#idk if i like the like. yellow tinge half of them have

[applejarjar]

Babies!!

[thesmallmeggles]

And Now For Something Completely Different:

☎️ SPAMTON APPEARANCE HEADCANONS ☎️

"Megan, why are you talking about Spamton? *gasp* You abandoned Zanzo!"

1. This is my blog

2. No I haven't. He is still very present in my conscious.

Anyway...

Addison Spam

Made out of hard light. (One could walk through an Addison. Feels tingly and warm.)

Grey dot eyes, wears glasses

Smaller than all the other Addisons, 4'0"

Puppet Spam

Hair is synthetic (probably nylon), thick fibers both crunchy and sticky from whatever (improvised?) hair product he uses.

Plastic head and hands, plush body

When I've drawn Spamton, I tend to make his head more proportionate to his body. (But still kind of big.)

Has the sleep doll eyes. Irises are heterochromatic - pink and yellow. At the time Kris encounters him, the irises have silver streaks. Eyes tend to stick in odd positions.

Construction of his head limits his neck rotation. He can only turn roughly 90 degrees. If he needs to see directly to his side, he has to turn his body.

Body is stained and stitched up in places

Stomach is spongy foam, the rest is firm like a densely stuffed toy (specifically those vintage plushies. That stuffing retains scents like you wouldn't believe.)

There's a slit in his upper back revealing what appears to be a ventriloquist dummy control stick. Spamton tapes over the hole, but it never holds for long.

Articulated four fingered hands

His limb joints are similar to Woody and Jessie from Toy Story. Or a Raggedy Ann. Just the stitched bit.

Little nub feet, like a Raggedy Ann

I like the juxtaposition of Spam having a physical presence while becoming socially invisible.

Spamton Neo

Noodly bootleg action figure looking dude

Rough seams, haphazard paint, floppy limbs

Glasses are his eyes. Flashing light bulbs/leds behind them.

Head is more proportionate to body

About 10' tall

Wings are aesthetic only - he cannot fly.

Spamton Ex "Argus" (the nickname could change but idk)

Half animatronic, half mannequin, one hundred percent unsettling (My personal view is: "Is it really Spamton if he doesn't look at least a little uncanny?" EDIT: That being said, I hold no grudge against folks who draw/imagine the Spam Man as hot or cute or beastly or what have you)

His eyes are acrylic/glass with plastic lids. His nose is separate from his face mask. Seams at the eye line and across the cheeks under the mask.

Spam can emote, though it's limited. At least he isn't stuck with the "award losing smile".

Head is proportionate to body like Neo

Plastic and metal robotic skeleton with ball joints and wires. There's a heart cavity in his chest which opens to unleash his [Heart On A Chain].

Built-in Disk Drive so he can swap between bodies as needed.

The face and arms from hands to elbows are covered by silicone. Everything else is foam padded fabric, with special attention given to his pecs and posterior. ("FOR MY [Fellow Freaks].")

Hands still have four fingers. He has retractable wheels in his feet for when he needs to ZOOM.

About 7' tall, midway between Puppet and Neo.

Bonus: Two Different Human Spams

"Gary Sampson" and Sharron Ware

Mr. Sampson is a short (~4' 7"), stocky human with pale white, pink tinged skin (rosacea), hazel eyes, and thinning salt-and-pepper hair. He has high cheekbones, a long Nixonesque (former US President Richard Nixon, for clarity) nose, and wears prescription eyeglasses. His shoulders are broad and he has a notable paunch. Good old Gary from Advertising.

Sharron has heterochromatic green and violet eyes. He has navy blue/teal ombre hair and pale blue skin. (Dirty blond/auburn hair and pale white skin in the Light World.) He has softer cheekbones, ears, and a cleft chin. His nose is longer than a human's would naturally be. Stands 4' 9", a bit taller than Gary. Chubby with an average build. Assumed to be 35+ years old, exact age uncertain.

[stringting]

Hello everyone! My first post on tumblr here. I’ve actually been wanting to draw and share stuff online for quite a while, though my plans had been held back by various reasons (school/equipment/lack of inspiration etc etc)

But——then I started playing the sims, and this SPECTACULAR idea hit me: why don’t I just draw my sims?

All I had to do was customise them, personalise them, dramatise them (traumatise them), and after a few hours of diligent dedication I pieced together a backstory ready for world-building and future developments. You’ll see part of it later.

Anyways this is my first digital drawing, and I say shamefully that I, have never had any idea of how colouring is done. Not then and definitely not now had it(idk the muses or the spirit of Leonardo Da Vinci, i suppose) enlightened me, and so this messy drawing was born.

|Prelude|

Eidothea Verdant, the name was the talk of the town. The young lady’s arrival was too sudden for the (enter citizen type) taste, the lot she had taken was barely on sale for a week when she waltzed into the building society, still carrying all her suitcases, and swiped it away as her property. And an impressive build it was, too: tall arched windows, pastel green walls and red slated rooftops towering over the plain yellow neighbourhood like an oasis in a desert. If anything, the former owners would expect, was an eccentric scholar or a well-to-do family of many. But now, nobody really knew what to think of Eidothea Verdant, too much gossip was said yet there was not enough information to prove any.

Eidothea glanced at the elder tea party from the window table she sat, the old ladies were discussing her in a flurry of hushed voices which managed to ring through the entire cafe. Silly conspiracies, she muttered under her breath. The rumours were getting irritating, shame she didn’t nip them when they were still nubs. But alas she shouldn’t make a show of herself before she has settled down and got a stable income, explanations meant socialising, and socialising is a nightmare when you don’t have common ground and subjects that could be shared.

With that thought in mind she quickly chugged down the last of her coffee, reached for her backpack and slid of the bench. She was half way to the door when the welcoming ting of mail sounded, clumsily opening her phone she read:” Dear Miss Verdant, Thank you for your application…” a smile spread across her face all too quickly, the rule of silence broken at last. She turned towards the little tea party:

“Excuse me, but my grandma did say talking behind people’s back is rude. If you want to know anything, just ask, you probably all know where I live by now. Just, you know, ask around, it is a small neighbourhood.” Eidothea laughed as she twirled on her heel and skipped to the pavement, the sun shined dimly giving it a faint glow.——Stringting

Well, please give me some (constructive) advice if you have any thanks!

[bundle-of-glitter]

what is your favorite rock of your collection :0?

Ahh very difficult question 😭 i mean theyre in my collection because they're all my favourite after all...

Here's the entire thing btw!

Disclaimer 1: somehow a moth managed to leave behind half it's wing at our home? Which is fourth from the left in the lowermost row, I did not harm it. I hope it was okay, tho it's probably long dead by now

Disclaimer 2: About the shells: uh, for the one at the top left corner,,, I mean i just couldn't resist it was perfectly chipped at the top to expose part of the iridescence and the lower portion had this fascinating exterior pattern, so for this once I decided to pick it(my apologies to any hermit crab that might have coveted it😔) (unfortunately some of the iridescence rubbed off in the bag while travelling TT.. but enough of it is still there) the small white ones were from a little stream, and the orange ones were broken pieces so I doubt they'd have been of any use to any other creature? Speaking of which

This one seems particularly old, and there seem to be little spiral imprints on it? I think they might be from little molluscs but idk(update: this might actually be a coral piece as well, based on the texture?)

Also to give a little closer look at some of the rocks that may not be as clearly appreciated in the group photo:

Here's one which I think quite resembles a cloudy sky!!! And if you were to turn it around-

An icy mountain range! (it's not everyday you find a picture of a sky *and* a mountain range on a rock? Some of my friends think it resembles waves on a beach too! )

These have particularly interesting patterns, a bit like the inside of a fish perhaps?

This one has a little rainbow in it! I had to edit it tho since it wasn't very clear in the picture.

This one(third from right in the third row) is almost see-through! I found it at my college campus so I was sceptical about it being a piece of plastic or glass, but that seems unlikely based on the weight and less sharp edges🤔

As for the others(which I didn't take individual pictures of because I thought they seem sufficiently visible? If you'd like to see pictures of them taken closely you can always ask!)

Most of the rocks are from the hill nearby(some of which I previously shared on here! They are often jagged and shiny and have gorgeous red staining from the soil!Some of the less jagged ones have a bluish tinge, which unfortunately looks more grey in photos)

The four rocks(two white and two yellow-brown ones!) near the top right corner are courtesy of my friend who got them for me from a trip!

There's three pieces of coral 🪸!! From my trip to andaman(where I got the big shell and the old orange one, and the smaller orange fragment next to the moth wing) There's the one shaped like a mermaid tail! And directly below it is an orange-ish piece, which was unusual since most pieces on the beach were bleached. And on the right of the mermaid tail is a piece that has rather interesting impressions on it(ig from the polyps themselves growing on it?)

Also next to the orange shell fragment there's a few small stones that i thought looked like canines (which I got near the same stream where I found the small white shells)

Ofc, the short answer would've been to just say all of them, but I hope you don't mind that I used the opportunity to introduce the entire collection and rant about it so much :)

[bullfrawgs]

I never did the writeup for all of the episodes in SU Season 5 like I was going to. At this point I probably won't. Season 5 is so weird in comparison to the other seasons. It has the great opening arc of Steven in Space with Lars. Then it has the townie Eps, which was praising at the time for their incredible ability to make me feel anxious waiting for resolution to the Connie plot, to the Lars plot, to the whole town changing (Kevin Party is such a good episode for the manner in which it juggles all of that tension)

And then the next episodes, where Lars is brought back, are great episodes, I love new Lars, but it's so sudden being off screen and also kinda breaks a lot of the townie tension all at once with anticlimax?

