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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Thinking Outside the Box

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Mentioned/Implied Chastity Belt, Mentioned/Implied Sex Toys, Mentioned/Implied Isolation Bondage, Objectification, Choking/Breath Play, Overstimulation, Cum Play, Misuse of a Casket...At Best a Dubious Use of a Casket

Summary: Matsukawa rails you in a pretty casket. That’s it. That’s the plot.

A/N: The original request for this was a coffin, but I took some artistic liberty and changed it to a casket because a coffin just seemed SO uncomfy (I say as if I think casket sex is much comfier ROFL).

You smile as you reach over to grab the proffered bag of takeout you’d ordered, excitedly sniffing the delicious scent of a hot and freshly prepared meal wafting from the hefty paper bag before exiting the restaurant and making your way to your boyfriend’s workplace. Matsukawa has been almost radio silent the past few days and your heart warms from the fact that despite how stressed and overworked you know he is, he had still never failed to send you a good morning and a good night text every day. So when he had sent an apologetic text telling you he’d have to miss your weekly date night, you had offered to pick up dinner and bring it to him so the two of you could at least see each other and so that you could make sure he was taking care of himself in person. And you laughed at how quick he was to eagerly agree.

Ignoring the closed sign on the funeral home’s front door, you walk through the front entrance you know your boyfriend had left unlocked for you and wander through the furnished halls and rooms, noting how there’s not a single soul left in the building. Guess Matsukawa wasn’t kidding when he said the place was currently shorthanded, hence his hectic schedule. It’s eerie walking through the dark and empty corridors, passing rooms you know had housed countless corpses and grieving people and it only grows creepier as you make your way to the basement where your boyfriend currently is.

Unlike the floors above that are at least carpeted and kept aesthetically pleasing, there’s no such care for the cold and sterile basement where all the more morbid dealings happen and you nervously gulp as you walk down the poorly lit walkway, breaking into a run when you see the light peeking out from the door you know Matsukawa is working away in. And suddenly it’s really not all that scary anymore as you swing open the door and bite back a giggle from how absurd your tall boyfriend looks, scowling down at a pale lilac and silver casket like it had personally affronted him.

You’re quick to carefully place dinner on his desk before making your way towards him, sweetly pulling him down for a kiss before wrapping your arms around him and joining him in peering down at the casket, looking up at him with a questioning gaze when you see nothing out of the ordinary.

You rub soothing circles on his back as he loudly sighs, shoulder slumping and melting into your touch.

“My client doesn’t want this casket anymore since it isn’t ‘purple’ enough and I can’t return it because it’s past the grace period, so now I have to figure out what to do with this thing.”

Furrowing your brows, you pull away from him much to Matsukawa’s chagrin, running your fingers over the plush velvet lining and taking a closer look at the colors and detailing.

“Really? They don’t like it? I actually think it’s really pretty. Well, as pretty as a casket can be anyway. I didn’t even know they came in this color!”

You keep rambling on, appraising the casket, eyes so focused on the object in front of you that you don’t notice a dark and inquisitive look in your lover’s eyes as he intently studies the pretty picture you make as you bend over the lilac container, gaze roaming over your figure as arousal stirs inside of him.

How long had it been since he tasted you, touched you, ravished you?

Far too long.

Matsukawa and you have a healthy sex life. You suppose that’s a massive understatement considering the extensive “play room” he has in his apartment and the fact that you’re almost a permanent fixture inside of said dungeon. But between work and life recently, neither of you have had the time to fool around and he can feel the effects of that denial rearing inside of him as you prance around in front of him, so innocent, so clueless of the filthy thoughts racing around his mind.

You squeal, clinging tightly to Matsukawa’s shirt as you’re scooped up bridal style, unsure what’s happening, but you blankly stare in shock as you’re gently laid inside the coffin, easily letting your arms fall limply by your sides when your boyfriend brushes your grip off of him. It’s startling to suddenly be flat on your back, but you whimper as you finally come back to your senses, shuffling around a bit to find a more comfortable position, arms brushing against the firm velvety sides, reminding you exactly what position you’re in and where you’re lying. You feel trapped, vulnerable, small, defenseless as you stare up wide eyed at Matsukawa from your new position.

He’s always loomed over you, tall muscular body always overwhelming you, but like this he seems inhumanly enormous and humiliation washes over you as you feel your thighs instinctively clench, lust pooling inside of you at the familiar predatory leer he’s pinning you down with despite how wrong, how sinful it feels to be aroused in a coffin, in a funeral home, in a place of death and respect.

“You look so pretty in there. Maybe I should take this casket home with us, stuff you with a dildo and a plug, keep them inside of you with your chastity belt and keep you locked up in here when I’m not using you. Treat you like the fuck toy you really are.”

He means it half jokingly, but he can feel his cock twitch, pants instantly tightening at the way you literally whine in arousal at his words. His eyes widen briefly in surprise before relaxing and a razor sharp grin pierces his face and he almost feels giddy with sadistic glee. You always do react so adorably whenever he treats you meanly and he cruelly laughs at your lewd moan when he calls you a fucking slut as he reaches in to swiftly help you completely remove your pesky clothing.

You’re always beautiful, but there’s something breathtakingly gorgeous and forbidden about the way your bare body looks against the lilac velvet backdrop, how the coffin walls frame and trap your body, displaying you like a mindless doll. His body moves on auto pilot, hasty and sloppy as he practically dives headfirst to join you in the small space, groaning as you wantonly rub and grind against his body as soon as he’s in close proximity, hands scrambling to shove down his pants and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out.

He smirks at the way your hips arch, desperately shaking against his now freed length. And despite how tempting it is to just thrust into you, he takes his time to torment you, hovering over you just far enough that you can’t easily make contact with him, slapping your dripping pussy with his cock, laughing at how you wantonly hump the air in search for more. You really are an insatiable thing, aren’t you?

You gasp as a large calloused hand wraps around your neck, tightening more and more until your body begins to writhe for a different reason than the coiling lust inside of you, black spots dancing across your vision as you struggle to breathe. But even in the midst of your predicament you hear his words clear as day.

“When I keep you stored and locked away in the casket, I’ll make sure to drill a few tiny holes for you. Wouldn’t want my little toy to actually die on me before I get my full use out of her. It’ll still be a little hard to breathe, but you don’t mind, right? You always get so wet when I choke you.”

To emphasize his point, his free hand not gripping your neck trails down your body and you wail when he easily slides two long fingers inside of you, the slick sound of him thrusting in and out of you permeating throughout the room.

“I knew you were a slut, but this is filthy even for you. I can’t believe you’re this turned on from the idea of being my sex toy. Since you want it so bad, let me make your dreams come true, princess.”

There’s nothing gentle about the way he suddenly slams his cock inside of you, immediately bottoming out, and you scream as his balls slap against your ass, eyes rolling back in your head from the sudden feeling of being stuffed full. Your lover is well-endowed and no matter how many times he takes you, it’s a stretch, but the pleasant ache of your walls being forcefully stretched, the feeling of being used as nothing more than a rag doll only propels your lustful end closer.

Matsukawa groans as your cunt clamps down around him, almost making it impossible for him to piston in and out of you at the brutal pace he desires. It’s intoxicating, freeing, being able to just lose himself in the feeling of your tight walls and he knows he’s being rougher than he should be, hips crashing against yours with every violent thrust, but he can’t help it, finding peace in the sex-crazed haze, no thoughts of work or stress on his mind as he uses you to chase his own end. And it’s not like you mind if your loud moans are anything to go by and he keeps on thrusting in and out of you, even after you topple off that dangerously high cliff, drowning in pleasure as you convulse and cum all over his cock.

But he doesn’t slow down, relentlessly pounding into you as you ride out the pleasurable waves and you feel like little more than an animal as you sob and drool, overstimulation washing over you, pain and pleasure breaking you as you deliriously beg for more, for him to stop, unable to decide between the two as your body thrashes from the overwhelming feelings bubbling up inside of you. And all it takes is one more look at your lewd disheveled face, the evidence of how thoroughly he’s ruined you, to have Matsukawa joining you over the edge, thrusting one last time and plugging you with his cock as he paints your insides with thick white spurts.

Exhausted, he slumps down on top of your still trembling body and you welcome the warm and comforting blanket of his presence as he murmurs sweet praises into your ears, snuggling into his affectionate and tender caresses, heavy eyelids fluttering shut. But you fight the drowsiness as he softly kisses you, regret and apologies on the tip of his tongue for being so rough without warning that you wave away as you give him a dopey blissed out grin, pulling him down for another kiss before cuddling up to him once more.

He’s careful when he finally pulls out of you, making sure none of his seed spills on the coffin lining and your face heats as you obediently listen to his gentle command for you to cup your pussy and keep all of his cum inside of you as he pulls up his boxers and pants. It’s arousing and humiliating how his dark eyes attentively stare at your used and naked body as he glides your panties back up your legs, nudging your hands away from the apex of your thighs as he snugly pulls your panties up, effectively trapping the thick fluid inside of you as he lifts you out of the casket before helping you dress and ushering you over to the desk where the now lukewarm food rests.

He fondly smiles as you refuse to leave his lap, curling into a tighter ball when he urges you to sit in the second chair he’s pulled up to his desk and eat, staring at up at him with big pleading eyes as you cutely open your mouth like a baby bird begging for food from its mother. And how can he refuse when he knows that you’ll be aching and limping for days after this because of him?

So he just playfully rolls his eyes as he brings a fork full of food to your mouth, snorting at how exaggerated and dramatic your happy dance and reaction to the first bite is, alternating between feeding himself and you. But he freezes, almost dropping the fork in shock when halfway through the meal you shyly ask him if he was serious about keeping the coffin at home, dark eyes snapping towards you, searching for any hint of jest only to be met with a curious gleam, a glimmer of hope.

No one at the funeral home ever asks Matsukawa what he ended up doing with the unwanted casket and he supposes it’s for the best, mind drifting and daydreaming about the new piece of furniture now on display in his special room, currently occupied by his most prized possession.

Suddenly work can’t be over soon enough.

#haikyuu smut #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #haikyuu x reader

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

Smut, you say 👀

You're this cute, kinda innocent woman that gets the help of this handsome gigolo to not be as... innocent.

💕 The Professional: Chapter 1 💕

Chapter Two

Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter only)

Pairing: Danma Takeru (Hatter)/Reader (she/her

Tags: flirting, suggestive conversation, alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

Notes: This is a kind-of sort-of AU—in the show, Hatter references his involvement with the host club business, and mentions that he “would do anything” to be the best. Although host clubs do not usually involve sex work (as far as I know), I believe that he would definitely offer that “off the books” in order to win over his clientele.

You’re nervous. Nervous and jittery and—oh, dear, there’s a lot of feelings going on in here, and all of them seem to fall under the umbrella of ‘mild to moderate discomfort.’ Not that feeling uncomfortable is anything new; in fact, there are very few times where you happen to feel truly comfortable outside of, say, the warmth of your bed or the soothing calm of a late-night bath. Places where you feel safe. Places where you can let yourself breathe and be, unhindered by expectation.

The place where you currently find yourself—this strange little pocket of a room in the buzz and bustle of a Friday-night Kabukicho—is full-to-bursting with expectation. From the polished wood floors to the glittering gold chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling, there is an inescapable sense of opulent whimsy that is tinged pink with a blush of sensuality. There are even fresh flowers on the table in front of you—a vase of ranunculus, blooming bright and orange like a green-stalked bunch of tiny setting suns.

Something like an itch tickles your sweat-damp palms, making you ball your hands into tight fists around the fabric of your skirt. Oh, you should have worn something different! Something sexier, maybe, with a deeper neckline and a shorter hem, that hugged the shape of your body as opposed to ghosting over it in fluttering chiffon. Not that you actually, you know, owned anything like that, but—

The pop! of a champagne cork makes you jump. Hell, you feel like you’re about to pop, too, from the nervous energy boiling and swelling in your chest. It’s so very difficult not to fidget, to keep your toes from tapping out a frantic little rhythm on the rug.

Looking back, you realize that the paperwork had been the ‘easy’ part. Not that it had been particularly easy—who knew there would be an application process for this kind of thing?—but it was less stressful to fill out a (surprisingly comprehensive) questionnaire in the privacy of your own home as opposed to this agonizing waiting.

And what, exactly, are you waiting for?

Why, you’re waiting for him.

His name is Takeru—or, at least, that’s what he’s asked you to call him. Whether or not it’s a stage name is difficult to tell; but what you do know is that it sounded so very nice in the deep clear of his voice. The only thing that sounded better was your name, which he said in a gently-sultry half-whisper that made you feel…many thing, and not all of them innocent.

In a devastatingly well-tailored suit of lipstick red—a vibrant pop of a color you would so often consider buying at the makeup counter but always put back—it’s nearly impossible to look at anything but him. A small collection of rings glisten from his fingers, most of them delicate little things that wink a tiny gleam when the light hits them just right. The dizzying black-white-gold pattern of his shirt is unbuttoned just a smidge too low, offering you a tantalizing view of his chest.

And although his back is toward you, concocting some kind of magic at the bar cart along the far wall, you can all but feel the warm-dark of his eyes on you. Oh, he has beautiful eyes, dark and warm with the glitter of laughter—or perhaps mischief, if the situation calls for it. A slim nose leads down to a shapely mouth, handsomely framed by a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.

Also, his hair—oh, that man has a great head of hair.

Aesthetics aside—he has been undeniably lovely. Slipping the coat from your shoulders when you walked into the room, fingertips skimming the slope of your shoulders with only the barest of touches. Offering you a glass of champagne (“Yes, thank you”) as he leads you to sit on the green velvet settee, hand hovering above but never touching the small of your back. A serene smile on his lips as he talks, as he tells you that your dress is lovely (“Blue is definitely your color, darling”) and letting out an airy chuckle when you mention that this was as good occasion as any to dig it out of the back of your closet.

It is impossible to ignore the way he is so very provocative—subtly so, in a way that makes you second-guess whether his flirtations had happened at all. Did his eyes really linger over the shape of your legs, or was he simply taking a moment to admire your (new, very cute) shoes? Did his fingertips slip over the curve of your shoulder as he removed your coat, or were you just imagining it?

His gaze tiptoes over your shape as he sits down beside you, two flutes of pink-tinged something in hands.

“I’ve taken the liberty of making something a little special,” he says, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as he hands you one of the glasses, “it…it looks nice.”

“Know what it is?”

“Uh,” you say after a moment of silent deliberation, “Maybe alcohol?”

He huffs a short laugh at your half-joke—a rather polite response, and it manages to soothe the bubble of regret that had risen up your throat the moment you’d said it.

“You’re not wrong. More specifically, though, it’s a Kir Royale—or, my take on one, at the very least,” he watches the bubbles fizzle to the top of the glass, “I find myself more or less incapable of keeping with convention, even when it comes to alcohol.”

“Well, uh,” you say, “it’s pretty. I like the color.”

You taste the drink, bubbles like tiny fireworks tickling over the surface of your tongue. There is a dry bitterness, no doubt from the champagne, but it’s softened by a fruity sweetness. Something familiar, something that reminds you of summer and shaved ice and walks along the river and—

“Cherry,” you say, half-lost in the hazy-warm memory of days gone by—until you remember where you are and snap back to reality, “it’s, uh, it tastes like cherries.”

“Very good. Usually, the drink calls for creme de cassis, but I used Kijafa instead. It’s a dessert wine from Denmark, made from cherries,” his brow raises just a smidge, “I thought it appropriate, given the situation.”

And it takes you a minute to understand what he’s talking about. Cherries. You. Ah. A rather crass comparison, but accurate all the same.

“Oh,” you say, picking a very uninteresting spot on the rug to look at in an attempt to avoid meeting his eyes, “I, uh…”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, “In fact, virginity isn’t even a real thing. Completely made up. Means nothing, really.”

There is a kind of lag—he’s speaking, you know he’s speaking, but it takes your brain a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s actually saying. It’s strange, hearing someone talk to you so openly about sex. Not unwelcome, by any means, but you need a moment (or two, or ten) to adjust.

“That being said,” he continues, as if he’s discussing the weather, “just because it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of life doesn’t mean it’s nothing to you.”

He’s fishing. He’s fishing, and you kind of want to take the bait, but…well, you’re finding it difficult to get your thoughts in order. He’s the very picture of calm, all while you’re floundering over a simple conversation.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “I thought you might prefer to talk it over a bit. ”

“No, uh, you’re fine,” you answer quickly, “I’m just…I thought the paperwork kind of covered all that.”

“More or less,” he answers, “however, I’ve found that the person who fills out the forms and the person who ends up sitting across from me are not always of the same mind.”

He reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette case. Although he is not gentleman enough to ask your permission to smoke, he is gentleman enough to offer you a cigarette before taking one of his own. You decline. He shrugs and quickly snaps the case shut before laying it on the table.

“In fact, it’s not uncommon for my clients to have a complete change of heart the second they walk through the door,” he continues, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Or, sometimes later on, for that matter. Depends on the person.”

Cigarette held between his teeth, he retrieves a lighter from his right trouser pocket. With a sharp little snick, he ignites it, pulling the little orange flame towards his face and hiding it behind his hand to let it catch.

“Really?”

You watch him intently, the way his eyelids flutter closed at the first inhale. The way his lips pucker around the filter and release, the red-pink sticking slightly as they pull away and let smoky white flow out and fade into the air.

“Really,” he confirms, “once, I had a client step inside, take one look at me, and promptly walk right back out. Never saw them again, which is fine. I’ll never fault someone for doing what’s right for themselves.”

“Are you, uh, trying to talk me out of it?”

“Not at all. Just making you aware of your options,” he says, “Doing anything for the first time is scary. Driving a car, swimming in the ocean, traveling abroad—sex is no different.”

“Yeah, well,” you respond, “you also get to do most of those things with your clothes on, so…”

“Depends on who you’re with.”

You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I still want to…you know,” you answer, “uh, do it. The…the sex part.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he insists, “I can’t imagine anyone being upset at the thought of having a pretty thing like you in their bed.”

“I’m not—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, taking on a tone that brokers no arguments, “I will suffer many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You are an attractive woman and I refuse to be told otherwise.”

“Sorry, I,” you say sheepishly, “I guess I just…wasn’t expecting you to…like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his cigarette and takes another long, slow drag, “You’re very sweet. A bit shy, maybe, but I happen to like the shy ones.”

And there is something about the way he says it, the way his voice wraps around the words—oh, there are implications to those words, and you find yourself growing warm at the thought of what exactly those implications could entail.

You sip your drink. He smokes. The quiet between you is almost comfortable. Maybe it’s the alcohol working it’s bubbly magic, but you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease in this strange little place.

Moreover, you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease with him. The thought of kissing him crosses your mind, then doubles-back and crosses it again. Oh, that sounds nice. He would be good at it, too; starting gently, mouth pressed soft and sure against your own, and then just the tiniest tease of his tongue—

“And there you go, biting your lip again,” he says, snapping you out of your impromptu fantasy, “You have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”

He is sporting a devilish grin—not only is he aware that you had been daydreaming about him, but he’s relishing the fact that he was able to catch you so off-guard.

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you admit with a shrug. But you can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being considered ‘sexy’—you never really let yourself feel that way, but now that it’s happening…oh, it’s nice.

“It’s absolutely delicious, darling. Makes me wonder what else you do when you’re turned on…”

And he’s got you—like a knife held under your chin, his sharp gaze pins you in place. He is impossible to avoid. Not that you particularly want to avoid him—there’s something irresistible about this man, something that you can’t quite name but definitely want more of.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

“I’m,” you say with a nervous chuckle, “not really sure, myself. Guess we’ll have to, uh, figure it out together.”

His gaze darkens. He takes one last lungful of nicotine before stubbing out his cigarette.

“I suppose we shall.”

And he’s moving now, sliding himself down so that he’s closer to you. He stops when there is barely an inch of space between the outside of his thigh and your own. His right arm has draped itself over the back of the sofa, the fingertips of his hand now skimming the skin of your shoulder in loose, mindless sweeps.

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

He plucks the champagne flute from your grasp and sets it on the table in front of you.

“I, uh—“

The fingertips on your shoulder continue to make their idle little circles, almost hypnotic in their swirling pattern. His left hand catches your right wrist, his thumb pressing above where your pulse thrums beneath sensitive skin.

