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slothpoth · 1 year

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Uncanny Vash and Knives Hcs

I just finished TriMax like— today so now I feel more comfortable being Public with hcs

TW: Body horror and the like

I’m gonna format this by saying overall hcs and then getting specific on how both of them treat/adapt to these hcs and what personal differences they have

Duo Headcannons

Every time their voicebox reopens their voice takes on a different tone

Most of the time it’s imitating voices they’ve heard in the past, sometimes it’s a weird amalgamation of them creating a new voice.

For example when they only knew Rem their voices would sometimes go a bit too high pitched like it’s their original voice mixed with Rem or just straight up Rem

Their eyes are very glassy and doll-like

I won’t say life less because they can still emote but I think when they’re at rest it’d be very like IB/ Mad Father Doll Room Tease

I’m playing with the idea of them not blinking but I wanna make it freakier somehow so maybe they blink inconsistently? Like one eye will blink every hour and the other every two hours?

The surface of their skin is always feels like there’s an electric current underneath, like you touch their arm and they have buzzies

Independents in general start off looking very uncanny as a newborn, grow into a child that looks very human, and as they rapidly age they start to become more plant like again (got inspo for this from possuminatrenchcoat_27 on tiktok)

This could possibly be a newer adaptation after what happened with Tesla assuming that Tesla is the first instance of an independent/ the first instance of an vs independent getting brutalized like that.

When they get antsy or any high tension you’d be able to see their respective abilities kind of…..moving under their skin

When the tension or emotion gets too much they start to like leak whatever their thing is, think “Hikaru” from The Summer Hikaru Died

When they bleed it’s a mixture of blood of sometimes a feather or a leaf or two

Viewing their “human” visages as a sort of disguise, I’d like to assume they can change colors

And by change colors I mean change how saturated or unsaturated their skin, hair, nails, and other organic parts are

Like if they do choose they can have the brightest teeth none to man and plant

Speaking of teeth, they can choose how many, how little, how long, how short, and what order their teeth are in

Also!! Incredible muscle control, like thinks Fox in a trap, rather than knaw off their leg they simply move and contract the muscle (and possibly bone) until they can slip out

They can photosynthesize but when they do it’s very obvious and very ominous

Like imagine one of them standing looking up, neck limp head back, eyes wide and unfocused slightly rolled back, jaw slack, a rumbling coming from the top of their head and from the ground but nowhere inbetween

Their senses are heightened so in high traffic areas they can get overwhelmed easily, especially considering that they spent their developing and adapting years on the ships where the loudest thing was the machine hum

I think it’d be funny if they can make themselves smell like different types of foliage like one day it’s roses the next it’s honeydew the next it’s just grass

Vash Copes

so Mr. Deluxe-Life-Like over here is a hummer

Like he’ll hum and clear his throat and make noises to try a get his speaking voicebox to around a tone that somewhat sounds like him.

He can’t just start randomly talking and sound like Milly! That’d be rude!

So along with the rainforest animal sequence chittering and chattering he’s just, “hmm hrrmm huummm buh…how are doing? Do you feel okay?”

To make up for how his eyes are he wears glasses (of course) but also had figured out how to dilate his eyes in time with what he sees in other people’s emotions (incredible muscle control)

He’ll be purposely very expressive to take as much attention from his eyes as possible so none notices how his eyes look or the blinking issue

Sometimes he’ll make himself blink when he knows he’s being looked at

So when Vash is getting antsy under his skin youll see almost like vines wiggling about underneath, but very inconsistently

Like if you’re looking at his arm you’ll see a long thin vine, that could be mistaken for a vein, jerk around sporadically

When he’s getting very antsy the vine will sprout thorns that’ll push through his skin like water. It won’t leave a wound behind the skin will just fall back together

That’s why he likes the coat so much because you can’t see the things going on under his skin

So like imagine an almost worm like part of his skin being raised that’s jerking around and moving these thorns that just glide through his skin (freaky huh?)

I think Vash would use the color changing thing for comedic effect, like the usual tinting red for blush or embarrassment, stuff like that

Despite having all these options for self customization, I think Vash would keep it pretty human like.

Well— not exactly. He hasn’t been in a place to get the details right so he kinda…fills in the blank spaces with other things!

Like since he hasn’t had the time to peek into someone’s mouth, he has a dog mouth. He’s seen the inside of a dogs mouth lot of times what’s wrong with it? They look cool!

One time him and wolfwood were play fighting and WW had pinned him so Vash started to moved his muscles around to squeeze out and WW got so scared he jumped like a foot in the air and cowered in a corner

Vash doesn’t photosynthesize often because he typically eating so that’s how he gets his energy

But when he’s on the run and another town is a ways away and he’s sooo hungry he just gotta Yknow

one time Meryl and Milly caught up to him while he was doing it and when they approached (after passing once to try to taunt him with water) he jerked out of it in a blink all creepy like

Like they were a yard away from his back and they blinked and now he’s a foot away and facing them all “Hey Ladies!” fym hey ladies bitch move

For his senses I feel like he kind of enjoys being on the run so he’s not constantly overstimulated by all the sounds of towns

Don’t get him wrong he loves towns and people but 24/7 everytime he opened his eyes? He just needs a wee break is all

Smell wise I think he’d keep to a grass kind of scent, it’s all he really knows

So when Meryl or Milly or Wolfwood come up and get personal with him and ask “what are you wearing” after answering cheekily for a while he just goes “nothing, I just smell like this”

Knives Cope

Welcome to the stage Mr. I-Look-Like-This-For-The-Irony and his special talent How Far Can We Push The Human Assumption

One of Knives’ pleasures is seeing how far he can push what he looks and acts like until people start to think he’s not a human

He’s found it’s reasonably far if he’s careful

Voice wise, Knives’ voice really doesn’t change all that often

It gets more erratic based on the people around you and Knives is usually isolated, since he’s not constantly around voices and people like Vash he just has to deal with voice pitching up and down and less imitations

That doesn’t mean it’s never happened

When he and Conrad first teamed up and we’re talking more often about their plans and what’s possible, Conrad thought Knives was warming up and being playful by imitating his voice sometimes

He chuckled once and Knives was like “What’s so funny.” And Conrad brought the voice thing up and Knives was like “That’s unintentional, why would I wanna win your favor I already have it.”

Knives knows his eyes are off putting. He knows very well.

He intentionally makes an overt amount of eye contact until he knows the other person is freaked out

When Knives gets to a point of tension where you can see his blades poking under his skin, he just lets em out

To him it’s his base plant side telling him to free himself of this embarrassing flesh suit so he’s like ah just as nature intended

It could also be why he has the cloak of blades cause he’s always high tension

Back to his stage act, How UnHuman Can We Look Until They Start Actually Thinking I’m Not Human, when it comes to their customization options, Knives likes the keep it just about human

He wants to look like his sisters, but knows he can’t get people to do what he wants if they think he looks too sweet (in his opinion his sisters are adorable)

So he tries to balance both visuals. He’s crazy pale with platinum blonde hair because his sisters are also incredibly pale.

But on the other hand, he keeps himself looking somewhat human because what else to should humanity see at its end but itself?

When he isn’t in public, he likes to look ALOT less human, like biblical Angel.

Knives doesn’t get into situations where he needs to move his muscles around himself to escape anything, the only time he did was when he and Vash were younger and playing around

Unlike Vash, Knives photosynthesizes all the time

He doesn’t like eating, it overwhelms his senses. The sunlight? Oh the sunlight.

Knives feels the same way about the Sun like yearning gays and the moon

He will photosynthesize even if he doesn’t have to, he does it so often he can do it laying down (he looks like a corpse and if you come too close to him while he’s laying there you will get skewered right ways)

Knives remembers more about the flowers Rem showed them and how they smell so usually he’ll choose whichever plant he thinks of first

That’s the end, this took like two days straight there was more in the thinker and reading The Summer Hikaru Died mid way through making it. Can you tell how much I like figuring out how human is human?

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun vash #trigun knives #trigun nai #trigun stampede vash #trigun stampede knives #trigun stampede nai #trimax #uncanny vash #uncanny knives #uncanny nai #trigun headcanons #trigun stampede headcanons #vash headcanons #knives headcanons #nai headcannons

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accio-victuuri · 9 months

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cpn time: yibo’s new songs 🎧

here we are, two songs and a bunch of short video clips later, but this post will be more about the lyrics. if you haven’t listened to the tracks then please enjoy bystander and everything is lovely first before anything else. i’m so thankful that wyb has kept his promise to fans of bringing us a new song every year and also performing it during nye. he may not be the most obvious when it comes to appreciating his fans but this is the best example of his commitment to sharing himself to fans and treating us.

i will start with some minor clues before we get into the lyrics and all that clowning interpretation. 🙇‍♀️

1. The first 3 photos that yibo-official released as soon as it turned 12:00, one of them was color pink, or you can say, very light shade of red. His photos released before had a more solid red like that from a traffic light but this one leans more towards pink.

A very nice choice of color knowing how he relates pink to being the color of love and and all the other symbolism we attached to it.

& when yibo posted it, he placed the pink one in the middle vs yibo-official’s who placed it on the right.

2. Same choice of words between their studios, especially with reference to the gap of time. We are definitely looking closer than a normal fan would when it comes to their studio’s captions, edits, posting time etc and to a normal fan this would just fly over their head. but the amount of coincidence between the two is too much!

3. QQ released parts of the lyrics and this one, the chorus of everything is lovely ( up to the part talking about love of coming home ), the word love was mentioned 23 times. Love Zhan. I mean, we all know this boys loves 2 and 3 😂😂😂

4. The timing of release for their projects this day. Another example of how they don’t overlap with the day or time. XZ’s marie claire was between 10-12 and then WYB stuff of course started coming out at 12:00. this follows their pattern 👀

5. I really like what this bxg discovered, the way everything is lovely was written, if you turn in upside down it may read wyb loves xz. 🤯🤯🤯

for those of us who have been subjected to xz’s artwork and the little things he hides, this should be believable to you. he is known to do these things, even without the cpn intention.

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

BYSTANDER

I gotta say, i’m leaning more towards this song, i didn’t expect it! I just love how it sounds and i’m with those who felt nostalgic while listening to it. it seems familiar and brand new at the same time. The melody of the first few lines got me thinking of words ( bee gees ) and the guitar/drums played are excellent too! I hope he sings this with a live band please! 🙏🏼

I often watch, listen and feel like reaching out to touch.

Holding a handful of seawater to see it’s dreamlike color.

this is more of a song ( atleast to me ) that speaks of who WYB is as a person. a bystander/spectator/onlooker. he is someone who observes people and keeps quiet first before engaging. but that doesn’t mean he is indifferent, in this song, he talks about admiring the things around him.

i’m also thinking of a wish to be a bystander. XZ/WYB repeatedly said that the super power they wish to have in invisibility so they just roam around without people noticing them. in a way, it’s wyb’s ( and by extension xz ) wish to be able to do this.

Embrace all the joys and sorrows of life. Listen to the plucked feathers speak, wings aiming for the vast sky.

Watch a fallen leaf repeating until the four seasons bring it back to the branch. I cannot see another galaxy but believe in me in a more distant place.

i see this as basically yibo and zz’s view in life, they are willing to go through the good and bad. their lives may seem ideal because they are celebrities but it’s far from that so they just have to focus on the good.

Don’t ask me what i’m looking for, let life pass through.

it’s him just wanting to be left alone, to allow him to go through his life without people watching his every move. or maybe there isn’t anything he is looking for or aiming for, he is just enjoying and going through his life. This line speaks to me so much! There’s really no need to be constantly trying to achieve things and be exhausted by the end of it. Sometimes, it’s okay to sit back and enjoy the simple things.

EVERYTHING IS LOVELY

I have discussed this song before, especially the chorus that covers a lot of the CPNs. I feel the same way about my interpretation of those lines even after learning the lyrics of the whole song.

My hands, accustomed to patting my head, opening up the memory of the river and pond. There are always a few good friends by the side.

Listening to the cicadas, watching the fishing boats.

WYB who likes to pat his head as an example 😂 so this is really from his POV and a more personal touch to start this song.

Listening to the cicadas and watching the fishing boat? This paints a picture of them during CQL shoot and hanging out.

I’m cackling tho at bxg interpretation of the lines that talk about river & ponds and then him having friends on the side. So who are the friends by that pod? Turtles? LOL. 😂😂😂😂

How to distinguish between people, whether post-00s are young or very mature.

This is so WYB. Reminding us of when he always made a point to say that GG looks so young or that they have no age gap 🥹🥹🥹

Under the mud, lotus roots finally grown. Please, lotus flowers do not look back.

Lotus roots/ Lotus flowers. What a peculiar choice to include in the song. Maybe there is some deeper explanation here that has something to do with culture or what but as a clown, our minds went to CQL.

It’s a part of the story and who can forget that behind the scenes of WYB pulling out those lotus seeds for XZ? 🙃

I tightly hold on to the people i once lost.

I like the way some people have interpreted this line. If what we think is true, that they lost each other at some point after the cql shoot then this line makes sense. They had some time apart after that shoot and XZ went to Japan to clear his head. The people around them also encouraged to take this time away from each other and get out of character. But they still found their way back as XZ/WYB. 🤍

The main thing in this song tho is— everything is lovely because you (xz) are in everything. 😭😭😭😭

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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yandere-kokeshi · 2 years

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May I request yandere Hawks and Dabi with a darling on her birthday/ Valentines Day? (Totally not asking for my birthday this Tuesday 😅)

Warnings: yandere behavior and a bunch of fluff!!

A/N: GASP!! Happy birfday!! 🎂🥳💕

Happy birthday to you!! So happy you are here darling, hope today is wonderful for you and certainly the most amazing day you've had!