And from there the season just gets weirder. The pink diamond reveal I guessed like a season earlier (Steven is literally right on the money in his rant in Storm in the Room, but also he couldn't possibly have yet known half the stuff he was right about), followed by the truly lovely wedding, and then the ending...

Oh that ending...

It starts with Yellow and Blue's Heelturns. This series has an MO for villains and it's that a good friendship speech will cause a change in a character toward good but that change may take time. Peridot and Lapis, even when they're open to friendship, take a while to fully settle into their cottage core aesthetic. Given the time limit they were stretching against I understand why Blue and Yellow's heel turn was so short but their change was the shortest and most wild and it did cause whiplash. From there, while it was probably a good move to pivot from the genocidal stakes to stakes more grounded in generational trauma in order to have a story that can conclude in the allotted time, that change also left me somewhat bewildered. The series built itself up so so well across the previous 5 seasons and it had to break a lot of its buildup in order to fit in the runtime.

The finale basically only survives because of the 1 Gorgeously Animated Shot (you know the one) and then the wall to wall music in the last 10 minutes. It hits the right nostalgia notes, and a just barely somber tinted chord, to make you forget that the ending was not really able to pay off a lot of what it had been promising.

So in the end my thoughts on the end are very similar to the end itself. Messy, disjointed, tinged with a bit of sorrow? Idk. If you read this i'd love to hear your thoughts about the ending in the comments/reblogs. Good or bad. I'm giving Sugar a lot of leeway in my analysis on the basis that the schedule screwed them over, but that's not the only valid read.

[maretriarch]

while rainbow high may not be my favorite i do have to applaud them for having the balls to do a greyscale line im sure that was a nightmare to manufacture, making sure they were all distinct enough

[moonlit-jeno]

red door, yellow door (m.)

pairing: mark lee x fem reader x jung jaehyun

genre/warnings: explicit sexual content | demon au | slight dubcon??? the mans a lust demon idk | Very mild horror themes | minor mlm | don’t attempt this game pls !!!

words: 8.1k

a/n: this is a repost from my old bts blog! pls don’t ask abt it bc i no longer actively follow bts :)

One of these days, you’re going to kill your coworkers.

You love them, you really do, but sometimes they can just be so dumb. It was Donghyuck and Renjun who came up with the idea to play this stupid game, one that is probably only played by naive 12 year old girls during slumber parties.

Normally you’d just brush it off, but Renjun had called you a wimp, so naturally you had to do it. Which is how you’ve ended up on your back with your best friend massaging circles into your forehead.

“Red door, yellow door, any other color door,” is being chanted around the room. You fight the urge to move your neck to a more comfortable position on Mark’s lap. Your hand twitches above your head, where your arms are raised. “This is stupid,” You whisper, and Mark laughs, scolding you lightly.

After a while, the mindless chanting lulls you to sleep, and you feel yourself drift off.

“What do you see?”

Two doors appear in front of you, one red and one yellow. They both look kind of old, paint chipping and peeling off.

“Anything else?”

A black door appears next to the yellow one and you find yourself drawn to it, wanting to go in. This one is shinier, considerable newer and more inviting compared to the other two

“Go in.”

You open the door and walk through, a sense of relief flooding through your senses as you give in to the pull. The room that you find yourself in seems never ending, the only thing in it a large bed.

“Do you see anyone?”

A man appears, sitting on the bed. The suit he’s wearing is unfitting for the plain surroundings- in fact, he’s unfitting for the surroundings in general. His teeth are blinding white when he smiles, not a hair out of place on his entire head. He’s attractive, all golden skin and beautiful features. Almost too beautiful. A shiver crawls up your spine, a tinge of discomfort bleeding into your senses. He smiles, dimples popping out, and you push the discomfort to the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out distant to your own ears, echoing around you.

“Call me Jaehyun. Why don’t you come here, little bird? We can get properly acquainted.” The voice sounds haunting, like a distorted video. You wouldn’t believe that he’s speaking if his lips didn’t move in sync. Despite the unnatural voice sounding warning bells in your brain, you find yourself moving forward automatically and settling down on his lap when he pats his thigh for emphasis.

“And what’s your name, little bird?” He trails a hand up and down your thigh and you shiver, leaning back against him. He chuckles when you tell him your name, a pleased smile lighting up his features.

“Well, little bird, seems that we’re going to have some fun together.”

Your name is being echoed all around you, and you wake with a jolt, eyes flying open to see Mark staring at you.

“Are you okay?” The rest of your group is also gathered around you, standing in a half circle.

“Yeah, just fell asleep for a bit. Why?” You push yourself onto your elbows, sitting up so that you can lean against Mark.

Donghyuck plops down on the floor, sitting so that he’s facing you. “You were talking like you were having a conversation with someone. Who was it?”

You shrug, trying not to dull his excitement. “I don’t know, just some guy.”

“Was he wearing a suit?” Renjun asks, standing behind Hyuck. He grimaces when you nod. “Y/n, we literally told you not to talk to anyone in a suit. We told you not to talk to anyone. It’s in the rules.”

You roll your eyes, knowing how serious he gets when it comes to stuff like this. “Relax, it’s fine. He seemed nice, and it’s not like it was anything real.”

Renjun still doesn’t look convinced, but Mark interrupts his paranoia by doing what he’s best- or worst, depending on who you ask- at, cracking jokes.

“Hey, was he eating deviled eggs?” He laughs at his own joke, and everyone else groans. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. His place was probably such a hellhole.” The bad mood dissolves into jokes and loud laughter for the rest of the night.

You leave the party- or gathering as Donghyuck had called it because it sounded more mysterious- when it starts storming. The rain drenches you and pretty much everyone else that’s sitting on the porch, leaving you scrambling for shelter. Luckily, Mark offers you a ride.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Mark hollars out the window of his truck, his words getting lost in the night as he speeds off. His truck hits a pothole and you can imagine him swearing as his head hits the roof. Giggling to yourself, you unlock your apartment and slip inside. It’s close to 2 in the morning, so you decide that if you’re already not going to get that much sleep, why not binge Shameless?

You only get through two episodes before your eyelids feel heavy, and you have to fight to keep them open. On screen, there’s a bar fight that you try to take interest in, but sleep quickly pulls you under.

“Welcome back, little bird.” The voice is all around you, but no matter how much you turn and search, no one’s to be found.

“Turn around, little bird, I am here.” Spinning abruptly, you come face to face with the man from earlier, Jaehyun. He gives you a chilling grin.

“So we meet again,” he starts, and his voice no longer sounds eerie or inauthentic. He sounds like, well, a normal man. “Tell me, what would you do if I were to kiss you?”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips on instinct. “Depends. Are you a good kisser?” You aim for coy, but you miss the mark and land closer to worried.

“You could say that.” He pulls you close with one hand on the back of your head, stopping right before your lips. “May I?”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a gentle, closed mouth kiss.

It’s like that touch ignites a fire in you, because before you know it, your arms are thrown around his neck, dragging him closer to deepen the kiss. You lick along his lower lip and he readily grants you access, a throaty groan leaving him when you suck on his tongue. Liquid heat courses through your veins when he nips at your lower lip, tongue flicking over it in apology. You moan, raw and needy. He likes that, if the chuckle and wicked grin is anything to go by. Picking you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, he walks over to a bed that definitely wasn’t there before.

He drops you on the bed, and then suddenly you’re both naked. Jaehyun leans over you, all lean muscles and golden skin. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his legs, and you have the urge to swallow him down. He groans, as if reading your mind, and then reaches to pump himself slowly, long fingers wrapped around the length. “Not now, little bird, not now. I have something else in mind.” With one gentle push to your shoulders, you’re lying flat on the bed, Jaehyun between your legs. His mouth hovers over your core, already wet and dripping despite not having been touched. He plays idly with the slick on your upper thigh, drawing random patterns into the flesh. His eyes are dark, and you could swear that they’re entirely black, no white visible. He peers curiously up at you from between your legs, watching your reaction as his fingers get closer and closer to where you want him. Your breathing picks up as arousal thrums through your body, center pulsing and aching for some sort of relief.

“May I have you?” His breath ghosts over your center when you speak, the sensation making you even needier. 

You nod quickly. “Take it, fuck, you have all of me.” He grins, wasting no time in diving in. His tongue feels impossibly good, licking up your folds and circling over your clit. He leaves sloppy kisses along your core, one hand massaging your thigh and keeping you spread open. You cry out when his tongue pushes into you, his nose brushing your clit and sending sparks up your spine.

His tongue feels impossibly long, so good inside of you that you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your hips buck up desperately, riding his face to hell and back. One arm gets thrown over your stomach to keep you in place while two fingers from his free hand dip into your soaking core, curling into that spot immediately. Stars flash behind your eyes, one hand coming down to fist in Jaehyun’s hair. Your feet scramble frantically along his back, heels digging in in an effort to anchor yourself, toes curling at the sensations singing through you.

You feel your orgasm drawing closer, heat pooling in your center. You whimper brokenly as you try to chase after your high, grinding your hips along his tongue. He lets you, just holding his tongue flat out for you to ride.

You come like that, falling apart on his tongue, screams of his name falling from your lips. He works you through it, tongue gently licking along your folds, slurping up your arousal as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks.

You lay there, boneless and whimpering weakly through the aftershocks until Jaehyun pulls away to kiss up your body. He licks into your mouth hotly, reminding you that he hasn’t come yet. You bat weakly at his chest, pushing him onto his back. “Your turn,”

He groans in appreciation at the view of you above him. “So perfect, little bird. I’m gonna have so much fun with your soul.”