“Bit fast,” he observes, pulling your arm closer as if inspecting it, “Could be nerves, but I think it’s more from excitement, don’t you?”

You have no choice but to lean into him as he brings your hand closer. Your shoulder presses against his arm, and you feel the solid shape of him through the smooth of his suit. He’s strong underneath all of those layers—warm, too, judging from the heat that radiates from his person.

“I’m—“

The thumb that had been testing your pulse inches higher, stopping when it’s pressing into the center of your palm. His eyes lock with yours, a heartbeat of a moment, and brings your wrist closer and closer until his lips are ghosting over your flesh. When he finally decides to make contact, you gasp—it’s a delicate sensation, but sends your heart skipping in a shaking staccato.

And, then.

Then he sucks.

The sound you make is halfway between an oh of surprise and a desperate little moan—oh, wow, that’s really weirdly unexpectedly hot—and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by your own reaction. He’s not even doing much, not really; just a little bit of pressure, lips parted just enough to let his tongue slip out and have a taste of you.

But, oh, it feels…it feels filthy, it feels decadent, it feels like something you should not be doing but very much want to keep doing for the rest of your life. Takeru’s eyes have since fluttered shut, and he hums the tiniest sound of pleasure as he maintains his seductive tease.

“Please,” you manage to sigh, sounding as breathless as you feel, “please, I, I want you to kiss me.”

His lips release from your wrist with a pucker-pop noise—which was no doubt intentional on his part, and does nothing to quell the thrill of desire in your belly.

“Hm. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, shifting a bit to the left so that he can turn to face you better, “I’ll kiss you for the rest of the night, but right now…you kiss me.”

And what a deal that is—you don’t even have to think about it, head bobbing in an affirmative nod as you wet your lips in anticipation. The hand that had so lovingly held yours is now guiding you to rest your palm just above his knee. You reflexively reach your other hand out to steady yourself, and it lands against his chest before you can stop it.

He’s so close now. There’s barely any space between your faces, barely room to breathe—

“Go on, darling,” he whispers, “if you want me, have me.”

And you do.

You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The anxiety that has plagued you since the moment you entered the room hasn’t completely dissipated—it would be foolish to think it’d be that easy to banish those feelings completely—but all that is now secondary to the feeling of his mouth on yours.

Kissing Takeru is warm. It’s soft and it’s sure and it’s…comfortable, in a way. Safe, even. He does not press, doesn’t do much of anything except mirror the way your lips slide against his own. A gentle rhythm, a push and pull between the two of you that feels as natural as the moon guiding the tides to shore—yes, kissing him is good and right and something you want to do many times over.

Unfortunately, you have to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t let you go far, though, one hand cupped behind the nape of your neck and the other pressing into the small of your back.

“Oh, you are sweet,” he purrs, his gaze dropping to your freshly-kissed lips, “and, seeing that I’m a man of my word…”

As it turns out, being kissed by Takeru might be better than kissing him, yourself. He is still so very careful when he presses his lips to yours, but this time…this time, there’s fire. He tastes like the best part of a cigarette, like warmth and alcohol and cherries, and it only intensifies as he tests the seam of your lips with his tongue.

Little by little, you begin to test him, too. Hands cradle the curve of his jaw, feeling the way his face shifts as he moves against you. Fingertips run through the soft dark of his hair—oh, he likes that, if the half-sigh that slips from his throat is to be believed. And when you nip at his lower lip with your teeth (he had, after all, very much enjoyed the way you bit your lip earlier), he genuinely moans and pulls you even closer to himself.

It’s when he begins to wander lower, with his mouth skimming the sensitivity of your neck and his hand splayed across your lower back in a way that flirts with the idea of indecency, that you begin to want more. Fear—and maybe that’s not exactly the right word for what you’re feeling, but it’s the only one that comes to mind—begins to creep up the column of your spine.

The “what-if’s” start filling your brain; what if you mess something up? What if you do something he doesn’t like? What if you freeze up later and—

“Alright, darling?”

His voice is a low soothe against your ear; he’s retreated, just a bit, and his hand has wandered to a chaste and respectable area of your mid-back.

“I—“

You want him to take you to bed. You want him to take off your dress and kiss you in all the places you thought weren’t worth kissing, to let his hands trace sparks along the curves of your shape and let him be close to you in a way that no one else has. You want him, despite the uncertain ache that burns between your ribs and bids you to hide yourself away and leave behind the pleasure of his touch.

…But all you can manage is a nervous glance to the bed behind you (the one you had been avoiding thinking about up until this point) and a stammered “Can we, uh…?”

“Ask me,” he says, his index and middle fingers idly skimming the notch in your collarbone, “I’ll give you anything you want, as long as you ask me.”

It’s difficult to make eye contact with him—every time you try, you feel embarrassment swell up beneath your tongue.

But Takeru is, as you have come to learn over the last hour or so, decidedly patient. He shows no sign of relenting, appearing to be perfectly content with giving you an expectant grin and continuing his little touches as you try not to squirm in your seat.

“I,” you gulp, “I want…“

You bite your lip—oh, wait, he likes that too, and he’s staring at you with those sharp and sultry eyes, and it makes something behind your heart squeeze and unsqueeze itself and punches the air from your lungs and—

“Take me to bed,” you manage to spit out, and it all sounds like one word with how quickly you pushed the words into the air. The “uh, please” you tack on at the end is an afterthought, but perhaps it’s polite enough to pass muster.

“Was that so hard,” Takeru asks with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you asked so nicely…”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss—and even that, after everything, still has you feeling a flutter of something giddy in your stomach.

“Darling,” he says, “it would be my pleasure.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

…and now, you’ll have to wait until chapter two to get to the “good stuff!”

It’s been a challenge writing this—I’m trying to make the scenario believable while still keeping it vague enough to allow for people to make up their own little details. It’s also been unexpectedly difficult to write him, since he’s kind of being himself while also playing a character who’s trying to mold themself into their client’s fantasy…it’s a lot of layers, but it’s been fun trying to figure things out!

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #writings and such #spicy boy #alice in borderland netflix #takeru danma #we did it fellas. we finally wrote the first chapter.#I’ve been working on this for WEEKS #now to write the actual spicy stuff lol oh geez

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1-800-channie · 3 years

Text

Make Out with Chan;

Note | Chan and you started dating just a few months ago, and this is your first heated make-out session. Shy!Boyfriend Chan. Warning: Very Suggestive but also very adorable.

(Credits to the owner of the gif)

It was a cold Friday afternoon. The rain was falling calmly from the blue sky, hitting the ground softly and leaving a lovely smell of moist grass in the atmosphere.

You came home from UNI one hour ago and were currently waiting for your boyfriend. The both of you will cuddle and watch a movie together with the rain as background music.

As soon as you heard someone knocking on the door five times, you knew it was Chan. It's like his signature knock. Your heart immediately speeded up and you licked your lips excited to hold on to him after this exhausting week.

"Chan, get in, you're going to get cold!" You told him while he stood outside your door under the blue umbrella. He wasn't wet and you were glad because you don't have clothes for him to change.

"That's how you greet me?" He asked with an adorable pout, as he took off his warm jacket. "Where's my kiss?"

You rolled your eyes but ran towards him, providing a quick peck on those pinky lips that you adore so much. Your boyfriend wanted more, so he wrapped his vigorous arms around your waist and chased your lips once again, eager to taste you even more.

The way his tongue gently brushed against your bottom lip made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to allow the muscle get inside your mouth and start a playful fight with yours, making your hands grab into dirty blond locks.

When Chris pulled away, he was looking absolutely breathtaking: lips shiny and red from the kissing, hair messy and dilated eyes staring deeply into yours.

"I'm sorry... Did I go too far?" Chan asked shyly, his cute little cheeks painted in a pale red. His eyes shifted from yours to his raw hands, trying to dodge you.

"Don't be sorry... I liked it..." You responded back with a smile, trying to comfort him. "Shall we start watching 'Cities of Paper' ?"

Happily, your boy took your hand on his and walked you to your bedroom. The both of you laid down on your sides so he could be the big spoon. You already saw this movie like five times, but Chan was so curious about it that you decided to watch it with him. Again.

After a while you got bored, of course. It was the sixth time you were watching that film, but Chan was really interested. His big brown eyes were glued to the screen of your old tv, and his arms were holding you tightly against him.

You decided to let the boy enjoy the movie and just enjoy his presence as the sound from the rain filled your ears, making an aesthetic feeling take over your boredom.

"Whattttt? Why aren't they together? That's not fair..." Your boyfriend whines annoyed. "Why didn't you tell me they didn't end you together?" He asked you with a sweet pout.

"Because it wouldn't be fun if I told you..." You smirk and laugh after, watching him pout again. The movie was finally over.

Something inside you told you to kiss those pretty lips of his, and so you did. You pecked them for longer than usual, catching Chan by surprise. When he opened his eyes, you were flustered and he was too, his emotions were having a fight in his head...

"Kiss me again, baby girl." He begged you with pleading eyes, watching you come closer and closer to him, brushing your lips against his teasingly. Your warmth was so close that he felt himself starting to sweat.

Tired of the teasing Chris gently grabs your jaw and meets your edges in a hungry but slow kiss, enjoying the feeling of your warm and plump lips against his. As his tongue entered your mouth, his hands pulled you against him so you were straddling him as the heat started to build.

When you pulled his messy hair, lost in the feeling of the kiss, Chan moaned. At that moment you broke the kiss, breathing hard, your heart skipping beats and wide eyes:

"I'm sorry i-" Chan wanted to apologize for his horny self but you shut him up before he could ever explain himself.

"That was the hottest thing I have ever heard..." You whine and envelop your head in his shoulder, feeling timid but turned on at the same time. That is the first time you guys make-out... He is a shy boy and you are a little insecure, leading to not doing anything more than kissing.

But you were starting feeling needy, and that was giving you the courage to do something about it. Maybe kissing wouldn't make it better, only worse, but at least you can get a taste of him and what he can do.

"Kiss me again..." He whispered close to your ear, making a cold shiver run up your spine.

"Someone's needy?" You asked with a smirk, watching his reaction. Chan got a little more red, his cheeks now fully red-ish and his heart speeded up. You could feel it beating against your chest.

He didn't answer, just kissed you. His lips moved slowly against yours, while his hand settled on your hips under your hoodie. You left a whine to escape your lips. His hands felt on fire, and everywhere he touched had his heated print.

Chris wasn't capable to control himself no more, the sound you left out is so sensual that he jerks his hips upwards, creating some pleasurable friction to the both of you.

"Chan..." You whine leaving his mouth for a brief second while you catch your breath. Saliva connecting your lips. "Chan, please..." He couldn't see your eyes as you called his name, because you were feeling way too shy to look at him. Although he knew, if you looked at him with those innocent eyes of yours he would cum right in his pants. "Chan, you can touch me more..."

As soon as you gave him permission, his hands wasted no time and traveled upwards beneath your hoodie. When he felt the curve of your soft, bare breasts against his inexperienced fingertips, he had to kiss you to shut his mouth.

This time the kiss was messier, saliva was all over your lips as his tongue devoured yours in the most delicious way. His fingers soon grabbed a handful of your boob, and you grinded against him, feeling something hard against you.

His fingers hesitantly pulled your nipple, and you moaned his name, pushing your head back and breathing heavily. His touch is so addicting. "Chan..."

"God, you're driving me crazy..." He whined as his lips came in contact with your neck, leaving pecks all over it as his teeth softly brushed against the skin, making you grow needier.

A fast-paced song suddenly started playing startling the both of you, and your boyfriend removed himself completely from you so he could pick up the call.

As he spoke to his mom, you deducted from the sweet way he was communicating, you tried to calm yourself down. You closed your eyes and breathed in, inflating your lungs and then, letting the air escape your nose calmly.

"I have to go... My mom needs me at home. " His voice was lowered, melancholy.

"It's alright..." You assured him, setting your hair behind your ear timidly. You blushed to the thoughts of what was happening merely minutes ago.

"Come here..." He called you as he spread his arms, grabby hands pointed at you. You walked towards him and allowed his passionate embrace to involve you. Soon, his so familiar perfume gave you butterflies.

In an act of love, Chan kissed your forehead and thanked you for trusting him. You smiled shyly at him, wishing he could stay a little longer.

A/N | I know i kinda disappeared for a bit and im sorry... Guess who has covid? My mom, and i think we all at home. Anyways im at home isolated so i will try to post more. Even though my energy is in its lowest point. I had this lost in my drafts, i hope you like it. Im heading to bed now, Good Night, my loves. 💕(ALSO Shy!Boyfriend Chan is my favourite type of Chan.)

#stray kids #kpop #bang chan #chan #stray kids chan #chris bang #stray kids bang chan #skz #bang chan smut #leader chan

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mageicalwishes · 4 years

Text

Read on AO3: here

Summary: Baz takes Simon to see the stars, but they end up doing a lot more speaking than stargazing. "Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile." Inspired by Carry On Sparks, Week 4 - Plot @carryonsparks (Even though this is literally 3 weeks late. I write so slowly!)

TW - There is a brief mention of what happened in the forest in Carry On, so suicidal intentions are mentioned. It's nothing graphic or anything like that, but I thought it would be best to mention it!

Words: 9,221

Baz

Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile.

Two years ago today, back at Watford, Simon showed me the stars. It’s a day neither of us will ever forget. In all of our, admittedly, limited conversations about our relationship, he’s always maintained that, that was the day he felt something shift (Even if he didn’t fully realise it at the time). There, somewhere between our stiff beds and the infinity of space, something happened that changed us. That remade us. And I think it’s finally time that I repay the favour.

Unfortunately, though, I’m unable to just conjure up the universe with a flick of my wrist like he did (I’ve tried numerous times, to no avail), so I’ve had to concede to taking a more normal approach to replicating the magic of that night. I'm taking him on a date. Somewhere where the stars can shine down on him.

In all our time together, we’ve never actually managed a traditional date (What with all the mess at Watford, the absolute catastrophe that was our “Great American road trip”, and all of our recent avoidance), so really, it’s long overdue.

Only ... I'm not entirely sure that he'll actually be willing to go with me; given our current situation. But I suppose there’s little harm in asking - Things can’t really get much worse than they already are, and as they say … ‘Fortune favours the bold’.

“Snow,” I call, prodding at his thigh. “I need you to get up.”

He’s flopped, utterly lifeless, on the sofa again - His threadbare pyjamas stained and crumpled, and a ghastly stack of unwashed glasses and plates littering the floor around him, where his tail lays, limply.

It hurts to look at him like this; so far from himself. But that’s how it is most days. Simon Snow: the boy who was promised the world - promised glory and gold - and left with nothing, lying vacant and depressed in his living room. Some days are better, of course; but most aren’t.

After America, I had hoped that things may be a little easier for him. That maybe some of his regained zest would stay with him. But nothing substantial changed. Without the sun, and the space, and the danger, he fell right back into it, all too easily.

Bunce and I do our best to help him, of course - Offering our companionship, or dragging him outside with us for some fresh air (I’d even considered spelling him with a ‘Cheer up, buttercup’ a few times). But realistically, there is little that we can do. He’s traumatised. He’s hurting. And all the magic and good intentions in the world can’t soothe his pain (As much as I wish they could).

I try not to beat myself up over it, but it’s hard sometimes. I know I do all that I can, but my best efforts just aren’t good enough. They don’t make him happy. They don’t take away his hurt. I don’t know how to help him. So … I’m as good as useless to him now.

Hauling himself over, he scowls at me. His eyes flat and ringed with red - The light behind them having dimmed, long ago.

“For fuck’s sakes, Baz!” He gruffs. “Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m trying to sleep.”

He gets snappy like this, sometimes - When he's let himself stew in his feelings for too long. But it's alright. He always apologises afterwards, when the haze has cleared. And I’m not exactly above losing my temper, either - So I have no real reason to complain.

“I know, and I’m sorry but … I wanted to do something with you. Something time dependent. It’s already nine PM, and I really can't wait much longer, love."

“Yeah well, you’re the one who woke me up at seven AM, to go and buy you blood from the fucking New Forest, when there’s a perfectly good butcher down the road! You know don’t mind getting you what you need, but that was seriously taking the piss! So forgive me for being a little sleepy!"

I gulp, guilt prickling in my stomach.

I knew he was mad about that, but I’d hoped that he’d have forgiven me by now - Considering that I'd already let him take my car, and supplied him with a, frankly, outrageous amount of chocolate, as a sorry. Because while it is true that I sent him on a three and a half hour round trip back to Hampshire (under the false pretense that the blood there tastes better because it’s ‘free range’), I really didn’t do it to be a prat. I only did it to get him out of the house for a while, so that I could whip up a batch of his beloved sour cherry scones, without causing suspicion. And while there were probably less infuriating methods of Simon Snow removal, I really couldn’t think of any at the time - So I had to make do.

I just hope that when all is revealed he can find it in himself to forgive me.

“I know,” I sigh. “And I do appreciate it. I didn’t mean to take advantage, it just … really is better.”

Dropping his shoulders, his face twists with remorse as he reaches upwards, pawing at his neck roughly. For Crowley’s sakes, now I’ve gone and made him feel worse! Just brilliant.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “I’m just … tired. Sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry too - For waking you up. But … if it’s alright with you, I’d still like to take you out tonight. I've got somewhere special in mind.”

“Why?” he asks, suspicious. “What’s so special about tonight?”

"You don't get any clues, Snow," I chide. "That'll only spoil the surprise. But, if you come with me, then I can show you. It'll be just us two, so you don't have to worry about getting dressed up, or anything like that. And ... you don't have to come at all, if you're not feeling up to it. But you may end up liking it, if you do.”

Gnawing at his lip, he tugs at the hem of his shirt, awkwardly.

“No. I just - I haven’t - I need to, like … get ready. I haven’t … showered. Or done my teeth."

As painful as it is to admit, that doesn’t really surprise me. He struggles to take care of himself, sometimes. I don’t know if it’s just because he forgets, or the effort feels too insurmountable, or … what? All I know is that he does. (I’m convinced that if Bunce and I didn’t keep him so well loaded with takeaways that he'd forget to eat half of the time). So, with a wordless shrug of agreement, I slide myself down onto the sofa besides him to wait (Clearly he’s rubbing off on me).

————————————————————————————

“Is this it?” he asks, as we pull into the carpark.

He’s been jittery the whole ride here - His leg bouncing nervously, and his bottom lip ruddied where he’s been chewing at it. Like he thinks that this is all some elaborate ruse.

“Well no,” I say, smirking over at him, as I undo my seatbelt. “This is a carpark, Snow. I had something a little nicer than this in mind, don’t you worry. I just need to go and set it up, first.”

“Set it up?”

“Don’t fret, you numpty. You can trust me. It’s nothing sinister.”

Chuckling quietly, I reach forwards - Pressing my hand against his knee, in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.

“Alright,” he murmurs, wriggling out of my touch, curtly (He still isn’t sure about me touching him sometimes - Says it makes him feel trapped). “Be quick then”.

I’m as quickly as I can manage (Although I definitely spend slightly too long fussing with my decorations). And soon enough, I’m pulling a blindfolded Snow behind me, our hands slotted together, loosely, as we stumble across the grass. The rough warmth of his skin against mine sending my heart aflutter.

“Baz,” he coughs, his voice creeping with uncertainty. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”

“We’re in St James Park, Snow. We’ve been here before. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“But … It’s late. What if we get mugged or something?”

“If someone tries to mug us, then I’m sure you’ll scare them off with a cocktail stick sword, or something. And if worst comes to worst, you pack a mean punch. Either way, you’ll save us,” I shrug.

Puffing out a slight laugh, he presses our palms a little closer together.

“So … cocktail sticks. We’re having a picnic then?”

“Hush, you,” I scold, miffed. “No more guessing. We’re almost there, so just wait and see, you impatient brute."

Pulling us to a stop, I falter. Looking at it with fresh eyes, it’s a lot. It’s an awful lot.

Besides a large willow on the edge of the lake, I’ve created a wonderful spread for us - All of his favourite foods sat in a wicker basket, in the centre of Bunce’s picnic blanket.

For aesthetic appeal, I’ve surrounded our space with an assortment of candles, held firmly in place with a ‘Stay Put’ (Since I imagine that setting ourselves alight would probably kill the mood). And I’ve spelled the raindrops, still clinging to the damp grass reeds, iridescent with a ‘Twinkle in their eye’. The glow of the flames dancing, ethereally, in their newly mirrored surface, so that the ground comes alive with a million watery fireflies.