Please enjoy this :].

Keigo Takami / Hawks:

Keigo makes sure that this day is incredibly special for you! Not only do you wake up to him kissing your face, smooshing it as he pokes and pulls your cheeks. But he wishes you a loud ‘happy birthday!’ and a bed ready for you to eat (Don’t worry, he ordered it. Although he wished he would have cooked it :((!)

The entire home is covered with presents!! Everything you desire is in your ‘nest’. Including new clothes, blankets, and a bunch of items that you certainly will enjoy! To add more, Keigo specifically has two presents that are special ones; which he gives you the minute you wake up. However, you will have to wait for the other one at midnight :)!

He likes going out, but due to his fame, it’s sometimes hard. Because of that, he’d like the both of you to do mellow things; either go to a private restaurant, stay inside, or simply go for a flight, and watch the view of Japan late at night on a tall building while eating fast food.

If wanted, he will plan a birthday party with some of your friends and family members. Though, he’d like to keep you for himself to celebrate this special day of yours.

You get a huge cake!! It’s colored with your favorite dyes and flavors. It looks like a wedding cake! It also has a small Hawks icon in the middle saying ‘happy birthday’.

Because of his bird traits, Keigo always takes his time ‘creating’ and ‘collecting’ gifts for you. Throughout the months, he watches you and your body language to see what you like; peering over your shoulder while you admire jewelry, makeup, or just clothes that seem nice. And if he asks if you like it, whether you say yes or no, it’s expected to be in the pile of gifts he gets you!

Toward the end of the night, he ends up gifting you a necklace with a part of his feather; it’s colored a cherry red, with a pendant of a picture of the two of you. A slight reminder of how much he loves you.

He makes sure to prep your face with a bunch of kisses while whispering a small ‘I love you’. Keigo loves you so much, he’s so happy he gets to spend this day with you.

Dabi:

As per usual, he’ll wake you up with warm kisses. However, he will intentionally ‘forget’ your birthday. While he sees you a bit down later in the day (preferably calling Toga to hurry up!). He’ll suddenly come up behind you and whisper happy birthday!

While he won’t buy you a million presents, he will get things that are special to you. A few things that he thought you liked, or simply saw you admiring from the window of shops when the two of you went by.

A few things being is he actually gets you a new phone and custom-stuffed plushie that’s made out of him! He also made sure to get some cupcakes colored off his ‘theme’.

Dabi always plans for your birthday accordingly. He absolutely loves to cook for you, so you would bet that all the cooking is made from him, especially the cake! Although, Toga may have joined!

The cake is quite plain. But it’s made with love!! It’s preferably your favorite, with a bunch of frosting and a huge candle that he got from the dollar store. He made sure that the candle was your favorite color and lit it up with his flames.

If he ends up hurting your feelings by pretending to forget your birthday, he’ll make it up by buying you multiple squishmallows and making him your ‘personal maid’.

Whatever you want him to do, he’ll do (with the occasional groan and grumble). But, he never meant to hurt your feelings, he just wanted to surprise you with a day that’s supposed to be a bunch of fun and surprises!

He would like to stay inside all day, rather watching movies or cuddling. But, he’ll make an exception for going to the public. Where you wanna go, you can! Wanna play laser tag? He might cheat a bit and jump to a high place, surprising you.

While he planned everything, he doesn’t really plan… the aftermath. He sorta just stands there while staring at you. The two decided to order pizza, your favorite, and watch some old sit-coms as he cuddled closer to your form!

Dabi makes sure to show that you’re extremely special to him, not only is he glad you’re in his life but you deserve this special celebration.

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

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caswensworld · 3 months

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Alonzo

Parents: Anastasia Tremaine and late Baker

Age: 13 1/2

Personality type: a perfectionist prim and proper and has a likening to hats just like his mom

Relationship: Alonso Tremaine has a great relationship with his mom and his grandmother because of how much of a typical Tremaine he acts like but at times Anastasia is worried her son acts too much like a Tremaine to where it gets boring where she thinks he has no personality of his own like her other Sons

Drizel

Parents: drizella Tremaine and Hans westergard

Age: 16

Personality type: a bit of a rebel to her pregnant proper parents

Relationships: doesn't have a crush but still has a loving relationship with her parents even though they can be off at each other because of her personality

Alonzo Tremaine, a 13 ½ year old VK. Alonzo is a handsome boy with a charming smile. His dark hair is styled into a precise, elegant buzzcut that perfectly frames his face. His eyes are a deep, chocolate brown. He stands tall and lean, with a natural grace that seems almost aristocratic. He is meticulous about his appearance. Though his clothing is worn and ragged from the years on the Isle, Alonzo always manages to look impeccably dressed. His clothes are crisp and well-maintained, though he favors darker colors. He often wears tailored shirts with dark trousers, accented by a dark violet leather coat. His jeans are always the perfect dark wash, never faded or frayed. His love of hats is evident – he frequently sports a wide array, from fedoras to berets, with his favorite being a violet hat adorned with a single, vibrant pink feather.

**Personality**

Alonzo strives for excellence in everything he does. He believes in order, discipline, and the importance of maintaining appearances. He adheres to strict etiquette and expects the same from others. He feels a strong sense of responsibility for upholding the Tremaine family name. He is often quiet and introspective, preferring calculated observations to impulsive actions. He is fiercely loyal to his family, especially his mother and grandmother. He admires their strength and determination, seeing them as models for his own behavior. While he maintains a cool exterior most of the time, Alonzo shows genuine affection and a more playful side when with his cousin, Dizzy. He appreciates her kindness and infectious enthusiasm.

**Background**

Alonzo is the son of Anastasia Tremaine and the late Baker. He grew up surrounded by the strict, often harsh, standards of the Tremaine household on the Isle of the Lost. His grandmother, Lady Tremaine, instilled in him a deep sense of duty and responsibility, pushing him to excel in all aspects of his life. This upbringing has shaped him into a meticulous, disciplined young man, but it has also led to a sense of isolation. He longs to find his own identity outside the expectations of his family.

**Relationships**

Anastasia Tremaine (Mother): Alonzo shares a very close bond with his mother. He admires her strength and intelligence, and he strives to make her proud. However, Anastasia sometimes worries that he is too rigid and lacks a genuine personality of his own.

Lady Tremaine (Grandmother): He is deeply devoted to his grandmother and strives to be a worthy heir to the Tremaine legacy.

Drizella Tremaine (Aunt): He sees his aunt as a role model, although he is not as close to her as he is to his mother. He respects her ambition and ruthlessness.

Dizzy Tremaine (Cousin): Alonzo adores his cousin, Dizzy. He is drawn to her kindness and generosity. He finds it easy to relax around her and be himself.

Anthony Tremaine (Brother): Alonzo sees his brother as a competition to be the one his mother's proud of. He wants to be the one to carry the Tremaine name the strongest

Cinderella (Step-Aunt): Alonzo is distant from his stepmother. He views her as an outsider, a threat to the family's power and prestige.

King Charming (Step-Uncle): He sees him as a weak and ineffectual figure.

Chad Charming (Step-Cousin): He struggles to relate to his carefree attitude.

Chloe Charming (Step-Cousin): He finds her to be superficial and naive.

**Other Relevant Information:**

Alonzo enjoys reading and studying, particularly history and philosophy. He is fascinated by the complexities of human behavior and the dynamics of power.

He has a hidden talent for painting, which he practices secretly, as he fears his family's disapproval.

He dreams of one day escaping the Isle and finding his own path in life.

He has a secret desire to break free from his family's expectations and discover his own identity.

Alonzo Tremaine is a complex character with a hidden depth. While he may seem stiff and formal on the surface, he harbors a yearning for something more than just upholding the Tremaine family legacy. His journey will challenge him to confront his own insecurities and ultimately find his true self.

Drizel Tremaine is a 16 year old girl. Drizel is a young woman with a striking appearance. She possesses light skin, dark hair pulled back into two braids that often feature streaks of vibrant green and purple, a result of Dizzy's artistic touch. Her eyes are a deep brown, often hidden behind a pair of stylish green glasses. Her fashion sense is a rebellious mix of leather jackets with puffy shoulder pads, chains, and high boots. She enjoys pairing shorts with skirts, adding her own unique flair and artistic touches to her garments. Her outfits often feature splashes of green and purple, her favorite colors.

**Personality**

Drizel is a stark contrast to the traditional Tremaine family. She thrives on breaking rules and challenging expectations, often defying her parents' strict principles with flamboyant fashion and provocative behavior. Despite her defiant nature, Drizel is aware of her family's disapproval and relishes their reactions. She uses her rebellious streak to provoke them, finding amusement in stirring up trouble and creating chaos. Drizel possesses a vibrant imagination and a strong artistic inclination. She finds solace and purpose in fashion designing, music, and expressing herself through various creative outlets. Drizel values her freedom and independence. She is fiercely self-sufficient, often getting herself into (and out of) trouble with her own resourcefulness. Despite her rebellious nature, Drizel has a strong bond with her family, especially her parents and sister. She loves them deeply, even if she expresses it in unconventional ways.

**Background**

Drizel is the daughter of Drizella Tremaine and Hans Westergard, a rebellious spirit born into a family steeped in tradition and propriety. She is the older sister of Dizzy Tremaine, the niece of Anastasia Tremaine, the granddaughter of Lady Tremaine, and the cousin of Anthony Tremaine. She is also the step-niece of Cinderella and King Charming, and step-cousin of Chad and Chloe Charming.

Her life is a constant clash between her yearning for creative expression and her family's expectations. She feels stifled by their strictness and finds solace in defying norms, finding her own path through music, fashion, and defying societal expectations. Drizel's relationship with her cousin, Anthony, is filled with rivalry and pettiness, as he constantly tries to belittle her. She finds solace in her bond with Dizzy, her sister, who shares her passion for creativity and artistic expression.

**Other Relevant Information**

Drizel is a master at getting away with her antics, often using her wit and charm to escape punishment.

While she enjoys provoking her family, she deeply cares for them and values their love and support.

She dreams of escaping the confines of her family's expectations and pursuing a fulfilling career in fashion or music.

Drizel is a complex and intriguing character, a vibrant and spirited young woman who refuses to conform to the expectations of a rigid and tradition-bound family. She is a force of nature, a whirlwind of rebellious energy and creative spirit, ready to carve her own path in the world.

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bookwyrminspiration · 1 year

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“how did you even get sick? you look ugly. come here.” For Keefe and Tam? Can be platonic or romantic if you want to do anything for it :). Maybe with cuddles because I, personally, am craving the skin

I love your writing btw please write a book one day <33

That's very sweet of you--I'd love to write several books someday! I've got some concepts up my sleeve already. Also, the way I set up their dynamic (a self-inflicted personal hell) the cuddles aren't as prominent as I would've liked to give you, but hopefully the rest of the fic makes up for that <3

idiot boys and stupid feelings <- ao3 link

warnings: sickness, brief reference of the twin's time banished and all associated troubles, but that's really it!

word count: 6.1k

Watching the sun wallowing, meekly disappearing before an unforgiving horizon as it trailed reds and purples and loud oranges in its wake across the sky was a conflicting sight for Tam, who observed unimpressed from the balcony.

Of all the sunsets he’d witnessed, the view from whatever place this was--Mr. Forkle had told them, but he hadn’t bothered to listen to that part; he’d been more focused on words like “resurgence” and “outbreak” and “victims,” the more important things--wasn’t one to stand out. A simple skyline, typical colors. The sun could do better.

A frown started to surface, but instead of letting it breach, he reached to tug on his bangs instead, the one habit he could never seem to break.

Cool air washed over his face, chilling the drying sweat sticking to his skin, a remnant of the efforts he’d exhausted, that they were all exhausting.

Over an hour ago, their group had dispersed to their various assignments, each to return to Wherever-the-hell once they’d finished their parts; he’d been done first, and was now alone in the hideout--as alone as one could be when they were always watched.

The balcony sat perched over a tumbling, mountainous expanse, sloping down into the night, a twisted metal railing decorated with florals and feathers encasing it. The wide doors were fully open behind him, allowing the light from the room beyond to spill into the creeping night and the cool, fresh air in.

As he stood there, he pretended he couldn’t feel the eyes of this place, examining his hand for traces of shadow, darkness caught under his nails, averting his gaze from that uninspiring sunset. From the memories they stirred.

Another sunset meant another day survived, but another night to face. Time without reliable warmth, with impaired sight, things moving in the night, fitful sleep.

Tam’s mouth twitched, more of the frown slipping out, shoving those thoughts aside and finding the nearest other to latch onto and distract himself.

Which landed him on blonde hair, pale eyes, bags creeping beneath them, charcoal smudges on fingertips.

And something…off.

Of all the people to think about, he didn’t have to settle on Keefe, how he’d seemed…fuzzy, ill-alert, at their “meeting” earlier. There were over a dozen people in the room, and he made it his business to watch each and every one of them, to be prepared just in case--

But, regardless of how many people he observed, his thoughts snagged on Keefe. There was something unspoken about him, something festering, something that had made him want to leave him behind. Give his piece of the assignment to someone else.

Instead, he’d decided that, with the least important piece of their puzzle, Keefe was the least of his troubles.

It had been a surprise, actually, to return to the hideout and find himself the first one back, he’d been so sure that with such a small responsibility Keefe would be impatiently pacing the place, about the track someone down to join them instead of waiting for them all to reconvene while complaining about how miniscule his job had been.

Tam’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft, dragging sound of approaching footsteps.

He stilled, darkness staining his fingers like charcoal as he tilted his head to the side, listening.

They came from somewhere around the hideout, outside, only audible because he, himself, was outside.