This sentence freezes you in your spot. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jaehyun meets your gaze, black eyes entrancing you. “That means, y/n, that I’m going to have your soul. You belong to me now, hmm?” One of his hands plays gently with a strand of your hair. “That’s what you agreed to earlier, no?”

“N-no.” You try backing away, but the inhuman voice from earlier is back, echoing everywhere, repeating his words over and over until you can’t take it anymore-

You wake with a gasp, hitting your head as you sit up. Your computer is still on your lap, episode fifteen playing. Fuck, you’ve only been asleep for forty five minutes. It’s not even three yet, and you don’t have to go to work until eight. Deciding there’s no way you’re falling back asleep, you get up and decide to bake.

Five hours later, your coworkers love you when you show up with containers of cinnamon rolls, five different types of cookies, and a coffee cake. Mark looks mildly worried.

“You okay? I haven’t seen you bake since high school.” You snap out of your thoughts and turn to face Mark. The look of concern on your best friend’s face is enough to make you feel guilty and you nod, forcing a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Had a bad dream last night and couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” You respond, trying not to show how bothered you actually are.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mark leans forward over his desk, chin planted on his hand.

“No, it’s gonna sound dumb.” You whine, shaking your head. And it is dumb, even to you. You’re scared because you had a dream that some man ate you out and then told you he was going to take your soul?

“Well, you always sound dumb. Of course your dreams are gonna be dumb.” Mark laughs as you chuck a piece of cake at him, infectious laugh soothing you. You sigh.

Mark raises his eyebrows at you when you finish telling him your dream. “You’re scared because you had a wet dream? Damn, I’d be living in a nightmare if I was scared after every wet dream I’ve had.”

You kick him under the table. “Mark! It was really scary. He told me he was going to take my soul!”

Upon seeing that you’re actually freaked out, his face softens. “Look, y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You probably just thought that he was hot, and your brain remembered his face and put it in a dream. I wouldn’t worry about it; what’s the worst he’s gonna do, haunt you?”

You give a shaky nod, agreeing. It’s not like something from your dreams could actually harm you. Mark reaches across the desk, taking your hand in his and giving a tight squeeze, warm brown eyes gazing at you openly. “And if something does happen, just remember that I’m your best friend. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks, Mark. Means a lot to me.”

He leans back in his seat. “Anytime, anyplace, anything. Triple A.”

You smile, raising an eyebrow. “Anything?”

His eyes go wide, taking in the glint in your eyes. “Within reason.”

“How about a sip of coffee?” You nod down at his cup, pasting a huge smile on your face.

“I did say within reason, so no.”

You huff. “I expected that.”

Although you don’t scare easily, it’s safe to say that you’re a bit unsettled tonight, especially after your nightmare last night. You find yourself jumping at every little noise, hand slamming the light switch on with your pulse racing every five minutes. This has been going on for an hour, and after a final sweep of your room reveals nothing, you decide that maybe a face mask will help you relax.

Your bathroom has two mirrors facing each other, which is normally a blessing when you do your hair, but tonight it does nothing but make you want to hide under your blankets.

Get a grip on yourself, you chastise, grabbing your phone and opening spotify. Maybe some music will help? You click on your Christmas playlist because what better way to cheer up than to think about your favorite holiday?

A mistake, really, because it seems that you’ve forgotten how creepy Santa is.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake,” Yikes. You stop that song in a hurry, feeling anything but comforted. No music then, noted.

You reach for your face wash, turning the sink on and waiting for the water to warm. You can’t help but glance in the mirror behind you every so often, paranoia getting the best of you. Man, you feel pathetic, worrying about monsters in your closet like you’re six and not twenty-six.

You wash your face quickly, hoping that your fears will wash away as well. No such luck.

You swear you see something move behind you after you dry your face off, but there’s nothing there. Shaking it off, you reach for your face mask, taking your time painting your face with the green clay.

It’s after your face is coated that you spot someone in the glass behind you. You scream, whipping around to come face to face with a man. Not just any man- Jaehyun.

Your heart thunders in your chest, eyes widening in fear. He seems to be in the mirror, copying your petrified expression mockingly.

“Hello, little bird.” He purrs, smirking lightly.

“Are you- are you in my mirror?” You’re in disbelief, mind struggling to comprehend this. First you spot him while in a weird trance, then in a dream, and now in your mirror? Maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis.

“No, I am not. Mirrors are just gateways to alternate dimensions. I’m merely using the mirror to visit you.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. It feels like your throat is made of sandpaper with how hard it is to choke out your words. “O-okay. I’m just gonna- yeah.”

You grab your phone from the counter and bolt, fumbling for your keys before jumping into your car and speeding off in the direction of Mark’s house. You call him, fingers fumbling on the screen. He goes to voicemail the first time, and your heart drops. “No, no, no,” you whisper frantically, calling again. He does pick up this time.

“Y/n? It’s the middle of the night.” His voice sounds gruff, and you feel guilty for waking him up. One glance in your rear view mirror reveals that Jaehyun is joining you on this ride, and you scream, car swerving violently to one side before you straighten it out.

“Where are we going, little bird?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Mark’s voice has lost its sleepy edge, taking on a concerned tone. He says your name again, more frantic.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your tires squeal as you make a turn, now only two blocks away. “Can I- can I come over? I really need to be with someone right now.”

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome. The door’s unlocked.”

You hang up, willing the tears in your eyes to not spill over. Finally arriving, you slam on the breaks and haphazardly pull next to a curb, yanking the key out of the ignition and sprinting to Mark’s house.

You lock the door behind you when you step inside, testing the handle as if a door could stop a mirror traveling demon or whatever the fuck Jaehyun was from coming inside. “Mirrors,” you mumble, reaching the stairs.

“Y/n? What’s-” Mark stands at the top of the stairs, one hand rubbing at his eyes. You cut him off, flying up the stairs.

“Mirrors, fuck. Mark, we need to cover the mirrors!” You breeze by his shocked figure, not noticing the way he turns to stare at you incredulously.

“What, why? Y/n, are you crazy?”

Ignoring him, you throw a towel over the mirror in his bathroom, ripping open a pack of bandaids to use as adhesive.

You throw another towel over the mirror in his bedroom, collapsing on his bed when you’re done and finally allowing yourself to sob.

“Y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Mark, as gentle and caring as ever, comes over to sit next to you, one hand combing through your hair.

“I- don’t laugh at me.” You stare him straight in the eye, pleading with him. You know you’re going to sound crazy, but you’re praying that your best friend listens to you. He nods, urging you to go on.

“That- that man I saw in my dream and during whatever fucked up game Hyuck had us play? He was in my fucking mirror, Mark. I- the whole night, I had this feeling that I was being watched, and then I went into my bathroom and he was just there, and-” You’re hyperventilating at this point, fighting for every breath, tears clouding your vision. “He was in my car, in the rear view mirror-” Mark pulls you closer, enveloping you in his arms and allowing you to sob loudly into his chest. You cry for a few minutes, until you’re finally able to pull yourself together.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve had a rough week, I know. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

He wipes a tear away from your check, patting you lightly. “Why don’t you go wash this off, okay? We can watch a movie after.” He offers, and until that point, you’d forgotten you were wearing a face mask. You grimace at the green imprint on his black shirt, but he just chuckles. “I’ll go grab you some water in the meantime.”

Nodding, you garner up the energy to walk to his bathroom. It’s fine, the mirror’s covered, he can’t hurt you. You close the door just in case, wanting an extra level of protection

You rinse your face with cold water, hoping that it will clear your mind. You give your face a couple more splashes before drying off with a towel.

“You missed a spot on your forehead.” You freeze before looking around wildly. There’s no one around, which can only mean that Jaehyun can still see you. Swallowing, you start the water again, rubbing at your forehead.

“And your left cheek.” You rub at the skin, being way too harsh but you excuse it considering your situation. “No, your other left. My left.”

“Jesus,” You growl in annoyance, reaching up to rip the towel down. Sure enough, there’s a splotch of green on your cheek. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be found. Maybe I am losing my mind.

You finish rinsing the mask off, finding some face lotion buried in Mark’s drawer, screaming bloody murder when Jaehyun appears in the mirror again. “Looking for me?”

“No! Leave me alone!” You cry, head spinning. Jaehyun fakes a pout, holding a hand over his heart in mock hurt. Do demons even have hearts?

“Ouch, little bird. You don’t want to finish what we started the other night? When I had you moaning so pretty, so wet for me. I’m sure your pussy would take me so well, hmm?” Your heart rate kicks up again, but for a different reason this time. You almost moan, thinking about the dream.

Because he was right, you had been so wet. The want comes back full forces, slamming into you like a truck. You remember how needy you were, wanting to suck his cock so bad, wanting him to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. All fear that you previously had is slowly disappearing, fading into lust.

The demon smiles knowingly. “Ah, little bird, so you do remember. Remember how you promised me that you’re mine?”

You nod, eyes glazing over. You’re wet, panties starting to stick to your throbbing core uncomfortably.

“Mmmh, I bet you’re already dripping for me. Just waiting for me to come out and fill you up.”

Hearing your name leave his lips sends a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong that your knees buckle, grabbing onto the counter for support. He chuckles, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by Mark.

“What were you say-” Your best friend trails off, eyes wide as he observes the scene. You snap out of your haze at the interruption. His mouth parts in shock. “You really weren’t kidding, shit.” He laughs humorlessly.

Then, quick as lightning, he rears back and punches the mirror. You scream in surprise at the crack, shards falling to the floor.