But I want this. I want us to have this. So there’s really no benefit to backing down now.

“Alright,” I drawl, reluctantly dropping his hand, and taking a few steps away from him. “You can look now.”

Urgently, he reaches upwards, tugging the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, and taking it all in. His face transforming into some shade of panicked horror, immediately. Merlin and Morgana. Curse my flare for the dramatics! It’s definitely too much.

“Baz. Wh - What is all of this?” he stammers.

Tense, I twirl a lock of hair between my fingers, in a hopeless attempt to focus on anything other than what a massive cock up this whole evening has been.

“Well … I wanted to show you the stars.”

“The stars?”

“Yes, Snow,” I bite. “The stars. You know, the little twinkly things in the sky.”

I shouldn’t do that - The being rude to him. But for some reason it still seems to be my default defense setting.

“I know - I know what a star is. I mean … why?”

“Two years ago, today. Back at Watford. 'Twinkle, twinkle little star' … Ring any bells?”

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” I copy, my voice softening significantly. “I just - I wanted to repay the favour. I know that we had the truck in America. And, I know that this isn’t quite the same as the original. But … it’s the best I could do. We aren’t all supernovas, you know.”

“Yeah … No. I mean … it’s nice. I just - I don’t know.”

It isn’t at all convincing, but I do my best to let his slither of praise ground me.

Hesitantly, I step forwards, holding out my hand to him, in offering. He doesn’t take it this time, so I let it flop, grimly, to my side.

“Simon, we can go home if you’d prefer,” I try. “It was just an idea. Nothing an 'As you were' can’t fix.”

He gawks at me like I’ve sprouted another head (Which is ironic considering that he’s the one with the dragon appendages).

“No. I want to look at the stars,” he rejects, jutting his jaw out, determinedly. “I just don’t really … deserve it. I didn’t even, like … realise. I mean, how do you even know the date of that?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “If you seriously don’t think you’re worthy of cheap finger foods and Fanta, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to revive some of my more creative Watford insults, because that is idiotic. You do deserve it. This and more.”

Staring down at the ground, as if ashamed, he tugs his lips upwards into a weak smile.

“And I only remembered the date because, at the time, I thought that, that was all we would ever get. That it was the closest we’d ever be to what I really wanted. So … I clung to every detail. It’s horrifically embarrassing, really. And painfully sappy. But … there we are. I didn’t expect you to remember, though. So please don't worry that you didn’t,” I reassure.

We’re slightly better at this now - The talking.

We had a huge fight in the toilets at Heathrow after America (Since there really was no point in pretending that I didn’t know what he was trying to do on that beach), that basically boiled down to ‘You never tell me things’ ‘Well, you never tell me, either’. So, we’ve been working on being a little more open with our communication, since then. I try to be honest and tell him how I feel (However humiliating it may be), and he does the same.

It’s clunky and unnatural, and it doesn’t always work (Obviously). But we’re trying. So it’s a start.

We haven’t gotten onto any of the more ‘heavy’ stuff just yet - The state of our relationship, the Mage, how afraid I am, how sad he is. Mostly we’ve just started fessing up to small things from our past - Like how lovelorn I was at Watford, or why he ditched his therapist. But, it’s only been a month. We stick to the past, right now, because the present is too painful (And I don’t really want to hear him say we have no future). But there’s hope. There’s a spark. There’s effort. So maybe one day we’ll get there.

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice noticeably strained. “Then … let’s do it. I want to stay.”

I grin, despite myself, and gesture towards the blanket.

“After you, Snow.”

————————————————————————————

“Holy shit,” he laughs, holding a hand out in front of his smile in an attempt to hide the mush of scone in his mouth. It doesn’t work, but I don’t really care (I’m disturbed). “They taste just like Watford’s. How the hell did you make these? Or did you steal them from Prichard?”

Biting down a smile, I arch my eyebrow up at him. Bright and smiling, he tries to copy me - Both of his eyebrows jumping upwards, clumsily. And I wish that I could tell him how amazing it is to hear him laugh again, but I don’t want to risk upsetting him. He’d probably just take it to mean that I only like him when he’s happier, which is just objectively untrue. I’d like him however he is.

“Oh please, petty theft is below a Pitch,” I breeze.

“Then how?”

“I bribed her with enough Champagne to bring down a Dragon, and she gave me the recipe. It was really very simple, Snow. I’m surprised you didn’t manage it yourself”

“What? Seriously?” he beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling, charmingly. “How much did it take? I offered her, like, half of my Goblin Gold for it, and she still wouldn’t budge!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. My bank probably thinks that I have a severe drinking problem now, but no matter. It’s worth it to see you smile.”

Darting his eyes downwards, his face flushes with heat.

“Penny would spell you silent if she heard you saying such sickly things, you know,” he complains, scrunching up his nose in disgust.

It’s all fake, though. I know he doesn't really mean it. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he loves it when I’m soft with him. One whispered 'Love' or 'Simon' is enough to make him melt, even now. It used to be enough to get him to kiss me too, but not anymore (Practically nothing is). Although I don’t really care - It’s still incredibly endearing.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But, look … Bunce isn’t here. I’ve managed to lure you up here all alone, so I’m free to be as saccharine as I please, I'm afraid."

“Whatever,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Ah yes - Being nice to my boyfriend. Truly, I am a freak,” I tease. “Just … lay down, you nightmare.”

“Lay down?”

“Yes. It’s a very simple instruction, Snow” I deadpan, flopping myself back down onto the blanket, with a puff of laughter.

“Yeah but … why?”

“Because ... unless everything has gone loopy, the stars that I brought you out here to see are above you. So lie down and look. I’m not going to jump you, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” he says, carefully resting himself down on the blanket. “If you say so.”

————————————————————————————

He’s tucked up against me now, staring up at the stars, happily - His head resting, heavily, against my outstretched arm, and his right leg draped over mine. It’s a little uncomfortable, to be honest, but I daren’t tell him. He’d only move away, and I so desperately want him to stay.

Pointing up at a the sky above us, I draw his attention to a particular cluster of stars, and can't help but wonder whether they're the same ones that filled our room, or hung above us in America - Or if even they have changed, too.

“That one is Aries,” I explain. “The Ram constellation.”

“I don’t see anything,” he whines, pouting out his lips, childishly.

Rolling my eyes, I grab a hold of his hand and pull out his ring finger, directing it’s point to trace the stars’ outline.

“That’s just a random line.”

“Nope. It’s a Ram ... Although, I will admit that the resemblance is a little tenuous.”

He turns to me, smiling brightly, and my heart clenches at the sight of him, so close and carefree.

“It’s a line, and you know it,” he chuckles. “How do you even know so much about stars, anyway? They all look the same to me.”

“We have a couple of astronomy books back in our home library. My mother liked to stargaze,” I say, waving dismissively. “And … they remind me of you, so I like learning about them.”

“They remind you of me?”

“Yes. All of your moles are like constellations. I’ve always thought so. And, obviously, that night with the stars only reinforced the link.” God, I’m disgustingly sappy. How can he bear it?

“I see,” he sings, snuggling his head down against my chest. “Well … thank you for showing me.”

We lay together for a while, like that - His head moving with each rise and fall of my chest, and my shirt scrunched up in his fists. We don’t talk about all that much - just chatter about university and the new Nordic bakery Simon found just off of the Golden Square - but it’s nice. It’s normal. It’s us.

Smoothing a hand down his waist, I take a deep breath, readying myself for what’s next.

“Simon -” I start, my voice barely a whisper (Talking at full volume amongst the fragile calm that has settled between us feels far too disruptive).

“Hmm,” he hums, the vibration of his voice tickling against my skin.

“I need to tell you something. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Instantly, I feel his body stiffen, every muscle pulled taut with tension.

“It’s nothing bad,” I reassure. “Or … I don’t think so, anyway.”

“What then?” he asks, looking up at me, his brow knotted with nerves.

“I just … I Love you.”

And with those three words, he pulls himself away from me, once again. Yanking his arms backwards, and wrapping them around himself in a defensive self-hug, as he shifts away.

“Simon?” I call, uncertain. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer; just yanks at his curls and shakes his head no. Fucking Hell. I’ve really messed up now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … ruin things. I just wanted you to know. Please don’t - it’s alright.”

“No, Baz,” he trembles.

“No, what?”

“It’s not - I just - I don’t -”

Stumbling over his words, he jabs the heels of his palm into his eye sockets, in frustration. And I cringe, involuntarily, at the sight of it. It must hurt.

“Just … take your time, love,” I ease.

He sniffs, pitifully, then, and I think he may be crying. I’m on the verge, too - My throat thick with regret, and my eyes stinging, warningly - but I hold it in. Just. Crying would only make this worse, and it really doesn’t need to get any worse. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have forced my love upon him.

Hanging his head forwards, he gives himself a moment to recollect his faculties - His breath thick and shaking.

I wait, silently - Counting the stars above me in an attempt to ease my mind. Knowing that he’ll speak when he can - When he finds the words.

And sure enough, picking at the grass beneath him, he finally does - Sobbing and broken though they may be: “I just … don’t understand how you can anymore?”

“Understand how I can what?”

“How you can, like … love me.”

My heart clenches at the sound of him, so earnest and afraid. Of course. Even after everything we’ve been through - Even after all I’ve told him - he still can’t see that I do. Still can’t believe that I do. And it’s my fault, I know. I haven’t managed to tell him properly before now. Not in a way that he believed. Not in a way that he could let in and hold onto. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve just dropped my pride and told him outright and simple, rather than messing about with poetics. I should’ve told him months ago. Years ago! I’ve known for long enough. All I needed to do was let him hear it. But I didn’t. And now it’s too late.

Helplessly, I reach out, cupping the softness of his jaw with my hand, and turning him to face me. He resists, slightly, but lets me do it. He refuses to meet my eyes, though - Staring down at the floor, blankly, a teardrop hanging from the tip of his nose.

“Simon, listen to me. I’ve loved you for years. There’s plenty of reasons why I can, and do … I love your kindness. I love your morality. I love your bravery. I love your stubbornness. I love your fierceness. I love your smile. I love your heart. I love your mind. I love getting to spend time with you. I love how when we sleep, you always leave a light on for me because you know, even though I’m too proud to admit it, that I don’t like the dark. Or how … you always leave me a bit of your food for me to try -”

He’s staring at me intensely now, his eyes squinted and scanning across my face.

“- I could wax poetic about all the parts of you that I cherish forever, if need be. But, to keep it simple, I love everything about you. Even if you don’t … necessarily understand it, it’s the truth. You just need to believe me. You need to trust me. I loved you then, and I love you now. Nothing has changed, in that respect.”

“I’m a disaster,” he mumbles, looking away, his brow furrowed, and deep, frowning creases forming besides his mouth.

“I’ll give you that,” I smile, hoping to lift the mood. “But I love disasters.”

“Baz,” he huffs, planting his head in his hands. “I’m being serious.”

“Hey, look at me -” He doesn’t. “- So am I. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“But, I - I mean, I can’t even do it back, properly. It’s not that I don’t - Don’t, like, you know. I just … I can’t do this properly. I thought, at the start, that maybe I could. But I can’t. We’ve been together for ages now, and all I’ve done in that time is be an absolutely terrible boyfriend to you! Even by my standards.”

“Well, you did try to warn me,” I joke, shuffling slightly closer to him. “But … you’re not a terrible boyfriend, Simon. Don’t be unfair to yourself. This is good. You are good. And … after all, I’m the one who sent you on a pointless trip to the New Forest this morning. So, I reckon, if anyone is a terrible boyfriend right now, it’s me.”

“But you - I mean, you deserve better,” he whispers. “I’m not enough for you, anymore. I don’t think I ever was, really. You’re … you, and I’m just me.”

“You’re more than good enough for me, you halfwit,” I scold, softening my tone “Simon, you’re everything I want.”

“No, but … look around us. You did all of this, and I … I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, hush! You’ve done plenty. You’ve given me more than I ever could’ve hoped for. Even if you don’t see it.”

“But that’s the point!” he groans, yanking at his curls. “You should want more than that! What little I do, isn’t good enough. You’re just clinging onto when things were alright! But they’re not anymore, don’t you see?!”

I stare at him blankly, trying to figure him out. Why he can’t just accept what I’m saying, I’ll never know.

“Look … I’ll admit that things between us have been a little difficult, as of late. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or that somehow you’re not ‘good enough’ for me. I want you however you are. And sure, I'd love if things were a little easier - For you, and for me. But there’s no rush.”

“Things have been 'difficult' for months now, Baz!” he cries, his voice bitter and defeated. “I’m so sick of lying to myself, and pretending that I’m going to get my happy ending. My head went wrong long ago! At this point it’s best if we just cut our losses, and accept that I’m unfixable.”

I clench my eyes shut, pained. The utter hopelessness in his voice, a bitter pill to swallow.

“You’re not 'unfixable', Simon. You don’t even need to be 'fixed'. Just … Listen to me,” I plead. “I understand why we are where we are, and I don’t mind. We just need to … work through it. What happened to you - I mean, Merlin, it’s your whole life! The Mage was despicable. He used you. He abused you. He stole your entire childhood, without even a second of thought over what it might do to you! But … what happened at White Chapel was awful. You shouldn't have had to watch that. But, it's so much more than that - Than him. It's everything. All the instability of your early years. The Humdrum. All the killing and the fighting. Whatever happened to you and Bunce at the end of term. How the Coven just … ditched you. Christ, even me, Snow! I mean, I wasn’t exactly compassionate towards you at Watford, was I? I tormented you. I just … everything that happened - That kind of trauma doesn’t just vanish overnight. It takes time. And I know that you’ve been told that a million times before, and you’re probably fed up of hearing it, but it’s true. It’s fine that you’re not … fine, right now. I don’t expect you to be. I don’t need you to be.”

Turning away, he shakes his head.

“But it's not,” he protests, his voice whining. “I’m no good to you like this. I’m no good to anyone, anymore. I’m not some superhero. I’m not some supernova. I’m just … nothing. I’m a burden - To you and Penny. All you do is go to uni and babysit me! And, we still haven’t … I mean, I can hardly ever even be kissed without getting all weird! What kind of fucked up boyfriend am I?”

“There’s more to life than snogging, Snow,” I chastise. “I enjoy your company, whether we’re doing … those sorts of things, or not. I’m not babysitting you, I’m spending time with you. And you’re not a burden. Needing help doesn’t make you some kind of problem. You’re our friend. You’re my - We want to help you.”

“Yeah, but … I just want to be normal again. I just want it to all be simple. This is - I’ve ruined this.”

“Not true,” I argue. “This isn’t ruined. You just … keep focussing on what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

Reaching across the blanket, I grab a hold of his hand - Tracing my fingertips over the rough calluses there.

“This-” I enunciate, squeezing his palm for emphasis. “Is a lot more than we had two years ago. Nothing is ruined, it’s just, perhaps, not exactly what we’d expected.”

“Yeah but … it’s a lot less than we had when we first left Watford. I used to be able to … do it all properly. I don’t know what happened. I thought - I mean, it’s not your fault. I don’t know why I can’t just … do it.”

“I know -” I sigh.

Because he does have a point. Simon never really liked to be touched first - To feel pressured. But it used to be manageable. We could hug. We could kiss. Sometimes we’d even end up snogging on the sofa, for the better part of an hour. And as long as he was in control for the majority of the time, he could surrender himself to luxuriating in my affections, occasionally.

Nowadays though, even a chaste kiss on the cheek feels incredibly risky, so I rarely try to initiate anything. It’s better to let him decide when we can or can’t. There’s no need for me to be greedy about it.

And while I cannot deny that I miss it - being able to be close to him, in that way - I don’t mind. Not really. My whole life has been a practise in maintaining control over ‘powerful’ urges (Both Snow and non-Snow related), so I’ve had plenty of of experience in holding myself back. Screw the erotic gropefest that teenage me had always envisioned! As long as he’s comfortable, and he still wants this, then I’m happy to give or withhold whatever he needs. Being a little touch starved won’t kill me, but losing him probably would.

“- I understand that it’s frustrating, really I do. But … sometimes you have to take five steps backwards for each step forwards. And I appreciate that it hurts, but as long as you keep on walking, you’ll get where you need to be, eventually. If we carry on trying (And I mean really, actively trying), then I’m sure things will get a little easier for us soon, love. But you need to give it time. You need to give yourself time … That’s just the arduous nature of progress, I’m afraid.”

Sticking out his tongue in a fake vomiting gesture, he laughs - A little hushed and wet, but genuinely amused, nonetheless.

“Fucking hell! Don’t be so grim, Baz. You sound like a therapist!”

“Yes, well … there is a reason people pay to go and see therapists, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, he shoves his hands into my chest, jokingly.

“Yeah, and there’s a reason I stopped going to mine, smart-arse. Too much of that sort of crap!”

“I know, I know,” I laugh, wearily - Not trusting this brief flickering of emotional relief. “I don’t mean to be all preachy - God knows you probably won’t listen, anyway! But, as disgustingly cliche as it may be, it’s true.”

He pauses, sucking in a shaking breath.

“I know, but - I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t everything, Baz!” he explains, utterly exhausted. “I mean you just - And I didn't … you know, do it back. I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin it, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it back, Simon. That wasn’t the point. I just wanted you to know. I wasn’t counting on reciprocation. I don’t need that from you, it’s alright.”

“It’s not ‘alright’, Baz!” he snaps. “None of this is alright! Just … stop saying that! You always say that!

“But it is alright,” I assert, leaning towards him slightly. “I’m only saying it because I mean it! I didn’t intend to make you feel … obligated. I seriously didn’t expect you to say it back, or for it to be some huge ‘thing’. I’ve just … never managed to tell you, properly, and after America -” After seeing him lying there on the ground, lifeless and beaten, his wings twisted and covered in blood. As good as dead. “- I just needed for you to know. Everything is perfectly fine, I promise. I don’t care that you didn’t - I’m not upset by how you responded, Snow.”

“Well you bloody well should expect me to say it back! You should care! That’s the whole point! You’re supposed to want things from me. You’re supposed to expect things from me. You’re not just supposed to sit there and take whatever bullshit I give you, and keep on telling me that everything is fine and dandy, Baz!”

“I do ‘want’ things from you, Snow,” I sigh. “I just want them to be on your terms, when you’re ready. There’s nothing wrong with being accommodating. And … I’m only telling you it’s fine because it is! Just because something is somewhat positive, doesn’t make it a lie - You only think that it does. And, I’m sorry but … you’re wrong. I don’t mind that you aren’t ready to say it back - Whether it’s because you’re unsure of how you feel, or you don’t want to, or you just can’t. I want you to say it when you want to - Not before. I wanted to say it now, so I did. If you don’t, then don’t. Simple!”

He growls at that, just like he used to do when I’d insult him. Except this time I really don’t understand that objection.

“But - even if that’s true, it isn’t just that!”

“Then what?” I ask, exasperated.

I don’t mean to lose my temper with him, and I don’t really think I am (Not quite yet), but … I’m tired of arguing with him over even the smallest things. Everything I do is wrong. If I’m kind, he doesn’t believe me or accuses me of ‘babying’ him. If I snap, he takes whatever cruel thing that comes out of my mouth as my ‘true’ thoughts. If I hide my wants away, he has a problem with it. If I tell him, I’m pressuring him. All I do is lose. And while I know that I’m the one to blame, for being unable to figure out how to best be what he needs, I just wish that it would stop. I just wish that we could fix it. But we can’t. We don’t know how.

“Well, like … I see the look in your eyes when I pull away, or I shove you off, or I snap at you, or when I just … lay there. It’s like - You’re so sad, but you never say! And … I know that it’s my fault, but I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it, and I don’t know why! I don’t want to do it. I just - I just want to be normal again. And I want you to stop lying and saying everything is fine, when it clearly isn’t.”

“Snow, I’m not lying to you! I’m telling you that it’s fine because it genuinely is! How many times do I have to go over this? I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is that I just - I don’t believe you,” he huffs.

“But why not? I wouldn’t lie to you. I just … wouldn’t.”

