly .. fine.

Maybe you have a guardian angel out there. The thought makes you snort.

You twist around, letting your gaze sweep over your surroundings. Although you can’t say it for sure just yet, you’re fairly sure you’ve washed up on a deserted island. Judging by how vast and empty the ocean is, and how untouched the beach and the vegetation behind you looks, you don’t think there’s a high chance of running into anybody else here. But even if you aren’t alone, is that really any better? You have no guarantee that the inhabitants of the island won’t just kill you on sight.

Suppressing a shudder, you try your best to will your thoughts away from all the horrible scenarios running through your mind. You'll just have to be extra alert until you’ve made sure you’re actually alone here.

Something digs sharply into your thigh as you shift your weight. You let out a gasp as you scramble to push your hand into your pocket, your fingers closing around the shell you had tucked away before the storm started. It’s still intact. You look down at it with wide eyes as you pull it out of your trousers, the crimson hue still looking as pretty as ever as you run your fingertips over the ridges. You have no idea how it managed to stay in one piece, but then again, you’re not sure how you managed to do that either.

“We must be lucky,” You mutter. You gently tuck the shell back into your pocket, dusting off the sand that’s clinging to your clothes as you gingerly get yourself up on your feet. You bury your bare feet into the cool sand, thankful that the sun hasn’t managed to warm it up just yet. There’s no sign of your shoes on the shoreline, so you think you’ll just have to resign yourself to the fact that they’re a lost cause. They probably won’t do you much good here anyway. You furrow your brows as you see something sparkle a little further down the beach, your curiosity getting the best of you as you make your way over on shaking legs. You don’t know how long you’ll be here, so you might as well indulge your whims and keep yourself entertained.

Your eyes light up in amazement as you realize what the object is; the fine layer of sand not managing to cover the sparkle properly. It’s gold. And real gold too, judging by how heavy the coin is in your hand. It doesn’t look like it’s been here for very long, so maybe it washed up along side you? You don’t think any of the other travellers were rich enough to carry it, but it’s not like it would be wise to flaunt it around either if they did have some money.

You tug at the chain around your neck, lifting the pendant up from underneath your shirt. The village crest looks almost burnt in the low sunlight, the edges turning black from the prolonged exposure to the ocean. You frown at the simple design.

Your initials are pressed into the surface alongside the name of your town, and the outline of a fish. You’ve always had an inkling that the pendant was never made from gold, that your village head was overcharging you for something you had to have to live in your village. Turns out you were right. Seeing it side by side with the real deal leaves no doubt in your mind that he’s skimming off the top for himself. If you ever get out of here, you’re going to give the village head a piece of your mind. You swallow thickly, tucking the pendant back under your shirt.

Right. If you get out of here.

Frankly, the silence on the island is unnerving. You’re used to the hustle and bustle of a busy town, and the only sound you can make out here is the waves gently crashing against a nearby cluster of rocks. It’s too silent. You can already feel the panic festering in your stomach, the emotion only growing stronger the longer you stay still to dwell on your predicament. You clutch the coin in your hand, feeling the smooth circle dig into your flesh as you tighten your hold. You’ll get out of here. But first – you’ll have to figure out how to survive.

You throw one last look at the terribly open ocean, lips pressed into a firm line as you turn your back on what will with no doubt become a horribly familiar sight. It’s with newfound determination that you start walking towards the thick vegetation, the sand underneath your feet giving away to grass the closer you get to the tree-line. You don’t need to look back to know that the vastness of the ocean is mocking you, that it doesn’t think you'll ever survive as long as it’ll take for another ship to sail past. It’s fine, you think. You’ve always had a thing for proving others wrong.

The island is surprisingly big. Judging by how high the sun has risen in the sky, and how the trees and underbrush continue to stretch on for as far as you can see, you don’t think you’ll be able to reach the other side before nightfall rolls around. It’s hard to tell, but you think it’ll likely take you around two days worth of walking to get to the other side. You let out a tired sigh as you rest against a fallen log, your feet bright red from the continuous walking. The ground is unexpectedly soft despite the variety of plants and grass growing here, but that’s probably the least curious thing about the island. There are no animals to be found here. Not even birds. Had this island only been a stretch of sand in the ocean, you wouldn’t have questioned it, but the thing is, this island is thriving. Logically, it should be bursting with some sort of wildlife. So far you’ve walked past a plethora of bushes so heavy with berries that should be able to sustain a whole array of animals.

As if that wasn’t enough, you even managed to stumble upon a deep pool of water that appeared to be fresh. Considering the island is surrounded by the ocean, by salt, it shouldn’t be possible. But somehow, it is. And that’s not even the weirdest part. The island is littered with gems and gold. You gave up hours ago on collecting them when your pockets became too heavy. You shake your head. This whole place is just bizarre, you’ve never heard of anything like this before. Jimin’s words did tickle the back of your mind, but you quickly brushed them off. There’s no way that this is the island he found, not when you still had one more week left to sail.

You push off the log, hoping to retrace your steps back to some of the more familiar looking bushes. You don’t have the luxury of being afraid of poisonous plants, not when it’s the only thing that might sustain you while you’re stuck here. Your stomach is rumbling obnoxiously by the time you make it back to the berries, and it’s with all of your self-restraint that you manage to hold back from finishing a whole bush in one go. You need to be smart and ration it so that it can last for as long as possible. You plop the last berry into your mouth, savouring the sweet taste as you begin the trek back to the beach. Despite not running into an ounce of life beside yourself, you can’t help but be vary of the parts you have yet to explore. So for now, you decide that the beach will serve as a good place to set up camp.

By the time you make it back to the beach, the sun is barely hanging on to the horizon. You squint against the fiery red, noticing a small lump resting on top of the flat rocks on the shoreline. A pang of joy travels through your body when you realize what it is you’re looking at. It’s a fish. It’s food. The fish is completely still, so the poor thing must’ve somehow jumped out of the ocean on its own. A voice in the back of your mind reminds you that the ocean is too calm, the waves to quiet, to throw the fish up on the rocks, but it’s quickly muffled by the sheer joy you feel of having something proper to eat. Who are you to question Lady Luck’s kindness after all?

You just count yourself lucky that you at least learned how to light a fire with minimal resources when you were younger. Once the fish is roasted and resting in your filled belly, it’s time to tuck in for the night.

You lay down as close to the fire as you dare, mindful to keep enough distance that any stray sparks won’t catch on your clothes. The island has grown chilly alongside the arrival of the moon, so you’re thankful for the extra warmth the fire provides. You empty out all the little treasures you collected into a neat pile, placing the crimson shell carefully on top of it. It’s strangely comforting to look at the flames dancing across the scalloped ridges, the gems and gold glittering in the low light. You keep watching until your eyes grow too heavy, exhaustion finally pulling you under into a deep sleep.

It’s been three days, and the fish keeps appearing on the rocks like clockwork. You’ve taken to exploring the thick vegetation during the day, but there’s always a new fish waiting for you when you return to the beach. You would call the whole thing weird, but you’ve come to understand that most things on this island are. So, you quickly stop questioning it. But you shouldn’t have. That was your first mistake.

You shove a branch out of your way with a little more force than necessary, huffing in annoyance as you trek on deeper into the greenery. You’ve started to lose hope that you’ll ever get saved. You’ve run through every possible scenario in your head hundreds of times, but the heavy feeling in your gut tells you that it would only be foolish to hope. You’re not even sure that anybody knows that you’re missing.

“There you are,” You grumble under your breath as you finally spot the pool of fresh water, the large pond surrounded by beautiful orange flowers. You sink down to your knees in front of the body of water, eagerly scooping up the cold liquid to quench the dryness in your throat. The water is clear enough that you can make out the smooth stone lining the pond, but not enough that you can gauge just how deep it really is. The bottom is too dark, almost pitch black, and it always sends a shiver down your spine when you stare into it for too long. You’re about to take another sip when you swear you see a flash of red zoom past, your hands freezing above the water's surface. What if there’s something lurking down there?

Your eyes search frantically around the pond for another glimpse, but there’s nothing. You shake yourself out of your thoughts, scoffing at your own stupidity. It’s likely just another gemstone reflecting the light back up from the depths of the pool, nothing more and nothing less. You ignore the weak tremble in your hands as you rise back to your feet, your steps a little more hurried than usual as you begin the trek back to your beach. You must be starting to lose your mind.

When you return to the beach, there’s no fish waiting for you. You shrug it off easily, chalking it up to your luck finally running out. It was probably just a strong current that dragged some unsuspecting fish close to the island, and had enough force to throw them up on the rocks. Probably. It sounds plausible enough. With the absence of the fish, you just thank your past self for already having eaten some berries on your walk back, so that you won’t have to go to sleep hungry.

As morning rolls around, there isn’t a fish that catches your attention, but rather something else. Resting on the rocks is a massive pearl, the sphere so large your thumb and middle finger barely manage to meet when wrapped around it. The colour is mesmerizing. You roll the pearl around in your hands, watching as the deep red colour shifts into lighter and darker hues as you move it around. Come to think of it, haven’t you seen this exact colour before? You sprint up the beach to your little pile of treasures, carefully holding up the shell next to the pearl. They’re identical.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you twist and turn them around. How can a shell you picked up in your village match a pearl found over a week’s travel away? That’s impossible. You gently place both of them down on the ground, nibbling on your bottom lip as you turn around to face the ocean. A ripple in the surface catches your attention, but it’s too far out for you to see what could’ve caused it. A fish, you decide. That’s the only thing it can be after all. You sink down into the sand, running your fingertips along the smooth surface. It’s a pretty pearl – and you decide you’re going to cherish it just as much as your shell.

That's your second mistake.

After you pick up the pearl, the fish miraculously return. In the following days there’s an abundance of fish greeting you on the rocks, some even showing up before you wake up. You can’t remember the last time you were so well fed. Not even your life back in the village kept you this sated every day. Maybe your fleeting luck has returned. Slowly, the days begin blending together as you keep exploring, picking up little treasures along the way and adding them to your ever-growing pile at the beach. It’s not much, but it’s keeping you sane.

You poke at the blazing bonfire in front of you, making sure that the fire is burning steadily before you venture down to the shoreline. Little gems keep washing up every now and again, so you’ve made it your nightly routine to go pick up those you can find. You halt as you reach the flat rocks nestled between the beach and the ocean, another ripple in the quiet surface a little further out making you curious.

Your third mistake.

You walk carefully over to the edge of the rock, peering down into the dark water. Dusk has started to settle in, but the last rays of light clinging on to the horizon are enough for you to notice something bright underwater. It looks like it’s leaning on a ledge in the rock, the item long and pale. You can’t really make out what it is – a long shell maybe? – but since you’ve already committed to picking up everything around the island, you might as well retrieve this too.

You get down on your knees, one hand curling around the edge of the rock for support as you lower your other arm into the cool water. You frown as fingers only graze over the top, not quite managing to reach it. Your arm is already drenched, so you figure it doesn’t matter if the rest of your blouse gets a little wet too. The fire will dry it quickly enough.

You lower your body further, your face nearly flush with the ocean as the last little push finally lets your hand finally close around the item. You smile, starting to pull yourself back up when something slimy wraps around your wrist, a harsh tug forcing your upper body down under water before you can even think to catch your breath.

Your eyes open in shock as the cold water suddenly surrounds you, and you swear you heart stops as the bubbles settle enough for you to see the creature in front of you. It has a human face, a handsome face, with long dark locks framing it, but the pupils in its eyes are unnaturally wide and blood red – and you can see your own terrified expression reflected back in them. Your eyes fly over the exposed skin of the creature’s torso and arms, your still heart dropping to your stomach as you notice that its skin starts transitioning into crimson scales around its hips, and that there’s a fucking tail where its legs should be. The pressure around your wrist tightens, and you snap your attention back to the creature’s face just as it opens its jaw to let out a series of clicking noises. It barely parts its lips, but it's enough for you to see the rows of sharp pointed teeth lining the inside of its mouth, a forked tongue moving around as it speaks. It’s a man, but it’s also not– it’s .. it’s a monster.

Your heart finally jumpstarts as your lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen, adrenaline shooting through your veins as you begin trying to pull yourself back up to the surface. The creature’s face seems to grow confused at your sudden struggle, another series of clicking noises leaving its mouth. A webbed hand comes into your line of sight, clawed fingertips reaching out towards your face. You’re sure your face will be mauled if they come in contact with your skin, so with newfound vigour, you finally find the last push of strength you need to rip yourself away from the hold around your wrist.

At the first breath of air, you scramble away from the edge of the rock, your trembling legs stumbling and folding underneath you as you race up the beach. You collapse against the sand besides your bonfire, barely hearing your own ragged breathing over the blood pumping in your ears. Your whole body freezes up in panic as you watch the creature’s head pop up over the edge of the rock, blood red eyes finding yours immediately. The low clicks that fill the air makes the back of your neck feel tight, your skin prickling in terror at how the noises seem like a warning. You don't dare move your eyes away until the creature sinks back down into the ocean, and out of view. You don’t know how long you stay there, warm tears streaming down your cheeks as you silently stare out at the calm water. You’ll never get away if that creature is out there.

It’s only when you’re sure that the creature is gone that you allow your attention to shift downwards, to the item still secured tightly in your grasp. You slowly open your hand to study it, eyes growing wide as you realize what it is.

A human jaw.

Choked sobs rip through your chest as you fling it into the bonfire, the smooth white surface even brighter in the midst of the flames. You furiously rub your hand on the fabric of your trousers, your stomach turning as the fire crackles louder around the bone. The gems, the fish, the bones, they wouldn’t have just ended up here alone. That creature must have brought it all here. It must have brought you here.

It dawns on you that you haven’t been lucky at all, no, instead you’ve only been surviving because the creature has wanted you to. Your fate is in the hands of a monster – one that seems furious that you ran away from it.

“Fuck,” you whimper pitifully, burrowing your head into your shaking hands. You have a feeling your time might be up.

a/n: hope you enjoyed the second part to the crimson shell! i would really appreciate a comment/reblog if you did! the next chapter will be the most spicy? disturbing? whatever you want to call it hhh. (ps. i’m not doing a tag list for this mini series!) as always, see you all soon and stay safe! and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#mermaid bts #mermaid au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #mermaid jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #yandere au #yandere x reader #yandere mermaid #bts au #bts fanfic

1K notes · View notes

ahkaraii · 4 years

Photo

DBZ is notorious for handwaving away injuries for plot convenience, be it by senzu bean or by sheer saiyan machismo. I enjoy that for the sake of fluidity of action, but here I wanted to ignore that and actually spend some time with Future!Gohan and the aftermath of the loss of his arm.

Plus, I love Future!Bulma’s design and I wanted to flesh out her dynamic with Gohan and Trunks.

Future!Bulma seems like a mom constantly worried about her kid but finds herself unable to fully ground him -- she understands the dystopian, dangerous world they live in is one only someone with Saiyan strength can help defend, so she’s not like Chichi who, out of genuine love for her son and fear for his life, would prohibit him from fighting; but Bulma is no idiot, either. She knows Trunks as he is can’t hold a candle to the androids, so she’s somewhat no-nonsense about it -- you need to train with Gohan, you can’t go out until you’re strong enough, how can you defend everyone if you die because of your bullheaded pride? She’s already seen all the stronger fighters die -- only Gohan is left, and he’s never once won a fight against them. She knows Trunks and Gohan can do it, but they have to be SMART about it. Strategic. And until then, they might die if they confront the androids head on, so she advises against it.

Still, despite all this going on she seems relatively cheerful. Optimistic, even. It made me think Bulma’s been working on her time machine for a loooooong time, long enough that it was this hope that kept her smiling and joking despite the constant grave danger. Once I established that in my mind, it became obvious she must’ve paired up with Gohan to both search for materials to build her time machine and to properly hash out the math behind it, the science behind it, because Future!Gohan might be an elementary school dropout due to sheer circumstance, but he’s still an academic genius.

(I just really love the idea of Future!Bulma and Gohan teaming up to secretly build the time machine, okay? Sob!)

So that got me thinking, as a teen to adult Gohan probably spent more time with Bulma (and kid Trunks) than he did with his own mom, and I wondered -- was their dynamic one of mother and child, then? Or just colleagues on a mission to save the Earth? Gohan acts as both an elder brother figure AND a father figure to Future!Trunks, so it’s fun to contemplate. I like to think Bulma and Gohan kept each other’s spirits and hopes up through their shared dream of building that time machine...

#karaii art #dragon ball #future timeline is so messed up but i love it #the nonstop angst backdrop with three people trying desperately to be a family unit just does something to my kokoro

2K notes · View notes

ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her · 3 years

Text

Flesh, Part 1

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

Previous Excerpt

Next Excerpt

And now we come to what you’ve all been waiting for, the meat of this book {Editing Note: Boooo}. The gory details, such as they are, of how we acquire our flesh. It’s a topic that’s captured the public imagination for a long time - we’ve all heard plenty of lurid stories and speculation all our lives. I frankly wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve skipped straight to this chapter to finally hear it straight from the monster’s mouth. I’ll do my best to satisfy your curiosity. Understand, though - this topic is deadly serious, and more than almost any other subject I’ve covered, I’m aware of the danger inherent in revealing this. If the information I lay out here compromises these avenues of flesh, people will die for it. I will tell you as much as I can without risking that outcome.

{Editing Note: Everything after this needs strict review, and not just from me. Get as many eyes as possible on this before publishing.}

Nearly every ghoul has or will participate in the direct acquisition of flesh at some point. Finding food is an involved process, and not a particularly scaleable one. There are no factory farms for humans, nor should there be. Truly steady supplies of flesh are rare. Most of our methods involve gathering a small group of ghouls periodically, rather than just one or two of us working continuously. This, unfortunately, causes inconsistencies in supply more often than is comfortable. As such, we’ve had ample opportunity to figure out exactly how much flesh we need to survive.

For the average mature ghoul, 5 pounds of flesh per day is the ideal consumption rate. Very roughly, we should be eating one adult human body per month for peak health. Put that starkly, it’s a grim picture. Extrapolate from that, and that means each of us is eating 12 humans a year. Obviously, we don’t eat that much from the moment of birth. I remember starting to get hungry more often around age 15, and I can count on one hand the number of ghouls I’ve met over 50, so let’s call the 35 years between those two ages our lifespan. Over the course of our lives, we will each eat over 400 humans. When you look at it from that angle, one life against 400, it’s no wonder that you have, as a whole, decided that we need to die.

But that angle misses some important subtleties. For one, we can handle some remarkably flexible feeding patterns. We can subsist on much less than an ideal diet for a very long time without serious ill effects. For example, I follow a fairly common feeding pattern and only eat half-meals three weeks out of every four. The only ill effects I notice are increased exhaustion and soreness, usually beginning towards the end of the second week and gradually escalating until the fourth. We can also go for multiple days without eating before noticing any ill effects. Many ghouls have only one or two very large meals each week. I personally prefer to have smaller meals more consistently - it makes me feel more human - but it’s a pattern I’ve followed plenty of times when flesh is scarce.

The other main subtlety that the math I presented above misses is that, often, we do not have to kill for flesh. People die all the time from causes that have nothing to do with us, and rarely in ways that make their flesh inedible. We have hardy constitutions and strong stomachs - most diseases and toxic chemicals can be processed and rendered inert in our digestive tracts. There are nearly three million deaths every year in the U.S. alone, the vast majority of which have nothing to do with us. If we could utilize all of that flesh, we could comfortably feed 250,000 ghouls without harming a single person. Obviously that’s never going to happen, but I also doubt there are that many ghouls in the country, so… Suffice to say that there is, theoretically, more than enough ethically-sourced flesh to go around.