You and Mark both stare at the broken shards of glass on the ground, gleaming under the lights. “Mark,” You start, trailing off once you realize you have nothing to say. He seems to understand, walking forward until he’s close enough to pull you into a hug. You feel tears start to slide down your cheeks, dampening the cotton of your best friends shirt. You hug him closer, burying your face into his broad chest. He wraps himself around you, and you let yourself be lulled into the sense of security that his larger frame brings you. A sense of security that vanishes once you hear a low chuckle that definitely does not belong to Mark.

You both scream, leaping backwards and away from the noise. Jaehyun stands there, just in front of the door, with a shit eating grin on his face. You cower behind Mark, who is wrapping a protective arm around you while simultaneously trying to hide behind you.

“I really must thank you for finally setting me free. Normally I have to wait for some asshole with a ouija board, but then there’s just so many other demons that I have to compete with. So I just stick to the dream world-” He pauses to wink at you for emphasis “-but this is so much more fun.” His eyes are black, and you can’t tell where he’s looking. Swallowing, you clutch onto Mark’s arm for dear life.

The demon seems to regard the two of you for a moment, before his amusement seems to grow. He begins to move forward.

“Ah, Mark Lee. Lovely name for a stupid boy. Didn’t you know breaking a mirror is bad luck?” By this point, you and Mark are flattened against the wall, while Jaehyun stands less than a foot away from the two of you. There’s nowhere to run. This is it, you think, this is how I die.

Jaehyun chuckles, turning to you. You lower your gaze to the ground; it hurts to make eye contact with him. “No, little bird. This isn’t how you die, don’t worry.”

Then he’s backing away from the two of you, motioning to follow him. The logical part of your brain is screaming not to, but you find yourself drawn to him, legs carrying you after him without your consent, Mark clutching your arm tightly as he walks next to you.

Jaehyun seems to know the layout of the house, leading you straight into Mark’s bedroom. The demon grabs a chair from the desk and spins it around, straddling it so that he’s facing the bed.

He motions lazily. “Go on now, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

You find yourself sitting down on the edge of the bed, following his words like marching orders. Mark sits about half a foot away from you. Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, no, no. That won’t do. I said to get comfortable, did I not?” He raises an eyebrow as if daring you to argue with him. “Go lay down at the head board.”

You crawl to the head of the bed, settling so that you’re on your side, facing the demon. Mark follows suit, pulling you close to him so that you’re spooning. Jaehyun lets out a pleased hum. “Much better. Aren’t you much more comfortable now?” Nodding, you realize that you actually are more comfortable. It’s not just the change of position, but the energy in the room as well. The demon is no longer giving off a threatening aura. It’s more relaxed, maybe even happy? He certainly looks more relaxed, probably as happy as a demon can get, if not a little smug.

Your body is pulsing with energy, and it takes you a moment to place what you’re feeling. The earlier need to run that you had felt has been replaced with another need, albeit further down. Your thighs clench as another surge of heat pulses through your core, and your face warms at the realization. Why now, of all times, are you horny?

Jaehyun’s grin broadens as he seems to sense your dilemma. “Oh, little bird, if only you knew. Tell me, what type of demon do you think I am?” He watches you curiously, black eyes staring into your soul.

You try to tilt your head towards Mark, but the position’s too awkward and you only catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He looks a bit flushed from what you can see, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip, teeth that you could easily replace with your own- you blink, dazedly. What the fuck? Sexual thoughts about your best friend? That’s a new one. Even if you’ve noticed that he’s hot, you’d never thought about him sexually. Now, though, you can feel the hardness of his dick against your ass, and you can’t help but think about how good he could fuck you.

“Incubus,” You finally manage, blinking rapidly to clear the haze of your vision. Jaehyun grins, looking genuinely surprised that you’d gotten it right.

“Good girl. Make a little sense now?” You nod, fighting a moan as Mark starts to rock against you, slowly, as if he’s unconsciously doing it. Jaehyun notices.

“How about you, Mark? You doing alright over there?”

Your friend, your best friend, buries his face in your neck and groans, deep and delicious. It sends another surge of heat through your body, the growing need between your legs pulsing pathetically. “What are you doing to us?” The words are growled behind you, vibrating against the skin where his lips are pressed.

“Oh no, Mark, I’m not doing anything to you. The only thing I can do to you is make you realize your desires. Your deepest, darkest fantasies? I make that happen. Finally being able to fuck the girl you’ve been in love with for years? I make that happen.” The words take a minute to register with you, but you stiffen when the meaning hits you. Mark Lee, in love with you? An unlikely story, bordering impossible.

The demon chuckles at your inner turmoil, rolling his eyes at how dumb humans can be. “You too, y/n. You love Mark, even if you won’t admit it. You let the idea that he was too good for you scare you away from him. Do you not remember how often you thought of him, late at night after first meeting him?”

You groan in protest, not because it’s not true, but because you do remember. It had been so long ago. When you hadn’t known Mark, had only known of him. You pull away from Mark, awkwardly pushing him to lay flat against the pillows while you clamber on top of him.

“Mark, is it true? Do you love me?” You hold his face between your hands, staring into his eyes. He meets your gaze, pupils blown and eyes half lidded. He nods as best he can.

“So, so much.” Mark’s voice comes out raspy, matching his flushed skin. You lean down to kiss him, uncaring of the other presence in the room. Mark moans when your lips make contact, hands pulling you to straddle him. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his clothed cock against your center, rocking your hips to try to ease the throb of your core. His hands fly to your ass, pulling and kneading at the flesh as he urges you into a harsher pace.

The kiss is rougher, needier now, open mouthed and panting. Mark’s got his tongue tangled with yours, sucking in such a way that sends waves of heat through you. You want him in you, any part of him really.

Jaehyun seems to agree, speaking up from right next to you. You jump, having forgotten he was there although he’s the reason you’re like this in the first place.

“Let’s get the show on the road. As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we’d all enjoy something else a little more.” The demon reaches for the hem of your shirt and you nod, raising your arms above your head to let him pull the garment off. Mark groans at the newly revealed skin, hands going to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Fuck,” He whines, staring in awe at your chest. He doesn’t waste time before leaning up to kiss along your cleavage, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts. Another set of hands unclasp the bra before traveling down your torso to rub circles into your hip bones, sliding your sleeping shorts and panties off at the same time. Jaehyun throws the shorts somewhere off the bed. He keeps the panties, a pleased sigh leaving him as he appreciates the ruined fabric.

“Fuck, little bird. You’re really enjoying this,” He comments, as if he isn’t a fucking lust demon that can sense these kinds of things. You don’t voice your thoughts, because Mark chooses this moment to suck a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin so that all you can do is moan. “You’ve even ruined your panties. They’re soaked.”

He hands the strip of lace to Mark, who lets out a throaty groan at the sight. “You’re not getting these back.” He informs you, slipping the garment into his bedside drawer. You ignore him, instead tugging insistently at his shirt. He takes pity on you, grabbing the collar and yanking the baggy tee over his head.

You let your hands slide down his chest in admiration, feeling the hard lines of his muscles. You lick your lips at how broad his shoulders are, how strong he looks. Jaehyun doesn’t give you much time to enjoy the view, gliding two fingers along your slit before circling around your little nub. A cry of pleasure leaves you to mindlessly press your face into Mark’s collarbone, nipping and sucking the flesh until you’re sure you’ve left a bruise.

Jaehyun slips the two fingers into your aching core, curling and dragging them so well along your walls. Sparks of electricity flow through your veins, heat pooling in your center.

Mark groans from below you. Looking down, you see that you’ve unconsciously dug your nails into his hard chest in an effort to ground yourself. You remove your hands, only to spot little red half crescents littered over his skin. You rub your palms over the marks as if to soothe them, but it seems that the man wasn’t groaning from pain.

“Y/n” He sounds so fucked out, voice hoarse and raw even though hardly anything has happened yet. “You look so good like this, so perfect for me.” He brings one large hand up to cup your cheek, thumb delicately stroking over your cheekbone before moving down to trace your lower lip. You part your lips, letting him slide in before sucking around the digit, tongue curling around it as if it were his cock. His eyes darken a fraction, tongue coming out to wet his lips, swollen and kiss bitten.

You moan around the digit as Jaehyun adds a third finger, stretching your walls so pleasantly that you can’t help but buck your hips back for more. A whine forces its way out of your throat as the demon pulls his fingers out of you, leaving an empty ache between your thighs.

“Don’t you think it would be more fun if she was sucking on something a bit bigger than your finger, Mark?” The voice startles you, breath tickling your ear as he speaks. The man under you nods, swallowing thickly. Your eyes are drawn to the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement, and a gush of wetness pulses down below. Your thighs are probably covered in your arousal at this point.

You scoot down his body, trailing kisses and bites down his toned stomach. You take your time unzipping his pants, sucking a mark into the soft skin below his navel. He’s hard as a rock, and you moan in appreciation at the sheer size of him once you shimmy his jeans down his thighs.

“No underwear?” You ask, mouth curling up in a teasing smirk. He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can watch. “No, ‘s too restricting.”

You lazily pump his dick, thumb flicking over the tip once or twice. You plan to tease him more, but then Jaehyun’s pushing your head down and you have no choice but to open your mouth wide, innocent eyes peeking up at Mark as you take his cock in your mouth. He’s so big that you can’t take him in all the way, keeping one hand curled around his cock to stroke what your mouth can’t reach. You let it get sloppy, using your spit to ease the glide until you’ve got a pleasant rhythm going. Mark replaces Jaehyun’s hands with his own, gathering strands of your hair in his palms and using that grip to control your pace. “F-fuck,” He lets out a shaky exhale, letting his head fall back against the pillows once he’s satisfied with the pace.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, a loud smack sounding throughout the room. You moan, pitching forward onto Mark’s cock and gagging as he hits the back of your throat. A strangled cry leaves the man above you, his hips thrusting even further into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

The demon kneads your stinging flesh before using his grip on you to pull your hips up. “Good girl,” You keen under his praises, sticking your ass up even higher. The warm, wet pressure against your center has you faltering, moaning almost violently around Mark’s cock. He doesn’t seem to be having any complaints, the vibrations forcing a moan of his own out.