“Because … it just - it means nothing to me, anymore, Baz! You got beaten down so many times in America, and all you did was keep on telling me that everything was fine, and reassuring me, and swearing that you were happy, when anybody who was paying attention could tell that you weren’t! So … how am I supposed to believe you when you tell me it’s alright now? How do I know you’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear, because you’re too afraid of me to tell me the truth?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Snow,” I drone. “I could drain you dry in a half a second, if I wanted to.”

And of course my insistence on being a petulant little git doesn’t help the situation at all - Only adding fuel to the, already, engorged fire. But it’s too late to take it back, now - So I let my little dig steep in the space between us. Rotten and unnecessary.

“Not like that,” he groans. “You know I don’t mean it like that! Don’t be such a dick! I just mean, like … it’s like you’re afraid of hurting me. You think that I can’t take the truth, so you keep on hiding it away from me, but you’re wrong. I can take the truth! I want the truth! I’m not - I’m not made of butterfly wings, and it pisses me off when you treat me like I am!”

“I don’t mean to … treat you differently,” I explain, taken aback. “I just don’t want to … pressure you, or make some idiotic mistake that’ll mess things up. But when I tell you things are fine, I’m not doing it to spare your feelings, I’m doing it because I mean it! All I’m doing is telling you the truth. I mean, what would you rather me do, Simon? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m perfectly fine, so what else is there? What, I mean - Do you want me to get mad at you over nothing? Because I'm telling you right now, I won't do it."

We’re both heated now - jaws clenched and words spat. And it’s just like old times, but it aches. It aches so bad. There’s no rivalry here, no facade, and no game. It’s just us - Fighting because we don’t know what else to do. And it’s so painfully real - so painfully vulnerable - that it near shatters my heart.

Tonight was supposed to be a relief, not a rematch. But here we are, once again - Right where neither of us wants to be.

“At least then I’d know you’re not being fake, just to protect me, or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

And with that, he jumps up, and stomps over to the edge of the lake - Sitting himself down in the mud, away from me. End of conversation. End of argument. But there's no point backing down now. If we're going to do this, then we may as well do it properly, and get this whole catastrophe over with ASAP. So I trail after him, helplessly.

Dropping myself down besides him, the words come tumbling out before I can stop them - So desperate and broken. My mask well and truly dissolved.

“Simon, I’m not like that, anymore. You know that. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“No, Baz,” he whines. “I shouldn’t have - I know that you don’t want that. Neither do I. I just mean that … you’re allowed to, like, complain. You’re allowed to fight back. You’re allowed to tell me when I’m being a prat - Or when I’ve hurt you. None of that would make you a bad person. None of that would put us back where we were. All it would mean is that I know what you’re feeling. What you’re really feeling. I want to know. Even if you think I don’t.”

“You know what I’m feeling,” I plead. “I keep on telling you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, apparently unconvinced.

“Only sometimes. And half the time you ‘telling me’ is just you saying you’re fine when you’re not. I know it is. You’re hard to read, but even you slip sometimes,, and I can tell that I’ve hurt you, or that something is bothering you, but you just … don’t say.”

“No, but … even if things aren’t necessarily great, I’m still fine. I’m still okay. I’m still happy. I’m not lying to you, Simon. What would be the point?”

“I don’t - I mean, I don’t think you are ‘lying’, exactly. I just - I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m calling you a liar. I know you wouldn’t … do that. But I think, maybe, you honestly do think you’re fine (Which is why you say that you are), when you’re not really.”

“What?” I ask, glancing over at him. “I’m not sure that I understand what you mean. Can you - Can you explain?”

“I don’t know, Baz,” he winces. “I just - I’ve been speaking to Penny … about you.”

Shifting himself forwards, slightly, he stares, expressionless, in front of him - His gaze a thousand miles from where we are. And I wait for him to elaborate, but it doesn’t come.

“Okay,” I drawl. “And what did Bunce have to say exactly?”

“Um, well … I, like, tried to explain to her what I think you’re doing - You know, when she pulled me out for one of her ‘chats’. And I mean, don’t worry - I didn’t tell her any detail about your personal business, or anything. I just wanted her to help me understand. And … she said that you sound like you’re in … denial.”

“‘Denial’,” I repeat, confused (And, perhaps, a little defensive). “In denial about what?”

“How you are,” he explains. “I just mean … I think she has a point. I don’t think you’re, like … normal.”

Finally, he looks over at me, and I raise an eyebrow in question - Unsure of what to say.

“Shit. Not like that,” he moans. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just - I’m not good with my words. I just mean that ... while, you may be better on the outside, I think that inside, you’re just as bad as me.”

I pause for a moment, unsteady, trying to find my words. But, unhelpfully, the only one that my brain seems to be capable of supplying right now is ‘Fine’. Maybe they do have a point, after all.

“Snow,” I huff. “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want you to. I’m perfectly normal … mentally.”

“But you would say that! I really don’t think that you are, though. You’ve never been fine. Not the whole time I’ve known you, Baz.”

“That’s not true,” I insist. “I. Am. Fine.”

He looks at me like it’s a lie; but it’s not. I mean it. And while I will concede that perhaps I’ve had a few moments of … concern, compared to him I’m golden. He’s the priority right now, not me. Because despite whatever may have happened in the past, I’m fine now. I can cope. Whereas he … well, I’m not sure that he can.

“Then what was that night in the forest about? Hm?” He challenges.

I steel, suddenly - His words suffocating my body.

We both know what was happening in the forest that night, but we’ve never actually spoken about it properly (There was no need to - I coped). I was overwhelmed and I acted a little … rashly. A moment of weakness - Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not like I’d ever try to do it again.

“That was a blip,” I dismiss.

He scoffs - Dull and unamused. “You can hardly call that a ‘blip’, Baz. I mean ... what if I wasn’t there. What would you have done? -”

I don’t answer him, because I can’t. I don’t know for sure what I would have done. Maybe I would’ve … gone through with it. But maybe I would’ve snapped out of it - I always had before.

Mercifully, though, he spares me the discomfort of having to reply.

“- And even if it was a ‘blip’ (Which it isn’t), what about the night I found you in the catacombs? Or all the nightmares? Or all your family stuff? Or how stressed you get about school - How hard you push yourself? Or the whole vampire thing? Or everything that happened with … Lamb?”

I cut him off before he can continue (Since I really don’t need a list of all things I’ve been weak enough to let my hurt show over). “I’ve told you there was nothing with Lamb. He convinced me that he could help. And I was playing a part, just like I was supposed to - I didn’t mean to make it sound like …”

“I know,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean like that. I know that. I just meant - I mean, I could tell that you were beating yourself up over it - over what he’d done - but … you were only trying to help us find Agatha. You couldn’t have known.”

“Okay.”

“But … that wasn’t my point. Specifics don’t really matter. My point was that … you’re not ‘fine’. And I know that … I’m not either. But, I just wish that you didn’t feel like you have to pretend to be perfect and unbothered all the time, because of me. You should be able to get help, too. You should be able to … feel whatever it is that you’re feeling, without panicking about someone else seeing.”

“So … you’re saying that, really, we’re just as bad as one another?”

“Sort of. I mean … it’s not, like, a contest, or something. I just meant that, maybe, we’re both not exactly one hundred percent.”

I laugh, bitterly. “We match.”

“We match,” he echoes, nodding his head.

“But even if what you’re saying has some merit -”

“Which it does!” he interrupts.

Glaring over at him, I roll my eyes, but don’t object.

“- Which maybe it does. I don’t understand why you’re bringing it up now. How I am is irrelevant to my little ... confession. And it doesn’t affect my ability to be honest with you?”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Just … let me try to explain, then.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Go ahead, Snow. I’m listening.”

“I’m bringing it up now because … I don’t want you to hide yourself away from me, anymore. It’s getting us nowhere. I just want - I mean, I want you to try and … not to do that. If you want something, ask. If I’ve upset you, say. If I’m being unreasonable, let me know. Don’t just … sit there and take it because you think it’s the noble thing to do, Baz. Please. I know that I … do the same sort of thing sometimes, but I don’t want you to, as well. I just - I don’t know how to tell what’s real or what’s just something you’re doing to try and be kind - Or to, like, protect yourself, I guess?”

I gawp over at him, chest heaving unsteadily.

He definitely has a point. I’ve been walking on eggshells around him for months. Carefully skirting around all that I want - all that I feel - in an attempt to stop it from consuming me. From consuming us. Convinced that it would destroy us both - Everything inside of me far too large, and hungry, and frightening, to handle.

“I just think that, if I know that you’re being … open with me, then it will be easier for me to believe you. To … believe all the nice things that you say or do, rather than questioning why you’re doing them. Whether it’s ‘cause you want to, or ‘cause you think it’s because that’s what I need from you in the moment, or ‘cause now’s the only ‘safe’ time to do it. I know … you’re not lying when you say you’re okay, but I think maybe you’re oversimplifying things, or, like, hiding the bad bits of how you feel. I just … if you say instead, it might help us. You won’t have to be so … frightened. And I might find it easier to accept what you say at face value, you know? I don’t know … maybe it’s stupid.”

Exhaling, he stares down at the floor, gnawing at his bottom lip, anxiously - His words heavy on my mind.

And, swallowing my pride, I speak - My voice crackling with emotion: “It’s not stupid. It makes sense, I - understand where you’re coming from. And, given that, I promise that I’ll ... try to be a little more forthcoming about how I’m feeling - More accurately descriptive. Even if it isn’t, necessarily, what I think you might want to hear.”

“Really?” he asks, disbelieving.

“Really.”

“Good,” he says, lips sparking upwards into a faint smile at my offer.

“But … I’m somewhat apprehensive about it?” I break.

“‘Apprehensive’? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to end up accidentally pushing you further away from me. You’re already so … far, sometimes. Talking about how I feel really isn’t essential for me. I’ve always managed perfectly well without doing it, before -” He scrunches up his face, clearly objecting, but he let’s me continue uninterrupted, this time. “- I don’t mind being … cautious. I like being cautious. If I just blurt out every single thing I’m thinking or feeling, you may … get the wrong idea. And it’s not that everything I think about us is negative, or anything like that, it’s just … occasionally a little bleak. You already doubt that I’m committed to this - that I still want this - and I'm do everything I can to prove it to you, but I’m not sure that the message has gotten through to you. I want to stay. I want you to stay. I want us to be … together. And, I’m afraid that, if I’m entirely open, I may scare you away. That you’ll mistake my … desperation, for dissatisfaction or unhappiness, and think that I don’t want you. When I do."

He nods, understanding.

“The absolute last thing that I want to do, is to mess this up,” I continue. “And, I’m not entirely sure that what you’re asking for won’t end up doing that. I just … want you to be sure that this is really what you want, before we go ahead and commit to it.”

“I know,” he whispers, sliding closer to me and grabbing hold of my hands. “I don’t want any of that bad stuff to happen, either, but I’m sure that this is what I want. I want to try it. Avoiding how you feel isn’t helping either of us, but ... maybe this will.”

“You avoid things, too,” I argue. “I understand that you don’t want to seek professional help at this point, and that’s your prerogative - But you still refuse to talk to Bunce and I about how you’re feeling. How is that any different to what I’m doing? Surely that isn’t helping us, either?”

As the words pour out of my mouth, my stomach pangs with shame. I don’t know why I’m, seemingly, so keen on shifting the blame over to him. We were working towards a resolution, and none of this is his fault (I’ve never thought that it was his fault). But maybe I’m just too cowardly to admit that my attempts to help have only hindered us. Maybe I just don’t want to bear the viscous twisting of guilt alone. Or maybe I’m just an arsehole (It wouldn’t surprise me. As much as I try to be a ‘good’ person, I so frequently miss the mark. It’s a wonder somebody as righteous as Simon can even tolerate my presence, to be honest, yet alone enjoy it).

He doesn’t rise to the bait, though - Just sighs tiredly, and thunks his head down onto the edge of my shoulder.

“I know I do. And you’re right … that doesn’t help us, either. But - I promise to try and stop, if you do. I want to get better, Baz,” he chokes. “I want us to get better.”

Lulling my head over, I look at him - His Adam’s Apple bobbing, showily, and his boring blue eyes brimmed with tears. And, utterly overcome, I press a quick kiss to his hairline - Chaste and feather-light.

“I want that too,” I admit, mumbling against him. “So we can do it together. I’ll do my best to be open with you about the more … difficult things, and you do your best to reciprocate. Sounds simple enough.”

It really doesn’t, if I’m honest. It sounds about as much fun as pulling teeth. But if this is what he wants - if this is what he needs - then who am I to argue? Trying something is better than trying nothing, after all.

“With our track record, probably not,” he chuckles. “We really aren’t very good at this.”

“True,” I breath. “But I’ve always loved a challenge, Snow. Why’d you think I went after the one guy I couldn’t have?”

“Because you couldn’t help it,” he softens, pressing closer - The heat of his face against my chest, welcome in the dwindling temperature of night. “You’ve told me that much.”

“I know. But, Snow… if we’re going to do this, then I need you understand that whatever I say - whatever I think - I still like you as you are, right now. I still like us as we are, right now. I’d rather work with you through a rough patch, than lose you all together. I wouldn’t - I really wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. I choose you, Simon - However ‘you’ may be. Good or bad. Through thick and thin. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll … try to remember. And - I’m sorry … about today. I didn’t mean to mess it all up. I wanted to say it back, I just … panicked. I didn’t mean to - I never mean to ruin things. To ruin us. I really do want to be able to, like, love you properly … ‘Cause I do … love you. I - I love you, Baz.”

Endlessly pleased, I take his face into my fands, and turn him around gently - Meeting his eyes face-to-face. My heart soaring gleefully within my chest at the sight of him - His cheeks flushed and a sweetly shy smile spread across his face. Because there it is - Finally. It’s all out in the open now.

I love him and he loves me.

“You see that is more than ‘proper’ enough for me, Snow,” I beam, impossibly light. “So don’t go giving up on us yet. There will be plenty of time for us to figure out all of our … mess, later. But, I think that we’ve done more than enough talking for one day. So just … forget about all of that right now, and stay with me here. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice wobbling, slightly. “You - Do you wanna’ show me the stars again, then? I’ve forgotten which constellation is which, already.”

“Of course you have,” I laugh. “You’re a hopeless study, I’ve always said so. But yes - It would be my pleasure to reeducate you.”

And so, taking his shoulders in my hands, I roll us over so that he’s flat on his back - Holding myself up above him, and resting our foreheads together. Simon breaking into a smile, beneath me - Wide and bright and shining. And he’s a little bit of a mess - fat streaks of tears still staining his face, and his hair pulled into a wild matte - but it’s everything that I’d wanted. Everything that I’d hoped.

Simon Snow is beautiful when he’s happy.

“Just … one more thing.”

“Anything,” I smile, smoothing his hair backwards.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Basil ... you know what,” he coos.

And I do, so I give it to him without hesitation (We’ve already had more than enough of that):

“I love you, Simon Snow. Now and always.”

And he smiles … and smiles … and smiles.

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #my fic

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #303

“if i can’t be loved, then i’ll be hated”

