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kicktwine · 2 years

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I have more thoughts about ventus than one person should reasonably have about ventus and that means I have more little written notes and headcanons and aus with the boy than one person should reasonably have and since I’ve ALREADY made a myriad of posts about the headcanons part I am just going to fastball special a bunch of unfinished google docs into this post so that they stop Staring At Me alright okay WOO

i wanted to write something about ven and vani stuck in Sora’s heart for ten years and how they communicate by just. temporarily murdering each other and now it’s homestuck formatted

proto-horrorwolves snippet, so basically just a wayfinders werewolf au

When they had first brought Ven home -- well, they didn’t know his name then, he was sick and asleep and he didn’t turn back from fully shifted for weeks. The whoever-before had given him a tag, on his ear -- just a stud earring with a number on it, not a name. He said it was to be able to tell them apart, later, when he could say. It didn’t really register that the number wasn’t for neglect reasons, or even lack-of-a-name reasons, but it was for please-someone-who-am-I reasons and this-isn’t-my-body reasons, and it worked only as well as it could.

Anyways, when they had first carried him home from the middle of nowhere and dusted off the snow and laid him down on their threadbare college off-campus housing couch he stayed there and slept for so long they started to worry that they’d have to get someone else to look at him. Like a vet, if he didn’t turn back soon, however embarrassing that might be later. But they didn’t end up needing to, because one night on a Wednesday he adjusted himself on the couch to be more comfortable and the next day they found the soft thawed-out carrots and plain chicken they had put on a plate and left on the floor were nibbled at and the next day he picked his head up and actually looked at them. He seemed to be recovering from whatever-it-was at his own pace, slow and steady and wary.

Which was good, probably, because neither Terra nor Aqua really had any expertise with taking care of a very sick and injured dog (a sick werewolf, actually, which is way worse according to Aqua and it makes Terra whine at her), and they didn’t have a lot of money besides. All they had was patience and a small apartment with two bedrooms and a couch and a window they kept open just a little bit to smell the outdoors and a bit of love for a strange and broken kid-in-the-woods. And maybe that was all they needed, because it worked out just fine.

Terra didn’t have class on Fridays, but Aqua did, two of them in the morning, which sucked. No one should have class on Friday. As per routine, he ate breakfast with her, very gently scratched behind the kid wolf’s ears, and headed back to his desk in his room to get a headstart on homework before he had to go to work-work, which was only later than 6 am on Monday-Wednesday-Friday. Not his job to take care of any cows those days, he wasn’t full-time yet.

It was about three questions in to the statistics class he had to take because his ACT was a point short that Terra heard a soft shift from the living room, and a startlingly loud huff. Might’a been louder to him, on account of the inhuman hearing, but it was followed by a low growl, and another, much harsher huff of air. Terra abandoned the math questions with a start, nearly tripping over the wire between the doorway.

“You okay, bud?” Terra asked, and then startled again, because the couch was empty. And the couch was empty because there on the floor, sitting with his hands — hands! — splayed out and his chest heaving and his knees awkwardly up in a froggy sort of way sat a small, scruffy, dirty blonde boy, his back to Terra. As soon as Terra spoke, though, his head lifted and he looked at him with bright green and very very human eyes.

Terra gaped. “Oh,” he said, and then a little louder rounding the couch, “Oh!”

He forgot what personal space was for a second, and sat right down in front of the boy. The boy reeled back a little from it, a very canine motion with one of his hands up, but Terra didn’t realize he might have crossed a line until later. As it was, he ran a gentle hand through the boy’s unkempt hair and grinned at him. “You did it! You turned back!”

The boy opened his mouth and then closed it at the faint whispering croak that came out, and nodded instead, his expression cautiously open, but obviously proud of himself. As he should be!

It was pure tolerance and sleepiness that made the boy endure Terra’s gentle prodding around, something that definitely wouldn’t happen with Vanitas, but that’s a different story. He’d not got much on, the magic that facilitated the transformation letting you keep your clothes mostly, but it wasn’t really used to staying dormant for so long and ended up in scraps that kind of clung to him. He looked like he’d been roughed up beforehand too, still-healing scrapes along his bare shoulders and a concerning number of very neat and orderly scars on his chest, but Terra’s first thought was honestly just to take off the hoodie he was wearing and pop it over the boy’s head, because he looked a little cold and his shirt was nonexistent. The boy looked surprised, and wrinkled his nose at the new smell, but hugged it a little closer. He’d need better shorts, or something, too, maybe Terra would just steal a pair of Aqua’s. The hoodie was huge on his little stick limbs, Terra’s shorts would be immediately useless.

As he was inspecting, the boy was doing some inspecting of his own — eyes wide and searching around the living room that he could think about clearly now that he shifted back. He let Terra move him a little, but avoided leaving himself in the same spots, awkwardly trying not to be touched anyways. The hoodie was nice, though. Comforting, and warm.

The boy was young, Terra concluded, but didn’t have the scent of a youngling. He was immediately submissive to the adult in the room and as long as Terra had lived he’d always made sure everyone knew the hierarchy system was kind of bs but in this case it came in handy, for making sure the boy was alright and for making sure he wasn’t gonna start fighting the instant he got better. One of his slightly averted eyes was a little cloudy, and his blonde hair was almost a mullet at that point though it probably wasn’t meant to be. He had kind of knobby-knuckled hands that poked out of Terra’s sweater, long and small and a teenager. Not that much younger than him, but young.

Terra scruffed up his hair once more and refrained, barely, from giving a bear hug or something. “Oh, bud, we gotta tell Aqua. You did it!” he repeated, and pulled out his phone.

The boy cocked his head. “Wh… what,” he started, and then stopped. It was a little hard to remember the correct words, and how to make them with a person-mouth. He sounded wispy at best. Luckily, Terra could kind of guess, or at least fill the silence.

“I’m gonna text Aqua with this and tell her to come back home. She’s the other person who lives here,” Terra explained, and typed aqua come home rihgt now.

The reply was almost instant, and it made his phone bing because he kept it off silent, which startled the boy. He craned his neck to see better. I just got to sociology. Why?

hangon

As stealthily as he could with the boy watching his every move, Terra pointed the camera at him and took a picture, covering the speaker so the noise wasn’t so loud. It startled him again anyways, but only in a curiosity way. He looked a bit like a deer in the headlights on the screen, and Terra sent the image.

omg

Is that him???

I’m coming back right now.

The boy lifted a hand almost as if to paw at the phone, but put it down. Terra turned the screen around anyways, and the boy squinted at it, slowly mouthing out letters then words then stopping and restarting.

“She says she’s coming back,” Terra supplied. “She’ll be 20 minutes, probably.”

“H-her…” he motioned above his head a bit, his hands stuttering. “...blue?”

“Yes! Aqua has blue hair.”