Your eyes roll up into your head as Jaehyun wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You’re sure you’d be screaming by now if Mark’s cock wasn’t halfway down your throat. You’ve given up sucking him off by this point, content to let the man fuck your mouth while Jaehyun sucks your fucking soul out from between your legs. It feels so good, not used to being the center of even one man’s focus, let alone two.

Mark eases you off of his cock after you accidentally bite him, using your spit to ease the slide as he lazily fucks up into his loose fist. You rest your head on his thigh, alternating between moaning wantonly and mouthing messily against the skin as you feel your orgasm approach.

Jaehyun pulls away at the last second, and you whine loudly as your orgasm is cut off. The feeling of frustration leaves you close to tears, and you jiggle your ass in hopes that it will regain his attention. It does momentarily, as Jaehyun lands a harsh smack on the flesh, but he pulls away again.

“Mark,” The man in question looks up, hand freezing on his dick as if waiting for Jaehyun’s orders. And fuck, what a sight that would be: your normally brash and confident friend being so pliant and submissive to a near stranger… You blink out of it, feeling mildly ashamed even in your current state. Luckily, Jaehyun interrupts your thoughts. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you go first. You’ve been waiting long enough for this, anyway.”

Mark nods eagerly, pulling you into a desperate kiss. You paw at every inch of skin you can reach, searching for a release from the ache inside of you. Your wish is granted when he hooks two fingers in your soaking cunt, groaning at how wet you are. He scissors you open quickly, hissing at how tight you feel.

“Ready, angel? Want my cock?” The pet name has you moaning, though it draws a low chuckle from Jaehyun, who’s watching from his position next to Mark.

“Hurry up, already. Need you in me, ‘ve waited so long.”

Mark lights up at this, smile stretching his features. He looks so breathtaking in this moment, skin glowing and flushed, hair mussed up, eyes blown wide and half lidded.

“I’m yours,” He breathes, leaning up for one last kiss. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you forward so that you’re hovering above his thick cock. “Ride me baby.”

“I’d love to.” Reaching one hand down to position him at your entrance, you start to lower yourself down. Of course, Jaehyun chooses this exact moment to stop you. He truly is the spawn of Satan.

“Little bird, hold on just a second. I found something of interest in the back of Markie’s brain.” You cringe as he mocks your earlier nickname for the man. “What’s this I’m seeing, Mark? You like it up the ass?” His tone is teasing, but Mark groans in embarrassment. His face has gone an alarming shade of red by this point. “N-no,” He tries to deny, sputtering excuses but Jaehyun cuts him off with a press of a finger to his lips. “Oh, Mark, don’t get shy on me now. It’s a perfectly fine thing to like. Little bird, you’ll get your turn in a minute. You,” He snaps his fingers at Mark. “Come here. Kneel up, just like that. Perfect.” He appraises Mark’s ass for a moment, hands moulding the flesh before slipping a finger in. Mark’s eyebrows furrow, and you shoot up in alarm. “Doesn’t he need lube?”

Jaehyun looks at you, surprised that you care, before chuckling. “I can produce lube. Perks of being a lust demon.” Winking at you, he returns his focus to Mark. You can’t see what he’s doing, but the pure pleasure present on your best friends face has you clenching your thighs together, waves of need crashing through you. If you thought he looked good before, he looks absolutely gone now. Breathless groans are leaving him now, eyelids fighting to stay open as he sinks down on the others fingers. You watch him, mesmerized, before shuffling over to him.

“How close are you?”

He forces his gaze down to you. “Kind of- nngh- close, w-why?” 

Wrapping a hand around his base lightly, you start stroking. “Will you come if I blow you?”

He moans, a punched out sound that takes you by surprise. “Fuck, yes, I’ll definitely come if you blow me.” You pout in disappointment. Upon seeing your crestfallen expression, he continues. “Maybe we c-can- oh, yes- figure something out. Jaehyun,” He turns his head back behind him, struggling to get the words out between moans. “Can I eat y/n out?”

There’s just something so hot about Mark asking for permission from someone else that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. Jaehyun must nod, because then you’re being laid back, Mark settling between your thighs. He’s sucking sweet kisses into your core almost immediately, pulling your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. You’re letting out sharp cries of pleasure the whole time, eyes fighting the urge to roll back in your head in favor of watching Mark between your legs. A particularly well placed flick of his tongue has your hips rolling against his face, grasping the sheets in your hand as your mind blanks. The pleasure climbing through your system is insane, threatening to burn you from the inside out.

It only gets better once Mark starts moaning, his sinful mouth sending sweet vibrations traveling up your core. You manage to catch sight of Jaehyun behind him, kissing wetly along his shoulders and neck, features curving into a smirk once he notices you watching him.

“Little bird likes this, hmm? Like watching another man pleasure your boyfriend while he pleases you?” You hum, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze, unable to even think, letting his boyfriend comment slide. Whereas before it hurt to look directly into his eyes, you now find yourself getting lost in his dark orbs. It’s like a drug, your pleasure being amplified by the man, demon, whatever in front of you.

You finally break eye contact, head falling back against the mattress as Mark draws you closer and closer to your peak. Burying one hand in his hair, you use the leverage to grind your core against his face, chasing your sweet release. “C-close, Mark, please-” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point. It’s too much but not enough at the same time. Jaehyun saves you from having to decide by cruelly ripping your orgasm away from you, again, dragging Mark’s face away from your pussy.

A few tears slip down your face at this point, frustration reaching its peak. Jaehyun wipes the tears away, laughing lowly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire soon.”

He must pull out of Mark, because your friend whimpers before seeming to realize what he just did and clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Mark, would you like to fuck our little bird now?” Mark nods, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips.

Jaehyun smirks. “Good. On your back. Y/n, ride him.” You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble onto your knees, wasting no time in straddling Mark before dropping yourself down on him. You both moan in satisfaction, you at finally being filled and Mark at your tightness. You have to brace both hands on his chest, almost collapsing at the overwhelming relief you feel. Beyond the burn of the stretch, his cock filling you up so nicely, there’s a sweet pleasure, a satisfaction.

You don’t wait very long to adjust, grinding your hips in smooth circles before lifting yourself off of him and dropping yourself back down. You quickly start a rhythm of you bouncing on his cock, eyes rolling at how fucking big he feels in you.

Mark’s hands are locked in a vice grip on your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh and using his grip to urge you into a faster pace.

Jaehyun decides to join, coming up behind you to kiss at your neck, one hand reaching up to your mouth. “Suck,” He commands, slipping two fingers past your willing lips. You do, hollowing your cheeks and slurping around the digits, wishing that it was his dick. He hums behind you, bringing the wet digits down to your entrance, finding your clit with ease and rubbing fast circles into the little nub. You moan even louder now, feeling yourself speed towards your climax. You’ve been on edge for too long, you can’t hold on anymore.

“You close, little bird? Going to come on Mark’s cock? Gonna make him fill you up, pound into that dirty cunt?” His words get to you, your head falling back against his shoulder once more.

“Yes, yes! Oh, please, please-” He cuts off your mindless rambling by pulling you in for a kiss, one that you melt into. This is the first time he’s kissed you, and you’re quite upset that you hadn’t kissed him earlier. It’s a hot kiss, lots of tongue and teeth. It heightens your pleasure immensely, and you can’t stop kissing him. You suck on his tongue filthily, and oh, he must like that if the resulting groan is anything to go by. Even when he goes to pull away, you won’t let him, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him close. He seems to be speeding up your release, if that were even possible. Your mind feels hazier now, every sensation heightened, core screaming for release. You feel your orgasm twisting painfully at your insides, pulsing before finally exploding. The intensity of it rips a scream out of your throat, nails scratching across Mark’s chest as Jaehyun licks even deeper into your mouth, drinking up the noises you make.

When you come down, Mark is still thrusting desperately up into you, though he stops at the demons command. “From behind,” You hear Jaehyun say, but everything’s hazy at this point. Your mind is still fuzzy from your orgasm, and it’s like watching through a screen. Like you’re high, though you hadn’t had anything the whole day.

Mark manhandles you into position, hands and knees with your ass raised high in the air. He leaves one gentle kiss on your shoulder blade before relentlessly pounding into you, cock hitting even deeper in this position. Jaehyun kneels in front of you, pulling your face in towards his cock. You moan around him as he slips inside, mouth not quite burning at the stretch like Mark, though the demon still has you gagging. His cock has the same effect on you as his kisses did, and you feel addicted. You’re slurping and sucking and moaning around him, not wanting the intense pleasure to stop. You barely hear the kissing above you, taking far too long to register that Jaehyun has pulled Mark into a messy kiss above you. The image has you moaning even more wantonly, ass pushing back against Mark.

The kiss seems to have a similar effect on the man, because then he’s slamming into you at an even more relentless rate, moans higher and more frequent before he’s coming with a shout, finally filling you up. Your core pulses again at the feeling, and you suck at Jaehyun’s dick with renewed vigor. His hands fist in your hair, keeping you still so that he can fuck your mouth as hard as he wants. You relish in the feeling of your throat being fucked raw, spit dripping out of your mouth and down his cock. He lets out a deep groan, hips slamming deep one last time as he finishes. His cum seems to ignite a fire within you, because you’re coming almost simultaneously with him, despite not even being touched.