Shadows traveled further up his arm, a tactful, slow acclimation to the darkness falling further with each second the sun acquiesced the sky.

The footsteps paused, and in their place a door handle jangled; stone-like, Tam turned just enough to peer over his shoulder, to watch as the door swung open and a particular pale-eyed blond stepped through, hand pushing through his hair, eyes scanning across the room, the empty couches facing each other, barren counters, untouched chairs with throw pillows still dented from over an hour ago.

His eyes missed Tam, skipping past the balcony sheathed in unnatural shadow as he swept the door shut behind him.

Immediately, his facade crumbled, and if Tam said he was surprised he’d be lying.

Keefe’s shoulders drooped, carefully curated carefree expression melting into bland nothing, fingers coming up to hold his temples, traveling back to poke gently at the base of his neck like it ached.

Shuffling, dragging footsteps took him to one of the couches, where he lowered himself as though the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders.

Tam only watched, squinting to see better.

He wondered how long it would take Keefe to realize he was there, if he even would at all. The thought of how long he could probably get away with it amused him, but slipped from his grasp at the sound of a sniffle.

His muscles tensed once more, ready to make himself known and gone immediately if Keefe was about to start crying, but the sound repeated, and with it, everything from that evening clicked into place.

“How did you even get sick? You look ugly. Come here,” he said, turning fully as he did so, facing his back to the memory of a sunset and inclining his head as he learned against the railing, looking Keefe over from the better angle.

With that angle, he got a good view of the way he jumped, spine straightening and eyes widening, showing the whites all around.

His hands dropped from his head, falling in his lap as he shook himself off, a few precious seconds passing before he had himself sorted. “Were you just watching me? Dude, that’s so creepy.”

Tam ignored the question. “Drop the act, I can see right through it.”

Keefe’s shoulders tightened, and he opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted.

“Don’t even bother to try and lie to me right now. You’ve been off all evening. Now, like I said, come here.” Tam jerked his head towards the spot beside him.

His posture shifted, softening ever so slightly as he glanced between him and the door, as if there was someone else to see. Perhaps waiting for Biana to leap out of the shadows and accost them.

“Why?”

“Fresh air.”

Keefe frowned, leaning back further into the cushions, a slight grate to his voice. “But I just got all that fresh air running around scouting, looking for nothing.”

Tam shrugged. “Fine. Don’t, then.”

Silence fell for only a few short moments before Keefe grumbled something Tam couldn’t pick up, not even with all his practice, pushing up off the couch and stalking over to the balcony beside him, leaning facing out.

At least, Tam thought that’s what he was going for; instead, his feet dragged across the floor and his path swayed, Keefe unable to keep himself moving straight until he slumped against the banister, breath shaky--though he tried to hide it.

“You’re a mess, where’d you even catch…whatever that is,” Tam eyed him up and down, from the wan pallor of his face contrasted with the unnatural flush on his cheeks to the uneven rise and fall of his chest to the unsteady stance of his feet, relying on that railing for support.

Keefe huffed out what might’ve been a laugh. “Wow, thanks. Real supportive. I feel so cared about.” A low sighed rolled between his lips, laughter fading. “I think I caught it from Fitz. He wasn’t feeling great, but I ignored that and insisted we hang out anyway, and now…wait, earlier, did you say ‘all evening?’ Like you’ve been watching me all evening?”

It took Tam a moment to follow Keefe’s disjointed thoughts, lips tightening as he recalled the exact words he’d spoken.

If his cheeks felt warm, it was all the layers, all the black, nothing else. He scowled. “It’s not my fault you’ve had that funk around you all day. It’s hard to ignore.”

It wasn’t, actually; he had more than enough experience curating what, exactly, he paid attention to and was aware of. Pushing Keefe and the haze around him from his mind would’ve been simple enough.

In fact, it took more energy to pay attention than to let his gaze skip past that concealed fog around him. And yet he’d paid attention anyway.

“I think you just like me,” Keefe said, grin pulling at his lips, lifting his head enough to turn and peer at him. The unhealthy flush spread across his cheeks had starting fading to a lighter pink in the cool air, his eyes still dimly alight with fever, he noticed.

His eyes scanned scarred, warm skin, mussed hair, a silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the room beyond, the silence stretching on, his statement unanswered.

Keefe shifted, pushing off the railing to stand straighter, the two of them almost equal in height, though Keefe stood slightly taller and shamelessly used it to his advantage. “We’re alone; you can admit it, you know.”

That was…much more forward than usual.

Tam rolled his eyes. “All I have to admit is how much more annoying you are than I let on.”

“You hesitated.”

“You’re aren’t thinking clearly.”

Keefe shook his head, looking down the few inches he had on Tam, leaning in closer, unconscious of the movement; Tam was very conscious of it. “Uh uh, I may be fuzzy”--he tapped at his temple, blinking as though fighting to keep his eyes open--”but I noticed. You were thinking about it, weren’t you? You’re always thinking about something.”

Tam’s lips pressed together, averting his eyes, scowling. His gaze flickered to the door, fragments of shadows skittered along the edge of the room in tandem. They were alone, but for how long? How long until the rest of their group finished each of their individual scouting missions, returning to catch them too close in the dark?

He’d spent his life with it as his defense, and yet now its charged silence threatened to turn on him.

“You’re doing it again,” Keefe interrupted, the words fumbled, exhaustion creeping its greedy fingertips around the edges, digging its claws into the vowels.

His voice drew Tam’s gaze back, piercing through the dark. Had Keefe gotten even closer?

How had he missed it?

Tam’s body went rigid, the cool air doing nothing to combat the turmoil stirring in his mind, leaving him to fend for himself. “What--what are you doing? Cut it out.”

Brow furrowing, the words took a moment to pierce through Keefe’s thick skull.

When they did, he took a step away.

He opened his mouth, but closed it again, instead letting out a breath, one hand unconsciously rising to rub at the base of his skull, poking and prodding at what he was now certain was a headache.

Tam latched onto it like a lifeline against the sudden silence, the retreat he’d asked for and dreaded. “Have you--hailed Elwin? He always fixes you up.”

Keefe let his prior comments drop untouched, as though they were never there, snorting, “Elwin’s got enough going on with the gnomes and all the councillor visits. I’m not going to bother him with just a”--he gestured at himself--”cold or something. Whatever it is.”

“He’d want you to,” Tam reminded him, trying to be less…whatever it was about him that had Keefe stepping away. Even though he’d told him to.

Keefe had slumped over the banister again, forehead practically pressed to the railing, goosebumps raised across his skin, shivering now instead of overheating. He didn’t answer.

A few shadows slipped forward, invisible against the descending dark, hedging around the edges of Keefe’s shape, hesitating.

“Keefe.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” It was more exhale than speaking, the words happening to tumble out at the same time, by chance rather than intention.

Tam frowned, only for a moment before he schooled his expression. “What are you even talking about?”

“When everyone else gets back, are you going to tell them?” Without any force, he gestured to himself.

“That you’re sick? Tell them yourself. Probably won’t even have to, one look at you and it’s obvious.”

Keefe sighed in what might’ve been relief. “Thanks.”

Tam crossed his arms, looking away, eyes scanning over the empty room, shadows creeping through the door searching and searching for others, but there was no one to break the silence that fell once more. They truly were alone, just like Keefe had said.

Why? They weren’t supposed to be. Where was everyone else? Why hadn’t they come back yet?

“You,” Keefe started, though he stayed with his head pressed to his arm against the railing, “are one to talk about funks when you’ve got your own all over you.”

“What?”

Keefe waved a free hand, nonchalant. “You’re so worried I can feel it, and I’m not even touching you.”

Tam glanced down to Keefe’s hands, where they rested against the railing. Close enough that they could reach out and touch him, if they wanted to.

He looked away.

“Did I successfully distract you with my charming personality?” Keefe asked, shifting his head so he could look at Tam, the hint of a smile on his mouth. But…less so. Not as wide as he’d been smiling earlier.

“You talk too much,” he scowled, reaching up to tug at his bangs, the scratch of metal against his fingertips comforting.

Keefe made an indignant noise. “You’re the one who started this conversation, creeping on me from the shadows and telling me to ‘come here.’ This one’s on you. If you didn’t want to talk to me, why ask me to come closer to you? Hypocrite.”

Now it was Tam’s turn to be indignant. “You were feverish, I told you to get over here to cool off--and so you wouldn’t infect the room.”

“Nice to know you care.” Keefe mumbled, eyes rolling.

“Of course I do,” he hissed back, then clamped his mouth shut.

Keefe stilled beside him, but Tam refused to move his gaze from where it bored a hole into the far wall, that frown from before resurfacing as his fingers dug into the railing he leaned on, bones and muscle turning to stone.

Silence screamed for long enough Tam was nearly convinced neither of them would ever speak again, and then--

“You’re gonna pass out if you stay so rigid. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to loosen up once in a while?”

Internally, he flinched, but his body remained impassive. He shot Keefe a glare. “You have to make everything into a joke, don’t you?”

It was Keefe’s turn to flinch, scowling as he looked away--but it lacked any real conviction, lethargy dimming the edges as he sniffled, a slight shiver running through him.

Tam’s frown deepened.

He watched--though if you asked if he’d been watching, he’d deny it--as Keefe’s attention snagged on something he couldn’t see, eyes distant as he flexed his hand over and over.

Flashes of cold nights and running noses, flush cheeks and wondering hoping begging Linh to wake, to be well, to push through the haze and find him again passed through his mind. Searching for herbs but not knowing what to look for, never enough supplies, coughs and setting suns and days stretching into weeks into months into eternity as Keefe faded further and further into that haze, away from him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. “What?”

Somehow Keefe found a way to slump down even further, resting his head on his arm, squished cheek distorting his words as they spilled out, filter breaking like a dam under his exhaustion. “I don’t get you. You say you’ve been watching me all evening and tell me to come stand next to you, and then get all defensive and upset with everything I say. You’re feeling something strong enough I’m picking up flashes through the air, but I’m not touching you and I can’t think straight so I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel great. You say you care and then snap at me, what am I supposed to make of all that?”

Outburst over, Keefe stopped leaning on the rail entirely, instead lowering himself to the ground as he rubbed at his neck, still sniffling, staring off into the dark, sun long since gone.

Tam couldn’t help the lurch in his chest at the sight.

Keefe or the darkness, he couldn’t tell, but the jolt was there all the same.

“You must be worse than I thought if you’re getting all emotionally aware on me,” he peered down at him, trying to distract himself from the stone sitting in his chest.

“Seriously? You were just getting on my ass about making jokes out of everything.”

Shadows pulsed under his palms, swirling with an unidentified heat he didn’t want to think about. “Fine. You have a point there. I…sorry.”

“Whatever.”

Keefe made a dismissive gesture up at him, other hand still flexing, eyes closed now as he rested his face against the railing, legs crossed beneath him. It didn’t look comfortable.

After a few terse moments of debate with himself, both sides screaming adamantly, he huffed out a breath and lowered himself down hard, not giving himself a chance to second guess any longer.

“Do you want to read my emotions?”

Keefe sat up in surprise, looking over at the hand extended in offering.

“What? You’d let me?”

Teeth grinding, words slow, “You said you couldn’t tell through the air. Wouldn’t this help?”

Keefe searched his face as though making sure he was serious, and Tam fervently hoped there wasn’t anything to find as he reached to tug on his bangs. “Make a decision before I change my mind.”

That was all the encouragement Keefe needed, gaze sliding down his body--Tam swore he could feel its weight against his skin like static--to his hand, wrapping two fingers around his wrist as though taking his pulse.

Keefe’s eyelids fluttered as he inhaled, sudden and deep, grip tightening, a furrow between his brows as he pushed through his fatigue and into the maelstrom of emotion he’d been complaining about.

Trying not to squirm beneath the scrutiny, all he could do was watch, entirely unaware of what, specifically, Keefe was finding. What he’d learn.

Was this what it felt like when he read people’s shadow vapor, the sitting and the waiting?

Why had he agreed to this?

Why had he even suggested it?

A small, rebellious voice in the back of his head knew why, but he shoved it away before it could put voice to those thoughts.

“What--” Keefe made a face, scrunching up his nose, soft confusion in his tone, “what are you afraid of?”

Tam started. “I’m not--”

“You do realize you can’t lie to me, right?”

Keefe looked at him with an intensity that made him want to knock the look from his face, to turn around and walk into the night.

He settled for pulling his arm away, breaking the connection--or at least, he tried to.

As his wrist slipped from Keefe’s grip, he caught his hand, fingers brushing against his palm as he squeezed tight.

“Wait. I’m…sorry.” Keefe looked lost, fumbling for words, rubbing at his neck with his free hand. “I…didn’t mean to push you. It’s just a really strong feeling. It surprised me. Is it the thing with the gnomes? Because we’re going to figure it out and fix it.”

“I know that.”

“Then what…?” Keefe trailed off, looking lost, brows furrowing as he tried to think through the fog in his mind.

Tam’s grip tightened involuntarily, memories from his and Linh’s Exillium days flashing through his mind. “I don’t like sickness.”

Keefe nodded, still not quite following. “Well duh, no one does, it sucks--”

“It’s not the same for you,” he interrupted, looking away, leaning back against the railings, peering into the night sky as his stomach clenched. “When you’ve been sick, you’ve always been able to call on the best care your world has to offer, just a hail away. All the supplies you could ever need readily available. You’d be better by the morning as though it’d never even happened, just a slight discomfort, comfortable knowing you’d be just fine. You could take a day off, even. You never had to wonder if there was enough to treat you, if you could find what you needed, not sure when she’d get better and if she’d be okay to go to school, or if you’d have to leave her alone to go and get your beads, hoping you wouldn’t catch it because there wasn’t enough to treat the both of you and someone had to get the beads otherwise you’d be left behind.”