The boy brightened at the implied praise. He should, Terra thought, probably figure out what the boy’s name is, so he can stop calling him boy. He may not even want to be ”boy” at all, Terra knew nothing about him other than how he was rather small and didn’t seem to remember how to read that well or speak with much more than a few raspy words. Whatever could have done that was still very worrisome, but Terra decided to take things one at a time, as he usually did.

…

horrorwolves again but this time! published auverse

Ansem Report 13 10/02/2006 - compiled events - phase end.

Subject I: terminated upon transformation.

Subject II: terminated upon transformation.

Subject III: terminated upon transformation.

Subject IV: terminated upon transformation.

Subject V: 132.5cm/sh, grey, blue o. Successful fusion (2). Terminated upon fusion (X).

Subject VI: 165cm/sh, black, yellow o. Successful fusion (7), minimal degradation. Unknown location.

Subject VII: 170.5cm/sh, white, green o. Successful fusion (5), severe degradation. Terminated upon fusion (VI). Unconfirmed.

Subject VIII: 138cm/sh, red, brown o. Terminated by VII.

Subject IX: 141cm/sh, brown, blue o. Terminated by VI.

Subject X: 186.5cm/sh, black, red o. Successful fusion (3), minimal degradation. Unknown location.

Subject X.i: terminated upon transformation.

Subject XI: 131cm/sh, black, blue o. Terminated by VI.

Subject XII: 172cm/sh, grey, brown o. Terminated upon fusion (X).

Subject XII.i: 172cm/sh, grey, green o. Terminated by XII.

Subject XIII: 163cm/sh, yellow, blue o. Successful fusion (4). Unknown location.

Subject XIII.i: 163cm/sh, black, blue o. Successful fusion (4). Unknown location.

Ansem Report 6 05/05/2006

Another experiment ended in failure due to unavoidable degradation of one subject’s mind and body. It seems to occur due to the “fusion pool”’s inability to tag attributes as belonging to one or another… with that in mind, is it truly unavoidable?

The failure of past subjects to retain their individual forms after separation can be remedied, theoretically, if both minds and bodies are exactly the same. Under better circumstances I would prefer to attempt this on human beings before attempting it on creatures already touched by Her light, as they’re far less predictable, and I would be remiss to lose everything as difficult as these. They are much more complicated than sheep, at the very least. But perhaps they will take to it better for the same reasons.

We have been given a secondary facility to accommodate our new work.

...

more small fun horrorwolves bits, and l o r e

“Are you new?”

“Yeah, um. Freshman.”

“That’s so cool!” Ven says, completely meaning it. He’s shuffling back and forth excitedly from foot to foot, a gesture that solidifies his wolf status to Riku — he knows that habit. He outgrew it years ago, when he was a puppy, and still had soft baby fur. Ven does not seem to care. “How come I didn’t see you out like, two weeks ago?”

Riku rubs the back of his neck, reluctant to give… honestly any information over, even though his internal danger meter is dropping rapidly the more he talks to Ventus. He doesn’t look like he’s prodding for weakness or anything. Though, that is what you’re supposed to avoid doing, when you prod for weakness. “I was inside,” Riku concedes.

“Inside?” Ven gapes. “No way! You could have come with us!”

“I didn’t know that,” Riku mutters.

“Oh yeah.” (Shoot better hearing he forgot about that) “Well, you know now! You should meet Terra! Here, I have to go to class, but hang on,” Ven says, and snatches Riku’s phone from where it was hanging limply in his hand, about a second away from going into sleep mode. Riku just blinks in stunned awkwardness until he finishes typing something, and pops the phone back into Riku’s palm./////

//// “We have chicken wings. Regular kind and barbecue.”

“Don’t bribe him, Ven.”

The Ven in question sidles up closer to Riku and whispers “And the good pizza. Not Little Caesars, we went to Pizza Hut.”

“Ventus.”

“Garlic saaaauce.”

Riku suppresses a snort. “I don’t want to be conspicuous. Or… intruding.”

/// “Yyyyes!” Ven yips, “Riku’s coming!!” ///

Oohhh I can just do three separate things abt werewolves

///// “Technically there’s no such thing as ‘light magic’,” Aqua starts. “Because it’s not magic at all. ‘Light magic’ relies on natural processes, mathematics, things that make sense when they happen. People found light magic centuries ago and called it medicine. There’s nothing magical about it. By contrast, dark magic is things happening that don’t make sense. Forcing things to exist, or not exist, breaking rules, turning iron into gold, things like that. It’s not a moral binary, either. The sun rules the light, and will burn crops that don’t get water because that’s what happens to plants without water. The moon rules the dark, and will keep plants alive for thousands of years simply because someone wants it to be. That’s… does that make sense?”

“I think so?” says Sora, and he flips the silver crown charm on his necklace to the other side of his mouth. “It’s just science and weird science.”

“More or less. I doubt you could call magic science, etymologically.”

“How does dark magic work, then? Can I just decide I want to live forever?”

“Dark magic relies on the abuse of the light. Tricking it into performing something else. It’s the moon that allows it to be blinded like that, in the first place, though no one actually knows how, since research is… thin, and not there yet. And hardly ever published, aside from individual scholars all discovering the same things,” Aqua says, pursing her lips. “It’s not unexplainable. It is undiscovered.”

:// “Lycanthropy is, as far as we know, a strain of magic that in itself has mutated to be more like a virus.” ///

“There are theories about why it is the moon that does this. Lots of people think it has something to do with being a reflection of light, some perversion of the ‘right’ way things work, but the important thing to know is if you aren’t careful, and you use dark magic too much, the sun will hurt you. As it is, you’re fine, it’s just more natural to be shifted at night.”

“Oh… wait! Is that why vampires melt in the sun??” Sora gasps.

“I’m amused but not surprised you went straight to vampires.”

“Am I right?”

Aqua taps her pencil to her mouth. “Technically yes — well. Yes and no. Vampires are just dark magicians who want more power than they can handle, so they kinda have to resort to things like purified blood and sleeping a lot. They can’t actually turn anyone else.”

Sora falls back in his seat. “Nuts.”

“Why is that a ‘nuts’? What were you planning?” Riku asks.

/////

“Ventus! Vanitas! Sit down!” Terra yells. Both wolves recoil at the force with which the command comes, and Ventus’ tail drops, but neither of them stop snarling at each other. All it takes is for Vanitas to raise his hackles again and they’re on each other in an instant, snapping and throwing each other across the floor. Terra growls in frustration, pulls a slight transformation over himself, and steps directly in between them. He gets Vanitas by the scruff first, and shoves Ventus backwards with one foot. As soon as their attention is half-him half-each other, Terra pours as much force as he can into his voice and snaps “Change!” They do, if in uncomfortable bursts. Like they’re fighting to be the last one still changed. Ventus shakes himself off as he comes out of it, panting, his hands gripping the carpet like his claws are still snagged. Vanitas writhes in Terra’s grip, and can only contort himself so much to re-establish furious eye contact with Ven and snarl another wordless challenge. Ventus jumps forwards, but Terra presses his foot harder into his shoulder where it ended up and he withdraws. The pure electricity in the air is making Riku nauseous.