What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Candy corn or conversation hearts? They're both gross, don't make me pick between garbage. Do you own a lot of earrings? Not really after I weeded them out before moving. What did your backpack in high school look like? I dare say I had the dopest backpack of them all. It looked like a massive Ouija board, and the zipper was the planchet (sp?). Have you ever been to a rave? Nah. What is your favorite art medium? I have a particular fondness of oil paintings. They tend to look so smooth, and you can achieve incredible realism with them. How far away is the nearest hospital from you? Not even five minutes, I think. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? My mom. What is your favorite car color? Pink, duh. How did you learn to type? We actually had a class specifically for typing in middle school. What style of wedding dress do you want? I don't have that set in stone yet, but I really do love ballgown dresses with long trains as well as a-lines with a moderate train. I love a lot, except really for mermaid dresses. Do you fit into any stereotype, or are you non-stereotypical? I don't know if I fit perfectly into any and really don't care. Would you want your first child to have your hair color? ???? I don't care about their hair lol?????? It would depend on the hypothetical father, in which case I'd probably find it cute, but this is so, so unimportant. Do you enjoy writing in cursive? Yeah, it just feels good and flowy to me. What is your favorite hair color? Natural? Probably blonde with natural darker undertones throughout. I like blonde hair because it's far easier to dye, haha. Now, if we're including DYED hair, rose gold or pastel pink is *chefs kiss* What is your favorite eye color? Sapphire blue, probz. Would you put your birthday on a different day if you could? Nah, it's fine where it is. What holiday is your birthday closest to? Valentine's. Do you vent on social media a lot? NOOOOOOOO. I barely post ANYTHING about myself on social media because I feel like I'm being annoying, self-absorbed, find anything I do actually interesting, or don't want people to think I'm a whiner. All I ever really do on social media is share or reblog funny shit, things I love, stuff I find relatable or inspirational, educational, important for whatever reason, etc... Do you have abusive parents? I am very thankful to say no. Is your house haunted? Doesn't seem like it. What's your favorite thing to watch on YouTube? I'm in a real WoW-related phase lately... Watching my favorite streamers, gold farming guides, and other various aspects of the game. What are five health problems that you have? I talk about the mental issues enough, so I guess I'll talk about physical stuff here. Uhhh I have very low blood pressure (it's a med side effect), I have extremely weak legs following muscle atrophy, I have bad tremors, especially in my hands (amplified by medication once again), maybe TMI but we're adults here and it's a legit issue that I have chronic and severe conspitation, aaaand then of course I have hyperhidrosis (excessive sweating) to a fucking outrageous and also humiliating degree. Ooooonce again as a prescription side effect. This answer made meds sound kinda bad, I know, but really, I'd rather have the will to live and just have to deal with these than want to die everyday and not. Do you have surgery coming up? No, let's keep it that way until I lose enough weight and when I am 110% getting loose skin removal. Which family member(s) do you look the most like? My sisters, ig. People say my mom also, but I honestly don't see it. Have you ever cried while watching a YouTube video? Yeah, usually just in let's plays, but it's happened for other reasons. Are you missing a website that just shut down? Nah, none that I know of. NO. FUCKING WAIT. So, when my laptop was fixed, a LOT of shit was wiped from it, and that included all of my goddamn Lightroom editing presets. The site they were from no longer exists, so I had to use a different, pretty sub-par one to install at least a few because it helps me get a start on editing the photograph and leaning towards the "vibe" I want before spending like 15+ minutes tuning it myself. Would you be a barefoot bride? No. Which would you rather name your daughter: Eliana, Echo, Emerald, or Ellery? Ohhh, I like these. I think I prefer "Eliana," but "Echo" is a close second. "Ellery" is nice, but it sounds too much like "celery" to name my kid that lmao. Which would you rather name your son: Maverick, Matthew, or Moses? Ugh, none, honestly. But "Matthew" wins. When was the last time you gave a speech? Like a *legit" speech? Probably not since uhhh... I guess when I argued my disability case at court? Does that even count? Have you ever been in a stampede? Well, never seen this'n in a survey before, so good job, lol. No. If you were a fairy, what color would you like your wings to be? It would depend on what I wore, really. And my hair. But probably light pink. Would you rather name your son Storm, Skylar, Sorin, or Solomon? "Sorin." "Skylar" is SO Southern, and "Solomon" sounds like the creepy kid all his classmates avoid and I ain't putting my kid through that. Did you read a devotional this morning? Not my jam. Would you rather be named Arizona, Alaska, Cali, or Georgia? Hm... "Alaska" is actually kinda cool???? And I'm white as fuck so lol????? I wouldn't mind to nickname of "Ally," anyway. Are you repulsed by ugly reptiles? lololol bro get out Did all your friends know about your first crush or was it a secret? I was definitely secretive and shy about it when I first started getting crushes. Do you ever feel insecure about going out without makeup? I feel insecure either way, so... How many different natural hair colors are there in your immediate family? So, this is a hard question to answer. My mom was born with brown hair, but it darkened to almost black; only her daughter Katie inherited that. By some genetic magic, Dad had blond hair as a kid, but it also turned black. Like... how?????? I was born with dirty blonde hair like him, and mine turned an average brown with age. My immediate sisters have always had brown hair. What is your favorite online game? World of Warcraft is ballin'. Would you ever want to be famous and sign autographs? Ha, the idea of signing autographs is awful... I can't physically write very long without my carpal tunnel flaring up. Do you like your shirt to be loose or tight? LOOSE. Especially as a bigger person, tight shirts are just really uncomfortable. What is your favorite Spanish name? I don't know nearly enough to answer this. Would you rather visit Asia or Europe? I think Asia is, in general, more interesting and prettier as a whole, but I guess I'm drawn to European culture being more like my own and there are specific locations I'm interested in, like Germany or Scotland. So to answer the question, I guess Europe wins. Are there any Asians in your family? I don't believe so. Have you ever had colored braces? Haha yeah, I did that when I had them. Do you take birth control pills? Yes, just for period cramps. Without them, they can be immobilizing for me. If you live in the USA: do you feel free and safe? Ha, no. Well, not *entirely*. Have you ever been sick on your birthday? I was recovering from the stomach virus, if that counts. As in I still got sick the day before and felt iffy on my actual bday. 17th, I think? Is talking about your past painful for you? Yes. Are you a member of any support groups online? I'm a member of The Mighty site, if that counts. When I'm feeling very, very sound of mind and helpful without all the negativity being a detriment to myself, I do like going on there and trying to help or comfort people. Have you ever called a suicide hotline? Yes, and the line was busy, and that's when I decided I was a goner. Do you ever fantasize about revenge? I uhhhhh... sometimes. What's a movie you would recommend to someone who never watches movies? Ohhh, that's hard. I don't really watch movies either, and I'm trying to think of one that essentially anyone would like, so hm. Oh, Coco is absolutely a possibility. That movie touched me so, so deeply and is high on my favorites list. It's impossible to not feel the emotions. Do you want to have grandkids? Hell, I don't want kids. Do you want to be an aunt or uncle? I already am one, and I love being an aunt. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I don't remember their names or characters in general. Did you make a lot of home videos growing up? I mean *I* didn't, but Mom filmed quite a few. Do you enjoy babysitting? NO. What's an unpopular opinion that you have? Avoiding some political ones, uhhhh. OH. HERE'S ONE. THE SCENE AESTHETIC IS FUCKING CUTE AND NOT CRINGEY AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ABOUT IT. Are you attracted to the opposite gender, same gender, or both? Both are A+. Was your first crush on someone of the same gender or opposite? Opposite. As a kid, I didn't even fathom the concept that women could date women. What is something you'll never eat again? Why? Brussel sprouts. Fucking disgusting. What is currently happening that is scaring you? Besides the very obvious answer of "Covid," I worry about my mom a lot. She's so weakened after all the chemo and meds and can do literally less than I can without heavily breathing and sweating. I just worry a lot that cancer will return sooner than we hope; I don't want it to EVER come back, but doctors say it is very, very likely at one point or another because she was so very close to Stage 4. What would be your personal hell? Being completely and entirely isolated forever while somewhere hot and humid, lol. And play one of my trigger songs on repeat eternally. What made the "weird kid" at your school weird? There was this poor guy named Alfred that was VERY clearly depressed out of his mind, and I heard him speak maybe once through all of high school, and the entire class couldn't believe it. He always sat way in the back and never smiled. I wonder how he is nowadays. What is a word you personally find offensive? "Retarded" personally offends me the most when misused and spoken as an insult. What instantly puts you to sleep? Now that is HARD to do; I have a ridiculously hard time going to sleep. The easiest way though would probably be me being drained from an emotional breakdown. That is so exhausting that I'm capable of crashing pretty fast and hard. What song is in a language you don't speak, but you love it anyway? I adore Rammstein, so there's plenty. I'll probably say "Donaukinder" is their best. What is something you would like to do if you weren’t judged for doing it? I keep that I RP a complete secret in my "real" life for this reason unless it's like, pried out of me. What's a movie you think everyone should watch? Why that one? Johnny Got His Gun. See how goddamn disgusting war is. What was the most unexpected good thing that's ever happened to you? Ha, realizing I was bisexual after once being homophobic. What is the funniest fact you know? Oh man, I know a lot of random trivia shit, really, so it's hard to say. Maybe that quokkas throw their offspring at predators to distract and escape from them... As awful as that is, c'mon, you gotta admit it's funny and shocking with just how adorable they are. What was your 'mic drop' moment? Oh, I don't know. Possibly when I publicly came out as bi on Facebook and made it abundantly clear that I gave no shits about some homophobic friends and family & I was beyond willing to let anyone's ass go over it. What's the kindest way a stranger has treated you? I remember as a kid at McDonald's, the woman in front of our car paid for our food; apparently seeing a mom, dad, and three kids in a van was enough that she wanted to just be kind and give us a smile. We have no idea who she was, never saw her face or anything, she was just a sweet woman. What is the biggest design flaw of your body? Okay, I'm going to let go of all hatred for my body weight-wise and just think of this as from a strictly natural design perspective, in which case I'd say my toes are too small. What age are you afraid of turning and why? 30, because I'm terrified of getting there and seeing I've possibly gone nowhere. What is the strangest thing you have ever felt? I'm keeping this question in just because I think there could be some interesting answers for others, but I'm witholding my answer because nobody wants or needs to know lmao. What makes someone immediately unlikable? Acting better than others and belittling. Who's a villain you sympathize with and why? D A R K I P L I E R because of his origins and overall purpose and just simply existing. What is something you regret to NOT have done? I have this oddly weird regret of not going like, all-all the way with He Who Shall Not Be Named????? Idk why though????? Considering I loved him way too much and I was a reckless and impulsive person who probably at some point would have wound up accidentally pregs????? What a fuckin trip that woulda been. What movie changed your life for the better? None have really "changed my life." What book you think should be directed as a film? Oh, idk. Most I can think of have been. Of all the decades you've lived in, which one have you liked best? The 2000s, probably. A carefree kid. How are you doing today? I'm exhausted. While out with Mom and my sisters yesterday, we got behind a van whose driver was obviously drunk or high off his goddamn ass, and he was swerving EVERYWHERE, nearly shoving so many cars off the road. Mom called 911 to get in contact with highway patrol to report his dumb fucking ass in. I was having an absolute panic attack and cried quietly like the entire 45 or so minute drive home. I was just so, so upset because this is why I don't fucking drive, and I felt like I'd made my sister (who was driving) mad because she had to firmly tell me I had to calm down (I was hyperventilating and talking to myself to try to calm down) if she was going to focus and keep us safe. She later ensured me she wasn't mad, but I still wasn't the same the entire rest of the day. Anyway, I slept hard last night but had two nightmares, so I'm still really tired today. I'm trying to keep myself really distracted. What's something your relatives don't know about you? A whole lot really, considering beyond my very immediate family, I see almost nobody because they live many states away. What's something your parents did, which you have sworn never to do? Mom would spank us or slap an arm pretty hard if my sisters or I misbehaved or "disrespected" her by "talking back." I'm not having kids, but I would never, ever, ever, put my hands on them in any way that isn't loving. You do not teach children via inflicting fear. I also have this probably overly strong aversion to beer because that's what Dad always drank as an alcoholic. I'll probably never try it, not that I really want to because it smells awful. What's the most annoying thing your pet does? I feel like "annoying" is the wrong word for this, but Roman (my cat) can be incredibly demanding of attention and to lie on me when I'm on the laptop in bed, and sometimes I just want space and be able to clearly see the screen, haha. He will legit meow like a baby and gently swat my arm sometimes if I try to keep him back. Heeee usually gets his way. As for Venus (snek), she does nothing "annoying" either, but rather a bit concerning to a snake mom: she is usually very slow to find and strike her food. I feed her frozen/thawed mice, and she will first slither around her entire cage, tongue flicking and clearly looking for her food, even though I always place it atop the same spot on her hide, and she can have her head RIGHT beside it and still do nothing. She ultimately generally eats (as a ball python though, she's a picky eater and will occasionally reject a meal), but I of course wonder why she's odd about dinnertime... As a champagne, she does have the notorious "spider gene" in her, which can cause neurological issues, but idk if something like this could be related.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''rise rebel resist'' by otep

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citrineghost · 5 years

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A Letter to WordPress

Dear WordPress,

Tumblr has been around for a good while now and many of us have been here since the beginning (or close to it). It’s become something of a comfort and a home base for many. You can understand then why it’s so terrifying and tension-setting when a new owner comes around.

This website has been through a lot of changes, very few of them good in recent years. I want to open up a dialogue from the user base about our feelings and desires surrounding this site, because to so many of us, not only its design and function, but its success and future are a big deal.

Obviously not all of the things I list below will be universal opinions, but I’ll try to outline some of the things I’ve seen the majority of users want. I’ll also throw in some things that are more personal, because I can’t claim to know everything the rest of the users want, but I can tell you where I see obvious problems.

First and foremost, here’s an obvious one. You can’t really go anywhere on Tumblr without knowing: we want the bots and the nazis gone. We need some kind of captcha system for every time someone wants to include a hyperlink in a post or response. Until the staff count gets higher, I would honestly suggest closing down the report system for everything but bots, nazis, and death threats/suicide bait.

Make NSFW content welcome again. Outside of porn bots, the pervasiveness of NSFW content is slim to none. As long as minors and those with ‘NSFW’ blacklisted aren’t seeing the NSFW content, there’s nothing wrong with it being here. A large number of the people posting NSFW content on here are artists who use this content to make a living on commissions. The ban has done nothing but make valuable members of the Tumblr community leave and take their art elsewhere. The focus should be cracking down on anyone who isn’t properly tagging NSFW content with ‘NSFW’. If the focus is put on that, the problem with NSFW content will be null.

Please keep Tumblr unintegrated with other social media. Most users will agree, the anonymity is such a huge part of what draws us to Tumblr. Other people only know what we tell them and it’s very appealing for our real life accounts (e.g. Google, Facebook, etc.) to be completely separate. When users want to share links to other accounts, they can do so easily with links on their blogs.

Replace ads with either, better, more sensible ads or members content. A large part of the ads on Tumblr make absolutely zero sense just by looking at them. Not to mention, they’re all completely unfit for the user base. I’ve seen weight-loss ads (harmful to the many people on the site recovering from eating disorders) and ads for products most people wouldn’t need or want until their forties. Most of the user base is 13-35, if I had to guess. I can tell you right now, you would make more money and the user base would be much happier if ads were removed in favor of members content. Adding a paid membership that allows users to gain access to new features (rather than restricting what’s already here) would be a huge boost in morale and company income. Use that income to improve the site. Don’t get comfortable making more than the bare minimum in profit until the website is functioning reasonably well. Hint: it’s not right now.

Keep the base functions of Tumblr. Don’t try and get radical, hoping big changes will excite the community. They won’t. We’re creatures of habit and we just want memes, fandom, and relatable nonsense. Keep reblogging, replies, customizable blogs, tags, and likes functionally the same.

Be receptive to bug reports and post change logs so that the community knows that they’re being addressed and fixed.

These are the obvious pleas of the community. Please keep in mind that the heart of Tumblr is in its users and if you ostracize us, there will be nothing left. We love this website and we want to see it thrive as much as anyone. We just don’t want to sacrifice the spirit of the community in the process.

Read more under the cut if you want to see some more of my own personal suggestions. I’d love for other users to sound off in the replies with whether they agree with any of the pleas or suggestions and also give their own!

Okay, so, here are some personal opinions that are by no means the voice of the community. I think they’re pretty sensible, but what do I know?

Change back the color. I hate this saturated navy color and I’m pretty sure a lot of others do too. I’m part of the disabled community and I know and have seen people saying that these extremely contrasted colors that were added are making their Tumblr experience worse. It gives people headaches due to light sensitivity and, frankly, it’s ugly. If you’d like to cater to those who are visually impaired/colorblind, that’s fantastic! Do so with an account setting that turns on higher contrast mode or adds patterns to things to make them distinguishable.

Add an option to blog suggestions and posts that have shown up on your dash from followed tags that says “Stop Suggesting This.” I’ve been suggested a number of blogs that I’m not interested in following. I don’t want to block the user, but I do want some different suggestions and for those blogs to stop showing up in suggestions. I’m also tired of seeing the same post twenty times from a tag I follow. There is currently an option that says “This particular posts sucks.” While I think that was a great attempt at catering to the community, I don’t want to use it because my intuition says that there’s a negative connotation. Does me saying the post sucks make it show up less for other people? Does it lose popularity? I can’t tell. The only thing I know is that I don’t want to say that a good post sucks just to make it quit showing up on my dash.

Implement some of the features that XKit uses. I would bet at least a quarter, if not more, of Tumblr users use XKit to make using Tumblr less painful. That shouldn’t be the case. Tumblr should have these functionality options available in dashboard settings.

A very hot take here that many might disagree with: Make notes viewable more like mobile has them. As it is, it’s hard to tell which ones I’ve seen on desktop. It can be tricky on mobile too, honestly, but it’s easier than on desktop. I would also heavily suggest making the unseen notifications darker so that they stand out and making a button to indicate that you’ve seen them.

Keep the dash, messages, notes, and profile as separate processes similar to how mobile has it. The trek all the way down the damn dashboard is a long one. I want to be able to see notes and messages in full size without losing my dash progress. When I switch back I want to be right where I was. I understand if this one isn’t possible or practical. It was just something I like about mobile over desktop but I’m aware that they’re two different beasts with different capabilities.

As far as the aforementioned members features, I do have some ideas, but I can’t guarantee they’re the best the user base has to offer. I’m sure others could think of better. Anyway, some things I’ve thought of are groups/clubs, digital currency, and separate dashboards. So, as it stands, You can have multiple blogs on one account. People can follow them separately. That’s fantastic. What would also be nice though, is being allowed to make separate dashboards. This would probably take up another chunk of server space, so I understand if it isn’t feasible right now, but I would jot it down. The ability to separate shitposts, aesthetic imagery, fandom content, and NSFW would be amazing. If you follow a huge number of blogs, like me, you could even make a friends dash so that you don’t miss your friends’ posts. It would just be a matter of allowing people to add and name their new dashboards. Then, when they go to follow people, it prompts them to choose what dash their content goes to. You could even simplify it by making the follow button default to the main dash, but adding a little dropdown arrow beside it. You could then choose which dash to add them to from a list. Below are some bad paint-drawn concept drawings.

Anyway, I hope this has all been helpful in some way. I’m fairly certain that WordPress will never actually read this, but it was cathartic to write and I hope it will be cathartic for someone else to read.

Sincerely, birb-ghost

#wordpress #tumblr #news #update #updates #verizon #yahoo #design #web design #developers #development #concept #concept art #art #drawings #good omens #bug #bugs #ghostpost #letter #letters

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anneapocalypse · 5 years

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RWBY 7.01 - 7.02

There is so much to talk about here. Spoilers!

(Please note that I’m not currently a FIRST member, so please don’t spoil me, thanks!)

We’re in Altas now! I love the aesthetic of Mantle, and I like that they didn’t go for the kind of full-on steel-and-glass futuristic aesthetic you might expect for all of Atlas. Instead, it’s more of a Victorian-futuristic look, with brick buildings and cobblestones and narrow streets.

Qrow’s new voice actor is killing it. Jason Liebrecht delivers a performance that is virtually indistinguishable from old Qrow if you aren’t listening closely for it. akisawana pointed out to me that he’s emoting more, which I think tracks for his character growth, but his voice and inflection is spot-on Qrow.

Themes of distrust build immediately, with Qrow uncertain if they should take to Ironwood. Weiss is concerned about the increased military presence in Mantle. We see the face of Winter Schnee on a screen, apparently the public face of Atlas military, and perhaps despite Weiss’s confidence we wonder if our heroes can trust her.

There is a fair amount of talky exposition in these first two episodes and some of it is rather on the nose, as the story quickly tries to get us up to speed with the situation and the general atmosphere in Mantle. People don’t love the surveillance state—we see some children throw a rock at one of the camera bots. But people love Atlas, and they’re proud of their city, even if difficult times.

And we meet Giapetto—I meant Pietro! Something of a convenient character, as he’s both high up in Atlas security and living and working down among the common people; he knows Ironwood, and Maria Calavera, and of course, his daughter has told him all about Team RWBY.

And as many of us probably suspected as soon as we laid eyes on this man, our sweet Penny has returned! I loved it through and through. “I thought you were dead” is one of those tropes in fiction that just always gets me, so Ruby’s face when she realized her friend was a live, and Penny’s face when she saw Ruby and recognized her… I needed a minute. It was just a truly delightful moment, made even more so by Penny’s exuberant tackle-hug.

I’m curious how it is that flightless Grimm are getting into Atlas, since I would think part of the appeal of a floating city in the first place is to keep them out. It wouldn’t stop flying Grimm, of course, but these monsters weren’t flying. EDIT: They weren’t in the floating city, they were down in Mantle, that’s my bad. Anyway, it was a fun battle to watch, as Oscar has learned a few things, and Blake backing up Yang and giving her that little nod was very sweet.

I am still banking on Oscar becoming the official new leader of Team JNR, making them Team ORNJ. Oscar’s outfits even have orange in them, and for nothing directly to do with his name. It’s a sign, I tell you!

Sadly, Qrow’s optimism must never go unpunished! and our heroes are promptly taken captive by the Aesop’s—er, I mean, the Ace Ops. ;) This feels more for drama than anything else, and it’s kind of reminiscent of Wash, Donut, Sarge, and Lopez being taken captive by the Feds in season 12 of Red vs. Blue. But there’s a valid reason: the did steal a ship.

I love how Weiss says, “Ironwood’s Ace Operatives” like they’re a big deal, but as soon as someone else acts impressed by them, she’s like, “They’re not that big a deal.” Oh Weiss! Some things about her never change, and the way she throws shade is one of those things.

I also think it’s pretty obvious that Weiss is still influenced by her upbringing, both as an Atlesian and as a Schnee. “Tyranny” honestly isn’t that much of an reach from what Ironwood’s doing. It’s easy to sympathize with him, because he’s just so goshdarn likable and he make a sadface and we do kind of know his heart’s in the right place—but he’s misguided as hell and even the people close enough to give him the benefit of the doubt can see it. Ironwood puts his faith in technology, and when his tech failed him he only doubled down, trying to make it stronger. And now that we know who the leak is from Atlas security, we can pretty much assume it’s only going to backfire on him harder next time.

“Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses” sounds very intriguing, and I’m always excited to meet new female leader characters! I’m also thrilled to hear we have an old Winter Maiden, and I can’t wait to meet her. Really appreciating the introduction of cool old ladies in recent volumes.

I love Blake’s expression of trust in Ruby’s leadership, which seems representative of everyone present. Ruby really is the reason they’re all here—it was her journey to Haven with team JNR that brought them all to where they are. She is not just the leader of Team RWBY but the leader of this whole expedition, especially with Ozpin having lost the trust of so many of them, and now absent entirely. They all trust her.

Ruby, by contrast, is not sure if she can trust Ironwood. I really like this. I like Ruby learning to be cagey and not bestow her trust and optimism on everyone she meets. This feels more like character growth than frankly anything we’ve seen before, and I will take it!

Ironwood has brought Penny and Winter into the inner circle. That alone I don’t really question; they’re both loyal and responsible. What I do question is his decision to tell the Ace Ops, given that… well, I know they’re supposed to be the best, and they did capture our heroes, but it’s also been kind of hard to take them seriously thus far and I question that their discretion and judgment is up to the level required.

But Ironwood doesn’t just want to tell them. He wants to tell everyone. And this is where we’re reminded, not just of the constant threat of Grimm, but that they’re drawn by negative emotions. This is a world where fear brings literal monsters, and in a world like that… the rules are just different. It’s easier to understand Ironwood’s protective instincts, I think, in that context. Managing the emotions of the public is a question of national security. It doesn’t make him right, but… it’s important context.

And here we come back to Ironwood’s reliance on technology and military might. He believes the Atlas military can keep the Grimm at bay and keep people safe. I think he’s vastly underestimating how little anyone outside of Atlas trusts the Atlesian military anymore. They won’t feel safe under his protection, especially in Vale—they might even actively resist his aid. And the more afraid and angry they are, the more Grimm will come.

There is something comical about the fact that Ironwood’s grand plan is… to rebuild Amity Arena. Oh, with a comm tower. That latter part makes perfect sense! Why it needs to be attached to a colosseum, less so. Style points, I guess? Morale booster? Sure.