You collapse afterwards, dragging yourself to Mark and letting him drape himself over you. You let yourself drift off to sleep, sated and still riding the high.

The demon kisses each of you one last time, drinking in the last remaining parts of your soul, watching as the two humans take their last breaths. “Thanks for the meal, lovelies.” He chuckles, petting your head almost affectionately before walking out into the night sky, not sparing a single glance back.

[bxthharmon]

Pink Champagne (1) - Benny Watts x Reader

Words: 2154

Series Warnings: Drinking, substance and alcohol abuse, addiction, smoking

Pt. Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, smoking

A/N: idk how regular updates will be and idk where tf this is going but here we are lol

“masterlist”

“You’re a woman.”

The twelve year old looks up at the speaker, her mother, apprehensive. She does not consider herself as a woman, not yet anyway. Besides, the older woman was drunk - but then again, when wasn’t she? 

“Not only that, you’re a pretty woman, with a kind heart. You’re just like I was.” the mother props her head up with her hands, elbows on the table as she faces her only daughter. “Men will use you. They will hurt you and bring you down and they will break you because they can. Don’t let them. Don’t let them hurt you, be strong. You have brothers, and they are strong, but not like me and you are strong. They fight with their fists and think with their dicks. Us? We fight with our words and think with our brains. Keep your head up, don’t let them push you around.” the women, staring at each other in a conflicting sense of understanding and resentment, stay silent. The mother, resenting her child for still having the opportunities that she missed, and adoring that her daughter could still be something. The young girl, resenting being told how to live her life, but adoring the fact that her mother cared enough to tell her things like this. 

The mother, always the first one to break, stands, stretching, then reaching for another bottle.

-

Paris was everything that was expected. Y/N shopped and drank and fucked in that oddly cinematic way that everything in Paris happened, wasting two months of her life partying. She did a photoshoot for a new advertising campaign for a fashion house she is the ambassador for, and as always, got bored. After six weeks, she wound up in the same position she had been in so many times before, stocking up on months worth of wine, then finishing it within two weeks. After two months in Paris, she lay on top of the covers of her bed, wondering if she should have taken Beth up on her offer. She hadn’t spoken to any of her American friends since she left, and of the people she had seen in person, she knew that they had no connections to her American friends, so she felt safe. 

Out of alcohol and cigarettes, she considered sending the door boy to get some, or even going herself, and decided to do neither. It was at this point that she realised that she had eaten a sum total of four things in two weeks, all of which were snacks, and was drinking herself to death. She decided that she wanted French toast and that overly fancy Columbian pressed coffee from the cafe down the road. She would get cigarettes on the way.  So she dressed and left, greeting the surprised door boy on her way out. She bought her cigarettes, ate her French toast, drank her coffee, then considered her next move.

London was out of the question - she’d only just remembered that she’d sold her apartment. That left New York, Los Angeles or Beth’s offer of Kentucky. Los Angeles never ended well, and she didn’t want to get dragged into anything by her manager. Kentucky or New York? She would have to call Beth  to decide. 

So she traipsed back to her glamorous apartment and dialed Beth’s number, letting it ring out a few times before giving up. So Beth wasn’t at home, was she just out, or in New York? She knew the only way to find out would be through Harry or Benny. She chose Harry. Things between her and Benny were… well, she didn’t know what they were.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am though - you never call.”

“Phone calls are so much hassle.”

“More hassle than seeing people in person?”

She paused, unable to outwit him, especially given the hangover she could feel creeping up on her. “Is Beth in Kentucky at the moment?”

“Beth? No.” he answered, “Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She doesn’t have any tournaments, so New York, why?”

“I want to see her.”

“Why didn’t you just call Benny?”

“Don’t worry, thanks though.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Bye.”

“Bye?”

She slammed the phone into its holder, sighing loudly. 

She’d always known she would have to see Benny eventually, but even after over two months since that night, she wasn’t ready. Besides, what was to say he wanted to see her? She slumped down into the armchair next to her phone, surveying her room and realising that he had been right - so had Beth - her drinking was getting out of hand. She stood with determination, picking up clothes from around the room and stuffing them into her wardrobe, which was already overflowing, and picking up all the bottles she could find to fill a couple of large paper bags. When she was done, the room felt cleaner, and she dragged the two paper bags out of her apartment and pushed them down the rubbish chute. She returned to her apartment, rummaging around to find a bag in the depths of her wardrobe. Once she had, she carefully picked out clothes, knowing that once she was back in America, the press would be all over her. She had clothes at Benny’s anyway, but she hated travelling without a suitcase - it made her feel bare. Before she left, she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and straightened herself out, checking that she was definitely wearing shoes and that her outfit all matched.

She carried her suitcase down with a little struggle, gave a couple of euros to the door boy for no reason in particular, and caught a taxi to the airport. The taxi driver, having recognised her instantly, seemed restless and kept telling her about how his twelve-year old-daughter wanted to be a model just like Y/N. She brushed it off, paying him well and buying the next flight she could at the front desk, rushing through customs to catch it. She tried to ignore the looks and comments she got as people realised who she was.

She didn’t sleep on the flight, instead ordering drink after drink, wondering what her mother would say if she could see her only daughter. Or Beth for that matter. She didn’t have to wonder what Benny would say, he had said it plenty of times before. When she left the airport, a crusade of reporters were awaiting her, and she had almost forgotten how the press could be. She persevered to a yellow cab, and let it take her to Benny’s. Standing outside, the harsh cold of autumn pushed her towards the door. She descended the steps, pausing when she reached the door, hearing four or five voices inside. Jesus, the whole gang was here. She steeled herself, knocking sharply and stepping away. The door opened abruptly, Beth appearing, at first confused, and then elated. She launched herself at Y/N, the two clinging to each other. Beth stepped back, scanning her friend over, and glancing towards the door. “You look more put together.”

“I don’t feel it.” Y/N admitted, hating the analytical look everyone seemed to give her these days.

“Why are you back here?” Beth murmured, her words kinder than they sounded, “I thought you were in Paris.”

“Well, I was. Then I ended up spending two weeks drinking myself half to death without leaving the room, and thought maybe it was time for a change of scene.”

“You can’t keep running from yourself, it’ll get you nowhere.”

“I know that.”

“Beth!” the two girls turned, “Are you alright out there? Who is it?” 

Benny’s voice, so recognisable, turned into the actual person. He was standing, jeans, a black top and layered necklaces, shock registering on his face. Y/N, who hadn’t proper registered that she was seeing him until that moment, looked like she wanted a black hole to appear beneath her. Pink tinged her cheeks, embarrassment unfamiliar to her, and she stood up straighter, faking confidence.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Benny.” She glanced back at Beth, who looked away. 

“Wait, is that Y/N?”

Arthur and Hilton appeared, and then Cleo, grinning with a drink in hand.

“You’ve been in Paris, eh?” she said, “Of course, you always seem to be there when I am not.”

“I wish you had been.” Y/N grinned, hugging Cleo tightly.

Benny, having come to his senses after the initial shock, stepped forwards, “A drink?”

Y/N looked at him pointedly, “You never have alcohol in this place.”

“But these three always bring some.” he nodded to the three stood next to her with drinks in hand.

“You not drinking at home really sucks ass.” Y/N groaned, concocting herself a makeshift cocktail with the ingredients she had to hand. 

“You know, most people don’t usually have those in pint glasses.” Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not most people.” she took a lengthy sip, ignoring the worried glances that her friends shared.

“So,” she looked up from her drink with a bright expression, “what’s going on in the chess world?”

“Well, we’re training Beth.” Benny explained.

“What for? She’s better than all of you.” Y/N frowned, and Beth smirked.

“Paris.” Hilton clarified, the prideful chess players ignoring your comment.

“Let’s do a simultaneous!” Benny offered. 

“Cleo, Y/N, are you joining?” 

“You know we can’t play.” Cleo reprimanded, the pair of you sitting down near the game and watching with interest.

“All of our friends are nerds.” Y/N sighed, “Look at them!”

-

By the time Beth had beaten the other three chess players eight times, Benny gave up. He had decided that Beth could ‘do it’, but was also getting distracted by the fact that Cleo and Y/N had found his records and were blasting The Doors as loud as they could and dancing around his living room. When the game was finished, the apartment was filled with the sound of Soul Kitchen, and any ability to concentrate on the game was impossible. Y/N was standing on his coffee table, eyes closed, bottle in hand, hips swaying. Cleo had her arms in the air, swaying with the rhythm, and the two girls seemed so lost in the music that the four surveyors were almost scared to interrupt. Y/N, murmuring the familiar lyrics, took a swig of the bottle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag, only then noticing that her friends had stopped playing. “Join us!” She laughed, reaching over, grabbing Beth’s arm, pulling her up onto the table, and trying to get her to dance. At first, the woman only swayed, but found herself dancing more excessively. Cleo took the task of dragging the boys in, and soon the party of six were all laughing and dancing. The song began to draw to a close, when Alyssa turned to Benny, “Got any of The Beatles?”

He pointed to the stack of records, preoccupied with trying to stop Cleo from spilling her drink. Y/N found the Abbey Road album and the dancing picked up as the apartment began to fill with cigarette smoke and Y/N retrieved some whiskey. She drank straight from the bottle, and continued to dance, pushing off the gently guiding hands that Benny was attempting to provide. At some point, Cleo, Arthur and Hilton took their leave, and Beth turned the music down, leaving Y/N with her bottle and cigs as she joined Benny in surveying the drunken girl.

“I haven’t seen her like this in a long time.” Benny observed, and Beth sighed.