//////// “Ven,” Terra says, firmly, “I’m not budging on this.” Ventus glares, silently challenging him. Terra huffs and returns the challenge, and it almost immediately makes Ventus avert his stare and turn away, his pout deepening. “Fine,” he mutters. “Thank you.” Ventus practically stomps over to Riku, seething. On the way past, he snags Riku’s sleeve, and Vanitas gets snagged by Terra and pulled into the opposite room. Once they’re out of each others’ range, Ventus lets out a breath and scrubs at his eyes. Riku nudges the door half-closed so they don’t hear Terra and Vanitas’ conversation. “What was that? I’ve never seen you mad at anything.” Ventus snorts, his hand briefly recoiling at a bloody scratch near his temple. He scowls at it and wipes his hand viciously on his pants. “He’s annoying.” “Okay, but so is Demyx, and you haven’t attacked him. What’s it really?” Riku asks. Ventus growls, and cuts himself short with a stuttered sigh as he realizes it doesn’t quite work the same with a human throat. “…You know how you and Sora are?” He asks. Riku nods. “It’s kind of like that. You guys are equals and partners and you get along great. But we’re totally equal and it makes me mad. It feels itchy. And he knows it makes me mad! /////

giving ven a hard time by tossing him in the phantom pain zone

Terra cracks open the door and peeks in. It’s still almost totally dark, the blinds flipped all the way upward to banish light to the ceiling. The intrusion sends a long beam of hallway-light over a curled-up figure in bed, who makes a distressed noise and curls up further, blocking his eyes with his elbows.

Terra quickly steps in and shuts the door again, returning the room to its comfortable half-dark. Ven doesn’t talk to him further.

“You okay?” Terra prompts. Ven makes a “hmm.” noise, one that means he doesn’t want to say he isn’t, but he isn’t.

“D’you feel sick?”

He makes the noise again, smaller. Terra kneels, and gently pushes Ven’s hand away from his forehead to feel it. One of them in a fist, the other tangled in his hair. He’s hot, almost feverish, but not in the sticky-warm way he’s used to meaning sick. Ven lets the air in his lungs out through his teeth in an uneven shudder, and Terra notices — he’s shaking. And very, very tense.

Terra’s expression dips further into worry. “Something hurt?”

“Yes,” Ven hisses, digging his nails further into pressure-white palms. Terra is taken aback by how short he sounds. He’s never short-tempered, or angry with them. He’s always bubbly and lax, even when something goes wrong — and he’s almost glaring at him, through his forearms. His eyes are watery, and despite the glare, they don’t quite seem to focus.

Terra lowers his voice. “D’you have a migraine? I get those, sometimes. I can get you some medicine.”

Ven starts to shake his head, and then winces and brings his knees closer to his body. “‘S not… I don’t think so,” he rasps.

He doesn’t elaborate. Thinking in more than one sentence at a time, or more than one thought at a time, is fuzzy and wobbly and painful again, like how it was when he started training under Master Eraqus, but more frustrating. He can come across words fine. He can process what hurt feels like, and what it means. It’s just — nasty, and hot and tight and he doesn’t like it very much. Terra asks “Where does it hurt, then?” and Ventus has to keep from snapping at him for the stupid, inane, perfectly normal he’s concerned about you he wants to help question.

“Everywhere,” Ven says. Terra furrows his eyebrows, he needs to be more specific. Ven uncurls one hand from its fist and gestures vaguely at his chest. He means to say “here”, but it comes out as a whine.

“You wanna get the Master to look at it?”

“No.” Ven does snap, this time. Which is ridiculous, because yes he wants it to go away please fix it make it stop but just because that means more people in his room and the Master seeing him weak and useless seeing him like this and because Terra is asking and that’s— that’s too many thoughts again, that’s— The awkward conflict sends another wave of fuzzy-static-pain echoing like a gunshot from his heart, and he squeezes his eyes shut to ride it out.

Terra’s hand is smoothing his hair back from his forehead. He thinks. And then doesn’t think, because it really hurts, like someone is yanking half of his heart out, and it’s just scaring the rest of him into hurting too just to disperse the load. He thinks Terra says something like “I’m going to get help,” which, once it registers, sends a soft rush of relief through him. His breath still catches, but that’s good. That Terra doesn’t listen to him. Ventus pulls the blanket up over his head and waits.

//it turns out — he hears this through static and his heartbeat and three voices, not two — it’s just a kind of phantom pain. From whatever happened to him, like he had lost a limb or something. And it’ll go away, but it might come back. If he were more awake, he might be relieved at the fact that there’s nothing new wrong or that it’ll go away on its own, or maybe even angrier that it’ll come back and he didn’t do anything wrong to earn it. Maybe not. But at that moment, Ventus just wants Aqua to close the door. It’s barely open, but the hallway light is on. He just really wants her to close the door. ///

...

riku takes over some dreameater duties for sora's heartmates, too

Riku does not sleep easy, in the year that Sora is gone.

When he doesn’t, he stays up, tapping at a screen for hints hidden in his data (it’s a stretch, but he’s stretched thin). When he does, he searches for hints of him in the dream realms. There are many, many sleeping realms even outside the sleeping worlds, and he never has normal dreams anymore, anyways. So, it may be more accurate to say that Riku does not sleep, in the year Sora is gone.

He may not be the only one.

Ventus, Terra and Aqua come back from the Realm of Darkness every few weeks. Aqua was insistent they take breaks from it, and no one was going to argue her. When they do come back, sometimes they take time to catch up with the rest of the Realm of Light, and sometimes they take time to be together in the Land of Departure, on their own. They’ve invited Riku over more than once, and he’s grateful for it, because despite taking him away from the computer, it gives him a little room to breathe. He has his own guest room, and the kitchen, though more manual than Sora made the Tower’s, still has good morning food tailored to his favorites. Aqua’s been working on that.

(Sometimes he can sense their nightmares — just on the edges of his consciousness, while he wanders.)

Ven usually wakes up last, and skips into the kitchen to take whatever it’ll give him. This morning, and the last, and the one before that, to be honest, he wakes up late and stumbles into the kitchen rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

It’s worse this morning. Riku’s been slowly eating away at a bagel and a mug of coffee for the past hour, reading a book Aqua recommended to him about realms and reality. Ven is only given away down the stairs behind him because he squeaks when he yawns, the rest of him is silent as he pads into the kitchen and stands at the counter. The castle seems to take pity on him and rustles the basket of croissants for his attention, which he gives by taking one and stuffing it in his mouth and leaving it there.

“Didn’t sleep well..?” Riku asks.

Ven startles just a touch. “Hmph? Oh, not really.” He gives Riku a half-wince smile. “Couldn’t fall asleep at all! I’m okay though.”