Utilizing that flesh, however, is a significant logistical challenge. People aren’t in the habit of donating their bodies for our dining pleasure, and people tend to take the security of their loved ones’ remains pretty seriously. Taking flesh by force, even when we’re not trying to part it from a living body, is difficult, dangerous, messy work, so we prefer to sidestep that wherever possible. This brings us nicely to the first of our three main strategies: farming.

Farming is, unfortunately, our least productive method, but it’s the one that I hope we’ll be able to rely on entirely, some nebulous day in the future. Farming is the practice of discreetly smuggling dead flesh, produced by natural causes, out of the facilities where it is held. This is the only method we use that is sustainable, in the sense that it requires one or two ghouls working constantly and delivering a steady supply, rather than the periodic group efforts I described earlier. This method is also unusual in that it depends on us being integrated in human society, integrated enough to have unsupervised access to dead flesh.

There are two primary sources that we farm. First, there are hospitals. Countless surgical procedures result in the separation of flesh from living humans. Sometimes this flesh is passed along for scientific analysis, but most of it ends up classified as medical waste sooner rather than later. As I’ve said, though, we can safely handle most of the factors that cause limbs to be amputated or organs to be removed. Once these have been marked for disposal, ghouls working at the hospital can usually hide away the flesh for later retrieval without anyone noticing its absence. Unfortunately, caution requires our farmers to take less than is truly salvageable, given how damning it is to be caught stealing flesh. They also avoid taking whole cadavers, which are much more closely observed while in the hospital, and are typically handed over to other people rather than fully disposed of. We also, as a general rule, are careful to avoid eating anything cancerous. Tumors are something of a taboo, only to be eaten in times of extreme famine. We are as vulnerable to cancer as humans are, and there is a strong fear that eating tumors may cause you to absorb some of the cancerous cells into your own body, where they will be free to grow again. I can’t speak to the truth of that, but it’s not a fate I’m interested in tempting.

Our other main farming source is funeral homes. Contrary to popular perception, and to government defence policies, we actually have very little interest in robbing graveyards. By the time bodies go in the ground, they’ve usually been rendered inedible by embalming practices. Given how robust our digestive tracts are, it’s my theory that embalming practices were, at some point in history, specifically designed to protect human bodies from us. Obviously not all bodies are properly embalmed, but there’s no way to tell that without digging one up, and digging up a grave is hard. It is far more beneficial for us to intercept the bodies before they get to that stage. Therefore, we find it very valuable to train as morticians. This allows us to take cuts of flesh before a body is embalmed. Over the years, we’ve figured out exactly how much flesh can be taken and from where without showing at an open casket funeral. For closed caskets, or for cremations, we can take nearly the entire body without detection.

{Editing Note: That’s going to be upsetting for anyone who’s ever buried a family member. I’m not sure how to address that gently. I don’t know how receptive most people would be to “it’s okay that we ate your grandma because it means we got to live long enough to eat other people’s grandmas”.}

Unfortunately, there are a limited number of jobs with access to farmable bodies, and as the number of ghouls in those positions increase, so does the chance of one of them being discovered. Some of you, I’m sure, have seen how paranoid everyone gets when one of us is outed among you. We can’t even come close to fully utilizing these outlets without risking a lot of us dying. My household is fortunate - three of our members are farmers, and we may be gaining a fourth, depending on what degree Scarlet actually settles on. But that supply of farmed flesh is not always enough to feed all of us, and it certainly isn’t enough for Yaga’s charity projects. So about once a month, we send out a group to engage in our second method - gathering.

As I said, there are a lot of deaths that have nothing to do with us. Gathering is our attempt to get ahold of some of those dead before other factors take care of them. Death is, unfortunately, unpredictable, so the best we can do is send people out at irregular intervals to scoop up what we can. A gathering party typically consists of at least half a dozen ghouls; the exact size depends on the amount of ground we want to cover, how many bodies we expect to be transporting, and how worried we are about getting into a violent confrontation. Ideally, no one gets hurt by our gathering parties, but no one is going to look too kindly on body snatching, and sometimes we just attract the wrong kind of attention. If we need an especially large group, or if we intend to cover a particularly large area, we might even reach out to other households for extra help in exchange for a share of our find.

A gathering run typically begins at night, in the poorer parts of the city. I’m sure gathering happens in rural areas, but I can’t speak to their methods. In the city, though, it’s the poor and the homeless and the addicts, the abandoned of human society that are most likely to die somewhere we can get to them. So we put on anonymizing clothing and start looking. Our most reliable leads come from homeless communities and drug sites. Sometimes it’s enough to just show up, make small talk, and look around for the dead or imminently dying. If it’s the latter, sometimes we just wait - keep them company while they wait for the end. Unfortunately for us, people don’t generally die all at once at predictable intervals; it’s not uncommon for us to find no bodies at all. Fortunately, there are some people who are desperate enough to sell us leads. Buying leads is a dangerous game - any person who knows us to be ghouls, even if we take pains to conceal our identities from them, is one more person who could bring the exterminators down on us - and the more effective the method of gathering leads is, the more dangerous it is. The safest thing is to find a stranger and offer them money for a lead, one time deal, and never contact them again. Regular contacts have more opportunities to expose us, whether for exterminator money, moral duty, or just by being careless, but if they know to expect us, they can amass leads, or sometimes even hold bodies for us to buy off them directly. I’ve heard that some households even have arrangements with organized crime to act as free, efficient body disposal.

Once we’ve thoroughly checked these areas, the next step is to check accident sites. Typically we’ll separate to stake out common suicide and accident sites. These aren’t particularly reliable either, but they turn up bodies often enough to be worth staking out once we’ve exhausted our more proactive options. Sometimes, on particularly slow gathering parties, we’ll break out a police scanner and listen for any incident reports likely to produce a body and see if we can get there before the cops. It’s a dangerous game, and often no more lucrative than our other approaches, but there is nothing more depressing or upsetting than coming back from gathering empty handed. Coming home empty handed means we need to take more drastic measures.

I’ve been on around a dozen gathering parties so far. Most of them went well enough, with minimal incident and moderate success. I’ve been on two where we had to chase police scanners. And I’ve been on one that came back empty-handed. That isn’t the only one my household has ever run that came back empty-handed, but it’s the one that stuck out most in my mind because it’s the one time I felt personally responsible for what happened next. When our regular gathering still doesn’t produce enough flesh, we have three options, none of them pleasant. We could all tighten our belts, ration our flesh carefully, and try to endure until we can make up our shortfall. There are a lot of factors that can make this approach unsafe, though. Starving isn’t any more pleasant for us than it is for humans, and it can make us less careful than is safe. Or sometimes someone is injured or sick and wouldn’t be able to handle stricter rationing. Our next option is to organize a gathering raid. There are plenty of hospitals and funeral homes that we can’t farm, for one reason or another, but sometimes we can steal from them. This is a high-risk endeavor, obviously. Anywhere that handles human remains is on the lookout for this kind of thing, and even if we get away clean, the raid will almost certainly make the news and bring exterminators sniffing around. That’s not even touching the fact that, just because we aren’t farming somewhere, that doesn’t mean someone else isn’t. The kind of scrutiny a raid draws can be a death sentence for any ghouls working at the raid target. So, most of the time, Yaga chooses to take our third option. She calls for a Hunt.

{Editing Note: I need to talk to Spatha before I write the rest of this. I need to convince her that I’ll just listen this time, and then I need to actually do that. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t want to reopen this wound between us. I don’t want to risk our friendship. Is this project really worth that? Do I seriously think it will make a difference?}

#my writing #memoirs of a flesh eater #original fiction #not tlt

28 notes · View notes

matchamorphosis · 3 years

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇𝓎 | after an anxiety episode, you and ari make cookies together.

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 | steamy angsty fluff!

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 | daddy!ari levinson × black//woc!reader

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.3K

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | 18+ ddlg! ♡ anxiety attack ♡ some sexual themes ♡ degradation ♡ dick jokes ♡ hints to smut but nothing else! ♡ this is all 100% concentrated fluff

𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈 | love language by ariana grande ♡ tuxedo junction by glenn miller ♡

𝓌. 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 | okay so i tried okay i tried to make it as fluffy as i can but i just couldn’t help to not lace my own school circumstances into this while writing :( i can’t believe I got this out in just a day but i hope y’all enjoy this cherubs!!! ♡ do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

♡ the sight of the tiny blue ‘submit’ button at the bottom of the screen increased the swirling thoughts as your eyes turned to the ticking clock at the bottom right of the computer screen.

♡ you don’t take a second to breathe but anxiously bite the flesh of your lower lip, this week long project was coming to a crashing deadline as it was due in just a minute from now.

♡ how have you gotten yourself in this distressful circumstance?

♡ well typical clumsy you blacked out in a power nap for the past hours when you thought you submitted the assignment while waiting for your friend to do the touch ups of her portion of the assignment worth one-third of your semester grade.

♡ waking up from the long nap felt like cloudy heaven, mind finally relaxed accompanied with the delicious looseness of your energized limbs as you stretched them.

♡ of course the rosy moment was quickly diminished when you reached for your phone at your side table, hoping to catch up on any recent news you missed out from your nap.

♡ and you had as you skimmed through each and every exhilarating and restless text from your friend who apparently got a message from both your professor that the assignment wasn’t turned in.

♡ your mind raced as you quickly opened your laptop, tracing through your emails you eye the message from your professor that was outlined in red.

♡ the simple sentence of: this assignment affects your semester grade, turn it in before the deadline.

♡ had your widening eyes taking the email in, your mind flashed through the memory when you strictly remembered that you clicked the submit button.

♡ you know you did, you fucking know it but here you are anxiously rushing to submit it again.

♡ but at this point it doesn’t matter because you are now seconds away from turning it in before the whole portion of the google classroom submission turns grey.

♡ gathering the link to the word document that held your assignment the beating in your chest was beginning to level once your hand dragged the mouse pad cursor to the little blue button.

♡ rechecking the links you don’t dare take an inhale until your painted cherry red index finger clicks down hard on the submit button, eyes widening and heart pounding when the little loading circle appears.

♡ “c’mon!” your hushed whisper stresses, your hands forming into tight fists that rest onto the warm plushness of your thighs your skirt didn’t cover.

♡ uneasy eyes flash to the clock onto your macbook and notice the white font against the black outline displaying 11:59, you let out a closed lip whine when the loading whirlpool doesn’t go away and the bold purple words of ‘submitted!’ don’t appear on your screen.

♡ however, with whatever saving grace and golden strand of luck that was fortunately bestowed on you, that easing message appeared seconds away from the striking hour of midnight.

♡ letting out a relieved sigh your head falls back as you closed and rubbed your eyes, your cold fingertips attempting to cool your racing head you move them away from your face when your phone tings.

♡ grabbing your phone that was thrown in your blitzing uneasiness minutes ago the sight of your friends name appears on your lockscreen, under it holds their message.

♡ please [y/n] tell me you turned it in.

♡ you unlock your phone and message them back, informing them that you have turned it in which you received the same relieved feedback that coursed through your mind a minute ago.

♡ closing off the conversation with a comment of speaking to them tomorrow you shut off your phone and closed your macbook, setting them both on their individual chargers before walking out of your room.

♡ you can hear the light jazz of glenn millers ‘tuxedo junction’ fuzz through the halls, the pinkness of your socks that cover your feet guide you to where the music gets stronger and stronger.

♡ ari’s office door is slightly cracked, the music bustling inside it flowing out into the hallway you step closer and peek your eye through the crack.

♡ there you see your lover, sitting at his polished desk, a cigarette in hand he puffs it as his spectacle eyes glance down at the papers that lie in front of him, an ink pen in his other grasp writes down what he needs to.

♡ glancing down you notice his feet tapping against the carpet to the suave rhythm of the jazz blasting on a small speaker at the corner near his numerous chestnut bookshelves and flourishing green potted plants.

♡ taking a deep inhale of the cigar the white smoke that slips through his lips looks like a soft cotton cloud, your heart jumps to an opportunity when his hand that holds his pen stops writing.

♡ his eyes skimming through his papers as his fingers adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose, setting down his burning thick cigar on the ashtray near him as well.

♡ fingers framing the sides of his bearded cheeks, your lover reads his written work with a careful eye, foot continuing to tap as the beat enters into its main rowdy trumpet chorus.

♡ pink tongue gliding against his rosy lips, his eyes shine and with that he takes the papers in both his hands and evens them out, grabbing the stapler that’s set near his neatly arranged pens he clicks the thick papers together.

♡ grabbing a navy blue folder he sets the papers in it and opens one of his desk drawers before setting his paperwork amongst his other files, shutting it closed his fingers grab his cigar that is still burning.

♡ taking it back between his lips your eyes don’t leave them, you never wanted to be that cigar so badly, your heart skips a beat when ari’s yes set against yours, a smirk peeking his tobacco smoked lips you let out a hushed ‘eep’ and back away from the door.

♡ you hear ari’s deep chuckle from in his office, causing your face to heat up and limbs to go stiff in embarrassment, peeking your face again through the doors crack your eyes set back on ari’s amused smirk and you gasp and move your head away.

♡ ari let out a airy laugh, oh he was enjoying your flustered state, he always found it so cute when he caught you staring at him.

♡ “come in princess,” he spoke.

♡ smirk still plastered on his lips he exhales another white smoky cloud before putting out the thick cigar, not wanting you to inhale any of the fumes.

♡ hears the door open, eyeing your shy figure walking to him growing confident with each step.

♡ your hips, legs and shoulders dance along the jazzy miller piece, making his smirk widen as you sway and swing your body to emphasize your pronounced curves that hide in your thick collared sweater and tennis skirt.

♡ he can’t snatch his eyes away from your soft thighs that aren’t properly covered from that ridiculously short skirt, his eyes darken when he sees your fingers unbuttoning the buttons of the top portion of the designer sweatshirt.

♡ your hands do a sinister job at gliding up your curves slowly, teasingly rising the hem of your flowy skirt before gripping the bottom of your unbuttoned canary yellow sweatshirt.

♡ pulling it off your bodice and over your head you throw it behind you to reveal the crop top that tightly wraps your chest, displaying your plump cleavage ari’s darken eyes latch upon.

♡ “hi daddy,” you speak through your glossed lips and batting lashes, stepping around to stand besides his figure sitting in his leather swivel chair.

♡ those honeyed words are spoken in an almost purr, your eyes skimming his face and to the objects that cover his desk your curious fingertips and cherry painted acrylics graze and clack against.

♡ the image of his dark eyes sparkle when they meet yours, they glimmer in adoration as one of his large warm hands rise to cup your cheek.

♡ “hello princess,” the deepness of his words has your chest fluttering and the heat of your core radiating sensually, your eyes leave his and your lips press against each other abashed.

♡ his smirk turns into a soft smile, how can his little pearl be so bold yet shy at the same time?

♡ whatever it is about you he savors and cherishes, his hand that cups your chin is removed to pat down on his trouser thigh but maybe he thinks otherwise on the known signal that you're a bit to latched on the mood and want him to take over whatever thick sexual tension he started.

♡ however he’s surprised as his little shy pearl wraps her arms around his neck, pedicured fingers lacing in his shoulder length hair as soft legs smoothly straddle his lap, it made it all easier that they were parted slightly as you settled your bum against his calves.

♡ took him by another surprise as you smashed your bubblegum glossed lips against his, rubbing your chest against his as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

♡ you usually don’t kiss him like this after he had a cigar but ari isn’t complaining as he swirls his tongue with yours, his large hands travel down to cup your bum to find a nice surprise which results in his pants tightening more against his thick bulge.

♡ your shameless skirt doesn’t even cover your ass properly, the fringed designer cloths trimming curtains the curve of your ass but leaves the plump dips of your under cheeks uncovered for his rough palms to smooth and grope.

♡ you moan against his lips but that soft moans turns into a pitched whine as he releases his lips from your erotic mouth, in result he lightly slaps your ass before groping the flesh.

♡ “how was your nap sleeping beauty?” ari’s voice low and raspy at the cause of your kiss, you sigh and bow your head at remembering the thought.

♡ “it was nice daddy but it turned a little rotten after,” your pout causes his brows to scrunch.

♡ “why’s that princess?” his hands smooth and pat your hair still slightly untamed from your nap, your hands that grip his expansive button up smooth the material down.

♡ “because I had to rush to turn in an assignment I thought I turned in, it was so stressful finding out from my friend who thankfully reminded me of so,” you mutter, your mood becoming spoiled when remembering school.

♡ nowadays you barely enjoyed your time with your daddy without worrying about any uncompleted assignments or the thought of your grades dropping or being fully invested in studying.

♡ school was a killjoy, it was killing your special time with your daddy and even though you still turned in that project your mind still was filled with anxiety and stress.

♡ “have you turned in your assignment doll?” ari spoke and you nodded your head, calming a bit as his hand rubs your back up and down, the sensation almost therapeutic. “then what is my princess worrying about?”

♡ your pout signifies it all, you don’t know what your stressing about, maybe you forgot another assignment that needed to be turned in, maybe you forgot to study for a test that was nearing soon, maybe you missed a virtual class during your nap.

♡ your eyes water and your bottom lip trembles, the grip you have on his button up tightens with your fear-riddled scrunch, your breathing stuttering which has ari sitting up to grab your face in his hands.

♡ “hey, hey. baby calm down-,” but your breathing still stutters as your face scrunches and streams in your aggressive tameless tears.

♡ “baby, sweetheart look at me!” his voice snaps to your attention as your red eyes meet soothing aqua pools, hands gripping his shoulders and teary eyes locked in need to keep him close but he seems like an ocean away.

♡ “count with me baby, like we practiced before. inhale-” he says, inhaling a breath and your stuttering lungs are quick to inhale a breath along with him, your mind however races still. “exhale,” he whispers and lets out a breath and you do so.

♡ “one,” you two continued this breathing session till your tears stopped and your pacing chest settled calmly against his, the only sound being the soft trumpet of another jazz song playing and your soft sniffs.

♡ his arms cage you in a warm secure hug, hands rubbing soothing circles against your back as your open hands rest against his chest, he had you drink a glass of water with a tylenol tablet to ease you.

♡ yet your silence is a major tell to ari that your mind is still scrambling despite feeling your stable heartbeat against his, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

♡ “[y/n]? princess?” ari softly speaks, your eyes slightly sting from your vicarious crying and your head aches from the episode that happened a while ago, cheeks slightly damped, you raise your hands to wipe them dry.

♡ pulling your head away from his collar bones you sit up to meet his reassured glance to yours, “i’m sorry daddy,” you spoke, it was almost drenched in seeking forgiveness but ari shove his head while cupping your face in his hands again pulling your face to his.

♡ “no sweetheart don’t apologize, it’s all alright. something like this shouldn’t need an apology, you aren’t at any fault because you’ve done nothing wrong but let out your emotions.” your eyes watered with his comforting words.

♡ “it’s not the things that are stressing you that are bothering you, it’s just the thought. it’s just your thoughts, just and only your thoughts but you got through that so well princess. i’m so proud of you.” ari’s thumbs swiped away at each of your tears, your lips slowly curling up in a small smile at his praise.

♡ sitting up on your knees you rested your forehead against his, nose bumping against his you giggled as our daddy’s eyes squinted at the impact before letting out a soft chuckle,

♡ your eyes glimmering as they twined to ari’s cooling blue hues through his frameless thin glasses, your hands rise up to caress his bearded cheeks, his finely soft hairs tenderly scratch your fingers and palms while his rub your bare lower back.

♡ an equally tender smile radiates off both of you before he pecks your lips to his.

♡ “tell me princess, tell daddy what you want. anything you want you’re getting,” his words string together a thoughtful expression compressed on your pretty facial features, your stomach interrupts you both as it loudly growls.

♡ “clever princess, you didn’t have to tell daddy when he could hear your hungry tummy,” ari’s own comment makes him laugh loudly and your face heats up as you swat his chest.