“She tries to hide it from you, she knows how you feel about it.” Beth explained.

“I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

Beth looked back at her friend, “She’s worse than I was.”

Benny scoffed a little, “I don’t know how to help her.”

“Wait,” Beth raised an eyebrow mockingly, “You, Benny Watts, wanting to help someone? That’s never happened before.”

“I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

“That’s different.”

Benny sighed, “Where are you going to sleep now that she’s here?”

“I can find a hotel?” she offered.

“Not this late. I’ll sleep on the blow up, you two sleep in my bed.”

“Okay.”

Beth walked up to Y/N, gently prying the bottle from her hand, Y/N turned to her, taking her in with wide eyes - she was always childlike when she was drunk. She watched curiously as Benny began to pump up the blow up bed, and Beth turned the music off. She let Beth sit her down on Benny’s bed, pulling her own clothes off and replacing them with one of Benny’s shirts while Beth helped Benny get all the leftover bottles in the bin. By the time Beth was back in the room, Alyssa was passed out on the far side of the bed, curled up into a tight fetal position. Beth lay down next to her friend, the familiar scent of alcohol conflicting her in both comfort and disgust.

[silkylious]

Safe (Kaminari Denki x Reader)

Warnings: slight angst/insecurities, comfort, fluff Pairing: kaminari denki x reader Prompt: #58 “You make me feel safe”

A/N: idk why but i hc that kaminari is actually very insecure but jokes around and shit as a coping mechanism. can you sense the self projection here. hope you enjoy this, it was very fun to write!

You sprung forward, eyes wide awake with alarm. Your mind struggled to catch up with your body; phantom sensations still lingering on your skin, static scenes of vibrant blue flames scorched into your brain as your heavy breaths died down into a slightly more regulated rhythm. This was the fifth time this week. It’s been two full months since the training camp, two full months since you’ve moved into the dorms and you still weren’t over it yet. The nightmares just wouldn’t stop.

You plopped back down on the mattress, exasperated and thoroughly annoyed at having your precious slumber cut short. Again. Honestly, for such a prestigious school, U.A. has probably the worst counseling team you’ve ever seen­– or haven’t seen, because despite several of your classmates showing painfully obvious signs of trauma, the school staff has barely stepped in. You huffed at the administration’s incompetence, turning on your side to glare at nothing in particular. A ping interrupted your train of thought, drawing your attention to the device laying on your nightstand. You snatched your phone, unlocking it and immediately squinting at the brightness before checking the time. Three in the morning. Who the hell would text you at ass o’clock in the morning? You knew who.

Pika pika⚡: [image] [image] [image]

some maymays for when you wake up 😌😌

You: they’re called memes ffs

Pika pika⚡: you’re awake??👀

You: no.

The message was left on seen, though the interface of the messaging up was replaced by that of an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile stretched your tired features at the picture of you and Kaminari grinning at the camera. You accepted the call.

“Why are you up?” His voice came through mildly distorted but still as loud as ever, too loud for three in the fucking morning.

“Can’t sleep,” Your answer was slightly muffled by a yawn, betraying just how exhausted you were. The silence that proceeded was deafening, neither of you uttering a word, but you could faintly hear his even breathing. It was oddly calming. You sigh, lids blinking to fight off your drowsiness.

“…You’re still having nightmares?” Words tinged with worry, his voice was much quieter now, gentler. If anything, Kaminari was a great friend. He’d proven that to you time and time again. He was the only one that could tell when you were drowning in hushed misery, seeing through your well-constructed front like it was second nature to him. For someone so astoundingly moronic, he was extremely socially intelligent, and even observant when he wanted to be. And for the umptieth time, he’s showing you just how easily he could pick up on the small traces of discomfort in your voice, the silent plea left unspoken from your lips.

“Yeah…” The reply didn’t come out as resolute as you’d wished it would have been. But it couldn’t be helped. No matter how hard you willed yourself to level your tone in hopes of fending off his concerns, you knew it would all crumble at some point. Go figure your strong façade would fall apart in front of him. It’s always been him. For some reason unknown to you (yet), confiding in him just felt right, secure.

More silence ensued.

Denki was a natural at detecting people’s emotions, but that’s as far as his expertise would go. Sure, he knew how to encourage others, pushing them past their insecurities was as easy as breathing to him. With bright, golden hues and an obnoxiously dorky grin, all he had to do was utter a few optimistic words and that would get the job done. But comfort? Vulnerability? That was so far beyond the shallow waters he’d grown accustomed to. Sentimentalities weren’t his thing, he simply didn’t posses the wisdom and eloquence needed to deal with such situations. His immediate reaction would be to crack a joke, fruitless attempts at lightening the mood but he knew there was a time and place for jests, and this wasn’t one of them. Awkwardness and half-hearted jabs were his immediate reaction… because that’s how he dealt with his own problems too.

“Hey… can I come over? We can play animal crossing or something,” You sure as shit wouldn’t be able to sleep, not in this state. You needed a distraction. A friend.

“What if we get caught?”

“Would you even care if we got caught?”

A light chuckle. “No,”

“Exactly. I’ll be there in a bit.”

The line went dead, he stared at the blank screen of his phone before flopping onto his back. Why you’d be so open with him of all people when he saw just how uneasy around his other classmates, he didn’t know. The list of people he thought were more deserving of your trust was almost unending, and he wasn’t even close to the top of it. One thought brought forward another, each one getting progressively more deprecative, and the sloppily sewn patch over his self-doubt started to tear, ripped off its poorly embedded stitches. He was confident in himself, until he joined class 1-A that is. He just felt… there compared to his peers. His body was nothing to laugh at, but his build was still considerably lean compared to the people he was around. The fact that such a talented, hardworking person had taken interest in him was frankly baffling. He wasn’t as flashy as Todoroki, or as powerful as Bakugo, or as brainy as Midoriya. He was just him. Lackluster, average him. It only added insult to injury when he’d witnessed how they looked at you. They pined for you, and he couldn’t blame them. He craved you too. But god, the nagging thought that you were wasting your time hanging around someone like him, that he was stealing you away from people who were (in his opinion) glaringly more worthy of cherishing you than him, it just wouldn’t go away. You had so many stronger, smarter, better options out there that he couldn’t help but be reminded of how lacking– inadequate he was compared to seemingly everyone else. And yet you chose to get close to him. In a superhuman class full to the brim with prodigies and workaholics, you picked him. It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

He was fished into reality and away from his sea of self-doubt when he heard three consecutive knocks on his door. Just how long had he laid there, wallowing?

The door creaked open and you were greeted with the glorious sight of Kaminari in a Pikachu onesie, a ruffled (adorable) tuft of electric, blonde hair peeking out from under the hood. You snorted.

“Nice pj’s,”

Denki blinked, looking down only to realize that he hadn’t changed out of his onesie because of his overthinking session. An embarrassed chuckle escaped him as he scratched at the side of his cheek, a lopsided smile and a cherry tint creeping up his complexion.

“What can I say, I always have to be on brand.”

You loved that about him. He seemed so laid-back, uncaring, willing to roll with whatever punches were thrown at him, playing off jocular comments and rude insults alike with practiced ease. Giggling past him, you situated on his bed, ready to forget about your nightmares and just have fun with your friend. And if Denki was a genius at anything, it was having fun.

Hours flew by at the pace of minutes, it was now six in the morning, the sun had begun to show its yellow glow and you’d spent the entirety of dawn kicking Kaminari’s butt at Mario kart, sharing laughs and fleeting touches. He liked this, you liked this. Despite knowing that he wasn’t by any means the best suitor for you, he couldn’t halt the need to monopolize you. How could he, when your very presence (unbeknownst to you) shoved his insecurities unceremoniously into the backseat in favor of enjoying the moment with you? He hadn’t a clue how you did it, but you always managed to shoo away his doubts just by being there, and he selfishly couldn’t (and wouldn’t) let go of that. You immersed him in riveting ventures of the now, miles and acres away from his overbearing thoughts. All without even trying, without even knowing it.

It was the weekend (thank fuck) and sleeping in sounded like heaven on earth right now. If it weren’t for your nightmares. The fear of recounting those horrid memories in horrific detail again barred your eyes from sleep, regardless of how spent you were. Apparently, Denki’s spidey-friendship senses kicked in again, because he immediately noticed the apprehension on your face, the stiffness in your movements as you were preparing to leave. He knew exactly what was up with you, and he couldn’t let you leave like that, it would eat him up for days. He grabbed your wrist as you turned for the door.

“Do you wanna stay?”

Maybe it was your exhausted mind finally turning into mush, or maybe it was the softness in his voice, the docile concern in his eyes that made you agree on staying. Your compliance surprised you both, honestly. You were both very aware that you wouldn’t have accepted the offer had it been anyone else. But in retrospect it seemed rational. After all, throughout the whole night, not once did you think back to the horrors that would visit you in your sleep, not once did you feel the crippling anxiety clawing at the frayed edges of your psyche. Instead you felt secure, sound. Safe. And you came to an epiphany. Maybe it wasn’t the idea of sleep that scared you, maybe it was the impending loneliness, isolation and uncertainty that you’d often experience without him.

“Yes,”

You laid there, facing each other, a considerable distance between you. No words exchanged, yet you could tell there was a lot on his mind. He decided to voice it all in one question. He knew you were smart enough to catch the underlying self-doubt in his vaguely worded inquiry. Whether you pointed it out or not was entirely up to you, however.

“Why did you say yes to me?”

The articulation caught you off guard, you’d never seen him so… unsure before. Your mind raced with the different possible implications behind his wording, though you decided to quell them all with one single sentence. You smiled, soft and lazy, moving closer to seek out some of his warmth.