/// u see like snippets of Roxy and Xion and they’re also tired :( but that’s later uhhhhh frnow…. “No,” Ven mutters, stopping and switching directions mid-step. He runs towards the houses — “No, no…” Runs his hand through his hair, switches directions, stops. Riku can feel his mounting distress. So, a dream where he’s lost, or maybe where he can’t find something important. Not a terrible nightmare, but a distressing one nonetheless — so why was it strong enough that Riku could feel it?

“Hey,” Riku tries. “Ventus.”

He doesn’t respond, stuttering to a halt and turning around again, letting out a shaky breath. “That’s not right,” he whispers.

It must be a larger nightmare. Or maybe since it’s leaving him idle, it’s at a lull in its dream, distracted somewhere…

Riku turns away to sniff out the source. Nightmares have a distinct, almost dark smell, but it’s never strong enough to be immediately obvious. He has to search, and to do that he has to follow the layered cobblestone paths Ven’s subconscious has littered all over the place like confetti. It’s not a maze, it’s just… a lot of pathways. Riku finds himself searching for a while before it reveals itself.

There it is. Under the bridge, a strange-looking Skelterwild is preening itself and pulling bits of the nightmare bubble it had crafted back and forth, like a toy. It’s a little… gooier than the nightmares tended to be with Sora, but it doesn’t look anything special.

Riku edges closer. It looks like it’s just the one, if he remembers anything about nightmare packs and how solitary the really big ones usually are. He can definitely take it.

It turns away, and Riku lunges.

For a big dinosaur spirit, it comes apart pretty easily — claws lodged between its armor plating wrench one of its legs free from its body, the resulting thrash nearly sending Riku into the underside of the bridge. It howls at him, a rattling garbage disposal sound more than anything, and Riku sneers right back. He dodges its jaws neatly, and rams his keyblade right into the thin part of its neck. The skelterwild makes one last screech loud enough that Riku hopes Ventus didn’t hear, and collapses into three separate pieces of dissolving nightmare.

Riku dismisses Braveheart and finds himself with a small smile playing across his face. He had missed this — doing his job, fulfilling some sort of innate purpose he wasn’t aware he was longing for. Sora has always just filled in pieces of him that he wasn’t aware were missing pieces until the puzzle got scattered. In losing Sora, his purpose had become the same way, scattered, in more ways than one, apparently. Riku’s smile falters a little. This puzzle piece wasn’t the right color, or even perfectly shaped, but… it fit well enough.

The skelterwild left a small assortment of pieces behind — most notably a few shuddering wild fantasies among the slowly-fading nightmare essence. Riku had decided a long while ago that he’d call it “essence”, because it’s not meat and it’s not melty corpse or spirit clouds or anything, it’s just the left behind base form of nightmares whatever shape they take and it also smells and tastes very very good and if he ever has to explain that whole dream eater phenomenon to anyone who isn’t either Bumpis the meow wow (constant thief of perfectly good food) or Sora himself, essence is the word he’s calculated to have the least amount of follow-up.

In any case he usually likes the bigger nightmares, they tend to leave more behind and have more of a form in the first place, like the fruit bits in a marmalade rather than just the jam runoff at the top. Riku runs his tongue along his fingernails, contemplating the value of taking those dream pieces, and paws through the remaining nightmare essence to swipe up a bit more of a reward. He’s not particularly hungry, and he’s maybe a little self conscious about eating someone else’s nightmares.

(He notices Ven’s nightmare tastes a little less sickly-sweet and a little more sharp, like if freezer burn was mildly pleasant. He would liken it to mint, if it had a physical flavor.)

Almost like a computer powering down, the odd building-stones that surround them start to grey in color — the nightmare is fading. If he’s right, they should just fade into something nicer like a day at the market, or a puppy convention, or another one of Sora’s dreams he had laughed and rolled his eyes at.

Or, y’know, they could suddenly start disappearing altogether and send things sailing into the void.

Iiiiincluding Ventus.

Riku, having very little time to think about this, scrambles out from under the bridge as it too falls apart at the seams (the wrong ones, not stone by stone, but scrap by scrap ripped off a magazine spread). He spreads his wings, hoping the transformation lasts a little longer, and zips past dissolving flowers and flyers and scoops up Ven in one swift movement.

Ven lets out a little squeak of horror at the sudden jolt to a stop and subsequent momentum upwards, and buries his head in his jacket. Riku keeps going up, because that’s the easiest way to move away from the collapsing nightmare, and eventually new ground will form below them.

Unless it doesn’t. Maybe he should interfere a little bit more, make sure the next dream is nice…

As suddenly and gently as the void disappears below him, a soft expanse of sand appears where it fades away, and Riku stops flying and lets himself drift slowly to the ground, familiar palm trees placing him exactly where he exists in memory. It looks like Ven’s been here too, sometime, seeing as the basic structure of the dream is his, Riku’s just the guiding force keeping the dock where it should be.

He didn’t come here on purpose, really, it’s just been on his mind. But it’s a safe place. And maybe kind of familiar enough to keep him sustained for the rest of the night.

Ven, for his part, falls out of Riku’s arms with a whoop!, right on top of what probably used to be a silly sand sculpture. He jumps off immediately, mortified, and then sullen when he apparently realizes what he did.

“Ugh,” Ven pouts, and kicks at the scattered lump of sand. “Now I have to build this thing all over again.”

“…A sandcastle?” Riku asks.

“No, if I’m gonna find experiment 626 again, I need a ship. I’m trying out different materials since my old one blew up.” He kneels, and starts scooping sand back into a neat pile.

Riku’s not a stranger to how dream logic works, though it’s not really that much easier to follow now than it was the first time Sora changed topics on a dime. “Good luck, then,” he says, and turns to leave. And then… turns back around, and after a moment of hesitation: “Can I help with anything?”

Ven leans back and flips his head up, thinking. He’s in a pair of shorts, now, though the rest of his outfit hasn’t caught up, and the contrast is funny-looking. “Ummm… could you see if there’s glue anywhere?”

“Glue… for sand?”

“Yeah! To make it stronger.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks, Riku!”

There’s not going to be glue anywhere else on the island, but that was a dismissal good enough for Riku to be sure Ven wasn’t still caught on the edges of a true nightmare. The dream is already kind of fuzzing and blurring into thought-shift cotton.

But just to be doubly sure. Riku pulls and twirls the dream between his fingers, weaving it just a little brighter, a little sweeter. He’s not sure exactly what he’s doing to the dream itself, but Ventus deserves something nice after visiting the realm of darkness for as long as he had. The memories it leaves are not usually kind.

Riku leaves once he hears a familiar peal of laughter come from behind him somewhere — and had he turned around, the sight of Ven in full-on vacation clothes and sunglasses holding a little blue alien thing right up to Terra’s face might have made him stay just for the atmosphere of it.

...

crash lands vanitas and ven on lilo and stitch GET STITCH PARALLELLED (this is just a silly script i was going to make into a comic but started to prose it)

Ventus and Vanitas are hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds, and what exactly got them into this situation is a blur of scuffling and curses and chasing each other down not to make a giant sword this time but not not make a giant sword if it means getting the stuff you took back, but that doesn’t particularly matter, because hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds tends to overrule everything else.