♡ “stop being mean daddy,” you grumble with a pout but you still see that handsome smirk against his face and as much as you wanna turn your head away when he grabs your chin you allow him to kiss you.

♡ “alright daddy’s done with being a meanie. c’mon sweetheart, lets get some food inside that tummy,” he says poking your belly.

♡ the tickling sensation lets out a giggle from you while he grabs your body to wrap your legs around his waist as he gets off his seat.

♡ ari carries you out of his office to the kitchen, setting you down on the lavish island that stands in the large kitchen however you whine when the cold surface hits your back thighs.

♡ the little sound alerts ari who turns his head to you after searching the refrigerator for some ingredients to create a suitable meal for you.

♡ “oh right, sorry princess,” he says and carries you to a cushioned chair near the dinner table, of course you could jump off the counter and walk to the seat yourself but you both like it when he babied you.

♡ after just a minute of searching through the refrigerator he closes his with a sigh, “do you wanna order something sugarplum?” he said and you smiled and nodded your head.

♡ “yes daddy,” you spoke and his chest hums in glee seeing your joy laced in your voice, he allowed you to order whatever food you wanted on your food delivery app since he wasn’t an expert at those things.

♡ a thing about ari is that he was so old fashioned, he didn’t have a computer to organize all his files because he had numerous drawers and file cabinets to keep all his important documents.

♡ his portable device was a flip phone and as much as you teased him for it he didn’t bulge at taking interest in any technological advances to his life.

♡ “is that all you want sweetheart? you don’t want anything else for the night?” ari spoke as he poured you a glass of ice cubed strawberry mint water from a glass pitcher, setting the cup in front of you as you scrolled through your phones feed.

♡ you smile up at him as you take the glass, “can we make cookies?” you ask before raising the glasses rim to your lips and taking a sip of the cold minty berry water.

♡ “didn’t you order a dessert on the app?” he asked and you shook your head no, the dessert options the restaurant of your choice didn’t really have anything that sparked interest to your midnight cravings.

♡ “don’t you think it’s a bit late to bust open the flour and sugar baby?” he said and a naughty smile grazes your lips at his question.

♡ “daddy it’s never too late to bust open anything if you put your mind to it,” your smooth voice spoke as you got off your seat to walk to the refrigerator, possessing a bit of flounce to your hips.

♡ you opened the stainless steel door handle and grabbed the large bar of nestle tollhouse cookie dough, closing the door behind you you walk to the island and place it in front of ari.

♡ if you both weren't doing it from scratch then this was the only option.

♡ he still stares down at it while you prepare the oven to preheat, getting out the cooking spray, parchment and cookie tray, “what’s wrong daddy?”

♡ “that’s big baby,” he said, his eye’s proximate on how many chocolate chip cookies the large bar could make but he doesn’t notice the naughty smirk that crosses your lips again until his eyes move up towards yours.

♡ “I know daddy but it isn’t as big as you,” ari’s face blushes at those words but before he can recollect any thoughts or get his hands on your insatiable figure of your moving skirt turns away to grab a knife, diminishing all his thoughts he rushes to take it away from you.

♡ “daddy can do this part, you can roll the dough in balls. can you do that princess?” ari softly asks, cutting open the bar he cuts even slices then cuts the thick circular prism in half to have you roll them both into spheres.

♡ “of course daddy but only if you can let me lick yours after we’re done with this,” you say getting straight to work with rolling the cold dough in your palms but only after brushing your ass against his thigh.

♡ ari couldn’t help his face from flushing into a crimson rose, feeling his pants tightening around his hardening erection at your shameless proclamations and actions.

♡ but it didn’t have him distracted from the task at hand or from quickly smacking your ass, commanding you to behave for him.

♡ and you did, kept your dirty remarks to yourself as you placed the spheres of cookie dough in a correct distance from each other in rows on the cookie tray.

♡ you both decided that ten cookies after a bit of a banter between you and him as you used your puppy eyes on him to make the whole tube but he set the discussion to an end with a compromise.

♡ the compromise being that he’d let you stay up and watch whatever movie you want with him as you had your take out and cookies, adding your additional requests to the compromise that there better be lots of cuddles and kisses.

♡ he slides your hot pink baking oven mitts with the mini stitched cupcakes on them and popped the cookie tray in the hot oven.

♡ turning to your figure sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the island setting the kitchen timer for twelve minutes and placing it down beside you.

♡ ari prepares the cooling rack and spatula for when the cookies are done, not noticing your neediness and attention seeking grabs at his collar and hair.

♡ “daddy,” you mutter, that bratty persona becoming clearer with each of your restless limbs and pouting lips attempting to grab his attention.

♡ “yes princess?” he spoke, his eyes moving towards yours to set sight of your signature doe eyes he knows so well.

♡ those doe eyes you give him when your bare and desperate underneath him.

♡ scratching crescent moons on his back, moaning so sweetly for him as he thrusts his cock in and out of your velvety pussy.

♡ you don’t say anything though, all you do is part your legs and his eyes darken once they set sight of your wet core open on display under your skirt.

♡ those same lust blown eyes dart down and meet your small peach colored panties crumbled on the floor underneath your dangling socked feet.

♡ before he can even do anything, before having the chance to rip that skirt off your body or getting on his knees and lick your tangy slicked folds the doorbell interrupts him.

♡ remembering your take-out, annoyance captivates ari but he smirks at the opportunity to tease you as you did him.

♡ so instead of ignoring the delivery person he walks away from your weeping cunt and gaped mouth to get the door.

♡ returning with your food and to your glossy pout your whines and grabs for him become more demanding and louder as he takes his sweet time taking each plastic take-out container and brown bag filled with food out of the delivery bag to the table.

♡ “daddy!” your bratty calls for him but he just ignores as he takes out plates and napkins for you and him, setting them to look their best on the dinner table.

♡ organizing the plastic containers and bags of food in between your plates he finally turns and walks to you, grabbing your waist you smirk thinking you got what you wanted but it disappears when the following words leave his mouth.

♡ “dinner time princess,” his smirk is more arrogant than yours and it only widens as you glare up at him, you’re so cute when you don’t get what you want.

♡ “you don’t want dinner princess?” he asked and you nodded your head, ari’s brow quirks in amusement.

♡ “then what do you want then princess?” it wasn’t a question, more so a demand to have the brat in his arms to speak on what she wants.

♡ you cross your arms and turn your head away from him, setting your angry sight on anything besides ari which he doesn’t permit as he grabs your jaw firmly in hands and shifts your sight to him.

♡ “speak up dolly. good girls get whatever they ask for, brats get nothing,” he spoke and your glare doesn’t ease one bit but your answer is mumbled to softly and lowly for ari to hear, your attitude only adding only the impatience ari has for you in this situation.

♡ “i’m sorry princess,” ari spoke before gripping your ass in a rough harsh handleful, “but daddy didn’t hear you. can daddy’s little dumb brat speak up? or does daddy have to give his dumb baby dinner and send her to bed with no cookies and cock?”

♡ the growl that rolled off his lips hit against the shell of your ear as his fingertips dig sharply into the raw warm plushness of your ass, your breath staggered but the wetness that pools your pleasure seeking core doesn’t lessen.

♡ “I want daddy please. please can I have it daddy?” you whimper, your voice meek and fragile and nothing like the cocky brat that teased him both verbally and physically moments ago.

♡ “you’ve been making jokes on daddy’s cock and balls since I let you make your cookies and now when you're on the receiving end of the joke you can’t properly tell daddy you want it?”

♡ his voice was rough and course, his hands that smack and grope your ass hold the same fierceness as he picks you up before slamming your back against the metal of the refrigerator.

♡ hearing the little breathy whine when his fingers purposely glide through your folds, his smirk darkens as your wetness coats his thick fingers.

♡ “oh, does my spoiled brat want daddy’s fingers? or does my spoiled brat want daddy’s cock?” he whispered as his head snakes in the crook of your neck.

♡ nibbling the tender skin under your ear that practically makes you cream against his stroking fingers.

♡ “I want your cock daddy! please, daddy! I need it!” your voice is a combination of whimpers and moans, the sound of it music to his ears.

♡ before he can give you another teasing stroke at your needy puffy folds, or command you to unbuckle his belt the timer for the cookies goes off.

♡ ari’s dark smirk shadows his face and you let out a whine knowingly the results of the night.

♡ it was going to take a while until you’ll get what you want and ari will partake in the satisfying discipline to teach you a lesson on misbehaving.

#♡ rosies mini headcannons ♡#♡ ari levinson ♡#ari levinson × reader #ari levinson × black!reader #ari levinson × woc!reader #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson fluff! ♡✨#ari levinson mini headcannon #chris evans headcannon #chris evans smut #ari levinson smut

214 notes · View notes

ficforce · 3 years

Text

Strong For Me

Sagamiya Konro x Reader

SFW

Set during the great fire in Asakusa

Established relationship

Watching Company 4 roll in on their metal vehicles and dousing the last of the dying flames filled Y/N with more anger than she thought she could bear. They came in like triumphant heroes but where had they been when the fires were roaring and their people were turning into Infernals?

Nowhere.

It had been the Hikeshi running through the town fighting fires and saving anyone they could, it had been regular people throwing endless buckets of water in an effort to save their houses and many of the people who had an ability to control flames were exhausted. She shoved past one of the Fire soldiers as they tried to direct her elsewhere, drawing Konro’s sword on them when the man tried to grab her - she was quickly left alone.

The sword had been given to her before Konro ran off with Benimaru; he had told her to use it to protect herself whilst he was away from her side. The weapon was one of the most precious things he owned and by giving it to her he was telling her he was going to come back.

Only… he hadn’t come back to her yet.

Y/N stepped out of the way as the Captain of the 4th Company headed up the street, glaring at him as he passed but then she heard Benimaru’s voice from a short distance away, “Beni!” Running hurt her possibly broken ribs but it was hardly on her mind as she spotted Konro propped up against a building, “Konro! Konro you’re o… okay?” Dropping to her knees on the side Benimaru wasn’t she reached out to cup his face, turning it a little to properly look at the slash across his nose, “That’s gonna scar but you’ll still be handsome.” Konro tried to smile at her gentle teasing though it came out as more of a grimace and Y/N finally seemed to notice that his skin was smoking.

Her eyes widened once they saw the burnt and still burning flesh over his shoulders, his arms and his neck, “This…” it wasn’t a normal burn, it wasn’t even the kind of burn that someone with fire resistance skin could get in extreme cases - it was burning from the inside out. Inside some of the wounds, she could see what looked like embers and she realised what he had done. “Konro… you… you didn’t have to go so damn hard! What did you do?!” Hearing her voice too loud and almost shrill she covered it with her hands and tried to fight off her tears. Through her blurry vision, she saw him try to lift his arms to hold her but it seemed it was either too painful or they were too damaged.

“I’ll be okay, Y/N.” Konro grit his teeth as a spike of pain shot through his shoulders again, “Just be strong for me.”

x - -

The town was abnormally quiet, even though two days had passed they were still finding their dead and trying to figure out who combusted and who died from some other cause. Asakusa had always been quick to pick itself up and go about its day but this was something different. The fires had destroyed most of the buildings, the Guardhouse was overfull with the homeless even though everyone with a house left were taking in as many as they could - many were frightened that another Demon might appear and Konro wouldn’t be able to beat it this time.

She had been handing out food and blankets to those who needed them when she came across the massive crater Konro had scarred into the land.

It was terrifying to see.

Not only because of what a full-powered Akatsuki could do. Not because it marked where something as catastrophic as a Demon had appeared either. It was where Konro had been willing to sacrifice everything for his Town. Her lover had gone as far as knocking Benimaru out in order to take the Demon on - not because Benimaru couldn’t have handled it but because Konro wanted to make sure someone who loved and could fight for Asakusa as much as him survived.

She could have lost him completely…

Konro had led as many able-bodied men as he could with Benimaru to protect what they could. The crater in front of her didn’t feel real, it felt like if she stepped forward it would dissipate like some sort of mirage. “Y/N,” a thick coat was wrapped around her shoulders as Benimaru came to stand next to her, worry laced his voice as he forced the woman to stand back a little. “You’ll fall in.” He didn’t say anything more as she pulled the coat closer to her body and pressed her face into the material, it was Konro’s coat, it smelt of him - like he did before all of the medicines and charred skin. “I’ll take care of giving the rest of this stuff out. Konro’s asking for you…” What he actually meant was that Konro was in agony and was calling for her.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes were a little wider than usual and she was trying to smile at him in the same reassuring way she always did. Her hand reached for his hair and she brushed it back a little, stroking her thumb over the bruise on his temple, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I should have done more. I should have been stronger.”

“Y/N…” Konro whispered and tried to reach for her face, wanting to wipe away the stray tear she was trying to ignore - it was agony. His jaw tensed as he tried to clamp down on the pained sounds wanting to escape as he tried to force shredded muscle to work.

Y/N shook her head, “He buried you, Beni… he would have broken your arms and legs if it would have protected you. There was nothing you could have done.” The young man was never going to forgive himself for not being there for Konro, she could see he was already blaming himself and wouldn’t listen to reason. Konro had explained to her how Benimaru had been at his limit, how he had been overheating and for him to be shoved aside so easily further proved that Konro had done right by him.

“…He’s calling for you, Y/N.” He took the supplied from her and headed for the next household that needed help.

Konro appeared to be asleep when she entered the room, the doctor glanced her way before hanging up another IV of who knew what inside, she didn’t care as long as it helped him. There was a large bowl with pinkish water and bloodied bandages soaking inside, shredded packets of medical patches, discarded cooling blankets designed for someone overheating… the room was a mess. The medical rooms were already taken up by the injured so they had moved him to his own room to recover and avoid infections.

“How’s he doing?”

“We’re sedating him as much as we can without killing him, Y/N.” The doctor sighed and began gathering the supplies they’d strewn out of the floor, “It’s tephrosis, his skin is carbonising and the lack of oxygen to his muscles has caused tears all over, he’s got limited mobility in his arms and the muscle around his shoulder blades will take months to heal… if it does.”

Neither spoke as Y/N let that sink in. If Konro couldn’t fight anymore… Strong men were respected in Asakusa, no one challenged the authority of the Hikeshi because it was led by the strongest. Technically, Benimaru was the strongest in a fight but he didn’t have the confidence to lead - someone could easily chip away at his resolve or Benimaru could lose his temper and go too far.

“It’ll heal, he’s stubborn.” The doctor gave her a weak smile and Y/N bit the tip of her tongue, waiting for more bad news.

“His lungs are shot.” There was no gentle way to tell her, “He’s going to be more prone to pneumonia and it won’t be easy for him to fight through it. If he uses his ability excessively not only will it be excruciatingly painful but it will impact his breathing and… the tephrosis could spread.”

It was difficult to imagine what Konro was going through physically and mentally. He wouldn’t regret risking it all for Asakusa but she knew this would be difficult for him. Y/N stood in the doorway with her hands balled up in the material of Konro’s coat, she took in his prone form as if that was going to make her understand how to deal with this. There were cooling blankets beneath him to help fight the inferno beneath his skin, he was pale and even from across the room she could see his skin was clammy as the heat seemed to pour out of him - when was it going to burn itself out?

They hadn’t bandaged his wounds yet, hoping that the air would aid in the healing.

As silently as she could she made her way to his side after the doctor had left, she knelt beside him and reached out to brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, “Y/N?” She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, her heart hammering against her ribcage as she saw his eyes flutter open weakly, he looked exhausted and her own eyes watered as she saw how much pain was reflected in his. He was doing his best to hide that from her.

“I’m here, Konro,” Y/N leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his lips, “What do you need?” She had never seen him down like this, she had never seen him looking so… weak. He was supposed to be a strong man, he was Asakusa’s protector and now they were saying he would never fight again. Benimaru was torn up inside with guilt. Asakusa was in ashes and its people had lost their usual fighting spirit. “Do you need some water? Or… I can make you something to eat - I c-could…” Her voice got stuck in her throat, the lump that had been forming all morning finally grew too big and she nearly choked on a sob.

“Stop!” She grabbed his hand and lowered it to his side, keeping hold of his hand in both hers, “Please don’t.” Even with her voice breaking she still tried to smile for him, “Don’t hurt yourself anymore, Konro… please.” Y/N could hardly breathe anymore, she pressed her forehead down to his and forced the sadness back - she needed to be strong - “You’ve done enough. You don’t have to give anymore.”

He was the man everyone went to for help or advice, he was the one who brought Benimaru under his wing after the Master had died and kept him on the right track. He gave and gave and gave…

Konro let out a shuddering breath, his lungs ached and he began to cough, every single jolt to his body hurt worse than the previous and he couldn’t repress the pained gasps this time. “It’s okay, Konro, I’m here, I’m gonna look after you.”

x - -

“Building was completed this morning, every house has the bare necessities, schools are open, the market is trading as fairly as they can and we have a few new recruits training to join the Hikeshi by the end of the month.” Benimaru let out a small sigh as he finished his report whilst trying to learn how to treat Konro’s wounds. He wanted to help in any way he could and somehow, being able to properly treat Konro made him feel somewhat better.

“Three months to rebuild the Town?” Konro mused, “Was it supplies or labour?”

“Labour. Builders worked flat out but most of them were laid up till recently.”

Y/N listened quietly as they spoke, occasionally she would explain to Benimaru what she was doing but it was good to have the young man there to distract Konro. Months had passed but he was still in a great deal of pain, still burning on the inside but the Haijima patches seemed to help prevent the spread and provide some pain relief - she just wished it was something they could replicate so they didn’t need to rely on the Empire. She heard the pained hitches in Konro’s breathing and sometimes he would stop mid-sentence when it got too much. Sometimes it was enough to bring Konro to tears and he was hiding it the best he could to protect Benimaru and Y/N.

“H-how are the twins?”

Benimaru handed Y/N more bandage as she started to wrap Konro, “They’re assholes… they’re gonna come by later and tell you a bunch of lies about me - anything they say is a lie and if it’s not they deserved it.”

“…If Y/N and I ever have kids you’re not allowed to babysit.”

Benimaru snorted and gathered up the medical supplies to toss out, “That’s fine with me.” He stood up and headed towards the door, “Though I doubt any kid of yours would be as mean as two little girls on a sugar kick.” Not a moment after the door had slid shut, Y/N and Konro heard a crash and two little voices mocking Benimaru - it was followed shortly by their squeals and the sound of a nearly grown man chasing two little girls.

Y/N laughed at the noise and for a moment it felt like old times.

Life was slowly returning to Asakusa, it wasn’t surprising really, they were a resilient bunch. “We’re all done for today,” She kissed his heavily bandaged shoulder and rested a cooling blanket over the top, “Ready to eat?”

Konro winced as he turned his head to kiss her temple whilst she rested lightly on his shoulder, “Not really but you won’t take that as an answer, right?”

“Nope,” Y/N had been keeping his meal warm to the side and picked it up as she moved to sit just beside him, more than ready to feed him as she had for the last few weeks, “Konro…” he gave a hum in response, recognising in her tone there was going to be something he might not like. “I know you said you wanted to do it but let me put your sword on its stand…”

Since the day of the great fire his sword had sat in the corner of the room against the wall, she had made sure to clean it but he had told her he wanted to put it back. It was like a target he had set for himself, that if he could pick it up and place it on the stand on top of the dresser, it would prove something. It felt like such a sad thing to see it neglected and thrown aside - Konro had saved up and worked so hard to have it made.

Konro shook his head, “Be a little more patient with me, Y/N… besides, look,” There was a little more light in his eyes and he slowly reached out and took the chopsticks from the tray, “I’ll be feeding myself in no time!” he opened and closed the utensils and Y/N smiled back at him.