It’s also comical how much our heroes buried the lede on Oscar being the new Ozpin. And here, we get confirmation that Oz is still gone. Not present, not communicating with Oscar. I thought maybe they’d come to an understand, but… nope. He’s just gone. Which feels ominous, but also makes me wonder: what if Ozpin really is gone from Oscar? What if he’s in someone else? We’ve kind of assumed that couldn’t happen, but we don’t really know for sure. It’s a far out theory, and I don’t really think it’s true, but wouldn’t it be wild if he was now in Ruby—if Ozpin’s presence were at the heart of her reticence, her keeping Ozpin’s full story from Ironwood.

Of course, it’s probably better character development for Ruby if she just did that on her own.

But that leads me to another point, which is that it just kinda seems foreshadowed at this point that Ozpin will probably, somehow, be removed Oscar. Everyone’s been thinking of the aura transfer machine from volume 3, and at this point I’d say it’s likely that’s what the machine was always for in the first place: Ozpin, who after so many lives might be tired of having to inhabit the bodies of unwilling hosts. Ironwood, with Pietro’s help, was probably trying to find a way to free Oz from the cycle of death and rebirth, by transferring him permanently into a synthetic body. It seemed like a possible solution when Amber was attacked. But the machine had to have been in development before then.

When Ruby tells Ironwood that according to Ozpin, all the lamp’s questions were used up, Ironwood says “Right… right” in such a way that makes me think he either knows, or suspects, that this isn’t true. Probably suspects. He walks to the window and says thoughtfully, “Oz told us that too, a long time ago.”

So Ironwood no longer fully trusts Ozpin. And Ruby can’t fully trust Ironwood. Even Qrow is uncertain. I think Leo’s betrayal was a real blow to him.

But the moment that I think truly cements Ironwood’s character is that despite all that, he returns the relic to Ruby for safekeeping. It is a gesture of good faith that I think is pretty unlikely to be anything but genuine. I cannot imagine him parting with that relic if he truly only wanted power for himself.

The Ironwood and Qrow hug was beautiful. Whether friendship or romance, there is definitely some kind of deep connection between the two of them. Enough that Ironwood needed to tell Qrow, personally, that it was good to see him, and underscore his sincerity. And Qrow, when James hugs him… he smiles. He looks affectionate. It’s honestly really sweet.

Our heroes are about to get weapon upgrades! I do think it’s interesting the way Winter says this: “While assisting the military, we will provide you with the best equipment our scientists can devise.” And if they are no longer assisting the military…? Yeah, I do highly suspect our heroes will fall afoul of Atlas military again at some point.

This feels a strong opening to the new volume, and it’s laying out these themes of trust and distrust quite heavily, which I think will be very interesting to watch play out among all the characters involved. Most of all I’m looking forward to more of a character arc (read: any character arc) for Ruby, but there is a lot going on here in this new Atlas-centric part of the story. I’m excited to see more.

#rwby7 #rwby spoilers

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theproven · 4 years

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ProVen Review

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jinterlude · 5 years

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What A Cliché (Prologue)

↳ story aesthetic made by @today-we-will-survive for the BA’s Summer Content Creator Exchange!

» Pairing(s): Kim Seokjin x OC (female) [feat. the rest of the BTS & OC best friend)

» Genre(s): Parenthood!AU, Veterinary!AU, Business!AU, Enemies turned Lovers Trope, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Fluff, & Slight-Angst

» Keyword for Event: Carnival

» Warning(s) & Rating: Swearing / PG-13

» Words: 5.2K (5260)

» Summary: When people hear the phrase, “Well that’s a first...” it’s usually because something shocking or amazing has occurred. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for one Park Sumin. Going from working in an office to visiting the local carnival, she had some rather interesting first experiences. Ranging from trying out some carnival food to questioning her engagement to Lee Seonghwa (AOMG’s Gray), never in her life did she think that she would run into someone her brain had blocked out for years. Can you say a fun filled summer that not only would change her life but his as well.

◃ Previously | Next Time ▹

Prologue: Meet the New Neighbor

“You know…I have a feeling that you two would make the perfect couple someday…”

“By perfect, you mean that I’d want to kill him every waking moment I can get, right?”

“Nah, my precious little ray of sunshine. I mean that one day, you two will make gorgeous looking children to the point that I’m going to “borrow” one of them to pick up guys.”

A look of utter and complete disbelieve washed over her face as she felt her eye twitch just a smidge from her best friend’s remark.

And just as she opened her mouth to retort, an annoying voice rang in her ears. The one voice she took years of practice to block out him from her memories. Until that evening, she had long forgotten the prick that made her life a living Hell, but fate had an interesting idea of entertainment and unfortunately, she had become the main character of this stupid little sitcom.

God help her…

“You should learn to smile more often, princess! You might land more dates that way!”

“That’s it! Listen here you annoying fucking gnat!”

Eight Hours Earlier…

Letting out yet another long, exasperated sigh, a visibly tired young woman rubbed the sides of her forehead, trying her hardest to not only ignore the unbearable heat that lingered in her office but her rather extra chatty friend. The poor girl had honestly forgotten why she invaded her workplace in the first place. That was how long the rather one-sided conversation had become.

“Okay, Sowon, I love you, but please for the love of God get to the point.” Said the exhausted girl.

A tiny groan escaped Sowon’s lips as she narrowed her eyes onto her friend.

“I did get to my point, Sumin.” She flashed a bright smile further irking Sumin, “Now, I’m just rambling since I noticed you zoned out around the five-minute mark.” She stated, smiling sweetly.

Her bottom lip practically disappeared as Sumin suppressed the growl that brewed in the back of her throat. Did Sowon seriously ramble her ear off just because she tuned her out twenty-minutes ago?

If she had more friends, Sumin would’ve had honestly dropped Sowon years ago but alas, she didn’t. The career driven young woman had no time for herself, let alone go out and meet new people. She had always been like this ever since high school. She dedicated her time to her studies and a few extracurricular activities.

And that was exactly how she liked it.

She had seen her fellow classmates become a social mess. She had witnessed physical fights, loud, obnoxious arguments between love sick individuals, and that only scratched the surface of her high school experience and she gladly kept it that way.

She never dated. She never went to any of the sports games that were played at her school. Shit. She never attended any of her school dances, especially prom. Instead, she researched universities that had the best business program and weighed the pros and cons of attending them.

After days and nights of agonizing over which university to attend to, she finally settled on applying to USC because their business program was on par with those out of the country, and the rest was history.

Now, here she sat in her office chair while Sowon, who she met during her sophomore year of college in biology, stared her down. Her gaze intensified with each passing moment. That was Sowon’s superpower. Sumin didn’t know how Sowon does it, but with just one simple stare, Sumin submitted easily.

And quite frankly, she both despised it yet was thankful for it. It was because of her best friend that she slowly came out of her shell. She actually became more aware of her surroundings.

Go figure?

A few more minutes passed by and tiny whines left her lips as Sumin clutched important documents that contained hypothetical numbers of the projected money flow for the next six months.

“I can keep this up, sunshine.” Sumin heard Sowon taunt. She could practically hear the smugness radiate from her words.

Finally, the poor girl had enough. She slammed the paper down on her desk, unleashing the pent-up frustration that settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Fine! I’ll go to the stupid summer carnival with you! Now, will you please stop staring at me!?” Sumin practically roared, secretly thankful that her office was soundproof.

Sowon smiled proudly as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Done.”

Meanwhile…in a different part of the city…

Brows knitted together. Tiny drops of sweat trickled down his forehead. The sound of heart rate monitors mixed with his heavy breathing filled the operating room. This bright, luminescence bulb emitted this heat that felt like the sun was directly above the man’s head. However, he didn’t let it deter him from the task at hand. He quickly asked the nurse for his water and took a few sips through the straw before resuming the surgery.

“Sir,” The man heard one of his assistants speak, “Have you thought about the possibility of reconstructive surgery instead of removing the shard fragment?”

The determined man sighed before a small smile appeared on his handsome face.

“I have thought about it, but that would be the effortless way out. This innocent creature doesn’t deserve something that would only complicate her life some more, “He paused, wiping away a bit of sweat from the side of his forehead, “Besides, I think of this a big “fuck you” to that evil, cruel person that could harm a defenseless puppy. I’m going to save her if this is the last thing I do.” He finished with this sense of purpose flowing throughout his veins as he resumed operating on the puppy, praying that he wasn’t too late.

But luckily…

He wasn’t…

It took him the rest of the day to the point that he had his receptionist unfortunately cancel the remaining appointments, but he saved the puppy’s life. The last shard fragment was wedged in an area where one false movement with his knife and tweezers, the puppy would've died right on the operating table. That specific situation had been every veterinarian’s nightmare, but just like with any nightmare, it sometimes fades away and soon replaced with a relaxing dream. A dream where resulted in this state of euphoria and great night’s sleep. That was why he took this job as a veterinarian. He wanted to ensure that the animals that came into his office left with a peaceful state of mind.

And so far, so good. His track record remained spotless. He could now go home with a bright smile knowing that he saved yet another brutally injured animal.

Currently sitting in his office, the tired yet happy veterinarian typed out something in the body of the email message. He muttered a few words as he read his paragraph repeatedly until it sounded right.

The sounds of clicking of the keyboard bounced of the four walls until this knock joined in.

“Come in.” He said quickly.

“Hey, Seokjin!” greeted the stranger cheerfully.

Seokjin’s eyebrows raised as he peeked around his computer monitor. He knew that voice, and that particular voice didn’t usually visit his office unless the person wanted something.

His eyes flickered back to the screen as his fingers resumed typing away, hoping that this email would be sent out before 7 o’clock in the evening.

“What do you want, Jungkook? Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head as he flopped down on the chair in front of his friend’s desk.

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m not blind…well…not yet.”

Seokjin snorted, “I’m honestly surprised that you’re not actually. All those years of playing video games with the lights off,” He pushed up his glasses just a bit, “Guess I wasn’t blessed with a strong eyesight to begin with.” He said; the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

Jungkook playfully clicked his tongue, “Yeah. I guess not,” A short chuckle left his lips, “But, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and the rest of the fellas to the summer carnival that’s currently in town?” He asked, flashing Seokjin an overly sweetly smile combined with his signature innocent, charming gaze. One gaze like that and his older friends were practically putty in his hands. It came in handy during their high school years. Well…up until his sophomore year…his friends graduated one by one, so he had no one left to use it on.

Sad day in the life that was Jeon Jungkook.

“You do realize that this isn’t high school, and I’m not this 18-year-old teen that you can easily manipulate, Kook.” Seokjin stated bluntly, fully aware of his purely innocent “stare”. He didn’t even to peer over his computer screen to know. Jungkook’s tone of voice gave it away.

Though, that didn’t deter the young lad. It was rare for all seven of them to be in town for the summer, so he wanted to cherish it. As soon as Seokjin graduated high school, everyone just went their separate ways. Sure, they had their group chat that had constant activity whether it was from someone sending random memes or simply asking how their day was. But it just wasn’t the same.

Even though his friends didn’t know this, Jungkook needed them. He couldn’t quite establish a bond that matched the one he shared with Seokjin and the rest of his little motley crew.

They were definitely one of a kind…

“What’s with that smile, Kook? Last time you smiled like that it was because you found a lamb skewer stand with Yoongi.” Seokjin’s voice forcibly pulled Jungkook out of his peaceful thoughts.

“Oh, this smile?” He pointed at his lips, “It’s nothing…say…when is that little ray of sunshine coming by?” Jungkook asked vaguely, drawing out his sentence.

Seokjin hummed in response as his eyes scanned the last remaining sentences of his email. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Oh, according to her mother, she’s dropping off Areum this evening,” He quickly checks his phone, scrolling through his messages from his ex-wife, “Around 9 o’clock in the evening.” He announced, locking his phone once again.

Jungkook gasped; his eyes beamed from excitement. This was perfect. He and friends could spend a few hours at the carnival and then hang out with their “niece”.

“So, you’re telling me that you have time for the carnival?”

“I guess I am Kook…”

“Perfect! I’ll let the fellas know!”

“Don’t let me regret this…”

“When I have ever done something that you’d regret?”

“I can name a few things…”

At the Summer Carnival – 7 o’clock in the evening

Walking down the busy row of stands, Sumin’s eyes remained glued on her phone. Her brows furrowed as her thumb scrolled up while she read the contents of an email that she had received minutes before arriving to the carnival. Soft mutters left her lips as she homed in on an incredibly important section of the email. She reread the same two sentences twice before this unsettling, heavy sensation settled within the pit of her stomach.

The color practically drained from her face. Her breath hitched. She halted in her steps, ignoring the grumbles of the many bystanders that were forced to go around her.

A low groan escaped her as she immediately locked her phone and shoved it in her back pocket. Did she really want to be at this stupid carnival? She needed to be back in the office and working on soothing this rather extreme angry client, that was “miraculously” bestowed upon her thanks to her supervisor. Why was she even here again?

“Sumin! Check out this stand, they have those churros that you’re basically obsessed with!” She heard Sowon shout with glee, waving her arms sporadically.

Oh…

That was right…

She was here because of her dearest friend…

“I think I’m going to call it, Sowon. I have to get up pretty early tomorrow, and—”

“No ‘and’. I know that look on your face, my little sunshine, and I’m not completely oblivious. I saw you on your phone and your eyes widened with each passing second.” Sowon interrupted, leaving her spot in the line and walking up to her completely distressed friend, “Which means in the world of Sumin, you’re extremely stressed and about to leave this relaxing sister-date to head back to the office and work on something that can honestly wait until tomorrow morning.” Sowon finished, smiling brightly. “Did I hit it right on the nail, my soft princess?” She added; her smile grew wider.

Sumin made a face; her eyes narrowed on her smug friend.

“I hate it when you do that…”

“I know you do…”

Meanwhile, while one crisis was averted, on the other side of the carnival, two fellas bickered over the last game ticket while their mutual friends watched both sides make excellent arguments on why he deserved the last game ticket. The only thing they missed, to make this verbal battle amusing, was some carnival snacks.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, a gentleman with black-rimmed glasses and faded silver hair – that was swooped to the right – leaned against the wall; an amused smile painted his lips.

“Are you going to stop them, Namjoon?” asked a young man with chestnut brown hair. His eyes sparkled with such innocence that many people forget that he was indeed in his mid-twenties.

“Nah. They’re fine Jimin. Besides, remember the last time we intervened on an infamous Seokjin-Jungkook argument?” Namjoon replied, shooting Jimin a knowing look. But just as Jimin opened his mouth to answer, someone else beat him to the punch.

“Oh, that was a fun evening!” shouted a cheery voice; a few chuckles escaped him. “They turned their wrath onto us, and even told Yoongi to shut up.” A sigh of content left his lips this time as he folded his hands and rested his head against the palms, “What a memorable evening.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement as he turned his attention towards a paler looking fella.

“I was honestly surprised that Jungkook told you to shut up, Yoongs.”

Yoongi pried one eye open, having checked out of Jungkook’s and Seokjin’s marital bickering thirty minutes prior.

With a lazy voice, he said, “That boy is lucky for not fearing me.”

“After being friends with you for so long, none of us fear you, my dude.” Chimed in the same cheery voice that spoke earlier.

“Hm. I guess I’m losing my charm, Hoseok.” Yoongi shrugged, shutting his eyes closed again. One of the many “joys” of being your own boss. He didn’t have a set work shift.

Hoseok beamed; his smile could light up any dark alleyway, before adverting his attention back to Seokjin and Jungkook, who still refused to back down.

Two hours had passed and not only did the bickering duo slowly ran out of the counterarguments, but their friends were extremely bored and wanted to enjoy what was left of the carnival.

Finally fed up, Namjoon pushed off from the wall and then walked up to Seokjin and Jungkook, pulling out his wallet as he closed the gap between their bodies.

“Tell you what,” He began fishing out a few bills, “Take my money and buy you guys some more damn tickets, so you guys can finally shut the fuck up.” Namjoon stated bluntly before slapping the bills in both Seokjin’s and Jungkook’s hands, knowingly hurting them in the process. He then walked away from them, gesturing for their buddies to follow him.

They were determined to enjoy the carnival before it closed for the night.

As their closest friends walked away, slowly disappearing from their line of sight, the squabbling duo turned to each other; this mischievous gleam sparkled in their eyes accompanied with this scheming smirk.

“That took longer than expected.” Jungkook laughed, flinging an arm around Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

Seokjin chuckled in response as he allowed Jungkook to direct him to the nearest game stand.

“I know, right? We must be losing our touch since before, Namjoon usually settled our “arguments” in less than an hour.” He stated as his eyes scanned the prizes at the booth. His lips pursed while his brows became knitted together as Seokjin contemplated which prize would Areum love the most.

This faint hum exited his lips as his eyes drifted between a huge stuffed alpaca and a huge stuffed panda bear. Then, after much deliberation, he finally settled on the alpaca since she loved to remind him that whenever he ate, he looked like a happy alpaca, especially whenever he munched on a salad. He could honestly hear her faint giggles in the back of his mind.

God, he would do anything for his daughter. She had him wrapped around her dainty pinky finger.

With a determined smile, he slammed down a few dollar bills and waited to be handed some darts.

“Alright, prepare to be amazed, Kook.”

Back with the ladies, who now held onto plates with delicious carnival food, they journeyed towards the exit, talking about everything and anything that came to mind. Ranging from the topic of their love lives – or lack thereof – to the ever so fun work politics that occurred during their daily lives. However, the most popular topic was their time in high school. While, yes, they went to two different schools, they loved hearing about the other’s experience. Hearing such stories made the other feel like she was there as well.

“So, whatever happened to the guy that stupidly stood you up at homecoming, Sowon?”

“Beats me. All I know is that he asked for me at my school’s little reunion event. From what an old friend told me, the way he asked was very creepy. Borderline stalkerish if you ask me.”

Sumin shuddered, “Things like that makes me glad that I didn’t have a social life in high school.”

Sowon chuckled softly as she quickly tossed her empty, Styrofoam plate and jogged back to Sumin.

“Yeah, but it is because of said social life that I know who my loyal friends are and know how to handle myself in certain situations.” She pointed out with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

Sumin rolled her eyes in response, signaling Sowon that she had won that argument.

“Let’s get you home, princess. I believe it is passed your bedtime.”

“What are you? My mom?”

“I might as well be, Min.”

Sowon then flung her arms around Sumin’s shoulders as the two ladies head for Sowon’s car and begin their journey to Sumin’s place.

Faint muffles filled the spacious car as flashes of light illuminated the darkness every other minute. Resting her chin on the palm of her hand, Sumin stared absentmindedly out the window; her eyes focused on the happy couples. Each face painted with the brightest and most loving smile ever to grace them.

Soon, a soft sigh escaped her as she pried her eyes away from the window. Though, while she no longer saw them, her mind was filled with thoughts of them. Thoughts of envy? Longing? That had been yet to be determined.

Which was strange to her as for the obvious fact that she too was in a relationship.

But…

“I just now realized that you are not wearing your luxurious engagement ring that Seonghwa gave you, Min.” Sowon’s voice broke into her cloudy thoughts.

Sumin’s eyes trailed down, landing on her empty left ring finger.

“I knew I forgot something.” She lied, faking a playful smile.

But Sowon knew better.

“Is everything alright?” She asked as she slowed the car to stop as the traffic light went from yellow to red.

Sounds of the turn signal cut through the awkward silence. Sumin hoped that the light would turn green so that she’d be closer to home but alas, it wasn’t the case. This was a timed light, and the timing of it was abnormally long for a traffic light.

She could stall, but that would only annoy Sowon, so why should Sumin even try? Her closest and dearest friend wasn’t stupid. If anything, she wouldn’t be surprised if Sowon knew that she was thinking of backing out of the wedding.

“Do I want to get married, Sowon?” asked Sumin, phrasing her question a bit oddly.

Sowon raised a brow as she shifted her foot from the brake pedal to the gas pedal, lightly pressing as she turned on to the street where Sumin’s house resided at. A house where she lived with her doting fiancé.

The poor girl looked unsure how to answer such a question. If it was a question that asked her if she wanted to get married, then the answer would be plain and simple. No. No she didn’t want to get married or at least, not right now. She so much desired to live her twenties to the fullest. Then, once it was time, she would gladly settle down with the right person.

And yet with Sumin? Sowon was quite surprised that she was having doubts. Out of the two them, Sumin would be happily married first with kiddos running amuck and then Aunty Sowon would help wrangle them and/or create more chaos for their parents.

But with this sudden 180, Sowon grew even more confused.

Did she have to kill Seonghwa? Because she totally would. No one was allowed to hurt Sumin under her watch.