And as such, neither of them notice that they’re hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds towards a world they’re going to collide with if they don’t cut it out. Which they do not, obviously.

The first indication that something is wrong is the sudden introduction of gravity. See, the keyblade gliders can go very high, but it’s not like the pilot can just ignore gravity. You have to be very skilled in order to fly one without crashing.

No one is piloting.

/////////the glider screeches thru space with ven and vani practically wrestling over it it careens off course Poff! Through the clouds, and at this point ven realizes he’s going to Crash and kicks at vani to get back on top, but vani grabs vens feet sending the whole thing spinning head over tail until it makes a gloriously comedic CRASH right into a patch of palm trees on the beach we see vanitas eat sand as he lands in an awkward somersault on his face hb HGBPRHHWHTH. PHEH. PTH. eugh. vanitas looks around and sees… pretty much hawaii, but he doesn’t know that. A street by the beach, houses behind fences and plants and palm trees, sand and rocks, a couple people walking where they can’t really see them, a hen strutting by. he also sees ven laying down next to a pretty large rock in the sand with his helmet knocked off. seeing that that’s his priority right now, he puts his helmet on and strides over to him ventus? hey. ventus. (Kick. Kick. Kick kick kick kick kick SAND THROWN IN FACE.) ACK. hgwhrtynbghmmhhh. what. no, never mind. wake up. you crashed us on another world, idiot, I don’t sense anything. Get us out of here. mheadh hurts. goway (Exasperated) Just use cure. Esuna , whatever, eat a gummy bear. Fix it. (vanitas cannot do either of these things and do you think he carries potions bc I don’t) mm. … (ven is just grasping at the air repeatedly) what are you doing itwont … mmm. (Hisses) You can’t summon your keyblade?!! Then how are— i know. ijudgnmth…. …be less loud. vanitas, a little concerned that he’s broken and therefore he’s stuck in hawaii forever until someone comes to find him and probably kill him, starts poking around at ventus. But before he can find anything, a voice offscreen goes HEY hm HEY!!!! hm stitch launches himself at vanitas’ face. ACKHBPTJ he drags him off and stands there holding him by the scruff but meanwhile stitch realizes venven is here and sproings away off of vanitas face again venven!!!! ……..626? whatreeyou doing here? (garbled stitch noises) whoa … (garbled stitch noises) (incomprehensible slurred ventus speech) (vanitas is losing his marbles)

You didn’t answer my question. (vanitas startles and whips around and summons his keyblade. Lilo is standing there precociously.) Are you aliens? Are we… what?! You fell from the sky on a spaceship. Plus you look weird and alien-y. Where’s your face? (Offended) I do not— How are you talking? yanks off his helmet. Who are you? It’s alright. I know a lot of aliens. Are you bad guys???? On the run from the government????????? The What? you kind of look like weird tourists, actually Vanitas picks her up so she stops circling him and poking at him. That’s enough. Hey! HRRRRRRRH (stitch noise) vanitasknnock it off. ven turns over to see what’s going on but there’s Sun this way, so he groans and covers his eyes is he okay? He’s fine. We’re fine. Leave us alone, we’re not aliens. he doesn’t LOOK okay. You should come back to my house before the government finds you. The govermen aren’t looking for us . I’m gonna go get my sister. Guard him. HRRRRRH. ……?!!!

… vani: what Are you supposed to be name stitch. oh. Uh… I’m not telling you my name. Ven… friend? No. (Alien muttering) ……… ……(uncomfortable)...... …….(a scrapper pops up)

/////Who are you? I am the darkn- look, it doesn’t matter. When is he supposed to wake up?

...

an au where riku is a youtuber and also owns eight cats? i dunno what this one is theyre cats though

Hey! So um, my last video got super popular for no reason, but a lot of you guys were asking who the kitties were in the background. So. Let me introduce you all to my cats! I have eight cats. All of them are rescues. I didn’t mean to get eight cats, this just happened to me. This is Sora. He’s the first cat I found and the cat from the last video, and he’s the love of my life. He likes to sleep on top of my head. He’s the king of the house, not because he’s the oldest or anything but because when he wants to do something stupid he’ll get everyone else to do it with him. I found him as a little teeny baby behind my house. He walked into my house, I did not invite him, he decided he wanted to live here first. This is Kairi, she’s my second. I found her as a kitten under a boardwalk and she nearly took my finger off for touching her, but her secret is if you scratch right behind her ears she purrs like a motor. She’s a very quiet kitty, but she only likes crunchy kicky toys, so I can tell when she’s playing. She and Sora will play this game where they sing in the hallway and whoever is louder gets to start chasing the other one. This is Ven! He’s the oldest I think, but not by very much. He likes to investigate the camera whenever I film—(muffled sniffing) AHEM. I dunno if you saw but one of his eyes is clouded? He’s half blind, but he’s the one who jumps at me from the top of the cupboards, so it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s very sweet, he is always grooming the other cats. I think he knows he’s the big brother. He also gets the zoomies every night at 11 pm so. This one is Vanitas. (MRAAAOW) He’s always tagging along with Ven, and (MRAH) he likes to yell at the camera whenever I film. He is the rowdiest and the worst (MAH) influence. He’s got a cute little nub tail, but he doesn’t like people touching it. I found both of these guys on the freeway at like 2 am, Ven had been… hit, we think, and Vanitas was really sick. He was doing okay enough to bite me though. We took them to the vet and everything and Ven was mostly ok, just super scared of me and really weak, but Van had to have his tail amputated and surgery for his intestines along with all the mange and he haaated me for nearly a month. I was scared I’d have to release him for being too feral. He’s super food motivated, though, so that made him warming up to me like this easier. Ow. Van This is Roxas! The one sleeping next to him is Xion. I actually fostered both of them before just flat out adopting them, they came out of a house fire, they had been living in the garage. You see here, Roxas has burns all on his paw pads… they’re healing pretty slowly. When he first came home he couldn’t walk on them, we had these cute little casts that he toddled around on. He’s a pretty small cat compared to some of the other male cats, but he’s got a very big attitude, if I’m doing something he doesn’t like, he will tell me. Very calm most of the time, though. If I open a tuna can his eyes go so big. Xion is even more mellow until you bring out the feather toys, which she loves playing with. She’s also really curious, so if I’m making myself a snack, she’s on the counter with Vanitas trying to see what my snack is all about. Sometimes I catch her trying to do the human things I do to get her own snack? It’s very cute. If you look — oops. Roxy didn’t like me doing that. But if you look at Xion’s fur she’s mostly black except a stripe down her tummy. She didn’t get quite so badly burned, but her fur was very singed for a while. This is Namine! She’s very pretty, and she has a very pretty voice, do you want to say something for the camera? mrrrh? yeeahh. Anyways, she was actually a show cat, or she was going to be. But her previous owner had some legal trouble and had to surrender her. She’s very shy,////////