Tam cut off, biting his lip, for once not even caring what Keefe picked up on his palm, too distracted as he tried to get the images of Linh’s flushed cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her fingers as she propped herself against the wall, out of his head.

“Linh got sick,” Keefe whispered, more statement than question, but he decided to answer it anyways.

“Bad. It’d started out just a mild cold she must’ve caught from another wayward--fever, sniffles, headaches,” he glanced at Keefe’s flushed cheeks, blinking uncomfortably as he rubbed at his neck, both all too aware how it matched up with his symptoms, “but it didn’t go away. And we didn’t have anything to treat it with. And it got worse. A lot worse. I hated watching the sun set because she always shivered so badly without the sunlight’s warmth, no matter how hot I made my body. But the worst part was the only reason it got that bad was because we didn’t have any elixirs or treatment--but they exist. We just didn’t have access. And yet you do and throw it away,” he added at the end, bitterness coating his tongue.

Keefe swallowed, thumb pressed into the back of Tam’s hand. “I…guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“No shit.”

For once, Keefe let the attitude slide, an incredibly unsettling phenomenon, because instead he was looking directly at Tam. He was suddenly reminded that with their hands still linked, he could still feel every single one of his emotions.

“What if--what if I promise to take something myself then? I still don't want to bother Elwin--the gnomes have him busy enough--but…you don’t need a physician to take elixirs. There’s probably something somewhere in whatever-the-hell this place is called--I wasn’t listening when Fork man said the name.”

“Me either,” Tam admitted. “It’s probably something stupid. Do you really plan to take something, or are you just saying that?” He couldn’t hide the skepticism in his voice, but Keefe would’ve felt it anyways.

Keefe made an offended noise. “I meant it! I’m trying to make you feel better about your sad life, because Foster keeps getting on my case about being nice to you and she’s so stubborn about it--and maybe I just like you, you ever thought about that?”

Unlike Tam, Keefe didn’t look the slightest bit concerned by the confession, grumpily playing with Tam’s fingers in his hand, poking at the veins beneath his skin. Though maybe he hadn’t thought through the consequences of saying it, or was too tired to.

“Do you?” Tam asked, quiet, braced against the answer.

Was he worried he’d say no?

Or that he’d say yes?

“I do,” he said, eyes on their linked hands, “more than I should.”

A heady rush passed through him, spine tingling as his stomach dropped--relief? Fear?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keefe’s already flushed face reddened further, as his brain started to catch up with where the conversation was headed, pressing his lips together as though he could stop it. But there was no way Tam was letting him walk away without answers and Keefe knew it; he’d opened the floodgates, now he had to ride out the wave. It was his own fault, really.

Sighing, he made a non-committal gesture as though that would explain everything. “We both know it would be better for both of us if…if no one had to put up with me. If I could just keep all my problems and feelings to myself instead of everyone else having to deal with the mess.”

Tam made a face, snapping, “You don’t have any right to say what would be better for me. Don’t make that choice for me.”

Starting back a little, Keefe tilted his head to the side, mouth falling open a touch, glassy eyes searching Tam’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to decide what is and isn’t worth my time.”

Keefe’s breath caught, tongue between his teeth as he ventured, barely audible, “And me? Am I…?”

Tam didn’t answer for a moment, heartbeat screaming in his ears loud enough he could barely hear himself say, “You’re the empath, you tell me.”

A few moments passed, Keefe’s shaking fingers pressing against the lines of his palm with intention this time.

As the shaking spread, Keefe’s eyes widening as he glanced between him and his palm, Tam added, “Why do you think I invited you over here?”

“...Fresh air?”

Tam rolled his eyes, but tried to keep his voice gentle as he stared ahead. “Because…I wanted to keep an eye on you. Because I care and its--fuck it, its worth my time, alright? Don’t make me say it again.”

Against his better judgment, he glanced at Keefe, only to see a shit-eating grin starting to spread across his lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” Tam grumbled, shifting as he reached for his bangs with his free hand, fingers flexing in Keefe’s grip unconsciously.

Keefe nodded, smile mellowing, lingering until it turned into something uncertain. “Where…where does that leave us?”

Tam didn’t have an answer.

“Us?” he repeated instead.

Reddening, Keefe tried to backtrack, though he still didn’t let go of his hand.

But he was all out of words, quickfire mind finally exhausted, nothing left to shield himself as his mouth gaped and closed, nothing to save himself.

As if he’d ever need saving from Tam.

Scowling, he cursed idiot boys and stupid feelings, shaking his head, pressing his palm firmly against Keefe’s, deliberately thinking the words he didn’t know if he could voice again, bringing the feeling to the forefront of his very self.

I care.

Keefe hissed in a breath through his teeth. “I--oh.”

“Oh?”

“Us.”

It was all he said, but it was all he needed to say in that moment, because suddenly it was no longer a question.

It was an undeniable certainty.

“Alright,” Tam said, nearly lightheaded, “us.”

He didn’t think he minded his hand in Keefe’s anymore, whatever he’d find.

He’d already found exactly what Tam had wanted him to, what he’d been unwilling to admit he’d been hoping he would.

A shiver crawled through Keefe’s body, and for a moment Tam became the empath between the two of them. Unimaginable lethargy pulled at his bones, breath labored through narrowed airways, a fog in his mind trying to drag him into darkness.

They’d left his illness unspoken for a moment, distracted by their…whatever that conversation was, but no longer.

“You need to rest,” Tam instructed, gentle, but firm. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, but Keefe wouldn’t make it easy.

That, as expected, sparked something in Keefe, some last ditch effort to pull himself together. “No, there’s the resurgence, and we still have to reconvene with everyone--” “Please.”

The word surprised them both, stopping them short.

That…wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

But something in Keefe looked uncertain, lost, so he said it again. “Please, Keefe.”

“I…okay,” he deflated, words barely a whisper as he gave in, the bravado he’d put on slipping away, leaving him hunched over, sniffling, chills coating his bare arms on the now cold balcony, washed in the light spilling out from the room behind them.

Tam looked him over, nodding to himself--he believed him, that he’d listen for once in his life, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Keefe. “I’ll find wherever their stash of elixirs is and bring them to you--why don’t you sit on the couch, get out of the cold?”

Another tremor ran through him as he finally let Tam’s hand slip from his as the two pushed to their feet in tandem, one much steadier than the other.

And even though their hands didn’t touch, not even the barest of brushes between their fingers, a silent electricity hummed between their bodies, tingling along his skin as they split. Keefe collapsed face first into the couch, groaning, and Tam moved to search the rest of the place in the quiet that followed, haunted by the hollow feeling of skin that hadn’t been touched, but nearly had been.

It didn’t take long for him to find a small, but well-equipped supply of medicinal elixirs, balms, and miscellaneous assortments for small injuries and ailments. He grabbed two he thought would help, shutting the doors behind him as quietly as possible, but they still echoed in the silent place--seriously, where was everyone else?

Had so little time passed that no one else had returned?

He could’ve sworn lifetimes had come and gone on that balcony.

So brief, and yet now the scope of his world had changed, new, undefined tethers drawing him to a certain troublesome boy with no sense of self-preservation or risk sprawled across the entirety of a couch.

Leaning over the back of it, peering down at him, Tam tapped the two vials he held against the back of Keefe’s head, smiling to himself as Keefe swatted half-heartedly at him.

“You already agreed, you don’t get to take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to!” he protested as he shifted to a propped up position, though it had less force than he would’ve expected. “I told you I meant it. I know everyone’s always telling me off for being stubborn, but I don’t always push back. I can make smart decisions.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

Keefe grabbed the vials, uncorking the first.

Tam blinked as he downed the contents and studiously avoided his gaze. “You’re holding something back.”

Keefe scowled at his matter of fact tone as he downed the second, though his hands shook as he uncorked it. “Fine. Your story about Linh got to me, okay? I don’t want to worry anyone else.”

Of course. He’d never relent for his own sake, only to prevent himself from becoming a burden to others.

Idiot.

Keefe wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, waiting for the elixirs to kick in and for Tam to say something, but he was too busy scanning the room for a blanket, frowning when he came up short. Surely a secret, underground rebel organization trying to fix fundamental problems in their world had enough interior decor sense and time to have decorative blankets somewhere.

Apparently not.

“What are you looking for?”

“A blanket. You’re shivering, but I don’t see any,” he continued, ignoring Keefe’s mouth opening--likely to protest. He always had something to say. Infuriating.

Keefe didn’t like being ignored and rolled his eyes--though he winced with the action, probably aggravating whatever of his headache hadn’t eased yet--and grumbled, “This is ridiculous. I’m not even that cold. What are you even going to do about it without blankets? Share your body heat?”

It took a moment for Keefe to register what he’d just said, but when he did his eyes went wide, mouth snapping shut as he dared a glance at Tam.

He kept his face carefully impassive, but he reached up to tug at his bangs, habit traitorously giving his frazzled state of mind away.

Neither of them spoke for a moment longer--Keefe, because while sick, had the sense to realize he’d given away much more than he’d intended to tonight, and Tam because he had no idea what to do with everything Keefe had given him.

“Careful there, someone might think you actually wanted to be close to me,” Tam deadpanned at last, fingers still in the rough metal, though the joke fell oddly. Like with whatever their new us was, it didn’t fit anymore. Like it was just going through the motions without the venom behind it.

Keefe said nothing, but his gaze flickered, away from Tam’s face--only for a few moments, but long enough for Tam to see him rake it down his body before snapping back, and he could’ve sworn it lingered on his hands.

Tam stopped short, mind going blank. “...do you?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” was the answer he got, unable to tell if his flush was from sickness or embarrassment as he refused to meet Tam’s eye.

He gave his bangs one final tug before he dropped his hands, blurting out, “When we couldn’t keep warm in the neutral territories--before we’d learned to regulate our temperatures or when we were too tired--we’d share body heat.”

Keefe’s brow furrowed, looking up at him, uncertainty on his face. “...are you offering--”

“Well if you don’t want to--”

“I didn’t say that! You…you’re warm,” he tacked on at the end, trying to find a suitable explanation, but the hesitation gave him away.

Tam stayed silent for a moment, then, “Sit up.”

“I--huh?”

“I said sit up; you’re taking up the whole couch. Unless you want me to crush you with my body weight, I need space,” he continued, but Keefe was already scrambling to push himself up, freeing up a spot that Tam slid into, breath catching as their arms brushed together.

He’d been close to people before--closer, even, usually with Linh.

But something about Keefe’s arm against his jolted through him, every hair on his body standing on end.

“I’m not going to bite,” he said, amused, watching Keefe sit stunned beside him, rigid as a statue, a cornered animal ready to bolt. “Well, probably not.”

Keefe huffed, something sounding like asshole and fuck it spilling past his lips as he shifted closer, their legs pressing together too now, the static between them building, though neither mentioned it.

Quietly, glancing at him for permission as he did so, Keefe reached out and took Tam’s hand; he felt rather than saw the tremor that rocketed through him at the influx of emotions the touch provided, but Keefe just held on tighter.

Their breaths the only sound, they sat like that, pressed together, until Keefe’s shivers had started to abate.

“How are you so warm?” Keefe mumbled suddenly, starting to melt back into the cushions beside him--whether because he was comfortable or exhausted, Tam couldn’t tell. “You’d think a shadow guy would be freezing.”

“Shadow guy?”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Keefe’s eyes had fallen closed, words slurring, chest moving slow, rhythmic.

Hardly daring to move, Tam watched as Keefe’s muscles gave in to sleep, his head tilting, falling in a slow arc towards him, until Keefe’s cheek was pressed against his shoulder, grip loosening in his hand.

Tam’s breath caught in his throat, but he stayed still--until Keefe started to slip, at just the wrong angle that gravity tried to pull him forward.

Before he could fall further, Tam caught him, grinding his teeth together as he weighed his options.

Gently, he shifted, hardly daring to breath lest he wake Keefe from his much needed nap, and just…adjusted his trajectory slightly.

Instead of falling forward and off the couch, or roughly shoving him back, Tam lowered his head into his lap, hands hovering over the rest of his body uncertainly before he finally let them settle on Keefe’s arm.

A few terse moments later, Keefe gave no sign of stirring, settling into the new position, breaths even--and Tam thought his color had improved too, the elixirs starting to kick in.

There was nothing else to do in the silence that followed but breathe an easy sigh, looking around at the well furnished room--unforgivably devoid of blankets, but otherwise lavish--the steady light, the stable structure, secure in the knowledge that no matter what happened next, he wasn’t--they weren’t--out there still.

That they could get what they needed, and enough of it.

They weren’t the only people looking out for them anymore.

Which brought a different problem to mind: where was everyone else?

Almost as soon as he put thought to the question, something prickled his senses, and the door across the room swung open, Biana bursting in with Linh close behind, breathless.

They stopped short at what they found as Tam tensed, Biana’s mouth falling open and Linh covering a knowing smile with her mouth.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, glaring at them, heart pounding.

The glance the two shared and the grins that followed didn’t bode well for him.