No one.

Pursing her lips, Sowon hummed in response, as she pulled up to Sumin’s driveway, where both Sumin’s and her fiancé’s car were currently parked.

Before finally answering, Sowon killed the engine, and the two girls now sat in complete and utter silence.

“Alright, to answer your question, I know that you want to get married, however, is it to Seonghwa? Only you can answer that, love. But you did say yes to him for a reason, so that has to mean something, right?”

Sumin sighed heavily; her shoulders slumped just a bit.

“I did, I mean don’t get me wrong, I do love him with all my heart but—”

“But you don't know if it’s enough to meet him at the altar, correct?”

Instead of answering, Sumin gave Sowon a thumb’s up before exiting the vehicle and as she stepped out, a car pulled up to her neighbor’s driveway. A neighbor who she had never seen since their schedules always had them missing one another by a split second, so this was a first. Well, overall, this night was filled with firsts, so this wasn’t too much of a shock factor.

Seconds later, Sowon too exited the vehicle, shutting the door and alarming it. She then leaned against the door; curiosity slowly bested her as she noticed Sumin’s body language tense just a smidge.

“You alright there, sunshine?!” She hollered, cupping her mouth, though, she didn’t have to do that since they were not that far away from each other.

However, she received no response from Sumin for a good minute or two.

Until…

“YOU!!”

Two voices shouted simultaneously.

Alarmed, Sumin’s fiancé came running out of the house dawning his work clothes still.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked, closing the gap between their bodies, as he gently rested his hand on her lower back.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Seonghwa. I just got startled by a familiar face is all.” She lied flawlessly, smiling sweetly.

Seonghwa hummed in response, not fully believing her, but he knew it was best to drop it.

“Okay. I’m gonna head back inside and finish up this project. Holler if you need me, okay, love?” He said, pressing a sweet kiss on her temple before disappearing inside the house.

The second she heard the door shut, Sumin’s sweet demeanor melted away and was soon replaced with the fiery rage that engulfed her body and soul moments prior.

“Wow. I’m amazed. You actually tricked someone into dating your strange self,” The intruder began applauding slowly with a sarcastic smile etched on his face, “I’m completely inspired by your story now.” He added, further taunting poor Sumin.

Sowon raised her brow, slowly going into defensive mode but held back as she wanted to see more of their reactions. In her life of knowing Sumin, Sowon only ever saw her little sunshine become this spitfire with her only. So, who the Hell was this handsome gentleman that easily riled her soft princess up?

She had to find out.

And maybe…just maybe…he might be the answer to Sumin’s tricky question.

A low – almost animalistic – growl escaped Sumin’s lips as she stomped over to her neighbor; their chests practically touched each other.

“Listen here, Seokjin—”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that? You might have to speak up, short stuff.” Seokjin cupped his ear as he leaned downwards; their noses merely inches away from bumping into each other.

Sumin’s jaw clenched and through gritted teeth, she said, well shouted,

“Can you hear me now, huh, you prick?!”

Seokjin groaned, jolting his body away, as he rubbed his poor ear while this ringing sensation echoed throughout his now muddled mind.

Damn that woman had a pair of lungs on her.

“I think you busted my eardrum…!”

“Well, that’s what you get for standing so incredibly close to me, dumbass!”

Tensions arose between the two as their blood slowly came to a boil. Seokjin and Sumin had history. A rather long history that remained in the archives until this evening.

Again, a night filled with firsts.

Just as Seokjin opened his mouth to retaliate, a laughter cut him off. He was secretly glad that someone else intervened. He honestly didn’t have to time to entertain the spitfire that stood courageously in front of him. His daughter was to arrive at any moment.

The last thing he wanted his six-year-old to see was him shouting at a woman.

“You know, we got to work on you playing nice with others, Sumin.” Chimed in Sowon as she walked up to the pair and rested an arm on Sumin’s shoulder.

“And may I ask who you are?” Seokjin questioned, looking a bit unimpressed.

Sowon held out her hand and quickly introduced herself, shaking Seokjin’s hand with her signature thousand-watt smile.

“Ah, and how do you know the pain in the ass?”

“I can ask you the same thing, Jinnie boy.”

“Jinnie boy?” He questioned, directing it more towards Sumin.

Sumin simply shrugged, “Just go with it.”

“Well, I’ve known her since middle school believe it or not.”

Sowon raised her brow; her eyes roamed all over his body as if she tried to decipher his hidden secrets.

“Interesting. Well, as much as I’d like to continue this conversation, I don’t,” She then turned Sumin around, “Time for bed, Min.” She stated firmly before guiding them both back to Sumin’s house, leaving behind a flabbergasted Seokjin.

“You know…I have a feeling that you two would make the perfect couple someday…” teased the taller woman as they crossed the threshold between Sumin’s house and Seokjin’s house.

Sumin grimaced, nearly wanting to gag, “By perfect, you mean that I’d want to kill him every waking moment I can get, right?”

“Nah, my precious little ray of sunshine. I mean that one day, you two will make gorgeous looking children to the point that I’m going to “borrow” one of them to pick up guys.” Sowon clarified, grinning from ear to ear.

A look of utter and complete disbelieve washed over her face as she felt her eye twitch just a smidge from her best friend’s remark.

God help her…

“You should learn to smile more often, princess! You might land more dates that way!”

“That’s it! Listen here you annoying fucking gnat!”

However, before Sumin could storm over to Seokjin again, Sowon blocked her path.

“Alright, young lady, someone’s getting cranky. You march to your room and tell Seonghwa that you want to cuddle.”

“But!”

“March!”

Sumin frowned before submitting to her friend, of course, muttering a few profanities as she stomped up the stairs that led to the front door.

Once Sumin was inside, Sowon waited a few seconds before walking up to Seokjin, who appeared to be texting someone.

“So, how do you truly feel about Sumin?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Seokjin’s face remained blank, “I tolerate her existence. Why?”

“I asked how you truly feel about her, not lie about it.” Sowon stated, shooting him a knowing look.

Seokjin, on the other hand, grew unsure. What did she mean, exactly?

“Sleep on it.” Sowon suggested before walking to her car and finally head home for herself.

Seokjin watched the strange woman drive out of his neighborhood. Her words repeated in his mind. He was almost certain that he just tolerated Sumin’s existence. Sure, there had been a time in his life that he harbored romantic feelings for her, but he had been long married since then. Well, now divorced, but that was beside the point.

It was through that marriage that he had Areum. The light of his life.

Yeah, he didn’t need any other leading lady in his life.

Right?

Before he could fully dive into those thoughts, a bright light nearly blinded him followed by this obnoxious honking.

“Dad!” shouted a voice. A voice Seokjin knew all too well. The same voice that easily brought a smile to his face.

“Areum!” He greeted back; his face practically beamed. He happily waved as the car came to a stop and this little girl came running out of the backseat and towards him.

Seokjin knelt down, ready for the biggest hug ever. And just as she slammed into him, he protectively wrapped his arms around her petite body as the two fell onto the grass.

“Remember to behave for your dad, Areum!” chuckled an older woman, shaking her head as she walked up to the loving duo with a tiny suitcase.

“I will mommy.” Areum smiled as she became smothered with Seokjin’s fatherly kisses.

“Yeah, don’t worry Eunji, our little girl is an angel.”

“Whatever you say, Seokjin. By the way, did you know that our old friend Sumin lived right next door to you?”

Seokjin instantly became alarmed. How did his ex-wife know that? So, naturally, he asked.

Eunji laughed softly, “Just because you had a falling out with her, doesn’t mean that I did, so I saw it on her social media account that she moved to that house.”

“And you didn’t tell me this while I was looking for a place to live because?”

“Because I love seeing you make a fool of yourself in front of her.”

But before Seokjin could say something, refuting his ex-wife’s claims, Eunji had entered her car and clicked on her seatbelt. Then, he saw the reverse lights turn on and watched her pull out of his driveway.

She was always an interesting woman…

“Why is your mom weird?”

“I don’t know, probably for the same reason as to why she called you coward on our way here, daddy?”

“She what, now?”

A/N: I am back! Cue the fanfare and confetti canon! I’m honestly both surprised and proud of myself for not only picking up writing again but starting another series (low key crying because Our Second Chance isn’t done yet, but I am working on it LOL)! At first, I wanted to take the word carnival and incorporate the movie Sandlot and A League of Their Own into it, but sadly, I hit a bad writers’ block, so I just scrapped that idea completely and with the help of @softjeon who helped me with some overall story ideas, this came to be! Plus, it helps that in BTS World, Seokjin’s another story line is so cute, especially with the little girl (who of course makes an appearance as his daughter in this short series <3) being kind of hard to please. Yes, make Jinnie work for it!

But anyway, as of right now, I don’t have a set schedule for this as I like to write whenever I have both the time and inspiration but knowing me, I’ll start releasing updates over the course of Autumn/Winter along with the last chapters of Our Second Chance!

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/ask in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

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thesunshinedissociation · 4 years

Text

A Maria-Centric View of Our System

I realized this morning that my hope when I tell friends about our plurality is that they’ll assume they’ve been interacting with several of us and thus their feelings towards the presumed singlet will just be re-understood as towards at least several of us, if not the whole system. But also as far as I know we haven’t really told anyone how to tell us apart. So, from my point of view, here’s something of a description of each of us. (Thankfully, as far as I can tell, I have a nice spot in the system for this.) I’ll go from most to least active.

Maria: Me. Self-description is probably the hardest, but as best I can tell, I’m the one who’s best able to get desires going. Especially for pleasure. Like, whereas the others will be very lost trying to find something they want, I can be somewhat hedonistic at times. I also do get a lot done, which is good since I also have a lot of energy and a really good tolerance for being alone. Some people don’t seem to like me as much, especially after some of my more reckless decisions. (I just noticed my name is one letter away from mania...) Which has made me all the more aware of how okay I am with being alone. Also, I feel about fifteen years old inside, and it can be kinda scary at times since I still have the responsibilities of someone ten years older. I used to be pretty bad on a stimulant addiction. Lately I’ve noticed I don’t like nicotine. My drug tolerance seems generally lower. But, I also don’t have anorexic tendencies, nor do I have money anxiety. On the other hand, the others don’t love my love of candy and snacks. Nor do they always love when I go on spending sprees. Oh well. At least I enjoy myself. (The near-constant physical pain is less pleasant. As is being constantly overheated. While I’m often derealized, that’s not so bad because it makes the world less scary. I feel myself as very real, which is nice. The distorted perceptions are weird but workable. The ability to give myself a buzz without drugs is really fun.) I imagine I’m usually pretty identifiable by my energy. I’m also more concerned with my aesthetic than most of the others, but my external appearance usually ends up at least somewhat chaotic.

Natalia: The caretaker of the group. We’re really close, usually able to talk to each other at will, switch with each other almost at will, and when one of us come around, the other is rarely far away. She’s pretty protective of all of us, and has run into conflict a few times when keeping everyone away to keep us safe. Our roomates say she’s remarkably responsible. Which is fair; most of the stuff that has to get done like cleaning the house or putting food in one of the anorexic/depressive alters falls on her. Sadly, she’s not as good at having fun. But she says she’s usually content. Which, hey, if being caring is what makes her happy, that seems alright. I appreciate having someone around to keep me calm when things go awry. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if half of my coping skills were just to turn to her for help. She’s also usually pretty easy to identify by behavior alone, I imagine. Like, her primary drive is to take care of anyone she cares about. She usually keeps her appearance more tame, but it’s not super important.

Victoria: Sometimes she can feel really great, but it’s pretty fragile. On any day she’s out, there’s a good chance she’s going to crash hard. Usually because she can’t handle being alone, and will very quickly suspect that she’s too socially inadequate to carry on. She’s also more isolated in the system, especially since her falling out with Natalia and Lizzie a few months ago. (But they weren’t very compatible to start with.) I’m not sure how much she has going for her besides some attachment problems. Either her appearance will be too depressed to even wear clean clothes or else when she’s doing well socially (or when ego-inflated by other means) she’ll make herself as attractive as she can. Which makes sense given her felt need to be attractive. (Thank goodness we all reflect externally enough to keep track of all of our problems.) If you look at the DSM entry on BPD, all nine criteria fit her pretty well. Though also she’s often tormented by Natasha. Her access to the rest of the system is pretty bad; she’s especially prone to amnesia, and she’s a bit in denial, still.

Natasha: The arch-persecutor. She’s angry and violent, usually towards us. She doesn’t really trust anyone outside the system, so she abuses us to keep us safe from them. I can’t remember her fronting for a long enough period of time to really have much to say about how she acts outside. We’re learning to work with her. I hope someday she can be okay. As much as we fight, I do care about her. I understand why she’s easy to dislike, though.

Jeanine: She’s a bit farther away from me in the system so I don’t know her very well. I can see the playlist she made for herself on Spotify is totally the most unique. (We all share one account, and most of us have playlists for ourselves.) She can be way more fight-y than most. I used to think she was just basically the protector that followed Jasmine, but she’s spent enough time out on her own that I’m not so sure. (While interactions go in all sorts of directions, I seem pretty close with Natalia, Jasmine with Jeanine, and Victoria with Natasha.) She’s not as mean as Natasha, not as self-assured as I or Natalia, not as responsible as Natalia, not as energetic as me, but she is nonetheless aggressive, energetic, self-assured, and responsible. The hard rock/heavy metal section of our closet basically only exists for her.

Jasmine: The other teenager in the system. Except she’s also about as sad as Victoria. Thankfully instead of having outbursts, she’ll just glue herself to a couch and sleep for two weeks excepting when she absolutely has to get up. And even then, while most of us can pull it together for a social obligation (like, Victoria can attempt suicide, fail, and then go to work or a party or whatever), Jasmine will actually call off. Which I guess means when we actually need a break for whatever reason, she is the best-equipped to handle it. She’s also either aro/ace or close to it, so she’s useful for romantic failure. Though the intensity of her platonic feelings can be a bit much. As I write this, I’m realizing who’s going to be handling all the writing we have to do. Hint: It’s mostly me, featuring Natalia. Victoria will help when she’s not crashing. Jeanine and Jasmine are less helpful since their life ambitions are more artistic than academic. (Which is another good hint as to who’s out: We don’t even have the same long term ambitions!) I’m pretty sure she’s still the only one with her hairstyle. It looks good, so I wouldn’t be surprised if someone else uses it sometimes. That said, she also easily puts the most effort into her appearance. (We make a good team, what with me having the will to buy nice clothes and her wanting to wear them. If only we got to be together more. Someday, hopefully.)

Emily: The child of the system. She’s seven years old, and she can’t talk. She also pretty much only comes out deep in the night or when there’s a fight. I imagine her childishness and silence is pretty identifiable. Everyone except maybe Natasha cares about her a lot. We do our best to take care of her, though admittedly we dream of someday someone else caring about her, too. Best I can tell, she’s stuck in a neverending flasback of trying to get help but finding nobody. I don’t know what trauma she’s holding, and I’m a little intimidated by the idea of finding out.

Lizzie: She used to be out more, I think. She wanted to get into politics and redirected our life in that direction for a bit. We all call her the bleeding heart of the group, though she’s less into the direct and forceful caring like Natalia and more into standing up for people and being a force for more widespread good. She also had quite the incident a few months ago in the inner world with Natalia and Victoria. She stopped coming out as much as Natalia picked up where she left off. Someone else will have to fill in more on her.

Olivia: She’s not out much, but also I know she feels pretty good about herself. Probably at least as good as I do about myself. She used to use our legal name, though mostly because she felt the most strongly connected with it. Like, she said for once she actually felt like that person. We realized her using that name is super confusing, though, and led people to think she’s the “core”, “original”, or otherwise the One Alter Worth Saving. Which is, on the one hand, just false. Maybe she was the first, but maybe Emily was! Or maybe I was! All being first means though is being the first one to form out of the not-yet-unified infant mind. If we ever do fuse, that will be removing the barriers between us, not destroying any of us. But that’s like putting a jigsaw puzzle together--there’s no “core piece” of a puzzle that all the others fuse to. Anyway, I don’t know her super well because she’s not very active, inside or out. So I’m tapping into stuff from like six months ago. But hey, if we do get her out, she does at least know how to handle the social professional world pretty well. Or maybe her confidence and assertiveness just works to her advantage in our current setting.

Marina: Last seen in September, she’s not out much, and she’s incredibly intense. She’s closest to me, and I don’t see much of her. I imagine if I’m in dire need of someone to unleash hell outwardly, she might pop in? She really doesn’t like the system as a whole and will actively thwart others’ efforts. I think ever since I stopped being so apathetic towards the others she hasn’t had her chance to come out, since usually we’d tag team, me taking advantage of the system and her just destroying it. Now I take care of ourselves. (Maybe someone else will have a better view of her, though. Maybe I’m wrong about being closest with her.)

Adrianna: She hasn’t been around much lately, though she used to be. Only one who had to have a name assigned to her since her self-esteem is so low she wouldn’t give herself one. (She called herself “nameless” in our notebook. And if it wasn’t clear from the Olivia paragraph, some of us are trying to actually run this system instead of continuing the complete chaos that came from having a mysterious personality roulette for years.) I don’t remember her super well. I think she’s a bit more of a pushover than anyone else, at least. Like, Victoria may get attached, but she does at least know how to speak up for herself. Adrianna is good enough at handling troubling emotions to stay functional while keeping her suffering hidden. Though she does talk to us a lot when she’s out.

Angelica: I know she exists, because she made a note of it in our notebook, but I don’t really know her. Not around much, to my knowledge.

-Maria

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davidthetraveler · 5 years

Note

Can you do "Day 12: Giant" from the list?

A Matter of Perspective

Characters: Logan, Remus, Patton, Roman, VirgilTrigger Warnings: Morally Grey Remus SandersSquick Warnings: Giant/Tiny Content, Supernatural ElementsWord Count: 2495

(Read it here on AO3)

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If you’re interested, you can send me one of @hiddendreamer67‘s October 2019 Giant/Tiny Prompt List, and I’ll write a story for it.

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Logan was running out of breath. He’d never run so fast or so hard in his life. But he needed to keep going if he didn’t want to be caught.

Quickly rounding a corner, he saw the couch before him. From this angle, it was like a massive cliff face. Seeing his chance, he dashed beneath it, crouching behind one of the wooden feet in case his pursuer lifted up the skirt flaps along the bottom edge. For a few moments, he was alone in the near darkness with his thoughts and his haggard breathing. Then, light suddenly streamed in as the flap behind the foot was lifted.

“I know you’re in there,” the sinister voice called in an almost sing-song manner, which just made it sound that much worse. “You can’t hide from me.”

A slight ruffling to his left made Logan turn, only to see a hand as big as he was slowly reaching into the tight space. He tried to silence his breathing as much as he could. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he feared that it would betray him to his pursuer. The hand kept inching closer and closer.

Suddenly, the ground began to rumble, and the hand paused in its exploration. Just as the rumbling reached its peak, a voice called out from somewhere above him.

“Remus, what are you doing?”

Logan breathed a sigh of relief. Patton had finally returned home. Remus withdrew his hand, and Logan could almost picture him trying to put on his innocent face as he turned to answer Patton’s inquiry.

“Logan and I were just playing. I wasn’t going to do anything bad to him, honest.”

Logan snorted. The only way that could be considered an honest statement was if Remus’ idea of what was bad and what wasn’t was completely misaligned from most of society’s moral norms. But then, given how Remus was, that wouldn’t be a bad theory to explain his behavior.

“Well, I think Logan has had enough playtime for now, and so have you. So why don’t you go back to Roman’s room and rest while he and Virgil try to finish the antidote.”

“You’re not my dad, you can’t tell me what to do.”

The silence that followed that statement nearly made Logan chuckle. He knew perfectly well what the scene out there must look like. After all, he himself had been on the receiving end of his own share of “Disapproving Dad” looks from their paternal roommate.

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll go. Sheesh, we were just having fun.”

Logan continued to listen to Remus mutter as he left. After his voice faded out of hearing, he peaked around the wooden couch leg, just in time to see Patton’s head come into view outside.

“Are you alright there, Logan?”

“For the most part,” he called back, hoping he was loud enough to be heard. Patton’s mouth curling upward into a smile suggested he had been.

“Do you feel up to seeing how Roman and Virgil are doing with the antidote?”