...

sprawl thing

But first SECTOR SEVEN’S MOST WANTED

You shuffle through the photos in the box. There’s a good amount of them, not award-worthy, more like a beginners scrapbook. Some of these are a little thicker — they’re videos. You grab one at random and press play.

sora: Vanitas!! How does it feel being wanted for a million billion credits on the black market Well it’s nice to be wanted. Vanitaaaas :( Vanitaaaaaaaaa Sora get- SORA I am cutting FISH

Ven how does it feel being the only outside source on Unity in the whole universe probably! Kind of terrifying why You should be used to it. You’ve always been a hot commodity :] ….,(shoves camera)

(Roxas is in the aftermath of his own explosion accident) Roxas how does it feel being smarter than everyone in this room If I wasn’t here you’d all die We sure would

Xion (in tideweather;s hangar) how did it feel stealing this from the government Ballin’ You heard it here folks the law doesn’t apply to me if I have an eighteen foot flying tank!!!!!

Sora how does it feel being the only one able to make mom’s pancakes without burning them (those pancakes are of the DEVIL) Pretty gooooood. :]

That must be from later. In the story, at least. Vanitas looks… less murderous than you expected.

...

vanitas spooks even lol

There’s a knock on the door, but no person at it. Even squints, slowly putting down his paper file folders, and then leans forward a little off his desk to peer around the corner. He’s about to write it off when he glances to the right, and finds a dark shape a little too close for comfort.

He jumps backwards, startled, and squints harder. Vanitas just stands there looking unimpressed.

“Goodness!” Even barks. “A little warning would have been prudent.”

“I knocked.”

“You ding-dong ditched my laboratory,” Even grouses, ignoring the way Vanitas’ head cocks to the side. “Nevermind that. Did you need something?”

Vanitas kicks his heel against the ground. “Yeah, apparently you’re not supposed to grab hot pans without a mitten or something. It didn’t even hurt, but I guess it should have. Xion thinks it’s a replica thing and made me come.”

Were they cooking? Even’s first thought is wondering if they were cooking, and how much of the kitchen had burned down already. Though, his second is a mix of confusion and concern.

“Well, that can’t be it. I’ve input the same amount of nervous system data into each of the replicas, and they are perfectly tactile.”

“Nervous what? I don’t want that.”

“Nervous system. The process in your body that lets you feel when you touch physical objects. The — you should not be picking up hot pans without mitts,” Even sighs.

“Why?”

/////

....

i think thats it this post is too long already HFGEJHK

#sorry most of these ven has a Debatably Not Good time HGJFSYGGF im bullying him. and also giving him a kiss on the head #my writing #kh #kh ventus #AND OTHERS #kh vanitas #hes here often #wayfinders and riku show up #horrorwolves #sprawl au #theres uhhhhhh...... i dont think ill tag them they can hang out #i have One fic thats CLOSE to being done but isnt done about sora and ven going to rapunzel's wedding and i want to finish that

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

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I posted 8,794 times in 2022

That's 1,864 more posts than 2021!

1,286 posts created (15%)

7,508 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@insomniamamma

@grogusmum

@writeforfandoms

@inthetags

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I tagged 6,498 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#<3 <3 <3 - 1,795 posts

#beautiful reader - 397 posts

#this broke me - 259 posts

#din djarin - 205 posts

#mandalorian fanart - 162 posts

#ask games - 143 posts

#tag games - 97 posts

#maia draws - 94 posts

#grogu - 87 posts

#i love him - 86 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#how terribly sad it is that people are made in such a way that they get used to something as extraordinary as living. --jostein gaarder

My Top Posts in 2022:

(spoiler, it's all PATS and Sweets)

The Tolerant Devotion of Extracurricular Caretaking

(BANANA BREAD WITH BAKING CHIPS- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Javi is...not at his best. Whiny!Javi.

Summary: The hardest part of your job is taking care of a sick Javi. But in many ways, it’s also the best part.

A/N: I hadn’t planned this installment but for an ask that came through asking what Javi’s like when he’s sick. My answer got longer and longer until I thought it might be a nice moment to illustrate a time that Javi isn’t the sweetest–yet still cute AF–so here we are. Also, I started thinking about some of the other employees in the house. I imagine they’re something like a little found family all hand-picked by Javi. You’ll get to meet a couple of them here.

Lo siento = Sorry

Me corto los cojones = here it’s akin to saying “I swear to God” or “sure as shit.” (Literally “I’ll cut my balls.”)

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

“Oh, lo siento, Néstor! That’s mine. Isn’t it your day off?” You’d come into the kitchen to find the cook lifting the pot cover and getting a good whiff of the steamy concoction.

“Sí. But I will be doing a market run tomorrow and forgot to count how many lemons we have. You keep using them for the lemonade. What is this?”

Néstor is a good-looking man in his early fifties, bald, thick-rimmed glasses, tall and sturdy, rarely smiles on the outside. He’s prone to wearing tight-fitting black clothes, a very imposing figure…unless you scan all the way down to his pink kitchen crocs, festooned with Disney pop charms. He’s a big fan of Coco and Baby Yoda.

“It’s my grandmother’s chicken noodle soup.”

His stare is long. Impassible. “It smells fucking amazing. I want this recipe.”

“Of course. It should be ready. You want some?”

“Sí.” Dry as a bone, he collects two bowls from the cabinet and starts ladling up the soup like a bricklayer scooping mortar for a wall, all business, passing the first bowl to you and cradling the second in one square hand, blowing on it a little before taking a sip. “It’s good. Good spices. Chicken is tender. Mm. Chives?”

“Thanks. Yes. Gran used to make it for me when I was sick.”

“You make this for El Jefe, no?” When you duck your head in a nod on your way to the drawer for a spoon, he barks a laugh. “Me corto los cojones you two are like an old married couple.”

Deflecting the blunt jab with a little smile and a sidelong glance, you begin your retreat out of the kitchen

“Eh, Sunday.” Without relinquishing his soup, Néstor moves to the freezer and cupboards, pulling out a couple of items and tossing them on the counter. “Be warned, he is a terrible patient. It will soothe him you make him something sweet. But not too sweet. Not good for sickness. I know he likes your banana bread.” Two black and frozen bananas clatter onto a plate near the hot soup to thaw.

“Oh,” you stammer. “But I don’t have–”

“Yes you do.” Reaching up to a high cupboard and moving a couple of flour packets, he pulls out two bags of baking chips, one chocolate, one cinnamon. “If I don’t hide them, he will eat them.”

“That sounds about right.” Again you turn to go. Again you stop. “He told you about my banana bread?”

Taking a long sip of the soup and stopping to chew a noodle, he nods, stoic, a warm glint in his eye. “He tells me a lot of things.” He tips his chin at the bowl in your hands. “That is going to get cold.”