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive.” It was a good sign, it meant that he was healing and a part of her was relieved - being strong all the time, keeping his mood up and helping where she could was exhausting. Konro wasn’t a burden to her, she loved him and even if she ha to feed their whole life she would. She wondered how he managed. “You’ll be lifting your sword in no time then?”

“Yeah.” He parted his lips as she fed him a mouthful of rice.

Whilst he chewed Y/N bit her bottom lip a little nervously, “A-and then you’ll lift me up next?”

“Carrying you around is one of my favourite things, Y/N” She brushed a piece of rice from the corner of his lip where she had seemed distracted and missed. “What other challenges have you got for me?

Y/N hesitated before placing the bowl down and she reached for one of his hands, carefully bringing it to her belly, doing her best not to pull at him, “Do you think that in six months time… you could lift our baby?”

“…W…?” Konro’s eyes widened and he stared at her in shock, his mind turning over what she had said and as it began to slowly sink in, a smile a much brighter than any he had had since the fire spread across his face. “You…” Unable to think properly, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her as best he could, it hurt like hell and she was going to yell at him but he didn’t care in that small, hopeful, moment, “I’ll be strong enough for you both.”

#sagamiya konro #fire force #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai #reader

83 notes · View notes

thicctails · 3 years

Text

Summer Of Whump Days 16 + 19 [Touch-Starved/Hope]

Happy Father’s Day! Have toothpick dad figuring out how to get his adike outta space prison.

Crosshair pressed his forehead against the wall of his bunk, gritting his teeth. His head was pounding, the ache radiating from the left side and seeping down through his skull and spreading into the rest of his mind. It had been a steadily building pain, starting when that damn animal had hit him with its tail. He’d dodged going to a medic, instead choosing to spend his free time trying to sleep the migraine off. So far, it hadn’t worked.

He pulled his pillow over his head when a slight ringing started to form in his ears. The sound grew and grew and grew, until all he could hear was the unyielding, skull-piercing ringing.

Then, silence.

Crosshair blinked.

It was like a huge drop of cold water had been dropped on him, shocking him back to reality. He sat up, running a hand over his face. The guilt and disbelief of his actions had him reeling for a moment. He’d almost killed his vod'ika, would have had Omega not sacrificed herself. He went a little pale at the memory of what state the girl had been in when they’d been picked up. Whatever had happened on that Jedi cruiser, it had been ugly, and he felt a ripple of burning shame rush through him when he thought about how much it must have hurt to stand in front of him like she had.

He slid off of his bunk, not bothering to grab his helmet. He needed to go see her, make sure her burns were getting properly treated. It had been a day and a half, had anyone gone to change her bandages? Checked in on her? Fed her? Likely not, as he seemed to be the only one here who understood how important it was for her to remain alive and healthy. That was still top priority, but now it was for different reasons.

He had to get them out of here, back to his vode and out of the Empire’s reach. Omega’s existence was proof that the Kaminoans had successfully managed to create an artificial Force-sensitive being, and the thought of them creating an army of Force-sensitive clones with inhibitor chips sent a chill down his spine.

No. He’d find a way out of this outpost and off of the planet before they were due to make the trip back to Kamino. He’d have to find a way to get the chip out, maybe go back to Bracca? Then he’d find a way back to his batchmates and they’d disappear. Good. Yes. Great plan.

Pausing, he stepped behind a wall as a group of troopers marched past. They had come from the direction of the prison cell. He scowled at them silently, fighting the itch to end their lives. He needed to be subtle, cunning, and stealthy, which meant he couldn’t let his temper flare up, lest he risk being discovered.

Once the coast was clear, he slipped out from behind the wall and approached the room door. He put in the password and stepped inside once the door slid open. His eyes widened upon seeing that someone new had been put into the cell. The kid was tugging at a thick, black collar, a red light blinking rapidly. He jolted suddenly, his muscles spasming as he was electrocuted.

“Cal!” Omega cried, reaching out to him. Her own collar began to blink rapidly, and she yelped when the same happened to her. Pillow, who was chained against the, was honking loudly, the sound sounding more like short roars now. He was the one to first notice Crosshair, and he snarled at the clone, his tail smashing against the wall. The stone cracked under the force, bits of the wall crumbling away.

“Shh!” He hissed, putting a finger up to his lips. “Do you want to get into even more trouble?”

The two children gasped when he spoke, their eyes widening in fear. The boy, named Cal, apparently, glared at Crosshair. He moved in front of Omega, shielding her as best he could. His collar beeped, but not enough to activate the electric shock. Omega peered at him, her large brown eyes wet with unshed tears.

“Crosshair?” She asked, her voice sounding strained. The collar was probably pressing against her already bruised throat.

“It’s me, ad’ika.” He said softly, kneeling down. “I’m back, at least for now.”

Omega brightened, her face splitting into a wide grin. She shuffled forward, but the other kid remained firm. He didn’t move from his spot, and Crosshair could practically feel the anger and mistrust rolling off him in waves.

“How do we know we can trust you?” He snapped.

“You don’t, but you’re going to have to.” Crosshair replied. “We need to get out of here. Fast. A transport vessel will be here before the week is out, and we need to be gone before that happens.”

“Well in case you haven’t noticed,” Cal pointed to the collar on his neck, “we’re kinda trapped here. These collars shock us every time we try and use the Force.”

“And Pillow is stuck over there!” Omega chimed in, gesturing to where said amphibian was straining against the short chain that was keeping him trapped. “We can’t leave without him!”

Crosshair hummed, peering at the collars. There was a small slit on each one, a lock that would need a certain key card to open. A key card that he didn’t have.

“I’ll find a way to get those off. Until then, try to refrain from getting electrocuted.” He said, standing back up.

A small growl sounded out, and Omega looked at her stomach in embarrassment.

“Sorry. I haven’t eaten since…” She brought a hand to her chin. “Just over two days ago, I think? The last thing I ate was a ration bar on the ship before we got to Bracca.”

A memory flashes through his head. He’s young, still learning how to fight, and he and his brothers have failed a test. They end up not being given rations for the day. He remembered it being especially hard on Hunter and Wrecker, who even at that age, burned more calories that the rest of them. He remembered feeling sluggish and unusually weak, his stomach growling like a wild animal as it ate away at itself. They had all felt miserable, and it had served as a good motivator to not fail next time.

Crosshair growled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “These animals- I’ll be back in a moment. Remain here.” He spun around and stomped back out of the room.

“We don’t have a choice!” Cal called, huffing when the door simply slid shut. The freckled boy turned to look at Omega. “Do you really trust him?”

Omega nodded. “He’s not a bad person, he was just being made to do bad things.”

Cal sighed and gave her a slight smile. “Okay, if you say so.”

Crosshair returned about a half hour later, a bag slung over his shoulders. He pressed a few buttons on the control panel, locking the door before moving deeper into the room. Omega looked up from her place on the floor, gritting her teeth when as she sat forward. Cal was sat next to her, the two of them having moved over to where Pillow was. The pale creature was sleeping, forced to rest sitting up due to the chain on the wall being attached to his muzzle. Crosshair gave Omega sympathetic look, kneeling down again so that he was closer to being eye level with her and Cal.

“Okay adike, lets get some food in you so you don’t end up looking like me.” He joked, reaching forward and unlocking their cuffs.

He reached into the bag and produced two wrapped squares, passing a sandwich to both kids. Omega thanked him excitedly and quickly took the offered food. Cal hesitated, but in the end his hunger won out. He cautiously took the sandwich, softly uttering his thanks. Omega and Cal took a minute to rub their sore wrist while Crosshair carefully unclipped the band around Pillow’s muzzle.

Pillow’s eyes opened, eyeing Crosshair as he tossed the metal band aside.

“I’ll need to put that back on before I leave, but I’ll try to loosen it.” He said.

Violet orbs bore into him for a moment, flicking between him and the now ravenously eating children, before Pillow’s head swung towards him. Crosshair flinched a bit, but calmed when Pillow merely rubbed his head against Crosshair’s chest, a deep, rumbling purr sounding out. It seemed that his actions had earned him forgiveness. That would make things easier.

While Omega finished off her sandwich, he dug into the bag and retrieved a roll of gauze, a container of warm water, a clean cloth, and a container of bacta, setting them down on the floor. He retrieved two bottles of cool water and handed them over to Cal and Omega.

“Here, drink this. Omega, come here so that I can change your bandages.” He said, grabbing a numbing shot from the bag.

Omega gulped down her water, cringing when Crosshair stuck her with the needle. After the numbing liquid had set in, he went about unwrapping Omega’s bandages. He sighed in relief upon spotting no signs of infection. With a gentleness that he didn’t know he still possessed, he soaked the cloth in the warm water and cleaned her wound. The skin had already started to scar, and since most of the tissue had been too damaged to regrow, the scar would be rather large. As he gently dabbed the burns, he noticed something odd. Small, circular scars covered Omega’s back, some not even fully finished scarring. They were all the same size, and they were perfectly spaced. It looked as though someone had taken a small cookie cutter to her back.

Suddenly, he’s back in the medical ward on Kamino. A machine is whirring in his ears and the bright lights overhead are hurting his eyes. A sharp pain erupts from his left shoulder, and he turns to see a chunk of his flesh being sliced out of him. Later that night, he finds out that his vode all went through the same thing. Tech thinks that they want to find out if they’re as enhanced as they we’re designed to be. Apparently, they were, because they weren’t all euthanized within the next few days. Whatever they had been searching for, they’d only needed one sample to find it.

There had to be dozens on Omega’s back.

He suppressed a growing roar of rage that was bubbling up from his chest. He’d barely knew Omega, only having those brief moments with her before his chip had been intensified, yet he already knew that he’d kill for her. No child should ever have to endure something like that. He quickly applied the bacta, then re-wrapped Omega’s dressings. Once he was done, he fished another container out of the bag. Unscrewing the lid, he set it down in front of Pillow.

“It’s food. Eat it.” He commanded.

Pillow sniffed at the offered container, then started eating, chunks of meat being snapped up and gulped down. Omega laughed when Pillow pulled his face away and revealed that there was a piece of meat stuck on his nose. Cal reached over, plucked the chunk of meat off of the amphibian’s forehead, and tossed it up into the air. In a flash, Pillow snapped his jaws closed around it. He licked his teeth and flopped down next to Crosshair, staring up at him with his big, pleading eyes.

“No, that’s enough for you. It was hard enough sneaking that amount in here.” Crosshair scolded.

Pillow moved his head onto Crosshair’s knee, staring sadly at him as he sighed loudly. Crosshair sighed and reached back into the bag. He produced another sandwich and tossed it into Pillow’s open mouth. The white-scaled creature purred loudly and rubbed up against Crosshair, knocking him over onto the floor. He laid his head down on the man’s chest, ignoring Crosshair’s protests.

“Get off me, you obese salamander!” He yelled, shoving Pillow’s head. Pillow merely snuggled down, rubbing his cheek against Crosshair’s armor.

“Looks like he wants you to stay.” Cal piped up, taking a sip of his water.

“Well I can’t. I need to locate the key to those collars so that we can get out of this dump.” Crosshair hissed, finally managing to wiggle out from underneath Pillow.

“Aw, but you just got here!” Omega said. “Do you have to go right away?”

“Unfortunately yes. Those troopers out there aren’t the most observant, but even they will notice my absence if I am gone too long.” Crosshair sighed. “Which means I need to put your restraints back on.”

Cal and Omega groaned, but put their wrists together regardless. Crosshair snapped the cuffs back on, giving the duo an apologetic look.

“I promise that once we’re out of here, none of you will spend another minute in shackles.” He said, looking between Pillow, Omega, and Cal. “Now, I have to go. I need to do some stealth work and find out where the key card to your collars is.”

“Be careful Crosshair.” Omega said, her eyes full of worry.

He nodded and stood, grabbing the bag and heading out the door.

It took five days for Crosshair to locate the key card, and another whole day for him to manage to steal it. Throwing his bare essentials into a bag, he slung it over his shoulder and stalked out of the room. The outpost was dark, the electricity out due to a growing storm taking out their generator. He was a predator here, prowling through the shadows, using his superior sight to navigate through the black. He passed troopers as he moved through the outpost, none detecting him over the howling wind and the sound of their own chatter.

Just as he’s about to reach the outpost’s makeshift prison, he overhears a conversation between two troopers.

“Is it true? Did they really make a clone that can use the Force?” One asked, leaning in close to his companion.

“Yeah, but it’s a weird little runty one. Kaminoans must’ve kriffed up while they were making it, I guess.” The trooper sneered. “Little shit’s too cocky for its own good. Hope they put it down once they’re done experimenting on it or whatever.”

In an instant, a flash of burning hot rage enveloped Crosshair. His hand found a vibroknife that he had stashed away in a hidden pocket. He pounced, gripping the trooper’s head and pulling it back, exposing his neck. The knife’s blade easily sliced through the man’s neck. He made sure that it was deep enough to kill but shallow enough to make it a slower death. While that wretched creature choked on his own blood, Crosshair swung the knife and plunged it through the other trooper’s visor, the sharp point piercing the man’s skull. He jerked the vibroknife free, fresh blood dripping off the blade.

His anger cooled a bit, and he made his way to the cell door. The door was running on emergency power, and he had to sever that connection to get the doors to open. Inside, he could see the rapidly blinking lights of the two Force suppressant collars, the red glow highlighting the faces of Cal and Omega. Omega’s face was buried in Cal’s chest, the young clone quivering. A clap of thunder rang out, the sound louder than it would be on most planets. It made her squeak in fear, and she shuffled even closer.

It was so easy to see Hunter in Omega’s place. Back when they were still cadets, his vod had hated the storms on Kamino, his sensitive hearing being battered by the roaring thunder that made itself known every other week or so. So every time there was a storm and they were in their quarters, Crosshair and his vode would take all of their blankets and pillows and they’d create a little hiding spot for Hunter. Once he had curled up in the middle of the makeshift nest, they would cover him up until there was only a small hole left for air.

Omega had no such luxury. She had no batchmates, a fact that hurt Crosshair on a deeper level, and thus was left to exist in a state of fear. The medical centers were tucked into the middle of Kamino’s bases, so Omega had probably never heard thunder this loud before. He crossed the room quickly, dropping to his knees when he heard Omega’s quiet cries.

“Come on, adike. It’s time for us to go.” He said, just loud enough to be heard above the fading rumbles. Pausing only to remove their restraints, he slipped tiny the key card into the small slits, ginning when the collars became slack and slid onto the floor.

In an instant, the two kids were locked in a tight embrace. They were both quivering now, and judging by how their hands were twitching more than the rest of their bodies, he figured that they were both currently using the Force. While they comforted each other, he set about freeing Pillow from his bindings. The amphibian nuzzled him, before starting to nose at his bag.

“Cut that out. There’s no treats for you in there.” He grumbled, pushing Pillow’s muzzle away. Darting back over to Cal and Omega, he extended a hand.

“Neither of you will be able to see until we get to the ship, so we’ll need to hold hands. We’ll be moving fast, so try your best to keep up.” He said, grasping Omega’s hand once he saw her reach out to him. With Omega holding on to him, Cal holding on to her, and Pillow bringing up the rear, the group escaped the room, Crosshair leading them out a nearby door and into the raging storm.

Bitter, biting wind whipped all around them, freezing cold rain drenching their clothes and causing Omega and Cal to slip more than once as they ran across the shipyard. More than once, Pillow had to keep Omega and Cal from getting tossed around by the storm while Crosshair dealt with a trooper or three. Finally, after a good half hour of sneaking and stealth killing, they made it to the ship Crosshair had chosen to steal. He ushered the kids on, wanting them out of the harsh storm. They were soaked to the bone, shivering with chattering teeth as they strapped in. Once everyone was secure, Crosshair fired up the engine, gripping the controls. The storm was so intense that there was a chance that it would mask their take off, but at the same time the fierce lightning that was building within the mass off clouds could send them plummeting down.

Crosshair gripped the controls tighter.

He’d get them out of this.

Crosshair chewed on a toothpick, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion. He’d found them a good hiding place, a heavily forested planet not too many light years from Bracca. He needed to contact his squad, find a way to convince them that he could be trusted once again so that he could get this damnable chip removed. He needed to do a lot of things, but for now he was content to simply take a moment to breathe.

Omega and Cal were asleep, dressed in uniforms that were far too big but would ultimately keep them warm and dry. The two were sleeping on the floor, a soft cushioning of bunk mattresses and blankets providing a comfortable place to sleep. Omega was half draped over a sprawling Cal, the young clone snuggling up to her friend. She’d fallen asleep easily, and the boy simply hadn’t had the heart to move and risk waking her. So there he lay, snoozing away with Omega holding onto him like her life depended on it.

A regular person might have been confused by her clinginess, but he understood completely. When clones were very young, they slept in piles with their batchmates. It provided a sense of security, lowered their stress levels, and helped forge an important bond. If your very purpose was to fight in a war with a group of people, you’d better be someone they’d fight to keep alive.

The Kaminoans had, at one point, tried to see if this behaviour could be stopped. They had forced a batch of clones to sleep apart from their batchmates, only allowing them to train and eat together. By the time they had reached adulthood, they had become noticeably different. They were anti-social, only called each other by their numbers, were completely out of sync in combat training and often acted aggressively. They snapped at each other and at the other clones, distancing themselves from the rest of their vode.

They’d all died in their first battle. The Kaminoans never tried the experiment again.

Omega had no batchmates, no vode to form a pile with. He wondered if the Kaminoans had tried to make more and Omega had been the only survivor, or if they simply hadn’t cared because she was never meant to be in a group. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, it wouldn’t change the fact that Omega had been missing out on a crucial part of growing up as a clone. However, it seemed that Omega had found someone to pile with in Cal, even if neither of them really understood what she was doing. Hopefully, it wasn’t too little too late, and she would grow up to be a well adjusted young lady.

Omega yawned softly in her sleep, shifting as she tried to find a more comfortable position. She repositioned herself so that her head rested on Cal’s chest, throwing an arm over the boy’s torso. Cal mumbled something incomprehensible and turned onto his side, pulling Omega into a loose hug as his blanket fell onto her. Omega smiled, eagerly nestling into the new warmth.

For the first time in years, Crosshair found himself aching for that comfort. He and Hunter had always been at the bottom of the pile, the close presence of their vode always being the one thing that could ease them into a peaceful sleep. In the pile, there were no harsh lights that signified the early start of a new day, nor the echoing roar of Kamino’s storms. There was only them and their brothers, safe and together.

He remembered the day they’d first been made to sleep apart. The noises and smells and brightness had made sleep impossible. Their room door had a crack at the bottom that always let in a bit of light, and to his advanced eyes, that little stretch of light had seemed like a kriffing sun to him. Only the threat of being separated from his batchmates for the whole day had kept him in his bunk. Once the morning lights had come on, he’d launched himself at his closest vod, which on that morning had been Wrecker. His second-eldest brother had pulled him into a crushing hug, and he had felt the wetness of tears on his shoulder. Any other time, he would have teased the larger clone for crying, but on that morning, he’d have been a hypocrite.

Maybe it was their enhancements, or maybe it was the fact that the other clones didn’t like them very much, but for some reason it took far longer for them to become acclimated to sleeping alone. After their first mission, they’d all started towards their own bunks, as they had been for months, when Wrecker had paused and asked if they would still be separated if they pilled together on the ship. They had all looked at each other, before instinctively turning towards Tech.

“I’m sure it’s against the rules, but…” He’d given them a small smile, “I won’t say anything if you all won’t?”

So they had thrown their mattresses together and had arranged a set up that resembled their old shared bed. They had grown at that point, but hadn’t quite reached adulthood, so Hunter and Crosshair could still sleep comfortably at the bottom. They’d slept better that night then they had in months. As time passed and they reached their maximum sizes, they began to sleep apart more and more. Crosshair and Tech especially had taken a liking to having some extra wiggle room, Tech for his tinkering and Crosshair because he was simply becoming more used to being apart than together. He was often far away from his vode on missions, providing them cover from a distance.