But as Keefe shifted in his lap, sleeping peacefully, safely, recovering, skin soft against his own, he couldn’t quite remember why he cared.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #kotlc kam #quil's quill #quil's queries #nonsie #look guys I did it! i wrote a fic!#i am putting it out into the world you better be nice with it <3 #also I'm sooo good at titling things <33333 #okay I'll be quiet now enjoy the fic :)#nonsie I hope this satisfies your prompt I kinda created. a whole situation out of it #would've been so much easier if they were already established i don't know why I didn't do that #but hey. love a challenge!#maybe if this isn't enough cuddles I can write a follow up sometime in the future where they're more physically comfortable #i like how I said I'd stop talking and then I didn't #i'l actually stop now. very giddy atm I haven't posted fic in a while this is quite the rush

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chocolateteapotsvis · 4 months

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What stories lie behind "Crane Husband", "Kid Fic" and "Rainbow Raider" ?? 👀

Crane Husband

It's a retelling of the Crane Wife folktale, where lonely bachelor Barry Allen rescues magical crane person Hal Jordan, navigating what they think human/magical creature relationships should be.

“Oh. You’re human.” Not the strangest thing he’s heard a concussed person say. “Ever since I was born. How are you feeling?” The man tugs at Barry’s blanket draped over him, and looks around the room a series of jerky head movements. “Where’s my cloak?” All those sudden head movements can’t be good for his head. Barry urges him to lie back, but the man won’t budge. “The white cloth? With the feathers?” The man eyes sharpen as he nods, and Barry says, “Please stop moving. It’s not good for you.” The man doesn’t, so Barry say, “It was really muddy, so I washed it as best I could and hung it out to dry.” The man starts pushing himself up, and Barry gives in and helps him so he can look out the window. The storm had disappeared as if it had never been, all the colors intensely bright, the white cloak the brightest of all where it flutters in the wind. “Oh.” The man says. He sounds so confused. If Barry could just get him to rest more— “So you’re not stealing it?” Barry blinks. “Why would I steal your clothes?” “Because you’re human! You’re saying you’re not so entranced by my beauty that you’re planning on trapping me here?!” “You’re very good looking, and I would prefer if you’d stay a couple days until you’re feeling better.” Definitely needs some more rest. And maybe some soup. Soup always helps.

Rainbow Raider

The premise here is that Rainbow Raider's goggles are tapping into Lantern energy, and Hal and Barry are trying to get to him before the Red, Orange, and Yellow Lanterns notice and go after him, or the emotional toll of using the goggles can hurt Raider. It's also a breakup/make up story, where Hal and Barry have to deal with all the feelings about the recent breakup that Raider's goggles are forcing out of them.

The idea was to figure out a way to do something like what @leftsmitteninbritain did with I Second That Emotion and find a process for writing self-contained stories around a superhero premise that spurs the romance. I definitely haven’t figured that part out yet, but it's still the goal :)

Hal follows the red and gold lightning through the Central City outskirts. It’s yet another mode they both fell into seamlessly; Barry running at a speed where Hal can keep up. Hal speeds up out of spite, and Barry matches his pace without comment. His lack of acknowledgement makes the whole thing feel extra petty. It’s not supposed to be like this. it’s too easy to remember the hundreds, thousands of times they’ve been in this exact position, swapping theories about the case, or jokes, or flirty little innuendos to see just how many he could get away with before Barry gave him that look. They haven’t worked together since everything went down, and muscle memory is telling him to fill the expansive silence between them. Instead the silence hangs like a shroud, a reminder of everything they’d screwed up. Barry turns a corner, and Hal’s treated to a postcard’s view of the Central City skyline. He’d spent years heading here instead of Coast, after things with Carol had finally come to a conclusive end and he’d been off world enough to not bother keeping a place in Coast. Central City; home of the twentieth chance. At the time he’d found it encouraging, a testament to the city and its protector. But even that hadn’t been enough.

Kid Fic

This one has a similar base concept to 1989 by @pulsar-1919 where Hal and Barry meet as two lonely, socially awkward kids with interests most other kids don’t care about. It’s a combination of a slice of life story where 10-12 year old Hal and Barry meetings each other when Barry and Daryl spend a summer in Coast City, and the Flash and Green Lantern meeting as adults in the Justice League.

“Why’d you have to jump in, anyway? I was fine.” The kid drops his arm and stomps over to the pile of wooden pallets stacked against the chain link fence. “I only ran away because you were in the way. I would have won on my own.” The stitch in Barry’s side pulls with every gasped breath, and his shirt is sticking to his back where he sweat through it. He tries to think through it; if he says the wrong thing, the kid can run away from Barry as easily as he had from those other kids. Keep it short and simple. “I know.” The kid glares. “So why’d you butt in?” There are a lot of answers to this. Because I don’t like seeing anyone get hurt is true, but would probably just rile the kid up more. Because I’ve wished someone would step in when it was me feels a little more personal than he’s willing to get at the moment. The kid is still staring at him, obviously losing his patience with this weird kid who can’t keep his nose out of other people’s business. His arms are stuffed in his pockets, stalking around the tiny space, and looking about half a second away from just deciding talking to him just isn’t worth it. The realization sets off a moment of near panic for Barry. Say something. Anything. “Because it sucks to be alone.” The kid’s still eyeing him, like he’s expecting more, so Barry keeps stumbling along. “I mean, it does just in general, but in that kind of situation, it just- it just sucks,” he ends lamely. The other kid stares at him for a long moment, still suspicious, before he just nods. “Okay.” Barry lets out a breath. The tension in the air’s dissipates with the kid’s acceptance. Now that it’s gone, though, he’s feeling the sting of his scraped knee, and he’s sure the other kid’s isn’t much better. “Do you… Do you mind if I take care of that?” “How?” Barry’s already got his backpack off, taking quick note of the loose threads around the Flash patch before fishing inside for his first aid kit and water bottle. The first aid kit in particular has gotten a lot of use, so he always keeps it well stocked; the school nurse asks questions he doesn’t have good answers for, and his teachers and Darryl ask fewer questions when it looks like he’s visited the nurse. “This happen a lot?” Barry just shrugs and gets to work. The angle’s a little awkward, since he’s only used to doing this on himself, but the other kid doesn’t complain. From the looks of him, Barry wouldn’t be surprised if this is routine for him too.

Thanks for the ask!

WIP Ask Game

#halbarry #fic #crane husband #kid fic #rainbow raider #ask game #thanks for the ask!#I don't think they've used the Rainbow Raider concept in the comics?#Rainbow Raider's been pretty MIA the last couple decades #It's like they think we'd have trouble feeling threatened by a guy named Roy G Bivolo #on the one hand this game has been great because it's been making me more excited to write than I've been in a while #on the other I'm excited for stories that I can't finish by Halbarry Week #it's one reason I don't throw out anything I write #because even if I hate it when I put it down I know I can read through it later and remember what I loved about the idea

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ifievertoldyou · 2 years

Text

that one adage about pride coming before the fall or whatever

fic: The House Always Wins by @alexanderwesker

mediums- HB, 2B, 4B and 6B shading pencils + crayola colored pencils

closeup + analysis under the cut!

closeups

+ analysis

first of all, there's the significance of the figure itself to analyze. while it's most definitely a nod to how he got his scar, i also tried to make it reminiscent of the fall of icarus, just in the shape of his scar looking like that of a falling person, and i put reddish-purple feathers to further that comparison a little.

also, the colors have a lot of significance. most of the figure is the same color as quackity's magic (or as close as i could get with colored pencils), but i also used purple for 3 specific points that the sky gods left their mark on...

1: his dominant hand. while this can be taken as more literal, since he has an actual rune there from the gods, it also has metaphorical significance. see, hands often symbolize (amongst other things) strength and power, which are two things that our man has learned to value highly. and his emphasis on those things only increased after the ram. and also, quackity gambled against the sky gods in an attempt to get more power and notoriety. and while he did, but it still wasn't enough for him.

2: his left eye. again, this can be taken as literal because of the blessed eye having the rune, but i'd say it could be a symbolic thing too. the sky gods literally changed how he viewed the entire world, for better and for worse (but Especially for worse).

3. his heart. his connection to hearts has been well established in thaw. the poor man's heart gets broken all the time. and because of the sky gods' love of tormenting him, he's learned not to open his heart to as many people, and also not to listen to his heart as much, because it always seems to lead to him being betrayed or getting hurt. but this causes him to become detached to all of the damage that he's actually inflicting by being so cold and harsh to people, even if all that he does is really just his way of protecting himself...

okay that's all, thanks so much for reading!! ^^

#thaw #thaw fanart #fanart for a fanfic #the house always wins #the house always wins fic #my art #the gambler #was i being purposefully ambiguous in this analysis? maybe just a bit ;]#i may or may not have drawn this for my art final #(my art teacher giving this a 100 is what pushed me to actually go through with posting it on here /hj)

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phantom-does-a-thing · 2 years

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PHANTOM hey hi im being normal about ashe winters do you have any thoughts about her . (if not u can leave this ask no worries)

I keep forgetting you send me this ask Oli hold on ok I don't really have that many thoughts, but I will just give you the general way I characterize Ashe:

She/He swag.

I recently watched Yakko's beating every 3d sonic game in a week video and that for some reason has greatly shaped my view of Ashe Winters. Interpret that as you will??????? I have no idea how to explain it.

He and Vyncent stay back a lot whenever Will n Dakota go out bc they both have issues with being out in public (and neither of them like being alone)

she's the perfect balance actually to the triad bc it always means they're able to duo off and no one is left alone. Her n Vyn bond over not liking to be in public n also not being really human. With William bc they are both emo and with Dakota bc he is an extrovert that adopts introverts and is so charming.

whatever way I write Ashe, he will never be fully human in my mind, sorry can't write him normally.

If I give Ashe Wings: they're like silver wings the same color as her hair and she has feathers all the way up her back and behind her ears. She is super fluffy and there are even feathers in her hair. She also has VERY big wings like they are proportionate to her body, if she were not frail and vitamin deficient she would be able to fly with them.

But he also never takes care of his wings because he doesn't know HOW. No one ever tried to show him and he is too uncomfortable in his body to try and look up. It also doesn't help that his wings are MASSIVE. He can only reach like an itty bit on the inside of his wings, so preening is useless.

She can chirp and click and chitter and absolutely HATES that she can and that she does it unintentionally a lot. She hates it so much because she knows it's not normal and that that's not how to be human. So he tries to hold it back as much as possible.

I think it's silly bc Vyncent also chirps but they chirp in wildly different tones so it's always a jumpscare for both of them. But like a good jumpscare. Bc Vyncent hasn't heard similar tones in a long time and yet Ashe can also chirp and woah. We aren't that different actually.

The fact that Vyncent isn't human either is a big reassurance to Ashe. Like they bond fr!

if I give her scales!!! ohohohooo so silly. Idk what color scales she would have but they are iridescent and don't work very well to be scales, they are fragile and very weak. Her scales will break easily and constantly peel off bc gene issues and humans are not supposed to have scales.

She has scales on her cheeks (like freckles), down her neck, her shoulders/collar bone, at her hands and wrists, down her back and on her legs. They're a lot less noticeable than Mark's so she doesn't necessarily have to hide them as much bc if you don't look close they're hard to see. But they are very itchy and uncomfortable.

He wears a scarf and fingerless gloves both to hide the scales and to make them easier to deal with. Compression = doesn't itch as bad so it helps.

Mark gave him literally NO information on the scales thing. Like what the hell do you do when the only other person in the entire world that might know what to do or understand the situation is your FATHER who is never there and you would never go to for personal questions like this? Ashe had to learn everything himself.

He does not know how to deal with shedding. It is a very painful process bc he doesn't know how to do it. He could just soak in a nice warm bath for a bit and it would be so much easier but it's Ashe, she doesn't do that.

She has been alone for so long that now she actually has some friends, he gets so nervous when left alone. Him :handshake: Vyncent.

I keep comparing him to Vyncent but they are both creatures, ok last comparison tho. They both have probably the worst people to ever base how to be normal off of, especially for Ashe.

Like Vyncent is not human, Ashe cannot use him as a basis on how to act normal. William is... well he's william, he's one end of the extreme spectrum. Dakota is at the complete opposite end.

They are the worst influences on Ashe, sorry. They are.

Ashe is very quiet during conversations and doesn't contribute much, he just watches and observes. He listens and remembers and does who knows what with that information.

He has curly hair, sorry I hit all of them with the curly hairification beam I can't describe any other hair type. Very long, frizzy curly hair, not as bad as Dakota but he also doesn't take care of it much.

He is a GAMER this is CANON but I think it's SILLY and I need to reiterate it.

He is probably the best at video games out of the four but that isn't like a big achievement. It's like Jay being the most sensible of the riptide pirates again. But he is actually really good at video games.

William forces him to play horror games and he shrieks anytime something scary happens (he HATES Horror).

Back on the fact that he is a very quiet person, however... there are a few things that he will go on HOUR rants about (video game plots, movies, tv shows, stupid internet facts. He knows so much internet lore) and it's like finding cheat codes to get him to talk about something. bc without being prompted, he won't contribute to a conversation at all.

She is a tumblr girlie sorry. William is a reddit mf.

Parallel play is her love language fr, but like he literally doesn't know anything else because no one ever spends time with her lol

There's probably more I could say but I don't feel like thinking of more things. Have this list, I didn't mean to go on a tangent.

#asks #oli tag #rambling #phever dreams with phantom #jrwi #ashe winters #phantom posting #jrwi pd

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

--------x--------

Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

wordless, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A library is full of words and quiet. Jeon Jungkook liked to go to the public library a lot. It turns out, so do you. And that’s how it begins, from passing glances, to words on a screen, to Jungkook now sitting shirtless in his bedroom, heart racing as he presses the record button.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, filming of nudity and m-masturbation, semi-public dry humping); fluff; non-idol!BTS; the definition of “well that escalated quickly” but also not? lol; shy!Jungkook

hello again, @gowayyeonjun, ;)

–

He stared at the black screen, reflecting his nervous expression.

His hand shot out and flipped it down. His phone case faced upwards, a clear case with a carrot graphic on the bottom against the matte black of his smartphone. A reference to his childhood nickname because of his ever-so-slightly too large front teeth.