“Right. See you tomorrow, Néstor. Thanks.”

________________

A knock on the door earns you a pitiful “nnnnnnnnn” from inside Javi’s bedroom and you take that to mean “yes, come in, but oh my god I’m miserable and you should know it.”

Half of Javi’s face is lost in his pillow when you peek in, but the eye you can see squints at you in defiance, his chin curling up in a pout, his voice a low croak. “I feel like shit.” A couple of pathetic coughs wrack his body and he turns his face fully into the pillow to spare you.

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592 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

Good. Things. Take. Time. 3: Leap of Faith

Fandom: Calls (THIS IS AN APPLE TV SERIES. PATS is a character. This is not RPF.)

Pairing: Pedro Across the Street x f!reader

Rating: ***Explicit.*** Those under 18 please do not enter.

Warnings: Wall-to-wall angst. Sex. Sex work. Sexual massage. Painful yearning.

A/N: Breathe. I promise that the sun does shine again.

Summary: This is it, isn’t it. This is happening.

RESIGNATION (1.2k)

DISCERNMENT (967 words)

THE FIRST LEAP (843 words)

THE SECOND LEAP (349 words)

THE THIRD LEAP (653 words)

THE FINAL ASSESSMENT (1.5k)

MOVING ON (492 words)

(gif by pascalsky)

RESIGNATION

The black Subaru hatchback you’re parked behind has a “I brake for animals” bumper sticker. It’s been on there a while; sun faded, shredding at the edges. The other cars on the street you know, the regular Thursday crowd. Most people in this neighborhood park in their garages or in their driveways. Someone must have a guest. You doubt it’s his car.

You realize you have no idea what kind of car Patricio drives.

You’ve done more sexual acts with the man than you can count, have pressed moments of his painful past out of him like a fruit in a juicer, he’s bought you breakfast pastries–twice–and you have no idea if he’s a Ford man or a Fiat boy.

He’s in I.T… Probably a BMW. Or an Audi. Maybe even a Tesla.

Doesn’t matter. Perhaps you’ll never know. Not unless you take a leap of faith. And even then…if you fail, you’ll really never know.

Your car engine clicks through the silence as it cools down, as you watch the clock, preferring as always to arrive just a little early and walk up to the door right on time.

A little too early this time. You’ve given yourself too much time to think.

It’s like he’s put himself behind glass. He’s right there, the same lover you’ve known since that first blissful session, but you just…can’t…get at him. There’s a strange energy in the room now. Hard to pinpoint the exact metaphor. The way he looks at you. Like a monk recognizing the temptation in front of him and denying himself the pleasure in order to save his own soul and stay free to save others. You can see him back there behind those eyes, but you can’t really grab hold. He prefers to remain back there with his pain–the hurt he caused his former girlfriend–a deep, deep wound.

And if you tried to…tried to push through and possess…what would he do?

There’s a good chance that it could be your last session.

You’re not ready. You need some other logic, some other–

A double-tap on the passenger window yanks your focus into the present. A look to the window yanks your heart along with it.

“Hey, sorry,” he laughs nervously once you unlock the door and he ducks his head in. “I saw you out the front window. Would you mind coming in a little early?”

A glance at the clock shows you have eight more minutes.

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598 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

The Blatant Presentation of Glowing Adoration

(DIPPED MADELEINES- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Sappy, y’all. I just pile on the sap. This cupcake is just a vehicle for the frosting.

Summary: There’s a party going on at the Gutierrez mansion and Javi has a gift for you.

A/N: This was originally going to be a two-parter to control the sap, but I thought maybe drawing it out would make it worse, so here we are. Sunday’s dress is based on this one and holy balls I want it.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

“No, no Giorgio, they need to stay here! Um…las plantas…aquí…shit.” You pull out your phone, desperate for the translation app.

The old Italian gardener rasps out a dry laugh and pats your face with a calloused hand, and gives you his own brand of sunshine with his weathered smile. He says something about it being alright, that he’ll make it pretty, but you can only guess at so much. Spanish you can do, but your Italian is limited, and since Javi is fluent in both, the old man never bothers to translate.

You’d had the big potted palms brought into the courtyard and arranged just so, creating a kind of pathway for the guests of the evening’s party to walk through, and here was Giorgio and his wheeled cart, loading them up, thinking perhaps they were a delivery and he needs to take them out to the garden.

“Giorgio, they’re for the party. The fiesta. Uh…fest..uh, festa!!”

“Festa!” he chuckles. “Sí, sí, festa delle piante!”

“No, Giorgio–”

“Sunday?” Javi arrives from the archway, your benevolent savior, his curls still damp from his shower, the drawstring linen lounge pants and mostly open shirt just a temporary wardrobe for padding around his house before the formal main event this evening. “You are here! I have been looking for you, I have–”

“Oh, thank god, Javi, could you help me? I know Giorgio wants to help but I can’t get him to understand the arrangement and I don’t have time to explain–”

“Yes, yes, of course I can do this.” It isn’t until Javi gently lays his hands on your shoulders that you realize how high you’ve been holding them, and they melt downward with a stroke of his palms. He smiles through his minor concern. “It will be alright. Everything will be perfect. Please do not be upset. Okay? You work too hard.”

You relax a little as Javi enters into lyric conversation with the gardener, trusting him to do the explaining. But the ice sculptures will be delivered any moment and you’ve left the gratuity envelope on your desk, so you leave him to it, calling out a thanks over your shoulder.

“Sunday? Wait?”

But you’re already moving down the hallway.

When Javi suggested you hire a PR agent for this party, you should have taken him up on it. After a recent sickness, both of you were still playing catch up. But this party was for family. His cousin Niko–a young up-and-coming fashion designer–had just landed a commission with Loewe. It was a big deal and everyone was proud of him. Javi never overlooked an excuse for a party, and it was usually your job to coordinate them. It got to be a bit more extravagant than you originally planned and you’d lost track of time and–

As you pass the kitchen, a different voice booms–

“Sunday. Your assistance por favor.”

“Sorry, Néstor. Can it wait? I have to–”

“No, it cannot, get your bum bum in here.”

Puffing up your cheeks, you give a frustrated blow entering his arena, Néstor’s immaculate baking counter lined beautifully with golden, fluffy madeleines, half of them dipped in white, the other in dark.

“This is what you want?” He gestures flippantly, walking away to gather mixing bowls and bringing them to the sink.

“Oh, they’re perfect. Niko will be so happy!”

“I know they are perfect. But you must taste them. I think maybe your opinion is wrong and I will make some that are plain with dusted sugar. These two? Profiles too similar. Taste.”

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634 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

The Superfluous Meeting of Utmost Importance

(ORANGE VANILLA POPSICLES - Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Please schedule an appointment with your dentist before reading this fic.

Summary: It’s the day of the meeting.

A/N: Okay, y’all. You asked for the meeting where Javi confesses the love everyone here and everyone in the household knows he has for Sunday, so here it is. However. It’s not the only meeting Javi’s concerned with.