Hunter and Wrecker seemed less excited about sleeping by themselves, and both had trouble with sleep. Wrecker filled the void with a stuffed toy, one that his batchmates had made for him out of supplies they picked up on one of their earlier missions. Hunter simply carved the walls of his bunk or cleaned his weapons, exhausting himself so that sleep would come and take him into its sweet embrace.

He wondered if they’d even let him pile with them now.

The thought of being rejected from such a simple yet important activity had him feeling nauseous, and he shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind. He didn’t deserve to share that closeness with them, not after all he’d done, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Curling up in the pilot’s chair, he let his eyes close, now painfully aware of how exposed and cold he really felt.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[16]#summerofwhump[19]#omega bad batch #crosshair bad batch #crosshair whump #omega whump #cal ketsis #cal whump #clone bonding rituals #platonic cuddling #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #jedi fallen order #whump prompt #tw scars #tw child harm #tw child abuse

28 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-14: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it. And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“If you go in blindly with the notion of playing safe, you will only be bound by the safety net which you seek.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Both the audience and the contestants were all collectively stunned for a while.

Audience A: Didn’t he already retire!?

Yeah! So how is this possible!?

But the tall figure under the spotlight and those cold light-coloured eyes… It was unmistakably the same face I’ve seen countless times in magazines…

Sariel was really in front of me, in flesh and blood.

It was as if someone had hit the pause button on the world. Everyone stood rooted to their spots, stunned beyond belief as they watched him proceed onwards step-by-step. He walked past the cameras and crowd alike before taking his place beside the rest of the judges.

Time only seemed to resume when he finally seated himself. Noise and excitement broke out over the crowd like a rising tide.

Host: Just as I introduced him earlier, Mr. Sariel will be the Design Director for the Warson Brand from today onwards.

Host: We hope that Warson will be able to reach greater heights under his leadership!

The audience broke out in chatter again, and the Host happily handed him the mic.

Host: The last round of the contest is about to begin shortly. May I ask if you have anything you’d like to say to everyone here, Mr. Sariel?

Sariel raised his eyes towards the Host, yet his face remained emotionless.

Sariel: I have nothing to say.

The Host smiled awkwardly at that as he attempted to clear up the atmosphere once more before announcing the next set of rules for the championships.

The last contest will have three different themes, each put out by each of the judges, respectively. The selected contestants will have to choose their judge, and then create a product in line with their given theme.

Host: The order of selection will go according to the final rankings of the previous round. Hence, the person in the first place will have the right to first pick. And in the first place, we have―

Host: (Y/n)! Please make your selection!

MC: !?

I get the first pick? Wait, I was 1st place for the previous round!?

Slightly buzzing with excitement, I took the mic from the Host and faced the other side where the judges were seated.

Yan Xiao, the renowned Designer, was known for being amicable and his friendliness to all contestants alike.

Meanwhile, Mya, the Deputy Director of Warson’s Design Hub, was known for her strictness. But she had already more or less praised me for one thing or another throughout all the rounds we’d gone through.

And lastly…

Sariel sat serenely in his seat. He was clearly the most popular person in the venue, yet he didn’t seem to be bothered by the lively clamouring that surrounded him, as if he were in his own personal bubble.

I’d imagined myself meeting him so many times now, yet… never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that today would be the day where it’d come true.

Rumour has it that he is very strict and has high expectations of everything. But… This might also be the one and only chance I’m ever going to get…

I tightened my grip on the mic and took in a deep breath.

MC: I choose—

Hearing my voice calling out his name, Sariel snapped his gaze back. Our eyes finally met.

Those pale golden eyes of his held not a single shred of emotion within, as usual.

MC: I choose Mr. Sariel.

❖☆———————————★❖

My heart was still pounding, only calming when I sat back down at my work table.

I unravelled the folded piece of paper that sat in my palm. “Fashion Designer” was written on it. This was to be my theme for the improvisational round. I stared at it for a good long while. Countless ideas flew through your mind, but not a single one of them hit close enough to home.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of the needle of the sewing machine working, vigorously thumping in the opposite preparation room as it threaded.

MC: They’re already starting work!?

That’s way too fast! I hurriedly sucked in a deep breath, telling myself not to get affected by how quick they were to start.

Even so, the continuous rhythmic sound of the machine working floated into my ears as it threaded, regardless.

The sound of threading… was the same as that one afternoon.

❖☆———————————★❖

I closed my eyes, letting time flow backwards in my mind as I travelled back to the past.

Thud, thud, thud…

My grandmother was lightly stepping on the pedal of her sewing machine. I sat by her side, staring at her work while resting my cheek on one of my hands.

Granny: What kind of person do you want to be when you grow up, (Y/n)?

Little me tilted her head to the side and thought about it for a full two seconds before looking back to my grandmother with a smile.

Kid MC: I wanna be like you, granny!

Granny: Why?

Kid MC: Because you can make so many pretty dresses, and they sell really well! Also, you and mom wouldn’t have to work so hard if I became like you too!

Granny: Our dearest one is so knowledgeable. Do you know what people who make pretty dresses are called?

Kid MC: Granny!

Granny: Nope. They’re called Fashion Designers.

Kid MC: Then, I wanna be one of them!

Granny: I’ll teach you how to make them if that’s what you really want.

Kid MC: I wanna learn! Teach me!

Granny: Sure thing. But, listen to me, dear. No matter what it is that you do in the future, you must remember to always be yourself.

Granny: Only by doing that, will you not fear anything, granting you the courage you need to face as anything.

Kid MC: Be myself…

I repeated, pretending to nod in understanding as I looked out the window at the roses that were blooming with all their might. My heart wavered and shook along with them in the warm winds that blew by.

Granny: You’ll understand once you grow up.

In the end, I grew up, but my mother was no longer here, and I never had a chance to make her dresses again. Further down the road, granny herself waved her hand to me as she descended over to the other world

I hadn’t yet had the time to master her skill and techniques before I was left all alone by my lonesome, with nothing but this dream to accompany me up till where I was now.

I then remembered what granny had once told me before. I suddenly understood. Standing where I was right now, being here, was what it was to truly be myself.

I think I now know what kind of design I should make.

❖☆———————————★❖

After submitting our final designs, Wu Yue, Gao Cheng, and I stood upon the stage, awaiting the final verdict that would conclude the championships,

Wu Yue’s theme was “Hippie”. She’d made a knee-length skirt in just a mere two hours.

Gao Cheng’s theme was “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. He’d made a silk dress shirt. It looked simple, but it was actually decorated with intricate designs.

❖☆———————————★❖

And I’d gone with a formal top hat, made with chiffon of the highest twist available on hand, paired with pale gold rose accessories to express the “Fashion Designer” within me.

Host: Let us now invite the three judges to make some simple evaluations on the submitted designs.

Yan Xiao remained as amicable as ever, giving all of us relatively positive reviews.

And Mya was the opposite in all the right ways, concisely pointing out what each work was lacking.

The mic was passed back to Sariel once again. His face was illuminated under the spotlight, frosty and serious.

The entire venue lapsed into silence. No one dared to breathe or utter a word.

Sariel: The silk dress shirt lacks a highlight. This is especially so because all your effort has been spent on the making of it. Why not spend the effort to properly think of something new and interesting?

Sariel: And as for the knee-length skirt… Merely going retro doesn’t make it worthy of a comeback. If you go in blindly with the notion of playing safe, you will only be bound by the safety net which you seek.

He paused as his gaze fell upon my work.

At this point, my heartbeat was as loud as a drum. I held my breath.

Sariel: You absolutely do not understand the meaning of your given theme at all.

Sariel: This presumptuous and opinionated design of yours has completely disregarded the essence of what it means to be a “Fashion Designer”.

MC: …What?

The look on his face was one of disappointment so acute that it stabbed right through me.

The rest of the competition proceedings became a blur, all I could focus on were the piercing eyes of gold that bore into me. I completely missed how the Host concluded the whole event and made the audience rise into boisterous cheers once more.

Until I heard a name being uttered.

Host: Let us congratulate this year’s Warson Prize Champion— Wu Yue!

The overwhelming applause and cheers of the audience rang out, only for it to be replaced with a different tune; the bubbling of the deep sea.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-12) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-16)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

21 notes · View notes

nelllraiser · 3 years

Text

hell’s true north | adam & nell

TIMING: current. LOCATION: hellscape number ??. PARTIES: @walker-journal & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: adam follows his compass home. CONTAINS: sibling death (brief references to the bea plot), mass poisoning (from inhospitable domain), parental death mentions.

Vines with the texture of withered leather fingers writhed under Adam’s feet as he stumbled out of a brackish puddle of ichor. Disaster response boots that’d been designed to weather fire, acid, and radiation had eventually yielded before the onslaught of otherworldly environs. Now the ragged soles barely clung to his feet, wrapped tight with bloody strips of bloody demon hide. The most cutting edge kevlar, environment-resistant tactical gear, breathing apparatuses, and deadly military firearms had been gradually ravaged into uselessness by universes full of chemicals and alternative laws of physics that Earthly science had never imagined. As the tactics, preparation, and martial science Adam had once relied on was stripped away in the nonstop battles with demonic flora and fauna, the title of Hunter had become brutally literal.

Adam spelunked through caverns that formed from the innards of sleeping elder things, scaled cliff sides made of solidified light and shadow, jumped across archipelagos of bone islands floating in stormy skies, climbed up trees the size of skyscrapers whose fruits were embryonic sacks in which monsters gestated, hiked across the savannahs with rolling plains of scalpel-sharp obsidian grass, and tightroped across worlds that were just spider webs of tentacles stretched across abyssal gyres.

Adam was now a ragged figure where a dauntless soldier had once been, the shreds of his tactical uniform stitched together with leather and pieces of chitin. Once the olympics-ready peak of health, the footballer’s veins were stained with dark lines across his skin and he stumbled across the landscape of grasping roots and tide pools of black blood. His breathing was shallow treks through world after world had wracked the Hunter’s body with alien toxins that even the mutant’s regeneration was failing to fight off. Adam’s vision was blurred with the edges and everything muscle in his battered body begged to just lay down in darkness.

But the compass in Adam’s hand pointed the way across the hellscape of fire, floating islands of tentacled flesh, and geometric monoliths to old gods that's already sunk into dreaming torpor long before humankind had discovered fire. Adam fought back agony and followed the compass needles across the poisoned land.

Everything had blurred together by now. Nell couldn’t even clearly remember how she’d gotten to this realm, just that she’d fallen through far too many holes in the ground, off cliff sides, or out of sky-hanging oceans to even begin to remember what world this was. The red skies she’d originally arrived under were long gone, barely a memory after all the worlds that had followed, and all the attacks she'd scrambled to come out of in one piece. Though perhaps calling herself one piece was being generous when she’d resorted to packing the missing chunks of her flesh with whatever she could find that didn’t instantly sting and burn at her open wounds. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d slept, time still immeasurable in places like these— just that she hadn’t done it since the baykok’s attack. The lack of sleep meant she hadn’t been able to replenish a single shining grain of her magic after she’d been quite literally drained and fed from, her body having nothing but sheer determination to keep her wavering feet from falling out beneath her.

Something was the very definition of fundamentally wrong with this world in terms of survivability. Nell could feel it in the way each breath felt sharper than the last, and the ugly coughs that had her spitting up black specks on the palms of her hands. None of the places she’d seen could have been described as friendly, but this one felt like it was digging her foot deeper into the grave with every second she stayed. She needed to find a way out if she wanted to make it another hour. Nell was far past the point of finding a way back to White Crest, ready to settle for a hellscape that wasn’t killing the witch with every inhale of her lungs, and go from there if she could manage to last that long. How long had she lasted already? How much longer could she last? She’d always been a fighter, refusing to go down without taking at least a part of her attacker with her. But how could she carve out a piece of a world? How was she meant to rage against an entire realm? Maybe sometimes there was simply nothing to fight against, the hand of Fate snuffing out her life whether she liked it or not.

And yet she kept walking, limping along as the injury on her leg oozed with some otherworldly infection that promised to kill her if this air didn’t. There was no direction, no plan, just the foolish hope that she’d stumble into a place where she could properly breathe. She walked until she could barely make out a figure on the horizon, squinting her eyes against the bright green and dingy brown of this place while she wondered if this would be the final creature to kill her. But the figure grew closer, and despite her best judgement an uncontrollable wave of hope flooded her chest. “Adam?” she dared to utter, even though she knew it was far too good to be true. Nell and the hellscape had done this before in the form of a tikbalang sending her astray with the perfect illusion of her hunter. “We’re doing this again?” she asked the air in a tone that was resigned to the disappointment of finding another falsehood, the high instantly giving way to a low. “What is it? Another tikbalang?” But this Adam was different. He looked sickly, and past the point of battered— like he’d already knocked on death’s door only for death to tell him to come back in ten or so minutes. They’d call him when they were ready. Why would an illusion-caster show her this?

Hallucinations had become ever more common as toxic environs and constant otherworldly stimuli wore down Adam’s nervous system.

Sometimes it was dad, gently reminding him of past lessons as Adam fought his way through nightmarish creatures and tried to find his way through landscapes only possible in other realities. Other times it was James or Terry, come to chat idly about football and girls as Adam trekked across wastelands whose sloping yet flat contours didn’t obey the rules of time and space. Dave gruffly reminded him about knots and the perils of marine warfare as Adam journeyed through rivers that flowed up into the sky and seas of sentint poison. Regan gave pointers on splinting a broken arm with a demon’s bones all while primly reminding him she wasn’t that kind of doctor. Orion nervously recounted facts about obscure demon types as Adam ducked claws and spines while trying to find a weak point. Ariana punched Adam in the arm and reminded him to buck up and put on a tough grin when everything was just pain. Athena gave advice on slowing the poison’s spread through his body with her mixture of tenderness and steel. Kaden brusquely correctly Adam on his stances as the younger Hunter’s limbs trembled with neurological damage, before reminding him to stay alive. Mina kept him vigilant, pointing out dangerous movements and sounds even when every fiber of Adam’s body wanted to sink into oblivion. Morgan spoke gently to him when the horror became too much, her hand on his shaking shoulders when the mental strain of glimpsing elder things sent Adam into seizuring convulsions. Dani reminded him of duty and their ancestral oaths with a concerned smile when ancient deceivers whispered in Adam’s brain, offering easy miracles in his moments of weakness. Luce yelled at him to get the fuck back up and fight when Adam could barely stand and death’s release drew close. Beatrice demanded that Adam remember who he’d come her for, when poisoned dreams threatened to swallow reality entirely.

So this was not the first time Adam’d met Nell and had to hold back tears when stabbing yet another shapeshifter to death or felt crushing emptiness when it turned out he’d only embraced only empty air.

Adam looked down at the compass needle, pointing unerringly forward.

“Hey Nell,” Adam rasped through cracked lips, taking a green stone with a hole through its center from a cord around his neck. He held out the Adder Stone in one hand, gory knife clutched in the other. “When’d you give this to me?”

Nell looked to the Adder Stone held in Adam’s hand, her solemn resignation to the illusion disrupted by the flickering of uncertainty in her eyes. The compass was a new addition as well, though she recognized the daffodil bloom she’d carefully laid into the face of it, the magic and flowers they’d made together under a full moon. “But I didn’t- I was gonna give you that after the date,” she mumbled, already chiding herself for how easily a couple of emotional trinkets could sway her mind towards what the demon world wanted her to see. But the compass wasn’t what he was asking about. The Adder Stone. Of course she remembered when she’d given it to him- the first of many things she’d gifted in an attempt to keep him safe.

“After Bea- after we...brought her back.” Nell had masqueraded the gift as a thanks for Adam’s help in bringing her sister back from the ether, but the truth had gone deeper than that. “I said it was for helping protect my family. But I just- the carachs had just given you those visions, and the somnivore thing wasn’t that far off.” It’d been nearly a year ago that she’d delivered the stone, nearly five months after their first meeting at the Ring, and by then she’d already gotten soft for him. “You were hurting and- I didn’t want you to hurt.” Taking the Adder Stone between her fingers, she swallowed hard as she held it before her face, already dreading the moment he’d disappear before her eyes. The motion sent her into a brief coughing fit, the heaves long and loud as her lungs desperately tried to dispel the poison in her system. At the end of it she finally raised the stone’s center to her eye, knowing this vision and her willingness to linger with even a false Adam had already shaved precious moments off the stopwatch that was ticking down the seconds until the poison got the best of her. “Let’s just- let’s get this over with.” It was silly, and she shouldn’t have said it knowing he was nothing more than an exhaustion or demon induced delusion. But she couldn’t help herself as the next words whispered from her lips, trying to find a moment of peace in a land that had never known it. “I miss you. I’ll miss you.”

Finally Nell looked through the stone’s center, still surprised at how solid it felt in her hands, wondering if that was another lie to be chalked up to feeling dead on her feet. Except Adam didn’t fade from view, didn’t disappear into nothingness as she locked her gaze onto his familiar and brown eyes. She gasped, still hardly believing it but reaching out nonetheless, letting the Adder Stone thump unceremoniously against his chest while its cord slackened and her hand found a gentle resting place alongside his cheek. Warmth. Perhaps a little too warm, as if he were running a fever. But there was the unmistakable feeling of life beneath her fingertips, and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer to close the space between them, slipping her other hand into his. Her knees grew even more unsteady, either from shock, barely having the energy to hold herself upright, or both— and for a moment she rested a little more weight against him than she probably should have considering his state. But it was impossible for her not to sink into the first safe place she’d found since the onychorror had snatched her. She’d finally found a place where she was safe in the hellhole. A place where she’d always been safe to crumble, to relieve her walls of their nearly ever-present duties. A place where she knew it was safe to fall because he’d never once stumbled when it came to catching her. “How- How did you- you’re real? Please- either this is a really good mindfuck or-” Or Tate had made good on his deal, and managed to get her hastily doctored sigil back to White Crest. Was it possible something had actually gone right? Had gone so right as to bring the man she loved to her side?

Adam let the knife fall from his hand onto the writhing ground and put his arms around Nell. There was a moment of tenseness, of resigned expectation. But she didn’t turn to mist, slip right through him, or boil up into some hungry thing. Tidal waves of relief and shock at something too impossibly good to be true collided in Adam’s chest. Nell was solid, real. Just a moment Adam couldn’t feel the heat of the burning sky or the poisons of alien worlds killing him cell by cell.

“I’m real,” Adam assured holding her tight with what strength was left in him. “I’m really here.” He entwined the fingers of their free hands. “I don’t want any other life except one with you in it,” the Hunter confessed, wasting precious water as the tears slid down his bloody and battered face.

“So uh...here I am.”

Nell could feel her own tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, an avalanche of relief washing over her near-ravaged spirit, almost still waiting for this moment to break in a way that left her spinning. But the moment never came, and Adam was breathtakingly solid within her arms. For a long breath she savored the peace he brought, like a salve over an open wound. She wanted to bury herself against him, to hide from the world around them and pretend like it didn’t exist, but the fear that he’d disappear if she so much as looked away from his gaze was too great, afraid to even blink lest the break in their eye contact be the blip of time needed for him to dissipate from under her hands.

She could feel her pulse gain a few extra beats while Adam made his declaration, heart in her throat while she ran his words on repeat through her mind. It was wrong. So wrong that such beautiful words should have to be uttered in a world as ugly as this one, spoken between the gasping breaths of a dying pair. Nell had always known that loving Adam wouldn’t be easy between his constant brushes with death, and the conditioning that often made him feel the need to put humanity’s welfare before anything else in his life. She’d done it nevertheless, having made peace with the fact that maybe he wouldn’t ever wholly be her’s, a part of him always belonging only to his mission. The pieces of him she’d been given had been more than enough. But that didn’t mean his admission didn’t tug at her heart, didn’t make it soar in a way that made a fluttering bloom in chest that had nothing to do with the poisonous air slowly killing her.