Logan smiled at the suggestion, coming out from behind the lifted couch skirt to meet Patton.

“I very much would like to see how they are progressing.”

Patton’s smile widened, and he brought his hand down next to Logan as an unspoken offer. Logan returned the beaming smile and nodded in acceptance, clambering up onto Patton’s car-sized palm.

Logan did his best to keep his balance as Patton stood up, curling his fingers over Logan to better protect him and being careful to take it slow so as not to jostle him any more than he had to. Even with all his composure, Patton knew that Logan was not adapting well to being only two inches tall. Of course, Remus chasing him around the apartment hadn’t helped in that regard.

As they made their way down the hall to Virgil’s room, Logan pondered the paradoxical nature of his current status. True, it was rather odd to go from being the second tallest of the roommates (Virgil was two inches taller, though he slouched so much most thought Logan was taller), to being the shortest by a vast amount. But what was even stranger was his reaction to being carried in Patton’s hand.

Remus’ hand hadn’t been nearly this big compared to him, since Remus too had been shrunk in the accident, though not as much as Logan had. But while the thought of Remus’ man-sized hand grabbing hold of him sent a chill down his spine, the feeling he had being in Patton’s much larger hand was not only pleasant, but almost comforting.

Logan found himself marveling at the feelings of safety and care he felt being held by Patton. If he wasn’t worried that he might not ever be back to normal size, he could probably get used to being held like this. Like he was a precious treasure meant to be cherished and protected and loved.

Soon enough, Patton pushed open the door to Virgil’s room. While the strange sight of it stretching so far away from him at this size was somewhat disorienting, Logan still found comfort in the darker color scheme Virgil had created for his personal space. All around the room were purples and grays that, while still being dark and sometimes foreboding, gave their own sense of comfort and safety. And the desk filled with pages of notes, workbench covered in odd liquids in beakers and vials, and various bookshelves filled with knowledge lent the room a cozy feel to Logan’s sense of curiosity and discovery.

Despite the calming aesthetic, Logan was a bit on edge as Patton brought him over to the figure bending over the workbench. Roman was concentrating very hard on making sure he measured out the ingredients exactly as Virgil was instructing him. Usually it would be Virgil who was working out a formula here at the workbench. But since their resident magical roommate was currently wedged as far into the corner as his thirteen foot tall frame would allow, it was up to Roman to properly prepare the antidotes to fix the three transformed young men.

“How’s it going?” Patton whispered so as not to disturb Roman’s hand.

Roman briefly turned to them, a small smile appearing at seeing their formerly shortest roommate carefully holding Logan in his hand.

“I think it’s going pretty well. The antidotes for Virgil and Remus are simmering right now, and I’m almost done mixing Logan’s. I just need to add…three more drops of toadstool extract.”

“Four,” Virgil corrected with a rumble. It was obvious that he was trying to whisper, but his enlarged form meant that even at a reduced volume every word sounded like distant thunder.

“Right, four, sorry.” Roman turned back to add the drops.

“Don’t be. You’re doing great so far. I might even reconsider letting you help me with this stuff in future.”

Roman’s smile widened into a grin, but his determination kept him focused on the task at hand. With a final drop, he placed the dropper back in its bottle and set the larger vial containing the antidote over a burner to simmer with the others.

“I’m really sorry all this happened, Logan. I should have guessed that Remus would be bold enough to mess with Virgil’s potions. I shouldn’t have ever let it slip that he’s a witch.”

“It’s alright, Roman. The accident was Remus’ doing, and therefore his fault, not yours. I don’t blame you for this in the slightest. Besides, without you, we would not have been able to create the necessary antidotes to fix this matter.”

“Yeah, Roman, you did great.” Patton reached over with his free hand to give Roman a hug, which the taller man reciprocated. Behind him, he could also feel Virgil’s massive hand on his shoulder, showing his own affection for him.

Soon enough, they broke apart, and Logan yelled up at Virgil.

“So, when will these solutions be ready for consumption?”

Virgil didn’t quite catch everything Logan had said, but he got the gist of it.

“I had Roman do mine first so we could make sure they’re done right. If they were, it should be turning orange any moment now. Remus’ will be done when it turns light blue, and yours when it turns dark blue.”

Just as he finished, the vial on the left shifted from its dull green into a vibrant orange. Roman immediately removed it from the heat and offered it up to Virgil, who gingerly took it between his fingers.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Virgil downed the entire bottle in one gulp. For a few moments, they waited, barely breathing in anticipation. Then, very slowly, Virgil’s form started to shrink. They watched with baited breath as he dwindled down, finally stopping at what appeared to be his original height.

Virgil got to his feet, for once standing up straight. With Roman only coming up to his nose, and Patton up to his chin, he knew he was back to normal. The others sighed in relief, and Roman wrapped him in a hug, which he returned after a pause.

“You good, Virge?” Patton asked once the other two pulled apart. Virgil nodded, and Patton pulled him into his own one-armed hug, tucking his head under Virgil’s chin. Virgil wrapped his own arms around him, looking down with a small smile at Logan, who returned his own smile.

A sudden gasp from Roman caught their attention, and they all turned in time to see him remove the second vial from its burner, its contents a shimmering light blue.

“Should I go ahead and get Remus?” Roman asked.

Virgil and Patton shared a look between themselves and Logan.

“Maybe it would be best if we waited until Logan’s was done,” Patton reasoned. “That way we won’t risk any…shenanigans.”

Roman nodded, turning again to watch the final potion simmer as Virgil took out a small cup from his cupboard and measured out a portion of the light blue liquid.

“Might I ask, if you don’t mind, if Remus’ and my antidote technically both do the same thing, why is his a much lighter color than mine?”

“Because first, he doesn’t have as far as you do to go to get back to normal. And second, you’ve got a much smaller stomach capacity than he does, so yours has to be much more concentrated to make sure you get the necessary amount of magical effect.”

“Interesting. You know, I may have been too harsh in my initial reactions to your practices. The more I have learned about it, the more it seems to make sense. In fact, this potion making feels very much like regular chemistry, and even the more…preternatural fields you study are internally consistent, even if their effects do not conform to the general rules of rational thought. Perhaps, if you are willing, you could instruct me in some of this work.”

Virgil smirked cockily at Logan’s statement, but his eyes were gleaming in a way that showed how touched he was.

“I think I could make some time for that.”

Soon enough, Logan’s potion was ready. Roman left to get his brother while Virgil took an eyedropper and measured out a few drops of the dark blue solution.

“You know, it’s funny,” Virgil began, “I used to think Roman was just so reckless and impulsive, so completely extra that no one could really deal with him. But, after meeting his brother…”

Virgil trailed off. Logan however picked up the thought from there.

“Indeed. To think I ever considered Roman so inconsiderate. I will need to rethink my behavior towards him in future.”

“Me too,” Virgil agreed as a pair of voices reached them from the hall.

“I said I was sorry. You don’t have to keep badgering me about it.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

Roman had returned with Remus held in his hands. At sixteen inches tall, he still towered over Logan. But any fear that might have caused was dispelled by the three giants who could keep him at bay.

“Go on,” Roman chided. Remus huffed, but then turned in Roman’s hands to face Logan.

“I’m sorry for dropping that shrinking potion on you and chasing you around the apartment.”

“Apology accepted,” Logan replied after a moment. Granted, he still didn’t trust Remus much, but he knew in his heart that despite his less-than-cordial attitude, he was still Roman’s twin brother, and therefore still worth giving some benefit of the doubt.

“And?” Roman prompted, giving an obvious nod toward Virgil.

“And I’m sorry for messing with your stuff and accidentally growing you into a giant.”

Virgil only nodded in response. Logan might be willing to offer an olive branch, but Virgil reserved the right to continue being untrusting of Roman’s twin.

The two shrunken men were placed on the edge of the workbench. Roman offered the small cup to Remus, who immediately took it and downed it in a few gulps. Virgil meanwhile was carefully holding the eyedropper in front of Logan, who did his best to suck the liquid out. Once it was all down his throat, Virgil stepped back with the others, giving them the space they’d need to grow back.

A few moments passed. Then Logan felt a powerful bubbling sensation in the pit of his stomach, which soon expanded out to fill his entire body, filling him up. As the sensation intensified, he could feel and see himself slowly stretching out, watching as the world around him shrank back down to its normal proportions. Just as they settled back into what he was used to, the sensation ceased, and he was left feeling good as new.

Patton immediately ran up to him to give him a hug, which he graciously accepted.

“What, no hug for me?” Remus cackled.

“You’re the one who caused this whole mess,” Roman shot back, but there wasn’t much bite to it. Remus was a pain, but he was still Roman’s brother.

“I don’t know why you all are being so serious about all this. This was a blast! If I’d known this would happen, I would have visited a long time ago. Anyway, I’m famished. What’s for dinner?”

Remus wandered out of Virgil’s room, Patton immediately following after him to discuss dinner options (and keep an eye on him). Roman turned to Virgil and Logan.

“Sorry again about all this.”

“No biggie,” Virgil replied coolly. “But maybe next time your brother comes to visit, you could give us a warning so I can lock all this up. He might have enjoyed himself, but I did not like being too big to leave my room.”

“Considering how much time you spend in here, would it really have made a difference in the long run?”

Virgil just snorted in response as the two headed out with Logan trailing behind, shaking his head, but smiling all the same.

#Remus Sanders TW #Giant/Tiny Content #Supernatural Elements #Sanders Sides Fanfiction #David's Writing

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theunredeemable · 5 years

Text

Surprise, Surprise

Chapter Three: Ab-so-sushi-ly Perfect Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/43005041?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_216497207

Ruby clung tightly to Yang as Bumblebee tore down the roads of Patch. She could feel the engine rumble beneath her, and though she had been on the bike before with her cousin, she had never become used to the sharp turns Yang liked taking. She gasped and tightened her grip as Yang took yet another sharp turn as they headed down the road leading towards the docks. Slowly Yang started to decrease speed and slowly slid to a stop outside of the newest, and only, sushi bar in Patch. As the blonde killed the ignition to her beloved bike, she looked up at the sign advertising the name, and let out a snort. “Ab-So-Sushi? I think I'm already in love.”

“Oh Maidens. Really? I'm surprised Blake likes this place if the name's anything to go by.”

“Why? Blake likes my puns.”

“No one likes your puns Yang. They just humour them.” Ruby eagerly got off the bike, removing her red helmet and quickly trying to smooth down her hair. “I just hope they're more professional than you and Sun.”

“Hey, we're professional. We're very good at our jobs thank you.”

“Professionals don't blare a 14 year old meme and sing along to it loudly in the middle of the day.”

“Dragostea Din Tei is a great song I think you'll find Rubes.” Yang huffed indignantly as they made their way to the front door, slipping the bike's keys into her pocket. “Sun and I just appreciate the classics.”

“Whatever helps you cope with the truth” Ruby smiled as she teased Yang, pushing her slightly. She was rewarded with Yang simply ruffling her hair again. As the two entered the restaurant they were greeted with a foreign aroma as several sticks of incense burned throughout the building. Bamboo flooring was decorated with large square carpets of brown and gold. Wooden pillars and arches helped add to the aesthetic, as well as the open kitchen in the middle of the bar, so patrons could see their meal prepared. The whole place was lit with paper lanterns. They took a seat at the bar, still looking around and watching a few servers dart around between tables. Their attention was drawn back to the bar when they heard a confident voice in front of them.

“Well, good afternoon ladies, and welcome to the place where the Sake flows and the food is Ab-so-Sushi-ly delicious.” Yang's eyes lit up with delight as Ruby's head sunk down onto the counter with a groan. “Not seen you two around in a while. How have you been girls?”

“Not been to bad Coco. Haven't seen you since you left to travel the world three years ago. When did you get back?”

“And when did you pick up Yang's humour?”

Both Coco and Yang laughed a little, both holding bright smiles at Ruby's dismay. “Who do you think taught your cousin half her puns. And to answer your question Yang, about 7 months ago. Ended up spending half my travelling time in Menagerie where I met a really, really cute girl.”

“Oh? How'd that go?”

“Pretty well seeing as she decided to move back here with me and open up Patch's first Sushi bar.”

“That's great Coco! Do we get to meet her?”

Coco nodded and looked over her shoulder. “Hey Cinnabun. come over and say hi!” A slightly smaller looked up as she heard the nickname, rabbit ears twitching slightly, before she came to stand next to Coco, cleaning her hands off on a towel that hung out of an apron pocket. “Ruby, Yang, meet my girlfriend Velvet. Velvet, these are some old friends of mine.”

“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to Ab-so-sushi.” Velvet's smile was bright, and her voice had a slight accent to it that seemed to make Coco's smile brighten as she looked at that Faunus lovingly. “Coco picked the name.”

“I, for one, think it's a great name. And welcome to Patch Velvet.” Yang waved happily. Ruby smiled and waved her greetings as well.

“I hope to see more of you but I'm afraid I have to get back to work. Lots of hungry mouths to feed.” Velvet planted a quick kiss on Coco's cheek before going back to the flurry of cooking in the open kitchen.

“We should catch up some time. First though, what can I get you two?”

Yang took a minute to look over the menu, nodding to herself. “Can I have the barbecued eel? Along with Salmon Nigiri please? And some water.”

Coco nodded, then looked to Ruby as she wrote down their orders. “I'll take the Chicken Curry Ramen please? As well as some Sake.” Both Coco and Yang raised their eyebrows at her order, prompting Ruby to shrug. “What? I'm not driving.”

“That's fair. I'll go let Velvs know and will bring it over as soon as it's done.” Coco bid them fair well and left them alone at the bar.

“Well Rubes, how have you and Pyrrha been? Anything exciting?”

“Well, now that you mention it, we did get a call from Mom and Dad the other day. They should be heading back soon from Atlas.”

“Why'd they go to Atlas again?”

“Mom wanted to go to a seminar the Academy was holding, see if it held anything that could be transferred to her own classes over at Beacon.”

“So why did Uncle Qrow go?”

Ruby smiled, and rolled her eyes a little. “Why do you think dad went? To bar crawl and see some of the workshops up there. He promised to bring me back some dust so we can do some more experiments here.”

Yang nodded to herself as she listened. “To be honest, they deserved the impromptu holiday.”

The conversation was interrupted as a glass of water was set down in front of Yang, as well as a small porcelain cup and bottle of Sake in front of Ruby. It wasn't much longer before their food was placed before them, and conversation died in place of eating.

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

Sun loudly sang along to the music blaring from his radio as he worked. It was currently rotating through a playlist both Yang and he created for work. It had been a few hours since Yang had clocked out, and he had been working diligently since coming on shift, losing all track of time. The reward for his efforts was the pile of rust he was left with was resembling a car once again, albeit with far to many dents to be serviceable just yet. Between his focus and the music, he was unable to her the soft jingle of the bell that rested above the shops door, signalling that someone had entered The Solar Flare.

Emerald and Weiss walked into the main workshop as they looked for him, finding him underneath the car. His tail danced to the music as he sang happily, ignorant of the world around him as he repaired the under frame. Blue eyes met red as the two girlfriends smiled deviously. Sun always enjoyed pranking them, and they found themselves the rare opportunity to get him back. Without saying a word, they had both come to the same conclusion.

“Vrei să pleci dar, nu mă, nu mă iei, nu mă, nu mă iei, nu mă, nu mă, nu mă AGH!” His singing was interrupted as two pairs of hands grabbed his legs and abruptly pulled him out from under the car. He clutched onto his spanned defensively as his eyes went wide with shock. When he was the two standing over him he sighed with relief and placed a hand to his heart. “You two scared the hell out of me! When did you get here?”

“What, straight to accusations? Not even a, Hi girls how are my favourite people?” Weiss placed a hand to her heart in mock offence. “I'm hurt.”

“Oh no! That won't do at all.” Sun stood up with a flourish, a cheeky grin adorning his face. “Whatever can I do to make it up to my two princesses?”

“A kiss wouldn't go amiss for starts.”

“Easily done, and happily given.” Sun placed a loving kiss on Weiss's lips, which was soon replicated between Sun and Emerald. “When did my two favourite people get her though?”

“About five minutes ago. Weiss thought you'd lose track of time so we came to pick you up.”

“And I was right, or did you forget we're meant to be picking up drinks and heading over to Yang's before Five?”

Sun looked up at the clock and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Oops. Guess I did get a little to into work. Do you think she has any idea we're throwing her a surprise party?”

Emerald shook her head. “She shouldn't. We've all kept quiet about it, and I know nothing's been mentioned to Ruby. Speaking of, I believe Ruby's shift of distracting her cousin is about to end.”

“Wouldn't Red get a little suspicious though? Having to distract Yang?”

It was Weiss's turn to shake her head as Sun began the process of closing the shop early. “Not at all, she's quite simply not permitted to question it.”

“Why's that princess?”

“The Schnee Clause.” Weiss and Emerald spoke in unison. Both looked a little shocked, then laughed”

“What's the Schnee Clause when you're at home?” Sun called out from the office, flicking off the lights as his partners waited for him at the door.

“The Schnee Clause states that One Ruby Rose is not allowed to question any request, demand, or decision made by a Schnee if they instate this clause.” Weiss explained.

“It's the perfect way of getting Ruby to help with a secret, without telling her the secret.” Emerald continued.

“Sounds pretty sweet! Alright, all done here. Let's swing by Junior's and pick up a few bottles of Yang's favourite.”

“Way ahead of you, our dear ruffian, way ahead of you.” Emerald pulled out two large bottles of Spiced Plum Cider. “Junior even threw in a keg as well for cheap. You can carry that.”

“Sweet. Yang's going to love this party!”

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

Blake gently rubbed her wrists as she sat in the bed. Winter had come in for their hourly check in, and had undone the restraints on her limbs. She still moved carefully to ensure nothing else was undone, the ribbon pleasantly restraining greater movement and hugging tight to her skin. “How much longer until the party starts?” Blake didn't miss the way Winter looked at her hungrily, before adverting her gaze when the Faunus addressed her.

“Not much longer now. The others should be heading over now.”

Blake nodded, sipping from the water Winter had provided to help her parched throat. She hummed in delight as she drank the ice cold water, sighing contently as she placed it back down on the side table. “Alright. And, how long will the party itself be?”

“Three hours max. I've made the others believe that I have an early start tomorrow. Or, rather.” Winter smiled slyly. “I've implied that, though they probably can guess I have a more private gift planned for Yang.”

“But have no idea how right they are.”

“Correct. Ah, what shall I tell them about your...absence?”

“Have you hidden my shoes?” Winter nodded. “ Tell them I said sorry, but I had to stay late at the Library to catalogue a shipment we got in.”

“Very well. I'll also tell Yang that you'll give her your gift later.”

Blake nodded, rolling her shoulders. Wiggling backwards onto the bed, she laid back down against the pillowy backdrop Winter had prepared, and nodded at the other woman. “I'm ready.”

“Good, cause it's time for the final touches as well.” Winter watched as Blake bit her lip, and went about tying up her hands and legs again. Sauntering away, she could feel the woman's gaze on her back, and smiled to herself as she opened up the closet. Slowly bending over to rifle through the bottom of the enclosed space, she gave Blake a perfect view of her rear. The faunus felt blood rush to her cheeks as she chewed her lip. A tantalising minute passed before Winter stood back up, holding two items in her hands. Blake gasped slightly at seeing the blindfold and ball-gag. “I bought these a few months ago after Yang and I had a rather, drunken, conversation about being tied up and blind folded. We both forgot about it in the morning but I had drunk purchased them.”

“And now....you have a perfectly willing third party to enact those fantasies on.”

Winter smiled slightly, nodding as she approached the bed. “This isn't too much is it?”

Blake was silent for a moment, before softly answering. “No, this is perfect.” When winter reached the bed she could smell Blake's arousal, and smiled as she placed the blindfold over the other woman's eyes.

“I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you before we three begin the real party.” Blake opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as she felt soft lips touch hers, as Winter stole a kiss. “I'm looking forward to it.” Blake could her the gag being placed next to the glass for later use, and Winter's footsteps as she walked away. A gentle click of the door closing, and then she was left alone in darkness and silence.

She couldn't wait.

#Surprise Surprise #winter schnee #winter/yang #blake/winter/yang #Blake Belladonna #yang xiao long #ruby rose #sun wukong #emerald sustrai #weiss schnee #sun/emerald/weiss #rwby #rwby au

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