This one’s from Javi’s POV and I hope you enjoy that. I loved getting into his curly little head.

Audemars Piguet = a very expensive watch. Believe me.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

The way the sunlight kisses your hair, how you move your jaw when you’re thinking–a way of not clenching it in stress–the way your fingers skip over your keyboard. You’re determined to get your work done by his 2pm meeting today.

A meeting you’d set the date and time for per his request–he smirks–to “confess.”

Javi is completely in love with you. Has been for a while now. He’s never felt the need to hide it. It’s not a revelation, it’s just an everyday truth.

You’re wearing one of the tops you brought with you when you took the job months ago. It’s cute on you. It’s the second time you’ve worn it this week. He could buy you a whole closet of clothes, enough to never wear the same thing twice, but you wouldn’t ask for that and he’d never insist.

You don’t care about his money. You’re happy to have a room in the house, but you eschewed the down comforter for your grandmother’s afghan and he even had to push you to choose your office furniture or you would have gone without. The only time he can give you extravagant things and get a reaction out of you is with high end meals…but even then, it can’t just be expensive, it has to be good and prepared well before you lose yourself in a blissful sigh. You appreciate his gifts but value his attention and trust more than anything else, he can see that, see the shine in your eyes when he asks for your opinion or tells you something he’s never admitted to anyone else.

He loves this about you. He loves that he could buy you a Monet and you’d still rather look at the moon.

He knows he doesn’t have to tell you. But he wants to say the words and leave you no doubt. Grins broadly when he thinks about it, feels comfort all the way through to the marrow.

But which words? How to say it? He isn’t sure yet.

Leaning pigeon-toed against the doorway to your office, he watches you for a moment, your back to the door. Even though you’ve positioned your desk to look out at the ocean, you spend much less time staring out the window than he does. He wishes you wouldn’t work so hard–your dedication creates a beautiful, taut ping in his chest–but he knows you enjoy it and he’d be lost without you and your devotion. It is good that you’re different than him in this regard.

A glance down at his Audemars Piguet shows it’s just turning 11. Three hours then. Maybe he’ll go for a swim.

But instead of taking the stairs and heading for the pool, he suddenly has the spark of an idea and heads past them to the kitchen.

“Ah. Néstor, hi.”

“Buenos dias, jefeeeeeee.” The garlic he’s mincing holds the cook’s attention, but he sings off a dry greeting.

The kitchen counter is covered in bowls and plates full of freshly chopped and grated ingredients for tonight’s dinner–a special meal for a special night–they both know how much you like Néstor’s homemade wood fired pizza. A margherita, a pugliese, a prosciutto crudo e rucola… he will keep creating and firing them until you’re both full and then he will keep going so that there will be leftovers for the cook’s day off.

Javi rocks on his feet as he watches Néstor stir the simmering sauce on the stovetop, waiting for a moment when he won’t be too much of a bother, but his patience runs out. He asks the cook for his help. To help Javi make something himself. Something sweet. He doesn’t know what though. He just came up with the idea a minute ago.

Néstor swirls the wooden spoon through the steaming tomatoes, silently, expertly, taking his time and assessing the texture. “Para Sunday?” He asks, frowning, not looking up from his gentle mixing.

“Sí.”

“Hoy es el dia de la confesion, eh.”

“Ah, sí.” That’s right. He told Néstor about the meeting last night at the party, hoping for advice from the confidante but only receiving a thoughtful stare and the assurance that he would plan something special for dinner.

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658 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Good. Things. Take. Time. 2: One Bed

Fandom: Calls (THIS IS AN APPLE TV SERIES. PATS is a character. This is not RPF.)

Pairing: Pedro Across the Street x f!reader

Rating: ***Explicit.*** Those under 18 please do not enter.

Warnings: Masturbation (f and implied m), hand job, oral (m receiving), feather light dom/sub/switch, P & V (unprotected but with prior safety agreements), kissing, praise in droves, instruction compliance, the usual implication of nefarious massage practices / something like sex work. PLOT. Boring shit about database programming, characters you’ve come to know outside their element, a drop of angst, yearning across a crowded room, character shock and name swap (wait...what?), and, as always, PATS* is his own warning. *Now with more soft.

A/N: I was getting ready to write a one-bed fic and asked y’all to vote on a character. Another boy won, but at one point, PATS was in the lead and I panicked. How do you write a one-bed fic with characters whose whole playing ground IS a bedroom? My brain wouldn’t shake the challenge and this is what happened. I will also say: this is not a direct sequel to the first fic. It continues the entire series that’s been building through the sessions.

I have more notes, mostly thank yous to y’all. You can find them at the end.

Anti-Summary: “This can be a pause. Pause of treatment-client relations. What happens in this room isn’t what happens in your room. That space is sacred and I don't want to compromise that in any way. And if it’s a pause, it’s a complete pause. No touching, just sleep.” (Adira’s note: hahahhAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH GOOD TRY.)

As with the original fic, this will be broken into sections if you need to take a breath.

REGISTRATION (1.4K)

DISORIENTATION (1.8K)

THE FIRST CONUNDRUM (512 words)

THE SECOND CONUNDRUM (784 words)

THE THIRD CONUNDRUM (958 words)

THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED (3.8K)

ASSESSMENT (1K)

REGISTRATION

“I want you to repeat as necessary this week. The key is to enjoy yourself, Preciosa. Feel free to log in and make a note about how you felt when you started, how many times you came, and how you feel at the end. I’d like to hear about it. See you next week.”

You tap your phone on its dash mount to wake it up and press the replay button.

“Hey. So…I’ve never actually done this with a client, so thanks for being my guinea pig. I know you like to try new things. Again, sorry I had to bail on our session, but maybe this will be fun so… Take off your clothes and get yourself comfortable. I’m gonna talk you through a few things. And I want you to imagine I’m there with you, okay? Your hands are my hands–”

It’s the third time you’ve listened to the half-hour recording. After the first go through, you had to find a rest stop and pull over. When you’d finally emerged out of the single-stall restroom, you had to apologize to three angry women waiting in line. You couldn’t–and wouldn’t–do what he told you to do in a public stall, no matter how cleanly it was kept, but it was easy enough to just get a quick fix and clean yourself up so you could keep driving. Sure, listening to Pedro’s mellow tones guide you through the most intense self-satisfaction scenario you could possibly imagine while going 70 on the highway wasn’t the best idea. But as long as you keep your hands on the wheel it should be okay.

__________________

–I’m sorry about this, Preciosa, but I won’t be able to keep our appointment on Thursday. Life is getting in the way. If you don’t mind though, I’d like to make it up to you.

The chat had been waiting for you on Sunday morning when you logged into the portal and he was still active.

–Make it up to me? I’m the one who’s getting weekly sessions at a bi-weekly rate.

–Plus tip.

Oh yeah. That.

–Hey. You deserve it.

The chat sits for a full minute.

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675 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

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