“Here you are,” Nell finally managed to repeat in wonder. Hadn’t he been the one trying to convince her to leave him behind should the demon apocalypse commence? He'd told her that she was a part of humanity’s hope for survival, that she should abandon him for the sake of the world. It was his own words that made her know the gravity of him choosing to come for her, to potentially sacrifice one of humanity’s hopes in the form of himself by searching for her in the endless worlds. And that was enough to keep her voice steady and sincere while she spoke. “I don’t want a life without you either.”

Part of Nell wanted to be upset with him, to scold him for being so foolish with his own life by following her into the portal, but she couldn’t manage to speak the words through the temporary moment of solace they’d found in the middle of hell— unwilling to break it. Unfortunately there was something else that needed to be said that would do just as good a job at shattering their moment of quiet. Something she couldn’t ignore. “There’s...something else I need to tell you.” Let her hold onto this shining feeling for just a few more seconds before she brought them back to reality.

Adam had grown up with the knowledge that his life wasn’t his own. It belonged to humanity’s destiny, a merciless idol that generations upon generations of his family had been sacrificed to appease. The abnegation of the self had been soothing in a way, it’d made him brave in a way. It doesn’t hurt to suffer and risk your life again and again if it isn’t truly yours to lose. He tried to never deceive the women in his life. Nobody deserved to be given only part of someone to love.

Mom and dad had loved each other intensely, and Adam had seen the aftermath after the needs of humanity had demanded yet another sacrifice. At the time he’d thought he’d learned a lesson from Esther Walker’s sorrow, and was determined to never hurt someone the way his father had.

But after three years of complete radio silence, Adam had spoken with mom and learned too late that he'd gotten it all wrong. As he’d grown, so had she, and neither mother or son were the same broken people that’d parted at Gehena 19.

Penelope was a person he shouldn’t have loved. She practiced demonology, the very art that’d fucked up the world in the first place. She’d participated in human trafficking and slavery. She’d performed ritual human sacrifice. She’d hunted down bounties without any concern for morality or a higher cause. She aided and abetted supernatural criminals simply because of her personal feelings. When these actions reaped consequences, Nell responded with personal wrath and revenge rather than seeking resolution, splintering tragedy into ever more fractals of repercussion.

Basically, by every standard he’d been raised to believe in, Penelope Vural was evil, and if she hadn’t been born human Adam would’ve been obligated to kill her.

But that’s not what happened. At first it’d just been that she was a useful ally. Next it'd just been typical horndog Adam, thinking with the head in his trousers rather than one on his shoulders again. Physical attraction and wary partnership had explained things for only so long however. She was brave, self-sacrificing, vivacious, and free to act according to passion and her free will in a way Adam had never dared to be. Eventually Adam was sharing things with her that he’d never dreamed of telling anyone else.

He wasn’t supposed to care about someone like Nell, to give her so much of what belonged to the mission. Adam could only love someone also sworn to fight the same war, no one else could understand the sacrifices necessary and what’d inevitably come sooner rather than later. Adam had been introduced to Huntresses his age with the unspoken understanding that eventually he’d find someone to fight alongside and raise children with to pass the sacred charge onto the next generation.

Adam had drank, partied, and screwed his way into forgetting for a while. Until suddenly, he ended up loving the wrong person, someone who wanted Adam for just himself, war be damned.

It wasn’t the right thing.

But what if he just….did y’know?

What he just loved Nell like she deserved without holding back, fight for his own humanity for a change?

Adam just wished he'd had the courage to take that plunge earlier.

Adam looked parted the embrace slightly so that he could meet her gaze “What is it Nell?”

Nell hadn’t planned to fall for Adam Walker, hadn’t even entirely noticed how close she’d let him get until she’d felt like she was on the edge of losing him, delivering the news that August Thompson had died a death far from peaceful— that Adam’s hand had been directly involved in the spellcaster’s demise. Of course she’d known he was one of the people she’d trusted most, one of the only people she’d ever let see her stripped to the core while he’d held her after Bea’s death. It was why she’d asked him to help in the first place. But she hadn’t realized just how much there was to lose until she was standing on the precipice. She’d been convinced that it would be the end, that she’d managed to ruin something before even really letting it begin, and that he wouldn't come back. It turned out she didn't need to worry about him coming back, because he’d never left in the first place. And he kept not leaving, something that had been rare in the life of a witch who had an overzealous temper and a reckless streak a mile wide.

So when he’d done things others might condemn or draw the line at— killed a werewolf in cold blood, admitted his own bloodlust beneath a full moon, gone on a murder spree fueled by the same moon, considered a demon pact, left her on read in the middle of feeling as if she were about to lose him...there’d been no choice of whether or not she’d grant him the same loyalty, to stay with him just as he’d stayed with her. She’d just wanted him to come home. And he always had. Even now, after fighting his way through literal hell, he’d come home.

Selfishly putting off her bad news for one moment longer, she let months of feeling the sun on her face when he smiled fill her soul, holding onto that feeling as she tried to find the words for what she wanted to say. What needed to be said if they didn’t make it out of this hellscape, and what she should have said much sooner despite being scared. She’d been worried about what he might say in reply, always thinking of that part of himself that she knew he felt he couldn’t give, not sure if she wanted to hear the ‘I’m sorry, but’ that she might get in response. But the man who’d dived into hell for her deserved to hear it, and she wasn’t scared anymore. “You know I love you, right?” He didn’t need to say it back, she’d finally realized that while he’d been walking towards her, knowing loving words could never speak as loudly as his actions had. “I just wanted you to know,” she assured him, letting him know she didn’t need to hear it in return. It wouldn’t change anything.

Now for the less charming of her news. “Not to...instantly bring the mood down but...the other thing I needed to tell you…” Nell glanced over her shoulder, as if the soul-snatching creature would be there even now as she divulged news of it. “There’s a...slaugh. I think it’s been following me.” Adam would know what it meant, that such creatures only went after those who were generally mere hours from dying, waiting to devour their souls. Nell had glimpsed it as she kept rubbing elbows with death in the hellscape, the being momentarily coming into focus while she’d barely escaped a demon encounter with her life still intact. The creatures were nearly as good at predicting death as banshees were.

Adam followed her gaze towards the burning horizon where plasma storms corrustated in lightning rainbows over living plains of crawling flesh. Slaugh were vultures of the spirit world. As a kid he’d been terrified of the invisible presences that set off his Hunter senses whenever there was a clash between militia forces around the Levant. It’d felt like a blizzard of dark wings, choking him with claustrophobia on empty arid plains covered in bodies shredded by shrapnel.

Mom had assured her son he wasn’t crazy. He could just feel the demons glutted humanity’s senseless wars against itself.

Adam‘s mind went back to Regan’s prophecy and felt an iron dread settle in his stomach, adding bittersweetness to the joy and relief coursing through his enervated body.

Adam let the future go and drew Nell close against him again, just letting this moment exist for as long as hell allowed. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth ,” he murmured.

The tension in Nell’s shoulders melted as Adam pulled her back, savoring their togetherness for as long as she could, feeling true hope for the first time since...she wasn’t actually certain how long it had been, not even knowing how many days she’d been stuck in these hell-worlds. She drew a long breath while she was pressed against him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to assure herself that he was still here- still real even though it seemed impossible that he was. When they got back to Earth. It seemed like a far off hope, like shooting for the moon without any of that bullshit optimism of landing among the stars. “Then you can tell me the plan when we find a place that’s not suffocating us.” He wouldn’t have come without one, right? It was one thing to condemn himself to death, and she wouldn’t be entirely surprised given his generally self-sacrificing nature, whether that had been taught, was natural, or a combination of the two. But it was another entirely to forfeit the life of her as well by diving in without an extraction plan. He wouldn’t have risked the person he was saving.

The slaugh was worrisome enough as an omen of death, but there’d been more to consider when it’s eating of souls was brought into play. Nell still wasn’t all that sure whether she’d want to be raised from the dead in the first place should she perish in the next twenty-four hours, but if the slaugh ate her soul...she wouldn’t have a choice to begin with. You couldn’t raise a body without a soul.

Again Nell fell silent while she drank in as much as this as she could, the dread in her stomach a constant reminder of how far there still was to go. But with Adam- at least she stood a chance. With Adam they could at least sleep, taking varied watches. And then maybe some of her magic would come back and Adam could heal, and then...well then they’d at least have a fighting chance together, always stronger together. Nell used her fragile strength to bring herself to the tips of her toes, trying to press a gentle kiss to his black-veined cheek before feathering across his lips. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth,” she echoed, recognizing it as another promise they could hold between them. They’d go back to Earth together in the same way they’d fought the dolorphage, the way they’d faced an unknown future beneath the full moon all those months ago, and the same way they’d taken on a demon cult and lived to tell the tale— always together.

#// DON'T LOOK AT ME IM EMOTIONAL #as alwAYS tapir just gives me a GIFT of a chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:adam #hell's true north #sibling death tw #mass poisoning tw #parental death tw

18 notes · View notes

star-spangledstud · 4 years

Text

TAKE CARE OF ME

Request: “Can I request a smutty goodness with daddy Steve and a soft reader? Maybe she wants to take care of daddy for once but he won't let her. Thank you❤❤” @donutloverxo

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)reader

Word count: 2500-ish

Warning(s): SMUUUT 18+

A/N: I’m not the best smut writer, that’s for sure, but I enjoyed writing this while I should have been preparing for my exams. Thank you for sending in this lovely request :) I hope you like it! PS: I didn’t check this, so please forgive any mistakes.

Steve always wants to take care of you.

He draws you a bubble bath with slow burning candles lining the edge of the tub and soft jazz music playing in the background after particularly long or especially dangerous missions that often force the two of you to spend time away from each other.

He cooks you dinner when you’re too tired to stand on your feet on sparring days with Natasha who makes you fight her in little mini skirts, long tight dresses and strappy heels without weapons to make the job easier. He’s not a great cook, but he tries his best for you. Hell, he’s even learned how to work YouTube just so he can watch videos on how to properly prepare steaks, quiches and risottos.

He treats and surprises you with lavish gifts every chance he gets. In his eyes, he doesn’t need an excuse or special occasion to surprise his best girl with diamonds, pearls and designer handbags. The man has more money than he knows how to spend on himself, so he does his best by giving it to you. You never ask for anything, and you cherish every gift he’s ever given you. More often than not, the fact he’s able to pick out items that are just your taste makes your head spin in amazement.

There’s an enormous bouquet of fresh pink roses and white lilies on your dining room table every Thursday, and as long as either of you aren’t away on missions, Friday nights are reserved for dates. Those are typically spent at expensive restaurants that put his own food to shame and they always end in an entire night of passionate, sweet sex in various locations.

You wear the dresses he buys you while dining at those restaurants, low cut and in soft colors that accentuate your glowing skin and that compliment the fiery look in your eyes that you give him when you eye-fuck him from across the table. He started buying his slacks in a larger size just so his throbbing dick doesn’t strain against the luxurious material. Even then, he sometimes doesn’t make it through the night, and more often then not, the two of you end up in the bathroom, your hands pressed against the mirror while he fucks you over the sink. One time, you didn’t quite make it home; you ended up pulled up on the side of the highway with your panties around your ankles while he fucked you against the hood of his car.

He bought you a house so you don’t have to live in the tower anymore, because according to the man whose super hero name seems to be permanently attached to his being, separating work and private life is extremely important. You suspect he bought it so he can fuck you in every room without having to be quiet and afraid of being walked in on, because he loves the way you sound when you loudly moan his name when he makes you cum.

He bought you a car so you can get around easier when he’s not there. He knows you prefer being in the passenger’s seat and prefers to drive, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he handed you the key. The two of you fucked on the backseat the first night you got it, windows fogged and air thick with sex. The drive afterwards was the best he’s ever had, right hand rubbing soft circles on your bruised thigh while the breeze coming in through the open window blew the scent of himself on your skin back to him.

He takes you on vacations three times a year to resorts with private beaches so he doesn’t have to share his view of your ass with anyone. He loves seeing you strutting around in mini dresses and skimpy bikinis all day long, and fingering your sweet pussy inside swimming pools with bright blue ripples has become a new favorite past time of his.

You love it when he takes care of you, although for you, it goes far beyond expensive gifts and lavish holidays to exotic places. Sure, you enjoy being spoiled by your boyfriend, but its the idea that you’re constantly on his mind that really makes your heart beat faster. The only problem you face is that he spoils you so much, you hardly find the time and place to do the same for him.

It’s been three weeks since you last saw him. The house out in the countryside that the two of you share feels too empty without his presence, and you can’t wait to see him again. Your heart has been skipping beats since the moment you woke up, and it hasn’t stopped thumping ever since.

Standing in front of the full body mirror in your bedroom, you take a moment to check yourself out. Clad in a new pink satin lingerie set your heart surges, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. The dress you put on over it is one of Steve’s favorites, a figure-hugging number in a light shade of lilac. Something about seeing you in varying shades of pastel always seems to drive Steve over the edge.

Today is the day you intend to take care of him.

You prepare his favorite food well in advance and play his favorite music while you wait for him to come home. You know you could’ve bought him a welcoming gift, but you know he doesn’t care for materialistic things and that he already owns everything he needs right there with you.

You feel nervous and excited at the same time all throughout the day. Butterflies seemed to have blossomed inside your stomach, and they don’t stop fluttering around for even a second. When the front door finally opens, the feeling only intensifies, and you quickly scramble to get the dessert into the fridge to chill before he sees it.

“Y/N?” he shouts, voice straining in order to make himself heard through the entire house at once, “you here?”

“In the kitchen!” you shout back as you straighten out your dress.

Your back is turned to him when he enters, and his pupils dilate when he catches a glimpse of your ass straining against the lilac satin. The familiar scent of his cologne invades your nose, and you can tell he showered in the tower after the debriefing when the smell of his body wash enters your nostrils next.

“Smells good,” he mumbles against the bare skin of your shoulder, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply with shut eyes while relishing the feeling of his body pressed up against you, “I made dinner.”

The two of you eat by candle light. Steve tells you everything that happened on the mission in great detail, and in turn you explain to him what you’d been up to while he was away. His eyes never once leave you, and the intense feeling of his gaze burns every inch of your skin.

Before you have time to bring out the pavlova you made, you find yourself pushed against your bedroom door. Steve’s hands are all over you, working their way up the length of your right leg while the other has you by the waist. His mouth, hot and wet, tastes like Asgardian mead on your tongue, and the kisses he trails along your jawline light your skin on fire.

“Tell daddy how much you missed him,” he mumbles in your ear, “sweet girl.”

“So much,” you manage, “I missed you so much, daddy.”

You vividly remember the first time it accidentally slipped out. You were on your knees with him behind you when the word spilled from your panting lips, and you’ll never forget the instant effect it had on him. Steve had never been called daddy before, but the way it sounded coming from you while his dick was inside of you to the hilt nearly sent his senses into overdrive and it stuck with you ever since.

“I missed you too baby,” he says while leading you to the freshly made bed with satin sheets, “let me show you how much I missed you.”

His favorite dress is on the floor not even a minute later, and the sight of what you’re wearing underneath makes Steve’s mouth water more than any food could ever do. The soft shade of pastel compliments your skin so perfectly it’s painful, and he doesn’t waste time getting out of his clothes after seeing you sprawled out on the bed for him.

The kisses he trails from your shin to your thigh make you shiver. Your panties are already wet by the time he plants a kiss on top of them, leaving the color to darken to a deep shade of pink that marks your arousal.

“So wet already,” he muses, “that all for me?”

“Yes daddy,” you moan when he presses another kiss to your clothed pussy, “all for you.”

He hooks his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your new panties and takes agonizingly long to pull them down, inching them down your burning flesh while he peppers more kisses on your stomach.

You take the liberty of unhooking your bra, and it lands on top of the panties he’s already thrown on the floor. Your hands caress his bare chest, fingertips relishing in the feeling of hard muscles protected by smooth, milky skin. Every time you see him without clothes you marvel at how perfectly sculpted his body is, every thing from the broadness of his shoulders to the clean cut v-lines that lead your eyes straight down to his large, beautifully straining cock.

“Oh god,” you mewl when his tongue connects to your already soaking pussy, “Steve!”

He savors the heavenly flavor on his tongue when his tongue dances across your pussy. You’re a moaning mess by the time his thick fingers plunge inside of you and he laps at your clit like a starved man while he slowly pumps them in and out of you. You’re writhing beneath him in an attempt to gain more friction when he doesn’t speed up, and he smiles cheekily against your bud when your muscles contract around his fingers.

“Please,” you can feel your cheeks burning, “Steve.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, pausing for a moment.

“Want you,” you pant, “inside of me.”

You whine when he pushes his dripping fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him while he kisses your cheek and the lobe of your ear. His chest covers your own, and you don’t realize how much you’ve been craving the feeling of his body weight pressing down on top of you until his body is flush with your own.

“I love you so much baby,” he whispers when he lines himself up with your aching entrance, “my sweet girl.”

“I love you-” a sinful moan interrupts your profession of love when you feel his cock sliding slowly between your folds, “I love you too, daddy.”

“I’m gonna show you how much I missed you,” he groans.

You cry out when he finally enters you. The sensation of his thick cock filling you causes your eyes to involuntarily roll back. You grab a tight hold of the sheets for support when he grips your hips to get a better angle. The sight of you beneath him, lips parted and strands of hair already sticking to your face is damn near enough for Steve to cum then and there, but he pushes the urge back down while he takes a moment to get used to the feeling of your walls stretching beautifully around his aching cock.

Your moans echo through the room when he finally thrusts into you, a thin layer of glistening sweat quickly forming on the toned biceps he uses to push and pull himself in and out of your tight cunt. The scent of sex quickly pervades the air, and the sweet slick drips out of your pussy and onto the sheets you washed just this morning.

“Feels so good daddy,” you whine, “please don’t stop.”

Every inch of your skin burns under Steve’s touch and you find yourself getting closer to the edge with each roll of Steve’s hips. The knot buried deep inside your stomach tightens, the coil almost ready to snap. The way Steve seems to know exactly which spot makes your toes curl makes you for a moment believe he possesses some sort of telekinetic powers. The rhythm created by his hips is far more intoxicating than any bottle of Asgardian mead, and the edge you’re threatening to fall down is the most dangerous of all.

“I won’t stop until you cum baby,” he tells you, “I want to see your face when you cum all over my dick.”

Your mind draws blank when his thrusts quicken, the movements of his hips becoming sloppier with each passing moment. You can tell by the throbbing of his cock inside of you and the frown etched in his forehead that he’s just as close as you are.

His voice is muffled between the crook of your neck and the mattress, but you can hear him muttering filthy words under ragged breaths.

“You feel so good baby,” he pants, “gonna make me cum.”

Before you can respond, warmth engulfs your entire body from head to toe. You arch your back, pressing your breasts flush against Steve’s glistening chest. His name leaves your lips repeatedly when you come undone beneath him, and he follows right behind you when the sensation of your clenching walls becomes too much for him to bear.

Steve slowly eases his way out of you and the both of you take a moment to regain your breaths. Your mind begins to wander, and a sudden wave of sadness overtakes you.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks when he notices the slight pout of your lips and frown on your forehead, “did I hurt you?”

“No,” you say quickly, “it’s just that... well... I wanted to take care of you for once.”

Steve’s heart clenches when he hears the sad sound of your voice and he turns on his side to face you. With his free hand, he wipes a strand of sticky hair out of your face. Then, he takes yours and holds it gently.

“You do take care of me,” he says earnestly, “you take care of me every day.”

“How?” you raise a brow, “you’re always the one paying for everything and stuff.”