He took a deep breath and flipped his phone back up, leaning it against his windowsill.

“Am I really going to do this?” he asked his own reflection, who did nothing but repeat his question back to him.

He raised his hand, dropped it. Raised it again, chewing on his lip. Leaned forward and pressed his finger to his phone screen, unlocking it. Then he pulled up the camera app. Before, he had been staring at his reflection in the black screen, but now his face was in full color, curly dark hair over one eye since it was freshly washed, his tan chest bare, gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. Black tattoos on his right arm on full display, brown eyes wide and slightly terrified.

If you told Jeon Jungkook six months ago that he was about to film himself masturbating, he would have told you that you were fucking crazy.

He breathed out tensely, puffing his cheeks.

It was all your fault.

If he hadn’t seen you, he wouldn’t be doing this.

Jungkook liked to read and he liked to go to the public library. He knew libraries were becoming obsolete, but Jungkook loved libraries because they were quiet, they were full of books, and nobody tried to talk to him. That was it, really. He was a shy person and he really didn’t know what to do when someone approached him and tried to chat him up. When Jungkook was in front of a crowd doing public speaking, he was fine. But one-on-one interactions freaked him out. He was bad at talking and connecting with people on a personal level.

It didn’t really help that a lot of people thought he was attractive.

Jungkook didn’t think he was ugly, but he didn’t really think he was that crazy special either. He was just a guy and he was just trying to go about his everyday life without having a crowd of giggling girls following him for half a block trying to get his number.

That’s why Jungkook liked libraries. People didn’t talk at libraries. They were supposed to be quiet. He could be calm here. No one was going to try to pick him up at a library.

And then he saw you.

You were browsing the shelves, pulling a book out and reading the back. You had five in your arms already, and here was number six. You tilted your head, opening it up with one hand, reading the introduction. Jungkook could see how deft your fingers were with that single action. You were wearing a short-sleeved white crop top and high-waisted baggy black jeans with colorful patches on them. They looked sewn on, as if you had done it yourself.

He stared at you through the bookshelves.

You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Lips that looked so soft they seemed unreal. Hair that cascaded down your shoulders, a little messy and not quite done. For some reason, you holding that book was such a beautiful action that he couldn’t look away, staring at your one hand spreading open the pages, tongue tucked in your cheek as you considered it. You nodded to yourself and began to walk out the aisle.

His eyes followed you.

From then on, Jungkook noticed you every time you appeared. Always holding over five books, returning them and getting more. Usually in a crop top and high-waisted jeans. Sometimes with a black denim jacket if it was chilly at night. Jungkook was at the library all the time and it seemed like so were you. He didn’t try to talk to you, but he did always stare at you, watching your movements. Jungkook was unaware that this was how a lot of people saw him and probably the reason why so many people tried to talk to him and ask for his number.

He wanted to ask you for your number, but he was too shy.

One time, you were reading and walking. This particular time, Jungkook hadn’t noticed you until it was too late and you bumped into him. He could smell you suddenly, the scent of peaches and honey. It must have been your perfume. You looked up to him and bowed apologetically, wordless.

His ears burned hot and his jaw trembled, almost blurting out an apology.

You turned away, continuing your reading.

Peaches and honey.

Jungkook wanted to say something to you. He really did. For three months, he tried to muster up the courage to say something. But you weren’t supposed to talk in a library. And what was he supposed to say? He didn’t know you. He wasn’t sure if you had anything in common other than books. You read lots of things. Crime thrillers. Sci-fi. Fantasy. Autobiographies. He noticed you never went into the romance section though.

He wondered why that was.

The next time Jungkook interacted with you, he had been reaching for a title at the front. The library put the newest releases here and one of the covers had caught his eye. And all of a sudden, your hand was reaching out too and his fingers touched yours.

You jerked your hand back, bowing apologetically, moving away.

He wanted to run after you and tell you that you could have it, but you strode into the library quickly and then you were gone, crop top and all. Jungkook stared at his hand, remembering that brief moment of your fingertips brushing against his skin, peaches and honey filling his nose as you neared.

The weeks dragged on.

It was getting colder and you wore the denim jacket a lot now. Sometimes you wore a fuzzy cropped sweater. One time, it was pink and tight, molding to your breasts. Your black jeans were tight too, shaped to your perfect ass and thighs. Plump and juicy.

They would look nice in his hands.

He walked past you on purpose that time. A little close, so he could smell the peaches and honey.

That time, Jungkook had gone home with an armful of books, dumped them on his bed, then dumped himself on the bed, shoving his pants down and stroking himself to climax, the scent of peaches and honey haunting him.

Another time, you were sitting on the ground, thighs spread, on your knees. A tall pile of ten books, tapping your cheek with one finger as your other hand shuffled through them, apparently trying to decide which ones to check out. Jungkook’s eyes went wide. He was watching you above the books, a full shelf between you and him. From this angle, he was looking down at you.

Staring down your V-neck white sweater, at the swell of your breasts, a silver necklace trapped between them. He only had a good view because he was looking at you from above. You reached between your tits and plucked the pendant out from your cleavage, a silver feather.

Jungkook had never gotten hard at the fucking library before, but his cock swelled and tented in his sweatpants instantly.

He couldn’t function, watching you on your knees, curve of your breasts on full display. Finally, you seemed to decide and got up, sighing softly as you put some of the books back. You moved out of the aisle, hoisting the ones you had chosen. Jungkook jerked his head away, realizing he was staring at you too much. And it was creepy, so he should stop.

Once he was home, he couldn’t and didn’t need to stop himself. He still remembered the peach and honey perfume. He wanted that peach and honey to cling to his clothes, stay on his sheets, invade his nose. Wanted your skin on his, wanted your body on top of him.

It got quite cold at some point, and you wore cropped hoodies now, the front tucked into tight black jeans. Still checking out books at the local library, a fuzzy pink bag strapped to your back with a cute bunny character on it.

Had that much time passed? Jungkook couldn’t believe it.

He still remembered the peaches and honey. He tried not to stare at you too much, because he knew it was getting too creepy and, now, he was jacking off to memories of your eyes and lips, thinking about that one time your fingertips brushed his skin.

He seemed frozen at the shelf, zoning out, contemplating if he should look up or not. Then the peaches and honey were right beside him. He could smell it, see your black sneakers with the pink laces. They matched your bag.

Your fingertips brushed against his right hand, plucking out the book beside it.

Jungkook started and whipped his head up, long black hair covering one of his shaking brown eyes.

You jumped a little as well, not expecting his reaction. Of course, you didn’t. He tried to calm his nervousness. Just open your mouth, Jungkook, he scolded himself. Apologize for scaring her.

You were holding your phone in one hand. It had a black case with a grinning smiley face with devil horns. You tucked the book in the crook of your arm and swiped at your phone, and then turned the screen to face him.

Sorry.

It was in your notes app.

He stared at the word. Then looked back up at you. You nodded, pointing to the screen.

He lowered his hand and fumbled for his phone, hastily typing into it and turning it around to show you.

No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.

You smiled at him.

Jungkook thought he was going to die.

You typed quickly and flashed the screen at him.

I’m using my phone because we shouldn’t talk in a library.

Jungkook typed fast too to give you his reply.

That makes a lot of sense. You’re smart.

You beamed at him. Jungkook thought he was ascending to heaven. You typed eagerly, as if you couldn’t wait to tell him what next.

I see you at the library all the time. What’s your name?

Jungkook was pretty sure he was dead and in heaven already, seeing that response. You noticed him. Did you notice him as much as he noticed you? His fingers shook as he typed his answer.

Jeon Jungkook.

His lower lip trembled slightly as he added one more question.

What’s yours?

For some reason, these face-to-face text conversations did not bother him as much as a real chat. After that, you two exchanged small talk like this. Usually just a greeting in text before going on your way. You didn’t ask him for his number, not even to send texts. You always used the notes app, always in person, and it was short and sweet.

One day, he found some bravery somehow.

Jungkook was a very shy person. His fingers were shaking so much that he dropped his phone. You had bent down to pick it up, reading the question he wanted to ask.

I want to hear your voice.

You tilted your head, holding his phone out. He bit his lip and took it, placing it against his chest, somewhat ashamed for asking. Your hand suddenly appeared, your phone in his vision.

Why?

He lifted his head, looking at you. You shrugged, as if to add, does it matter? He typed slowly, inhaling deeply as he turned his phone around.

I’m curious.

Your eyes flickered down, reading it. You were close to him. He could smell the peaches and honey of your perfume. Wearing a cropped purple sweater with tight dark blue jeans and purple sneakers with white laces. The same pink fuzzy bag with the bunny character.

You leaned forward and Jungkook’s eyes widened, suddenly feeling your breath on his ear. Soft, warm exhales. His entire body shivered and tingled. His cock jerked his sweatpants, thankfully black and baggy enough that hopefully you wouldn’t notice. His breathing shallowed, wafting against your neck.

From this angle, he could see your phone in your hand with the little devil emote on the case.

You pulled back, blinking slowly. A small smile formed on your lips.

His cock swelled. That was not an innocent smile.

You lifted your phone.

Next time, I’ll have something for you.

The next time, you held your phone out to his. There was an app called QuickShare that allowed your phones to exchange files. You both pressed the button and Jungkook waited as the file downloaded. You held up your earbuds and pointed to him, as if to ask, do you have headphones?

Jungkook nodded, fishing out his earbuds and tucking them in his ears.

The file finished downloading and Jungkook held up his phone.

You smiled at him and gestured to him to play it.

Jungkook turned his phone back around and played it. It was a video file, but the screen was black as it the file began. Then your voice invaded his ears.

“Hello, Jeon Jungkook.”

His heart beat fast, finally hearing your voice after all this time.

“You asked to hear my voice, so here it is. Do you like it?”

He jerked his head up and looked at you, nodding quickly. You smiled at him.

“I hope you do.” A small, pretty laugh. Jungkook liked that little laugh a lot. “I guess it’s been kind of weird only speaking through text at the library, hasn’t it?” Jungkook made eye contact with you. “But it’s been nice too. I’ve enjoyed it a lot.” Your smile was becoming less and less innocent. Not mean, but a little teasing now. “I think you’re really cute.” He felt his cheeks flush hotly. “Why do you always wear sweatpants, Jungkook?” His brows furrowed. You pointed down to his phone. He lowered his eyes.

The black screen was changing. There was rustling, and the phone was lifted.

A bed.

A bed with dark gray sheets and a black blanket with stars wrapped around you. You smiled down at the camera. Jungkook’s eyes widened. Your lips opened, speaking softly, but clearly.

“You shouldn’t wear sweatpants, Jungkook. It doesn’t hide your erections very well.”

The blanket fell down your shoulders and Jungkook nearly dropped his phone. His cock instantly swelled. He jerked his head up from his phone, to your arched eyebrow and smirk, then back to his phone.

Staring at your naked body, tits out and nipples hard. Thighs pressed together, hands resting on them.

You tilted your head at the camera, giving him a similar expression to the one you had right now. He gawked, unable to look away.

“I wonder if you’re hard now, Jungkook,” the you in the video murmured. He was. Oh, fuck, he was. “Is it me?” Yes. It was you. Fuck. “I tried to see by getting close to you and breathing on your ear last time. You got hard because of it. I think.” He did. Fuck. He did. “I wonder why.”

You spread your legs and Jungkook gasped, staring at the space between your thighs, your glistening pussy barely visible. You leaned forward, breasts hanging down as you neared the camera, a small, smug smile on your lips.

“I wonder,” you whispered to the camera. “How do you feel about this, Jungkook?”

You flicked your phone with a finger, turning the screen to black again. Jungkook thought it was over. But there were still a few seconds left. Then all of a sudden, your moan filled his ears, breathy and erotic.

“Jungkoooooook….”

The video ended.

Holy shit.

Oh my God.

What just happened?

Oh my God.

Peaches and honey. All of a sudden, peaches and honey, close to him. Your body. Your currently clothed body, but he knew what you looked like naked now. I know what you look like naked! Jungkook backed up and you followed, all the way until his back hit the bookshelf. He made a small squeak, but your hand suddenly came up, finger pressed against his lips. His eyes rose, locking with yours.

You shook your head, placing your other hand by your lips and making a gesture to zip them.

You were touching him.

Oh my God.

You were touching him.

Your other hand lowered from your mouth. Lowered. Hovered over his hips. Waited. His eyes stared into yours. You removed your finger from his lips. Seemed to think better of it. Backed up a little. But his hand shot out, grabbing yours and pressing it to his crotch.

You studied him carefully. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip and chewed slowly. He didn’t know if this was right, but you showed him your naked body! You filmed it. And gave him the video file. You must know. You must know what you’re doing to him.

He lifted his hips a little into your hand, pressing his stiff length into your palm. Your fingers curled around it slowly, one by one. Not speaking. Wordless. He reached up to the strings of your black hoodie and played with them, breathing quietly but heavily, opening his mouth. You lifted your other hand and pressed your fingertip to your lips. He nodded.

Jungkook began to roll his hips into your palm. You didn’t move away. In fact, you held firm, maintaining your solid grip on his hard dick through his gray sweatpants. In the fucking library. He was humping your fucking hand in the library after you gave him a video of your naked body.

His eyes drifted down to your phone sticking out of the center pocket of your hoodie. The matter black case with the smiley face with devil horns. Jungkook looked back up. You seemed amused. Suddenly, your hand seemed to press back, meeting his hips every time he ascended, adding more friction. His shaking fingers pressed play on the video again and your voice filled his ears, speaking to him once again. Saying his name. Having your one-sided conversation. You rubbed him through his sweatpants in the back aisle of the library and he was getting close, close, your voice teasing him, but your current self completely silent, only giving him that slight smile.

Holy shit, Jungkook was going to explode in his underwear like a teenager.

You leaned in as the video moaned in his ears and he almost moaned, the sound dying in his throat as you hovered over him. You tilted your head, curving around his. Your hand stopped around his cock, squeezing him tight.

Thank God.

He was seconds away from completely embarrassing himself.

You reached up and took one of his earbuds out of his ear, your warm breathing tickling his earlobe. Lowered your hand and placed the earbud in his, tucking it safely before removing your hand from his sweatpants. Jungkook shuddered, gasping your name involuntarily. The first word he had ever spoken to you in person. The scent of peach and honey lingered around his nose.

Your murmured one word into his ear.

The first word you had ever spoken to him in person.

“Jungkook.”

His name.

You backed up, smiling gently. Backed up, turning away, leaving him there in the back of the library, clutching his phone, underwear soaked with pre-cum, now in possession of a video of you, naked.

Now Jungkook was in his bedroom.

Camera app open.

You didn’t ask for a video. You didn’t ask for anything, actually. You just gave, so he wanted to give you something back. Jungkook wasn’t the kind of guy to only give a little. He gave a lot. He always did. That was how he was. He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he was going to do.

This has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.

Six months ago, if you told Jeon Jungkook that he was about to film himself jacking off to give said video to a young woman he met at the public library who had only said one fucking word to him the whole time they saw each other in person, the one fucking word being his name, Jungkook would have told you that you were insane and needed to see a doctor.

He reached over and pressed record.

Unlike you, Jungkook didn’t start off with a black screen. He started off with his face and bare torso, part of his gray sweatpants showing. Sitting on the edge of his bed, even remembering things like picking out his nicer black sheets and making sure he had picked up after himself. He wore the lighter gray sweatpants so his body would stand out amongst the black. The obvious center of attention. Jungkook nervously ran a hand through his long black hair, curly from the shower earlier. Lifted his dark brown eyes to stare straight into the camera. Pink lips quivering as he spoke your name.

“Hey.”

A small anxious smile that he couldn’t help.

“Ah… If you think this is weird, you can delete this right now and not watch it…” Jungkook swallowed, dropping his hand. He inhaled a long breath, trying to calm his nerves. “But… I…”

He looked straight into the camera, not at his reflection.

“I replay your video all the time.”

His heart was racing in his chest. He could feel it galloping like a damn racehorse.

“I can’t help it.”

The images came back, memorized now, but the reason he had replayed it all those times before was to hear your voice, over and over, saying his name. Moaning his name at the very end.

“What do you do after?” Jungkook breathed your name, softly, letting it fall from his lips. Said it again, forming the syllables with desire. “I’m so curious. Will you tell me sometime?” There was no way Jungkook could say this shit at the fucking library. But this wasn’t the library. This was his bedroom. He didn’t have to give this to you.

But he was going to.

“Will you show me, sometime?” Thump. “I’d love to watch.”

His fingers began to trail down his chest. Jungkook wasn’t actively thinking about it. He was imagining you listening, knowing his voice would fill your ears, his voice now smokey with lust and desire, several octaves lower than his usual tone. He couldn’t help it.

“Will you let me watch?”

His eyes shifted to the screen, watching his fingertips brush the waistband of his gray sweatpants, slipping under. He had prepared, practiced earlier, knowing the composition was correct. Making sure you would be able to see. He pushed them down, past his v-line. Thump. Licked his lips, stared into the camera again.

“Will you let me touch?” Jungkook breathed, black strands shadowing his left eye, lashes lowering as he pulled his hard cock out of his sweatpants.

His heart ricocheted in his chest. He wrapped his hand around it, moaning softly, feeling his hot, taut skin. Stroked slowly, staring into the lens. Jungkook already knew what he looked like. Muscles on his right arm rippling, black tattoos dancing on his tan skin. The lust built up inside him like a storm, ramping up and up, and he was swept up by the winds, tipping his head back a little as he stroked himself, whimpering out your name.

“Do you know how good you smell?” Jungkook panted out. “You smell like peaches and honey. It must be your perfume. It’s so nice. I wish I could smell it more. I wish I could stand next to you and breathe it in.” He was rambling, but it was genuine, so he didn’t try to stop himself. He didn’t want this to seem fake. He didn’t want you to think he was trying to play you. “I want it all over my clothes. I want it on my skin, your peaches and honey.”

Faster, harder, pre-cum leaking out and dripping down, adding to the pleasure every time his fingers closed around the throbbing head. His left hand reached back to support himself as he leaned back, staring at the camera with half-lidded eyes, his toned chest shuddering, sweatpants halfway down his thighs, his right hand furiously jacking himself off.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable,” Jungkook gasped out, eyelids fluttering. “But I can’t help it. I really want you. It’s not fair how pretty you are.” He exhaled hard, heart beating fast. “And you gave me that video. All I wanted was to hear your voice.”

He threw his head back, nearing the end.

“You let me see your body.” His words were becoming moans, breathless with longing. “You let me see so much. You want me to want you.”

Jungkook lowered his head, catching himself in the phone screen, black hair all over his face, mouth open, his sharp jawline tense with his approaching climax.

“And I do. Fuck, I want you so fucking bad.”

His eyes shifted to the lens.

“And I’m going to cum. Thinking about you.”

Jungkook sucked in a breath and gasped out your name, his cock jerking in his hand, shooting white strings down his fingers, splattering onto his sweatpants, creating a pool of white. He had made sure to wait a couple days to let it build up so he could give you a good show. His orgasm spilled out of him, his torso quivering, enveloped with pleasure riding through him in waves. Slowly, he smeared it up and down his length, heightening the ecstasy. His chest was trembling, slowly coming down. Jungkook took his own cum and rubbed it on the sensitive head, whimpering softly at the spikes of pleasure it caused.

His lips formed your name once again, a low moan.

Held up his right hand, covered in his cum.

Reached over with his left and stopped the recording.

Jungkook had to wait a while to give it to you.

Holidays and all that. Then he got busy with work, but eventually he was back at the public library again, looking for you. The sinful video was saved on his phone, in a locked folder, buried in his photo gallery of family photos and pictures with his friends.

He looked for you, couldn’t find you.

Until one day Jungkook spied you at the check-in counter, handing the librarian your books. You had maybe ten or twelve, and the librarian checked them in one by one, having small talk with you. You seemed familiar with them. Of course, you were. You read so much. Not many people visited the library as often as you. Maybe himself.

You were wearing baggy black jeans with colorful sewn on patches, as if you had done it yourself. A cropped white puffer jacket to keep you warm. You nodded and smiled at the librarian before turning around to go into the main part of the library. A loose black crop-top with the slightest sliver of midriff showing, instantly reminding Jungkook of what you looked like without clothes on.

Your eyes found his.

You smiled at him.

Jungkook nearly dropped his phone. He probably looked ridiculous, wearing light gray sweatpants and a white hoodie, hood pulled up with his black hair sticking out of the sides. But he wore the gray sweatpants on purpose. At least, every time he came to the library.

He held up his phone with shaking hands.

You began to walk, but not quite towards him. Your eyes shifted and he followed, a little distance behind, slowly realizing where you were going. The same place you two were when you gave him the first video. The back of the library, where the older encyclopedias were. No one went there. The first time, Jungkook didn’t even think about it when you gestured him there to give him the video.

Now, he understood why.

He turned the corner and you were standing at the end of the aisle, next to the wall. Waved at him kindly. There was no way anyone could suspect you gave him a video of your naked body after saying a single word to him in person. Jungkook began to walk towards you, step by step. He didn’t have to give you the video. He had filmed another one of just his voice having an awkward one-sided conversation with himself.

You pulled out your phone with the little devil emote on the case.

Took out your earbuds, tucked them in your cute ears.

That smile, turning slightly less innocent now as Jungkook neared.

He held up his phone, pointing to the QuickShare app. You nodded, loaded it up. He stopped right in front of you and pressed the ‘send file’ button. Not the video of only his voice. The other one. His heart was beating fast, so fast. It began to download. The percentage ticking up. Thirty. Fifty. Eighty.

He felt a tap on his forearm.

Jungkook jerked his head up, staring into your eyes.

You gave him a concerned look, tilting your head. Wordlessly asking, are you okay?

He chewed on his lip and nodded slowly. Took another step towards you so he could smell it. The peaches and honey, wafting all over you, the sweet perfume. Now you two were close, so close. You smiled and patted his arm once again, reassuringly. You did not seem bothered by the closeness.

The file finished downloading.

Jungkook reached over to your phone and touched the screen. You tipped your hand to let him access the video file from the top menu. Your eyebrows shot up as you saw the beginning frame of the video, him shirtless. Jungkook swallowed hard next to you.

Pressed play.

He didn’t watch. Couldn’t really. He had re-watched it already, over and over, wondering if it was okay. Too little? Too much? Too forward? Too crazy? Jungkook stared at the top of your head, chewing his lip raw with anxiousness. Oh, shit, what if you ran and never spoke to him again? What If you thought he was super creepy? He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have given you that video. What was he thinking?

He felt you lean against his chest, breathing shallowly, your free hand gripping his white hoodie.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, finally looking down. You were watching him masturbate, not looking away, pressing yourself against his chest. His cock swelled at your closeness and the embarrassment of seeing himself come undone in that tiny screen in your hands, clutching your phone tightly.

You pressed your body against his, harder, and his hands automatically came up to hold your elbows, steadying you. He planted his feet so he wouldn’t tip over. Your hips touched his. Oh fuck. The front of your jeans rolled into the crotch of his sweatpants.

Oh, fuck.

Jungkook sucked in a breath as you began to dry hump him in the fucking public library, watching a video of him jacking off that he willingly gave you, your soft gasps against his chest, eyes glued to the screen, peaches and honey invading his nose. He didn’t make a sound, holding you close, his hard cock rubbing against the inside of his underwear, a patch of wetness forming as you provided the friction.

You lifted the phone slightly so it was at his shoulder, next to his head, eyes still on the screen, your breath suddenly on his neck and it took everything in Jungkook not to moan, because your breath was so warm and erotic, a feathery whimper gracing his ears as you watched him orgasm.

The video ended.

Your eyes shifted to his face.

Pupils dilated, soaked with lust.

You kissed him.

Full, on the mouth, those soft, soft lips pressed to his, inhaling him deeply. He had worn his nice cologne today, a mix of musky woods and sea breeze, and maybe you’d notice, maybe you’d want it too, on your clothes and on your skin. It seemed like it, the way you pressed against him so urgently, nestling yourself in his arms.

He drowned in the kiss, a kiss of peaches and honey.

You backed up, but only a centimeter, eyes slowly opening. He gazed into your eyes. He probably had the same expression. Uninhibited desire and longing.

“Do you… want to go somewhere that’s not the fucking library so we can talk?” you whispered against his lips quietly. Your tone was heavy with lust.

He did. Preferably somewhere with a bed.

“Yeah…”

You lowered your phone, the little devil smiling at him before it disappeared in your pocket.

Jungkook grabbed your hand. Held it tight. Took one step, then another, with you.

You smiled at him.

Not so innocent.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagine

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years

Text

Rᴇᴅᴀᴍᴀɴᴄʏ

Redamancy: (n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

After spending the night with Eren, you try to determine the future of your relationship. Eren complicates things.

Word Count : 1822

Contains allusions to sex.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was a miracle that neither of you had been caught. Truly. In fact, the sheer convenience of the whole thing was enough to make you raise your eyebrow in suspicion. Though, there was no reason for you to stop taking it for granted.

It was the boy who had started it.

Whether or not you had kissed first, or him, was irrelevant. What matters was that the mess hall was empty, and the air was quick to feel hot. The more of his lips you felt, the stronger the smell of sweat became. Not that you minded. Your head was too cloudy with a strong sense of growing lust to care. In fact, you reveled in it. But it was Eren who had given the word to take things back to your dormitory, and it was you who had given the word of acceptance.

The night had been excellent, in short. The dormitory had been, similar to the mess hall, emptied out. The two of you had been blessed with a whole nights worth of twisting and stretching, without the confines of anxiety or embarrassment.

His skin felt like fire. His lips were wet from coats of saliva. In fact, like a Titan, he had given you little to no mercy in terms of bruising and marks made from a tongue. In turn, you couldn’t help the thin scratches your finger nails had given his back, and the final mess of his chocolate colored locks. Time blurred together. All you knew was warmth and steam.

And then, you must’ve fallen asleep in the early morning. Your lover hadn’t been far behind you. Perhaps it was because your body had become numb or overly sensitive from all the heat, but you hadn’t recalled Eren’s arms being wrapped around you before drifting off.

But now...

His hands are on you again. Not like they were the night before, but nearly just as intimate. Fingertips aren’t hot this time, but getting there. For now, they are warm.

One of Eren’s arms is under your body, with the forearm out and hand reaching right under your breast. The other is draped over your shoulder, with the hand between the front of your throat and the center of your collarbone. This is the hand that is responsible for pushing your back closer against his chest and keeping you there. It feels like a trap, but a loving one.

Love. That was the issue here.

You’d had a certain admiration for Jaeger for a while. You’d known each other since your cadet years. He was hot headed, stubborn, but driven. You weren’t particularly bratty or as hard brained as he, but the two of you were easily in sync. You were friends. You joked like friends. Did favors like friends. Fought together like friends. Now you were wrestling together, and it wasn’t like friends.

But you hadn’t considered what would happen after. Would you remain simply friends? Did you want this to be a one time thing, or not? Did Eren? If not, what was he keeping you so close to him for? Behavior like this is normally reserved for relationships. What are you to do with this?