“Baby,” he kisses your knuckles, “you know how I feel about money. It doesn’t mean anything to me, and it sure as hell doesn’t define the amount of love I have for you and vice versa. Making sure I take time away from my job is how you take care of me. I’d be a mess without you, Y/N. I’d be miserable drowning in work if i didn’t have you.”

“You make me a happy man every day,” he continues, “you made me realize that I’m right where I should be. I don’t dwell on the past anymore because I have you. I’m happy, because of you.”

You smile and nod, “I love you Steve.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You’re silent for a moment, enjoying the sound of Steve’s heartbeat against your ear when you lay your head on his bare chest. Just before you’re about to doze off, a single thought enters your brain.

“Steve?” you ask.

“Hmm?” he replies, also on the verge of falling asleep.

“We forgot about dessert.”

274 notes · View notes

murasaki-murasame · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Higurashi Gou Ep18

This week in Higurashi, things are relatively peaceful and mundane, which somehow has me just as nervous as all the shit that went down in the last arc.

Thoughts under the cut.

The preview images we got obviously included stuff from Matsuribayashi flashbacks, but I guess now we know that the entire episode was focused on Matsuribayashi and it’s aftermath, with no follow-up to the end of Nekodamashi. I think we’re going to spend a few more episodes on this flashback [which feels like a weird way to describe it since we’re dealing with new post-Matsuribayashi content, but it still happens chronologically before Gou], and to me this makes it feel more likely that when we cut back to the end of Nekodamashi, Satoko will get stopped before she can shoot Rika, and that arc will continue on and be the ‘true ending’ of Gou. Unless this ends in a super tragic and depressing way, which I guess is possible if they really lean into this being a Bernkastel origin story.

Anyway, at this point it looks like we’re just going back and seeing what happened with Satoko between 1983 and 1988 that convinced her to make some sort of a deal to go back in time and punish Rika for her sins, and it’s nice to finally start getting some answers. We haven’t really figured out anything to do with the mechanics of the different murders of the first three arcs happened, but we’re getting a much clearer image of Satoko’s backstory and her motives.

There’s still clearly a lot left to happen to her since things only really come to a head in 1988, but this episode already sets the stage for showing how the whole friend group is starting to break apart over time, and how all the traditions and norms of the village are starting to change. On the one hand it’s really satisfying to see this sort of pay-off after everything that happened in the VN, but on the other hand it makes sense that it all ends up just making Satoko feel alienated and abandoned by everyone.

Even on top of stuff like Mion graduating and Rika wanting to go to St Lucia’s, there’s also other stuff going on like Keiichi taking over the club and removing all the tricks and schemes that Satoko liked about the club games, and the village heads publicly putting an end to the dam war, and declaring the curse as basically just being a myth.

Even after everyone met Hanyuu and found out about the true nature of the curse, I can see how Satoko wouldn’t be very happy about having everything with the curse and the dam war cast aside and moved on from. It’s a good thing in the long run, but it doesn’t really erase all of the stuff it caused Satoko to go through.

We also found out about how the disease is starting to clear up all on it’s own, probably as a result of Hanyuu’s big change of heart and her deciding to ‘go to sleep’ after the events of Matsuribayashi, which Satoko at least seemed happy about, but it makes me wonder what happens with Satoshi after all this. One of the big reasons why Satoko’s motives for starting this new loop confused me is just because Satoshi should have already been cured by 1988, so even if Satoko had begun drifting away from her friends and having to adjust to life at a shitty Catholic boarding school, she’d at least have her brother back. But this is making me wonder if maybe he never actually gets cured, and if that might be part of why she’s looping in the first place.

Even with the disease disappearing over time, it’s possible that Satoshi had basically gone past the point of no return, and that even if they woke him from his coma, he’d never properly recover. Or maybe he ends up getting killed, directly or indirectly, as part of the clinic being shut down.

And on the whole topic of Satoshi, we also didn’t hear anything about Shion in this episode, which also makes me wonder how she’d respond to whatever happens to Satoshi in the future, and what her relationship with the club ended up being like. It also feels like one of the reasons why Rika and Satoko are going to St Lucia’s in the first place rather than any other school might just be so that Satoko can end up interacting with Shion there, but I’ll get back to that in a minute.

Aside from that, the whole scene where Rika and Satoko talked about how they both disliked how Keiichi was getting rid of the dirty tricks in the club games, and how ‘Rika’s pure soul had been tainted from all the games she and Satoko played’ just felt like they were going out of their way to mess with people like me who want more Bern and Lambda content, lmao. That whole scene really makes it obvious how those two end up with the sort of relationship they have in Umineko. It’s an extreme, exaggerated version of them playing games together that involve foul play and punishments. Also, I feel like both Rika and Satoko’s teenage designs make them look more like Bern and Lambda, which is interesting.

There’s speculation about whether or not Satoko will pass her entrance exams to St Lucia’s, but in her scene in the OP she’s wearing the St Lucia’s uniform, rather than the one she wears in this episode, so I think it’s very likely that she’ll get in, and that the real problem will just be what happens once she starts going there, considering how bad of a time both Shion and Ange had there.

We already know that Rika thinks very highly of her time there, and I think it’s pretty likely that she’d have an easier time fitting in than Shion and Ange did, but it seems pretty inevitable to me that Satoko would end up getting bullied and isolated. I think she ends up drifting away from Rika as a result of this, while Rika winds up not noticing what’s happening to Satoko because she’s too busy enjoying her new happy school life. And since it looks like Satoko probably spent about four years there before everything went to shit, that’s a lot of time for things to get really bad for her.

Considering that this episode also proves that Mion was just about to enter high school at the end of the VN, it’s very likely that Shion was still attending St. Lucia’s at the same time as Rika and Satoko, so I think we’ll end up seeing them interacting, which will be interesting. I could see this tying into whatever ends up happening to Satoshi, since both Satoko and Shion are invested in him. I also think that having Shion become more important this way could also let them finally include some material from Meakashi, so we don’t just entirely skip her whole backstory. Similarly, I get the feeling that we might see more of post-Matsuribayashi Rena in a way that delves more into her backstory and her family, and gives some answers in hindsight about what she was going through in Onidamashi. Which wouldn’t really be the most satisfying substitute for the entire Tsumihoroboshi arc, but it’s something.

The other big reason why I think Shion might get involved soon, and part of why I think Rika and Satoko are going to St. Lucia’s in the first place, is that we might find out that Shion is more or less Satoko’s accomplice. This is mainly inspired by the theories people have made about how Satoko seems to be holding Shion’s hair ribbon on the cover of the new ending theme’s CD jacket, but in general I think it makes a lot of sense that they’d end up working together. I don’t necessarily think that Shion is also a looper or anything, I think Satoko has probably been reaching out to her at the start of each loop in Gou to make her an accomplice, and their interactions at St Lucia’s might set the foundation for why she’d do that.

At the very least, if that time at St Lucia’s lets them become closer, it’d make it easier for Satoko to figure out how to get Shion on her side in each loop once she starts looping, but I think it’d also tie into Satoshi’s fate. If Satoko finds out exactly what happens to him, and she can convince Shion to believe her, that might help get her to become her accomplice.

I don’t really think Satoko did much of anything in Onidamashi, since nothing Rena did had anything to do with Rika, and we also didn’t even see Shion at all, but I think Watadamashi would have been the start of this. It’d also explain why Shion doesn’t even show up in Nekodamashi and never went L5 in spite of being the most obvious person to go L5, if Satoko was intentionally protecting her.

I don’t actually have any real concrete idea of how Shion being Satoko’s accomplice would relate to the mechanics of anything in Watadamashi or Tataridamashi, let alone all the loops in Nekodamashi, but it at least makes sense in terms of their motivations, lol.

Shion’s role in Watadamashi has always felt super weird, though, what with her strange phone call to Keiichi after the festival, and her apparently getting killed by Mion. And there’s also the whole mystery of why Satoko even bothered going to the Sonozaki estate at the end of that arc, since Rika had already died by that point. At this point I wonder if maybe Shion was still alive by that point, and only died at the end of the arc, instead of being killed on the night of the festival like we’re lead to think happened.

I think Shion being the main accomplice would help explain the logistics of how people like Kimiyoshi and Akane apparently got injected and turned L5, though. It still seems like a stretch to think that Satoko would be able to do it, and that they’d even listen to anything she tries to tell them, but I could see it happening if Shion was the one who did it instead.

I’m hoping that eventually this whole flashback will reach the point where we start seeing Satoko’s perspective on the first three arcs, since there’s still a lot that needs to be explained about them. It wouldn’t be as fleshed out as a full series of answer arcs like the VN had, but still.

Onidamashi’s kinda weird because it feels like it can be ‘solved’ almost entirely just with knowledge about Rena’s character from the VN. Satoko might have been involved with it, but it’s very easy to imagine how Rena could have just gone down the same route as Tsumihorboshi without any intervention from Satoko at all. So since Gou doesn’t really seem all that interested in actually answering all the mysteries for new fans, I could see them not really going into detail about that arc, and only explaining the very end of it with Rika and Satoko dying, since VN fans could just figure out the solution for Rena’s side of things on their own.

Watadamashi is probably the arc that needs the most explaining, at least in terms of the different murders and how they happened and who did them. At this point I guess we’re just meant to take the story of Tomitake and Takano fleeing the village at face value, and that there’s probably not much else going on there, but we don’t know exactly what happened that lead to Kimiyoshi, Oryo, and Shion dying, or who exactly killed Rika and why they did it, or why Satoko went to the Sonozaki estate and wound up getting killed there. I’m still honestly not very sure what happened in that arc, even now that we know a lot about the bigger picture of the story. Even now that we know more about Satoko’s motives, it’s still hard to explain why she bothered going to the Sonozaki estate after Rika had already died. Since her whole motive just seems to be about Rika, it feels like she would have just wanted to reset the loop as quickly as possible, and there’d be much simpler ways to go about killing herself to make it happen.

Tataridamashi is also kinda weird, but less in terms of it’s murder mysteries, and more in terms of what was going on in the background of that arc in general. I don’t really buy the idea that Satoko was entirely faking all of the abuse in that arc, considering that in Nekodamashi she had an entirely genuine panicked response just to seeing the jack-in-the-box again, which makes it feel very unlikely that she’d be able to completely fake a way more severe PTSD attack. There’s also the fact that, even if we’re dealing with a Satoko from the Matsuribayashi timeline, she doesn’t necessarily remember the timelines where Teppei comes back to the village. It feels pretty unrealistic to imagine that just because she’s aware that she’s in a time loop, she suddenly doesn’t have any trauma toward Teppei anymore, and is able to be a master manipulator who can fake her own abuse just to mess with people. I also just don’t even know what her motive for faking her abuse would be, aside just wanting Rika to feel bad. But that feels like a pretty convoluted way to go about it, and in general it just feels like it’d be an insensitive way to handle child abuse as a topic.

It also just feels odd to me to think that this version of Teppei either wasn’t actually abusive, or just randomly changed his tactics entirely. But I do think it’s noteworthy that they drew visual attention at the end of the arc to Satoko’s lack of bruises, and that we didn’t physically see Teppei after the visit from Chie [aside from when he attacked Keiichi, which might have just been a hallucination]. Rather than Satoko just completely fabricating her abuse, I think that Teppei did start abusing her like in Tatarigoroshi, but Satoko ended up killing him in self-defense, which might have happened shortly before her big breakdown, which could still mean that whole scene was genuine, in it’s own way. And even if she did kill him, we already saw in Tatarigoroshi that Satoko is able to hallucinate him as still being alive even after his death, so even if she killed him in self-defense, it’s possible that she wound up convincing herself that he was still alive and abusing her.

Even with the meta-knowledge of being a looper, and what we know of her disease curing itself later on in time, it’s still likely to me that she genuinely still suffered from HS during the Gou loops. I mean, we know that Rika of all people went L5 at least once, in spite of knowing about the disease and everything. We saw in Nekodamashi that even after all this, Satoko apparently stilled believed in the existence of Oyashiro-sama as a conventional god figure who curses people, so I can imagine that even after she started looping, she could still develop HS and get paranoid about things.

I’m still not entirely sure what happened with Ooishi behind the scenes in that arc that lead to him going L5, and what exactly happened to Keiichi at Satoko’s house. It seems very likely to me that Teppei was already dead by that point, and he was just a hallucination, but usually the hallucinations don’t cause people to hear people say things that they aren’t actually saying, so the fact that Satoko mentioned her uncle in that scene when Teppei showed up might imply that she was in the phase of hallucinating him being alive as well.

Anyway, I think that this section of the flashback will end with Satoko in 1988 being contacted by some sort of supernatural/meta entity posing as Oyashiro-sama who convinces her to go back in time to punish Rika, so I’m curious to see exactly how that plays out, and how much it might tie into Umineko stuff. I still think it’s likely that Lambda decided to make Satoko her new piece, at least. But I dunno if we’ll explicitly see her in that case, or if it’d just be like Satoko hearing a disembodied voice in her head.

I’m not sure exactly how long I think this flashback will go for, though, with both the post-Matsuribayashi stuff, and any flashbacks to the first three arcs of Gou. It’d be kinda nice if we at least get one full episode going over each of the first three arcs, but we’ll see. There’s still about four more years left to go in this flashback until we get to 1988, but I don’t think it’d take that many episodes to get there.

In spite of this being a fairly sparse episode, I ended up having a fair bit to say about it, lol.

#murasaki rambles #higurashi #higurashi gou #plus more Umineko spoilers

18 notes · View notes

lycorogue · 3 years

Text

Some Passing Thoughts on the New Miraculous Episodes

Finally got around to watching the fansubs of the Shanghai special and “Truth” (I’m still waiting for the other episodes to come out before watching Furious Fu).

Miraculous World: Shanghai – The Legend of Ladydragon

I have to say, I might change my mind later if the Prodigious proves to be more crucial to the overall lore of the series, but right now? Yeah. This special is a major skip for me.

I did not connect with Fei the way I fell in love with Jess and Aeon. I am so pissed at the set-up the writers came up with to GET Marinette to Shanghai; her reasoning is the most selfish thing we have ever seen her do and it is such an injustice to her character. Plus, it is like neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir learned anything from the New York trip as they both show up in Shanghai kind of spur of the moment (i.e. didn’t tell the other they were leaving Paris). In fact, Marinette - again, going back to my hatred for the setup to get her to China - didn’t even CONSIDER the fact that Paris would be left unprotected; that Ladybug would be MIA. Granted, it was stated that Hawk Moth was surprisingly inactive, but shouldn’t that put her on hyper-alert; waiting for the other shoe to drop and Hawky to release something big that he was building up to? Instead she just lowers her guard and doesn’t even consider her superhero duties when planning on following Adrien.

Another annoying thing is that the writers didn’t seem to learn anything from backlash against the episode “Kung Fu.” They just once again have Adrien be the one offering to teach Marinette Mandarin; not her mother (whose Chinese name Marinette never even knew), nor her great-uncle. Another writers flub was in the battle against Roi Argent. Ladybug questions Mei Shi’s suggestion that revenge does not equal justice (if that was translated properly), and... I’m pretty sure Marinette already showcased in previous episodes such as “Silencer” that she very much knows that revenge doesn’t equal justice??? She’s the one who corrected Chat Noir that Silencer coercing Bob Roth to admit he stole from Kitty Section and Marinette isn’t justice; it’s revenge. So???? HUH? NOW she magically feels like Fei’s revenge on Cash is justice for what he did to her?

If all of that wasn’t bad enough, the pacing of this special was in complete overdrive as well. You didn’t have any of those emotional moments - both heart breaking and fluff-bombs - that you had in the NY special. The focus was largely on Fei, and I didn’t even really like her. She didn’t have the heart and the fully-fleshed characterization that Jess or Aeon had.

I’m also confused about Gabriel spending the past 15 years planning this whole thing. HOW!? WHY!? This is before Adrien was even born, or VEEERY shortly after if we skipped over his 15th birthday in the series. This was LOOOOOOONG before Emilie’s illness, which is presumably why Gabriel started using the butterfly miraculous in the first place (as showcased by Gabe in Origins asking Nooroo to remind him how the powers even work before using them for the first time in a corrupted state on Adrien’s first day of public school). So, if getting the Great Power of the Prodigious was something he was planning on doing literally all of Adrien’s life, why present it as “I found something that can finally give me an edge against Ladybug and Chat Noir”? I mean, what was his original endgame going to be? He couldn’t have possibly known that he’d be in dire need for the cat and ladybug jewels but struggled to take them from two teenage superheroes. It’s like the writers are trying to set him up as some mastermind akin to David Xanatos from Disney’s Gargoyles, but they are failing miserably. The whole Hawk Moth plot just doesn’t make sense to me.

Honestly? The only things that made this special worth it for me were: 1) Finding out a bit more about Sabine and her family (I love that she probably picked the name Sabine because it sounded like the pronunciation of her Chinese name) 2) Seeing Gorilla be his action figure nerd self a bit more (and the action figures of Uncanny Valley and Eagle) 3) Mei Shi in Renling (?) form, who was hella adorable! I need him as a plushie STAT 4) Adrien being the precious bean that he is. Just every moment he’s on screen was adorable (complete with him STILL having the picture of Marinette that was sent to him in “Evillustrator” saved to his baton and using that to try to find her) 5) Seeing the world through the eyes of a kwami for the first time and learning a touch more non-crucial lore 6) Mei Shi in statue form reminding me of the Dragon costume on The Masked Singer.

(I know, seeing them side-by-side now, they really aren’t that similar after all, but it’s been about a year since Dragon was on The Masked Singer, and he’s still what I kept thinking of as I watched Mei Shi on screen)

While I obsessively watched the New York special at least a dozen times, I’m really only seeing myself re-watch this special once more when it’s in English, and maybe whenever I do a full-series binge (which is super rare that I take the time for that).

Not impressed. Sorry.

Truth

“Truth”, on the other hand? Hhhhhnnnnnngggg. My heart! It breaks! Poor Marinette. Poor poor Luka. I mean, silver linings at the end there, but also BIG OOF. (Also, why wasn’t Adrien around at all whenever Truth made people confess that Marinette’s secret was her love for Adrien? xDDD)

I’m also a bit confused about the Adrien pictures. She had them taken down pretty much since “Troublemaker”, and yet her walls are once more papered with Adrien’s likeness now that Marinette is trying to get over him and date Luka? How does THAT make any sense outside of the writers going “we need an awkward phone call between Marinette and Luka. Oh! I know! A picture of her Adrien-covered bedroom walls is accidentally sent to Luka!” >3> Also.... what is UP with Luka’s animation again!? The kid was so pale it’s like they forgot to add any color to his model in this episode. WHY CAN’T THEY JUST ANIMATE MY PRECIOUS SON LOOKING HANDSOME EVER!? FIRST NO EYELASHES, AND NOW NO SKIN TONE!? WHYYYYYYYYY!? Personally, I prefer “Silencer” to “Truth” both in overall story and in Luka’s akumatized form design. Also, side note, did anyone else notice that Ladybug was hit by Luka’s attack and couldn’t speak for most of the battle both times? And that she needed Chat Noir to help her set up her Lucky Charm both times? And that Luka’s drive both times was to get to the truth?

I did still enjoy this episode very much. It showcases the new stresses Marinette has to face (totally unfair; I agree. However, it’s a standard trope in most teenage superhero stories such as Teen Titans and Spider-Man, so I was expecting it). It showcases how hard it is for her to figure out a balance between life and superheroing (again, re: standard teen-superhero trope). The fans get confirmation on a fantheory that’s been circling pretty much since Luka was introduced (ESPECIALLY after the episode “Desperada”). The Ladynoir shippers are well fed, and it’s great to see LB and CN praise each other - including Ladybug’s love of Chat Noir’s humor.