Eren’s body shifts. You can feel the muscles in his abdomen roll and settle back into place with the curve of your back. Your eyes remain open as a sign of how wide awake you are, glued to all the other objects in the room you can see.

Love. Eren is showing a sign of love. Is he? You could be mistaken. Is it right to read into the placement of his fingers, or not? Should you wake him up to discuss it? No. Not, let him rest.

Your bottom lip sucks in between your teeth as you think. Eren’s grip on you feels as if it’s getting tighter by the second, though that might just be a figment of your anxiety instead of reality. Regardless, his touch is not one of hatred or lust, for the time being. It’s soft, but firm. Firm enough for you to have wiggle room if you need it, but soft enough to let you know he Eren has no intention of hurting you. It feels more like he wants you to stay. Which brings you back to your first problem- was this a sign of love?

Eren shifts again. His neck cranes around in a lazy stretch, than his face sinks into the back of your neck. You can feel it settle between the nape of your neck and your body of hair. Eren breathes out through his nose as he continues to grow comfortable, and for a split second, you’re ecstatic with your current position.

The hand by your breast twitches, then slips lower. The palm rests closer to the side of your ribs now, making you hyper aware of touch all over again. Upon natural reaction, your toes curl tightly in stimulation, though not from anything sexual. Just from the intimacy.

Swallowing, you decide to test the waters.

Your legs detangle from each other and instead encroach on Eren’s territory. Your left heel grazes against Eren’s shin, and you push yourself closer against his chest, if it were possible.

Erent doesn’t wake up completely. Instead, there’s a stiff “Mmm,” as his own legs move. One of his legs runs over your own, covering over it. Now you’re closer.

He must be aware of his actions, right?

“Good morning.”

His voice is low and scratchy from sleep. If your mind hadn’t been consumed with the future of your relationship with him, you would’ve felt the vibration of his voice right to the core between your legs.

You don’t respond. Despite your wide open eyes, you are turned away from him. If you’re quiet, you can feign sleep. Maybe then you’ll have time to think a way out of this.

“Y/N, it’s time to wake up,” he says against your ear. You feel his body stretch, but remain in the same position. Eren is quiet for a moment. Then he speaks again. “I can tell that you’re awake, you know.”

Well, shit.

Your mouth is quick to go dry. Your heart is thump, thump, thumping. You’re certain he can feel it just as you can.

“I have to get up,” you say suddenly, without thinking. In your panic, you sit up, your legs uncurling from Eren’s and bending as an arm gives you leverage against the mattress. His hands fall from your form at once, breaking the contact.

Now the air feels cold.

Eren watches your bare back. His eyes are half closed from the drowsiness of morning, pieces of hair sprawled out against the pillow he rests against. Even from this view, Eren can see a fraction of temporary scars he’d left on your body from the previous night. Not to say that he caused you pain. He hadn’t.

Absent mindedly, Eren’s left hand reaches up to trail his fingers along your spine. You tense up immediately, almost in a jolt. Jaeger must not think anything of it, though, because his pads of his fingers continue to ghost over the muscles of your back as lightly as a feather.

“Did you sleep alright?” he questions, still tired himself.

You had slept fantastic, actually. So warm, so safe, too exhausted to consider anything but being asleep. Eren Jaeger had been responsible for all three of those factors. You had the chance to argue that it was the best you’d slept in years. Dare you even say, all your life?

“I slept okay,” your mutter. You don’t know what his game is. You don’t know what he’s thinking.

“Good,” Eren responds. “I’d hope so.”

There is a pause. “Did you have a good night, too?” he further questions. You can tell there is his version of a smile behind his words. One of those sick ones when he’s thinking something somewhat radical.

The night, like your sleep, had also been fantastic. But was that all that Eren had thought about? Was that what he had been after this whole time? No. The relationship and comfort between the two of you was genuine, but so was the heated night of passion. What did you want? More importantly, what did Eren want?

Eren presses his entire hand against your back until it’s flat. If it were covered in paint, or more likely, blood, it would leave a perfect hand print against your skin.

“Yes, I did,” you speak.

Eren’s eyes soften. His hand pulls away from your skin, than returns to the light wisps of touching with his fingers.

Some people, had they not known Eren, may have thought his touch resembled that of a painters, or a musicians. In fact, his touch and gifted hands were born from the training you had been put through. He would’ve had to be conscious of his finger placement, what with how often they’re balled into tight fists of rage.

Then Eren frowns. His touch slows until it pauses completely. “Is something wrong?”

Perhaps you were thinking too hard about it. Perhaps whether him holding you meaning something or not wasn’t even really important. It could’ve been something done with little thought or emotion.

You don’t answer. You’re staring at the wall parallel to your bed a bit away, remembering several of the expressions Eren had made just a few hours ago. The butterflies in your stomach are making an appearance again, and you’re forced into a corner of guilt over whether your entire relationship is now ruined.

Jaeger, though, isn’t having it. In a clean motion, an arm wraps around your stomach and pulls you back down against the bed. You land with a thud against the cheap thing, and Eren is quick to apologize.

Both his arms snake their way around your body, finding the best areas to hold in order to get you to stay there with him. Because, despite your beautiful, questioning, wondering mind, Eren is showing you genuine love. He loves you. He’s trying to let you know that he loves you.

His head rests between your shoulder and your neck, his cheek by your ear and his face close to pressed against yours. “Just go back to sleep, then,” he advises lowly, his own voice lowering from another wave of drowsiness. With his eyes becoming heavy and fast, he places a kiss against your temple.

And you, settling back into the warmth, do not even bother to fight it this time. You return the love in kind, accepting it and sinking in it. Drowning in it, even. You would worry yourself with questions of your future with Eren when you wake again, and the boy would worry he had not made his intentions of affection clear.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I wrote this in an hour. I can’t think of anything more to do with it.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger imagines #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager imagines #eren fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren yeager fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

Brazilian character review: Jose Carioca

I can't say I have too many strong feelings on Zé Carioca as a character, but in retrospective, I think the existence of Zé Carioca is very emblematic of the way Brazil is viewed overseas, and the contrast between this sort of idyllic postcard fantasyland version of Brazil that gringos see, and the reality.

The first thing that comes to mind when I look at Zé Carioca, other than he's a popular Disney mascot, is that contrast. He's intended to look like a carefree young carioca (a term we use for people that come from Rio), but he's perpetually dressed like a 1920s caricature, the kind you only really find in pictures of your grandpa, and attempts to modernize his look have robbed him of his charm. His name is "José", which is a common Portuguese name usually abreviated to "Zé", but in pretty much every media he shows up in, they always say his name the Spanish way, instead of the Portuguese way.

The Zé Carioca that people outside of Brazil know is a character that only exists in the context of an ensemble with Donald and Panchito, mostly defined as a suave, romantic party goer, the phlegmatic opposite to the choleric Donald and the sanguine Panchito (I haven't checked out the new Caballeros cartoon, although I intend to). The Zé Carioca that Brazilians know is largely defined as a charismatic scammer who keeps going to great lengths to avoid work, the joke being that usually he goes through a lot more work to do so than he would have otherwise.

It's based a lot on the stereotype of cariocas as lazy beach-dwellers who look down on honest work to instead cheat and take shortcuts. Every region of Brazil has it's own stereotypes, in fact, Zé Carioca in Brasil has a lot of relatives to embody those, but gringos treat Brazil like Rio is the only city in it, which is why this stereotype gets applied to Brazilians in general, and, well, it is a stereotype to begin with. It's a change that allows him to work as a solo protagonist, but it also leads to a disconnect where fans of Zé Carioca don't quite see eye-to-eye with most depictions of the character not made locally, because it's not really the same character.

I gotta stress that I don't dislike Zé Carioca, not at all, I do think the idea behind his creation was a good one. I can't think of any Brazilian character, either created here or just coming from Brazil, who was a popular name overseas during this time period (could be wrong though, but nothing comes to mind). He gets credit for that, if nothing else. He's a fairly cute character and I do like seeing him when he does show up. But Zé Carioca seems like one of those characters who is popular as a mascot, but not so much as a character.

I think the best way I can explain this disconnect between what Zé Carioca is by sharing this text I found, written by Gabriel Bayarri here, that I translated and post below. I think this kinda gets to the heart of how I feel about Zé Carioca, which is not a dislike, just a disconnect.

Brazil was the land of Zé Carioca, he who had shown the world in 1942, during WW2, a Brazil that seemed cordial and happy, a Brazil that valued it's mixed heritage as a symbol of national culture. The parrot presented to Donald Duck a city proud of itself, joyfully beautiful, where samba, cachaca, parties and romantic rascals all mixed together.

Now, he's watched, terrified, as his wonderful city embraced armed heroes, and took flight perplexed, trying to understand what had changed in a city he recalled painted in watercolor strokes. Zé Carioca flew to the heart of the tropical city, where spaces of resistance stood symbolized, straggling remnants of a democracy that he used to think was harmonious and shielded against the monsters that ruled it.

The parrot fluttered its wings between the hills, and rested its feathers in its beloved square in Cinelândia, and breathed its history, of which he only recognized the harmonious part: the square had become a central place for beginnings of the 20th century, representing the Belle Époque of Rio de Janeiro. Cinelândia acquired French features, so desired by the recent Brazilian Republic, and it tried to become a Tropical Paris. At it's center, slaves recently freed from plantations arrived, while the square acquired a cosmopolitan personality. This was all familiar to the parrot, who found in history a joyful account.

From abroad, the narrative of a happy and harmonious Rio de Janeiro recovered the idea of a cordial Brazil, without racism and without violence, promoted by Zé Carioca. In addition, this imagery of the city was promoted to foreigners as the period of a “Golden Brazil”: the drop in poverty rates, the increase in investments and the enormous influence in the Latin American and global context.

The bird breathed the chronicles of literary bohemians who populated the surroundings, and who built in their writings the characters who walked the square, its muses, its rogues, its carnival heroes or its capoeiristas. Authors built at that time a model of the “carioca people” that the parrot Zé Carioca repeated and synthesized in his image: a kind, cordial and warm character who crossed borders, transmitting to the world a image of Brazil harmonized and absent from conflicts and violence. It was that conception that, in Brazil, everything would tend to soften and adapt.

Cinelândia had begun to fill with cinemas, rooms of spectacle. Hotels, restaurants, night bars. The arrival of hotdogs at the Square was a revolutionary bridge, from North-American influences to the carioca lifestyle.

The parrot was proud of his city, until a woman approached him: “Our hot dog is carioca to the core”, explained the street vendor who was carrying a T-shirt with the face of Marielle Franco. Who was this woman who wanted to explain to him what was like to be brazilian: Who was this woman on her shirt? Where was Carmen Miranda, with the fruits on her head?

Then, the parrot listened in the square to the story of the murder of the councilwoman Marielle and her driver, and the new reports of violence on “carioca nights”, and its police conflicts against immigrants.

But Zé Carioca did not believe that his beautiful city was affected by these issues.

The parrot was aware that Cinelândia represented an image of the essence of what it was to be Brazilian, the construction of its own unique soul in a public space, the creativity and trickery and joy.

But he was surprised to hear that his happy and dancing people were also active warriors, who had used this square over the decades as a historical space for building demands, from The March of 100.000 against the military dictatorship, and the recent manifestations against the new president.

In one of its streets, the square bore the name of Marielle herself, the murdered councilwoman whose plaque had been broken publicly by the current governor of Rio, and whose death had become a symbol.

The parrot had Disneysified the image of his city, in a portrait of heroes, castles and tropical princesses, which made it difficult to understand now the political victory of monsters.

It seemed as if the history of Brazil was rebuilding itself before his eyes, and its people were now made up of activists, women warriors, LGTB+ collectives and anti-racism movements that defended civil rights and identity demands, of a Brazil that could not be pigeonholed, because it wasn't made for beginners.

What had happened to his colorful Brazil? – he asked himself nervously, replacing his straw hat and plucking his feathers.

Something transformed in the parrot's gaze, and after a brief disturbance, he decided to regain his composure. The bird spread its wings and took flight to Copacabana Palace, the place where it had been born from the hand of Walt Disney 77 years ago. He needed to reflect, think of the the gray tones of truth that splashed in his colorful costume, and seek new spaces to resist the monsters.

Perhaps the world had believed Zé Carioca's colorful report, in the palette of illusions that an emerging Brazil offered, and they had forgotten that, like every grown child, Brazil had nightmares. Kicking up at night over its racism, structural militarism, murderous violence, patriarchal inequalities.

Perhaps Zé Carioca had fallen in love with the exuberance of a land of fruit, sailors and smiles, and the world had listened to his account, a lovable sales pitch to tourists and sporting mega-events, and they had forgotten the voices of their people who watched helplessly the approach of a military parade from congress.

Zé Carioca's flight transformed the parrot, and in his old age, he went through a rite of passage to adulthood. After years of blindness to the violence of a post-colonial society and it's extended torture under jackboots, Zé Carioca opened his eyes, and faced the hidden part of a wounded Brazil.

A Brazil that had been dressed up in tropical colors and that now had to be sincere, with the world and with itself, in order to overcome the times of monsters.

#replies tag #disney ducks #jose carioca #zé carioca #brazil #BRASIL HUE PORRA #olha pra ser honesto eu nunca tinha realmente parado pra pensar no zé carioca na minha vida #mas tu quer um textão vai ter textão #não que eu ache ruim que o personagem seja meio antiquado #mas eu achei bem interessante a ideia de isso ser parte de uma história #em que o zé carioca é um simbolo de uma coisa que simplesmente não existe mais #e talvez nunca tenha existido #acho que isso pode ser uma ideia interessante pra explorar

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