I hope this isn’t the end of us seeing Luka in the show (that would break my heart even more) and it feels lame to build up the Lukanette “love rival” arc only for it to die off before it really goes anywhere. There was so much story potential there where Marinette could grow to learn what it truly means to be in love, and not just idolize and romanticize someone you’re infatuated with. Instead, all she learned is that she is alone aside from Chat Noir, and I feel like that’s SUUUUPER railroading the Ladynoir ship. And, frankly, I’d much prefer to see the Ladynoir side grow naturally, as it has been, instead of forcing Marinette’s hand because Chat Noir is the only one she can be MOSTLY honest with (secret identities notwithstanding).

It’s been a long hiatus. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to dodge fandom salt, but still get a larger dose than I intended to have in my fandom diet, so maybe my views are a bit tainted from that. However, this special and season premiere feel a bit like the writers are stumbling. I don’t know if the pandemic somehow affected their writing flow, or if they feel pressured by the fans to tell the series’ story a certain way and are scrambling to do so, or if they are rushing to an ending instead of taking their time and letting it naturally unfold as they had with the first few seasons. But, regardless of their reason, I hope they re-find themselves; the ones who told great stories in seasons 1 and 2 and (poor writing for Marinette notwithstanding) really good stories in season 3. I hope they can step up their game for the remainder of season 4.

It’s been a long break, and we all deserve something good to feed us. We don’t need another GoT or HIMYM final season. Especially when this isn’t even supposed to BE the final season of the series.

Guess it’s time to wait for “Lies” to come out, and hope for the best.

10 notes · View notes

pangtasias-atelier · 3 years

Text

A Reborn World’s Anomaly

Well, my first fic after a long ass break is for a character that literally no one knows. So blame @mimisgarbage for sharing my love in this dumb whore. Also, I can never just write about fat Yuma, gotta mention the fucked up ending cause I am still emotionally scarred and hurting from that shit

“Those idiots really did it,” Nagamimi glances down at her newfound arms. Her entire body newfound, she barely marvels in her appearance. No longer in the form of a stitched doll somewhat resemblant of a rabbit, her form is now that of a person. Her black attire the same as ever, the sleeves of her rich black outfit engulfs the entire length of her arm, barely stopping at her wrists. Attached to both sleeves is a single white ruffle that nearly engulfes her hands much like her arms. The rest of the outfit is a short skirt that is much less concealing. Ending a tad bit above midway above her knees, the extra ruffling added at the bottom gives a bit more fabric to cover her up alongside her black leggings and black pumps. A rich lilac vest sits atop her outfit with a darker purple cravat right above said vest. Her dragging bunny ears are replaced with blonde hair, two flowing braids of hair parting it down the back with one being far longer so as to reach down to her knees.

“Nagamimi!” A shrill shout sounds as Mio runs towards Nagamimi. Not quite sure as to how she knows Nagamimi or where she even came from, the innate trust she has in her and Unit 13 has in her eases Mio’s already minimal concerns. Mio no longer as sickly frail, she runs with reckless abandon despite her black boots, her long yellow-green hair flows behind her freely. Her short white top rustles from the movement but her black shorts thankfully covers her up. Unwilling to fully stop, she nearly rams into Nagamimi through forcefully grabbing her arm with glee. ‘What are you doing out here?”

“What’d I say about grabbing me like that?” Nagamimi raises her voice yet she makes no effort in putting up the slightest amount of resistance. “I was just saying an extra goodbye is all,” Nagamimi’s eyes never once taken off from the horizon she stares at the increasingly diminishing figure.

“They already said goodbye. The rest of Unit 13 is still celebrating! And Julietta but he celebrates for everything,” Mio tugs at Nagamimi’s arm.

“Yeah,” Nagamimi continues to stare; the tension in her jaws remain. Her mind races. The thoughts jumbled, sudden, instantaneous moments churn throughout her conscious. Flashes of the world destroyed. Flashes of everyone but a select few killed, those near the stage of a dragon spared. Flashes of Unit 13 destroying VFD and with it, a world free of dragons. And yet, Unit 13’s leader’s sudden call had raised questions. Questions only for Nagamimi as the rest of Unit 13 had been purposefully left out of the loop by their leader. With the near teary state their leader had been from such an unexpected call, Nagamimi had no choice to leave it alone. With only her and Unit 13 knowing the truth of their remade world, there simply had been no opportunity to speak about the contradiction of Yuma existing. A man-made human created for the sole purpose of destroying dragons only to instead willingly turn himself into one, his entire existence is contradictory.

And yet, Unit 13’s leader was willingly overlooking such a strange anomaly. Yuma slain by their own hands, Yuma had refused to back down despite the two’s relationship. The deep burning shame and regret haunting them afterwards, the image of Yuma dying in their arms from the wounds they themself inflicted, properly analyzing the situation was simply out of the question for them.

“What’s wrong?” Mio staring at Nagamimi’s face, she glances between her face and the place where Unit 13’s leader once was, their entire silhouette now gone.

Nagamimi deeply sighs. Her entire frame puffing up with air only to expel it still feels too insufficient of a sigh. “I just don’t want to go back to where everyone is. They’re so loud,” Grumbling herself so as to sell the lie, she immediately gives herself away with her smirk.

“You’re a terrible liar!” Mio pouts as she drags Nagamimi back inside.

“I hope everything works out for those two this time,” She earnestly wishes under her breath before she follows Mio’s efforts to get her to rejoin the festivities.

Stepping off the usually packed trains of Tokyo, Unit 13’s leader deftly weaves through the hustle and bustle of packed foot traffic. This new world exactly the same – minus the disappearance of dragons – as their old, destroyed world, the address Yuma had given them is easy to get to. A quick search revealing apartment complexes, Yuma no longer living at ISDF with dragons ceasing to exist, he had eagerly expressed wishing to see them. The shock of Yuma somehow being alive still refuses to wear off, so they hurry through the crowd despite the angry complaints tossed their way from their rushed state.

Eventually reaching the address Yuma sent them, their prepared mental state or rushing up a litany of stairs is still high on adrenaline even when they find Yuma’s apartment to be on the ground floor. Fishing their phone out of their pocket, they double and triple check the address before placing it back. They clear their throat. Their fist shaking, their lungs refuse to cooperate with them as they hold their breath back upon knocking twice. The instant a second passes without a response, their chest seems to well up with water as the sudden inability to breath sinks in.

“It’s open!” A shout responding to their dread and panic, the prickly moist tears that threatened to protrude begin to recede. They almost slam the door open upon their rushed entrance. “I’m in the kitchen,” The soft yet smug tantalizing voice of Yuma’s penetrates their ears and sinks into their very flesh. Their legs continue on moving towards the captivating voice. They stop upon the sight that awaits them.

The kitchen in a somewhat state of disarray, Yuma is at the epicenter of it all. His engorged figure makes it hard for him not to be, Yuma’s hefty body taking up a large swath of the kitchen area. Surrounded by cats, Yuma’s obese body seems even somewhat laughable with the tiny pets clinging to him.

No longer possessing the fit musculature for a body designed with the singular intent of killing, Yuma’s figure is instead comparable with a body designed solely to eat. Where once there was a defined outline of abs shown only in more personal, intimate moments from their dates, Yuma’s heaping gut lurches forward into a massive overhang. Tucked in neatly and safely behind the comfort of his turtleneck, the fabric surprisingly doesn’t fight back its owner’s corpulent body; instead, it conforms to Yuma’s soft curves making up the doughy mass of his gut. His overhang reaching down a bit above his knees, the end up Yuma’s gut ends in a notably defined bell shape, the curve of his stomach curving ever so slightly inwards below his navel. His stomach mercilessly pulled down by gravity due to its sheer weight, the mass of lard rests comfortably on his thighs. The inner rivulets of fat making up his thighs are hidden behind his tank of a gut. However, the sides of his thighs jut out from so much fat crammed into his figure. The edges of his thighs peeking out from behind his gut offer a sense of their own immense girth, the inner mystery of his thighs filled in by the width of his overhang. Each thigh wider than a person, and with extra width to spare for a second, the two tree trunk thighs fill the fabric of Yuma’s pants. His pants perfectly tailored to fit him just like his turtleneck, the legs of them taper to fit his body, the entire canvas of sagging puffed out fat making up his legs visible. Rolls marcating the edges of where his ass and legs meet, Yuma’s ass juts out behind him, a slight fall to them as well from its own weight like Yuma’s stomach. A cat clings onto the fabric of his pants; its nails digging into the thick fabric as it hangs off the side of Yuma’s thigh.

Yuma’s legs slowly shift in clear, deliberate motions. Moving obviously a challenge with so much girth in the way, his pendulous gut sways from the movement. It slaps against his thighs. Turning to face towards Unit 13’s leader, he lets out a sigh – half from spotting his partner and half from exhaustion. “You’re finally here,” His face is puffed out from the extra bits of flab piled onto his cheeks and chin. No longer so angular, it’s instead rounded out to give a more soft and welcoming aura, The apron attached to him offers an even more welcoming aura, the width of it only covering half the width of his expansive gut. Even his breasts splay out the sides of the apron. Both heavy tits rest comfortably on the shelf of his gut, each sploying out somewhat to the sides. The apron lacking a knot, it instead has a collar to fit around his doughy neck. Two cats vye for Yuma’s attention, one on each soft shoulder. Yuma’s doughy looking arms rest comfortably on his plump love handles. Too much effort to hold up the two burdened arms despite each only holding a bowl of cat food, his fat bunches together.

“Yeah,” Unit 13’s leader is at a shock – partly from Yuma’s mere existence yet mostly from his newfound weight. “I made it,” Releasing a radiant smile as the edges of their lips upturn, their feet glide along the floor as they step forward with zero hesitation. Their fingers gingerly wrap around both bowls in Yuma’s hands. The cats meow at them as they walk back. The cats circling their feet, they take great care in placing the bowls down, yet they do so quickly before the cats can prematurely grab them while still in their hands. The cats content with their food, Unit 13’s leader saunters back to Yone. They press a hand on Yuma’s stomach, their fingers sinking ever so slightly into the warm mass of fat. “Sorry about the wait, big guy,” Immediately accustomed to Yuma’s strange reappearance and even stranger figure, they loop an arm around Yuma’s, the warm pile of pudge encases their arm on all sides.

Yuma lets out a small huff of breath before shaking his head at the nickname; his near shoulder length gray-brown hair swishes from the motion, bits of his green eyes momentarily hidden behind his hair. “I guess I’ll never get you to stop calling me that,” A twinkle in Yuma’s eye, he follows their steps as they slowly lead the way.

“It’s hard to not call you what you are,” They give a couple affectionate pats against Yuma’s wobbling stomach. Leading Yuma out of the kitchen, they make their way past their cats that are preoccupied with eating. “Plus, you seem to get a kick out of it too,”

“Oh, I get a kick?” Yuma counters. His personality much the same, he continues his rebuttal. “I’m not the one insistent on using such a nickname, am I?” His fatigue starting to get to him, he huffs afterwards.

“We’re almost there, big guy,” They ignore his rhetorical question and instead lead Yuma further back into the living room. Yuma merely rolls his eyes with a scoff thrown in for good measure.

Upon reaching the couch, they reluctantly remove themselves from Yuma. A wide permanent indent marking his spot, Yuma gratefully lowers himself down on it with only minimal creaking from the loveseat. His bulk finally resting, his fat bunches up together. His thighs take up nearly the entire expanse of the loveseat. His gut rests on the wide pedestal that is his thighs. “Make yourself comfortable,” Yuma challenges.

Without a pause, Unit 13’s leader sits in the tiny crevice left available between Yuma’s fat and the armrest. However, they lift up Yuma’s gut, the mass of fat barely lifting up despite their best efforts. Shifting around, they place their back on the armrest as they sit on Yuma’s lap. Most of their body smothered under Yuma’s gut, they let go of his stomach with a grin. “Got the best seat in the house. Even comes with a personal heater,” They rub Yuma’s gut with their right hand; their hand goes in slow counter-clockwise motions.

“Glad to be of service,” Yuma suddenly blushes as his stomach growls.

“Now it’s my turn to be of service,” Opening up their phone, they start ordering food without waiting for any input on Yuma’s end. Tapping and scrolling away, they smile as Yuma simply starts searching for something to watch.

Deciding to simply take this newfound world without question, they let out a contented sigh as they place their food order, ready to enjoy their first date with Yuma in this world.

#My writing #ssbhm #maleweightgain #male weight gain #fat!Yuma #fat fiction

18 notes · View notes

aelaer · 3 years

Text

Re: Blood in Your Veins

Hey so uh.

As anyone who’s been following me for a while knows, I started the serial “The Blood In Your Veins” about this time last year (it used to be ‘my veins’ but retitled it on its move to AO3 because execution of prompt had changed a bit over writing). It’s a prompt that I couldn’t stop thinking about and just dabbled in slowly to see where it went. Then 2020 fully hit and my writing came to almost a complete stop until about October, which is when I began again on Illuminating the Shadows, which was finished and posted in December.

Anyway, I’ve been poking and prodding fairly continuously at The Blood in Your Veins. The first four parts that I posted originally here on tumblr are now all on AO3, and once part 5′s up I’ll link it here and link everyone who wanted alerts to the updates then so they can see the new part. Then all future parts will be linked here as well.

(Cut because why the *hell* did I write this much about this?)

I’ve been slow in posting because I, against better judgement but why not, decided to post it as a WIP. But that means I keep on making edits to older parts because I think of something new that should be addressed earlier in the story. Like uh, when I was writing part 9, I realized I needed to go back to part 5 and add an addendum. When I was writing part 12, I realized I totally forgot a part that I ended up adding in part 8, because I needed it for a future connection. This happens all the time in my writing and makes posting WIPs almost dangerous because my thinking is rarely linear if the story takes place over a course of more than a couple days. Thus the very slow posting.

So this silly little prompt thing that I was just prodding and poking at to see where it went? The farking doc passed 50k words tonight. Yup.

Granted, like 10k of that is probably outlining, personal notes, and A/Ns filled to the brim with meta, medical science, fake science, and technical/computer engineering because I love talking about it and giving people info to access easily for their own knowledge. I figure I can’t be the only one who finds this stuff super fascinating and fanfic makes it unique in that it’s not a book where the research is irrelevant, you can show off all the interesting stuff right here and talk about it with people! I love that about fanfic, so much. Sometimes the A/Ns are just as interesting as the story in some stories.

So it’s gonna be a bit slow for however long, but I finished 11 parts (with 10 betaed), have the 12th largely written out (though I’m not 100% sure about it yet so I want to poke at it more), and parts uh, 13 to 17ish outlined. But considering I was like “yeah this is 8 parts at most” like, at the beginning of this, that number is bound to change because characters keep saying things and doing things (including the supporting OCs, who are demanding to be fully fleshed out within the bounds of supporting character roles).

And yeah, this is just a ramble of what I’ve been mostly doing as I haven’t been super active on tumblr this month as this has consumed most of my free time. I haven’t read a lot of works either, and once this is completed I hope to remedy that, before I go into my next two big projects (which were meant to be what I was working on *now*, but then this took over and what will you do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to complete three novel-length fics in the course of the year, but I’ll see what I can do. I really want to tell these stories).

Uh, this was really long. Sorry, I’m super verbose and don’t know how to be like, succinct. My old boss, two bosses ago now, used to quote Twain about brevity being a sign of wit, but if it is, call me 100% unwitty because I like to ramble. And then I always feel a little bit guilty for writing *so much* about my bullshit, so I feel like if you read this far, you 100% deserve to read a preview of an upcoming section. Especially since you pressed the Read More button! So here you go, thanks for reading my rambles. This is a section from the longest part so far, part 8. It’s a long little bit!

---

"How high's the toxicity now?" Tony asked as he stepped off the scale.

"Yesterday's blood sample came back at 0.45 milligrams per kilogram of your weight," Stephen replied. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

Tony offered his arm for the blood draw. "And if 3 milligrams is the magic number for fatality, that'd put my current blood toxicity at 15%."

Stephen inserted the needle at the crook of Tony's elbow and watched the tube fill up. "That's not quite how it works."

"It makes sense to me."

"That's still not how it works." He removed the needle and capped the tube, and as he put everything away, explained, "Saying that your blood toxicity is at 15% implies that you're talking about the whole volume of blood in your body. You're probably at about 5,500 milliliters with your weight, and with the density of blood equaling about 1.06 grams per milliliter, it is like you're saying—"

"That 874.5 grams of my blood is toxic, yeah, yeah, I know," Tony interrupted. By now he was setting up the table for their breakfast.

"I was getting there."

"You were going too slow," he shot back easily. Stephen gave the engineer a look at the comment, but Tony ignored it. "Yeah, I know it's not my whole body's blood volume. Obviously. But putting a percentage on how long until I reach the point that I'm dead makes sense to me. I'm not measuring the whole volume of my blood, I'm measuring how much more can I handle until I'm dead."

Stephen shot him a frown. "It doesn't make sense to call it 'blood toxicity' then."

"Maybe not to you, but it does to me. And I'd design such a measuring tool for me."

The statement caught him off guard. "Design?" He finished packing up the kit and joined Tony at the table.

"Well, if I wasn't stuck in here, I'd design something to automatically read a blood sample, like how glucose meters read blood sugar levels. Wouldn't be hard to engineer something like that. And I'd have it give me the amount of toxicity as a percentage relating to how far along it was until the amount was lethal. Sure, I could memorize the numbers, but the percentage would be more concrete in my head."

Stephen smeared butter over a piece of bread as he listened. He shook his head at the end of Tony's explanation. "Wouldn't work for the consumer market; there's too much room for interpretation as to what the percentage means."

Tony huffed. "Well, like I said, it'd be for me. Not the consumer market."

His brow furrowed. "You're telling me that you can make a blood test as simple as the one used for testing blood sugar levels for something as rare as palladium poisoning?"

He narrowed his eyes. "... yes…"

"You can make it portable like the glucose meters?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And affordable to most hospitals?"

Tony looked up in thought. "I don't usually factor in the costs of materials and manufacturing in personal projects, and others do the number crunching to see if my ideas are viable for production in company projects. If they aren't, but I really want them to be, I'll tinker a bit more, sure."

Stephen couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Do you realize the amount of money you could save for both hospitals and patients across the country with such technology? Specialized blood tests—like for many metal poisonings, for instance—aren't offered at every hospital. It may not be available even in every state. Those types of lab results can take weeks to get back to a doctor and the patient. And you're saying that you can not only potentially create this type of technology, but that you may be able to make it affordable if you really want them to be?"

"Well yeah, sure. I've done it a few times with other things. I could probably do that with a blood meter thing. I doubt the tech's that complicated."

His mouth was partially hanging open, Stephen realized this, but he couldn't bother at the moment. He was flabbergasted. The first thought that came to mind went to his mouth, unfiltered. "And you spent the last two decades building weapons."

"Don't." The word was sharp and filled with an overabundance of emotion.

Stephen fell silent. He crossed a boundary he had yet to see before now, and he was not so callous as to push against it. Instead he turned to his meal and focused on eating. He avoided looking at the other man.

A couple minutes later, Tony spoke again. It was low, pensive. Thoughtful. "There was a good reason I shut down weapons manufacturing after I got back from Afghanistan, you know. If the department ever comes back, it will be with major restrictions and modifications. Likely more defensive than offensive. More shields, less missiles. But in the meantime I've been restructuring. Expanded in commercial aerospace and industry. We entered the energy market properly. Consumer products is coming soon—end of the year, probably." A pause. "Don't see why we can't look into medical tech, either. Certainly wouldn't hurt to try."

He could only nod and say, "It certainly wouldn't."

#my writing #my wips #fic snippet #stephen strange #tony stark #also why do my fics spiral out of control like this #i mean really

12 notes · View notes