“You make me feel safe, Denki.”

And he really did. Even though you came to the revelation mere minutes ago, you accepted it swimmingly, it felt right to do so. It startled you how ready you were to embrace the newfound feelings, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kaminari was stunned, to say the least. He hadn’t expected that response from you and he honestly still couldn’t rationalize it completely either. But for now, the budding feeling in his heart trumped over his ever-present uncertainty, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[myelocin]

of pastries & dinner talks | kita shinsuke

synopsis: to you, he was always just the farmer’s grandson who lived across the street, but perhaps, after conversations over dinner, you could see him in a new light.

characters: kita shinsuke, you, +grandparents cameo

genre: fluff, farmboy kita we love him pls, sort of pining ig idk

wc: 900+

a/n: this serves as req #19 for stories in passing for @angmarwitch

-

All your life, you’ve known Kita Shinsuke only as the farmer’s grandson who walked with you to the train station every morning for the past five years ever since you moved back to the country to live with your own grandfather.

He looked like he was more of the serious type, and he never stood out much or had a noticeable reputation in school. The captain of the boys’ volleyball team and an all-around perfect student—sure.

But aside from those things, his name wasn’t tossed around the conversations you’d hear both in class and the regular chatter in the hallway.

“He seems boring,” one of your friends pointed out when the two of you spent an afternoon finishing a research paper at your front porch. Kita had come by earlier that day, a Tupperware filled with the fresh pastries you knew his grandmother liked to make over the weekend and share with the neighbors.

Your friend, ever the social butterfly she is, doesn’t hesitate to try to strike up a conversation but you could only sit back and watch her stumble on her words when Kita would only respond with the bare minimum.

“He’s not boring,” you chide, reaching over to plate in between the two of you to grab a piece of the pastry he brought over and pop it in your mouth for a bite. “He’s just too formal, unlike you, who yells at everyone within a three feet radius.”

Across you, she rolls her eyes, laughing.

It tastes a little sweeter, you take note. She must have changed the recipe a little this time. From the last time Kita had brought a batch over, he had mentioned she was tweaking the recipe and was experimenting with different measurements for the sweeteners.

“Good, right?” you smile when you watch her expression shift from curious to content when follows your actions and takes a bite.

“Yes, oh my god. I take it back, he’s not boring anymore. I’d marry him if it means I could get my hands on this recipe.”

Laughing at the exaggeration in her reaction, you respond by reaching forward and grabbing another piece to bite into.

It’s still a little warm, you notice again. He must have brought it over as soon as she finished baking them. None the less, it worked for the best.

You decide you like this variation of her recipe the best.

-

“Kita-san!” you call out when you stop by the gate in your house and see him outside theirs, hose in hand as he sprinkled water over the plants in their yard.

He’s growing flowers, you smile. You could recognize the telltale vines of yellow bells anywhere.

You snap out of your thoughts when he turns to you, the nozzle of the hose turned away from him as he smiles at you to continue.

“Thank you for the pastries earlier!”

“Did you like them?” he asks, eyes shifting towards the gate to your left instead of at you.

“I did!” you exclaim. “Did grandma change the recipe again?”

“She did,” he smiles, meeting your eyes. They’ve always looked kind, you realize. Then again, everything about Kita practically personified kindness.

“This one’s her best one by far,” you comment, smiling when he beams at you as he lets out a laugh.

“I’ll be sure to tell her that, then,” he finishes, waving at you when you push open the gates and step inside.

-

And for what it’s worth, you figure out that he really does deliver with what he said that afternoon. Because the following night, when your family’s invited for dinner at his house and his grandmother pulls out the familiar tray of pastries for the dessert that night, as soon as you bite into the warm bread you sigh in contentment.

Looks like she stuck to the most recent recipe, after all.

“Is it good?” she asks, clasping her hands together and looking at you who could only stare back at her, cheeks full, and eyes smiling.

“It is!” you say, quickly downing it with the glass of iced tea next to your plate.

“I’m glad to hear that! Shinsuke told me that you liked that version the best and to make it for tonight,” she comments, looking at her grandson who’s staring at her with wide eyes and pink tinted cheeks.

“He did?” you say out loud, eyes looking over to Kita who avoids your gaze and instead picks up another piece of the pastry and shoves half of it in his mouth. He chose to stay silent as his grandmother chuckles at his response and instead chooses to speak over him.

“He talks about you all the time!”

“Gran,” he groans, tugging at her arm as the adults around the table laugh at his embarrassment. You laugh, leaning forward towards him and smiling. “That’s okay, I’m flattered.”

Kita looks at you, his cheeks still tinged a little red (a little uncharacteristic from someone of his rather stoic character, you muse, but you suppose even the Kita Shinsuke could stumble over his poise too).

“That’s alright,” your grandfather chimes in this time, and the two of you look at him. Kita with curiosity, while you stare back with dread; you could practically feel where his introduction was leading to.

“I heard (y/n) talk about you too! Her friend came over yesterday and she was talking about you the entire afternoon, I think that’s why her friend left a little early, too,” he finishes as everyone around the table erupts with newfound laughter.

“Lolo!” you chide, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“That’s alright,” Kita whispers across you. “I’m flattered,” he finishes, repeating your words from earlier.

-

[shadowling-guistical]

Sit and Bleed.

Roman asks Remus for advice, and Remus delivers. In his own, mildly disturbing way. Somehow, bonding ensues.

Yeah idk either. I shared this to one of my friends and they said, and I quote, "Hey mishi i love you but wtf? Did remus posess you?"

So like, enjoy?

WARNING: Extensive blood talk, period talk, mild injury, mild gore, and generally just canon typical Remus shenanigans.

---

"Do you think that it's true?" Roman had asked him one day, "That writing is easy? That you could just sit at a typewriter and… And bleed?"

It had been dusk, and somehow, Roman had Imaginationed the setting sun to send it's final rays streaking across his room. From where Remus had been lying, splayed out on Roman's carpet like a human sacrifice waiting for a malevolent god, it looked sickeningly beautiful. The gold that bathed the room, the warmth and splendour, he thought it was just saccharinely horrid.

Roman turned his chair to face him. Remus turned his head. A heartbeat turned into two before he scoffed.

"Please," Remus idly picked his nose, rolling the products he found jammed up in his sniffer into a small hard ball and flicked it off to god knows where. He hoped it landed on Roman's pillow. "If writing were that easy, I'd twist my foot off and feed it to Virgil's tarantula,"

"It used to be,"

Remus sighed, swinging his legs up before he leapt onto his feet with a soft oof. Roman went back to his writing, ignoring the sound of Remus' spine popping when he straightened himself. The Duke sauntered to Roman's desk, looking over his shoulder to see…

Nothing.

Well, nothing substantial .

Bits of writing here, a doodle there, scratched out ideas at the corner, angry scribbles at another…Oof.

His twin must have noticed, because Roman’s tone was bitter.

“Not anymore,”

"Yeah well," Remus muttered, thinking of glittering yellow eyes filled with mischief and a sly smirk underneath a shadowy hood, "A lot of other things used to be easy too,"

"Well? What do you think?"

Riiiiight, typewriting and bleeding. Remus scoffed, "Well willya lookit that. You never asked me before, why start now?"

Roman groaned, "... Remus I’m serious here,"

"Hey! It's true," Remus swiped the paper and crumpled it into a ball. Without looking, he threw it over the shoulder. Roman scowled when he sees it bounce onto his bed, "What's up, Prince stink-a-lot? You ask me to come hang out. You didn't kick me out when I wiped boogers onto that skinned angora cat you call a carpet, and now you're asking me questions? What gives?"

"...it's just…"

God, it’s just this and it’s just that , Remus wanted to pull his hair out already. He wished Roman would just spit it out. Just vomit it out and get this over with. Really, getting his stupid twin to just spew whatever was rattling in that noggin if his was worse than pulling teeth out of a gator. And Remus would know, he tried it a lot over the years.

"I just wanted to be like you,"

And there it was, whatever thing that had been sitting in his twin’s gut like a 5 foot long tapeworm.

…

Like him.

Like Remus.

The Duke of Dastardly Deeds.

Mr. Dark and Disgusting himself.

Roman "Pretty Boy" Sanders wanted to be like him?

Remus leaned forward, far more amused than shocked.

"...You're fucking with me,"

"No, I am not," Roman was looking at him with those intense green eyes of his and woah… the guy really was serious, wasn't he?

Huh.

Curiosity reared it's head, familiar and cloying somewhere inside of Remus'  stomach. Then again, it could have been the extra potent shaving cream he had over his deodorant earlier today. Who fucking knows.

"Why?" He finally asked.

"Because… You've always made it look so… easy," Shaking hands ran through unruly curls, "It comes easier for you than it did for me. Always did. Just— How do you do it, Remus?"

The other twin considered it for a moment.

Had it really? Admittedly, Remus didn’t really notice it. He hummed. Sit on a typewriter and let yourself bleed , huh?

Well. He apparently had a crisis to handle.

Remus leaned against Roman's desk. Lightly, he ran rough, clumsy fingers on a splotch of dried ink absorbed into wood.

The tone that his Other Half (Don't make it weird Tumblr, he didn't mean that way. So put those pitchforks down and back away. Thanks.) had used while gesturing to the stack of papers and feather quills on his desk now morphed into disgust, "it feels like I just don't have any flowing in me anymore,"

"Well duh," long, dirty fingernails tapped against polished wood, "It's because bleeding isn't supposed to be easy, you doofus," He sighed, and Roman’s expression caused him to nearly want to groan and drape himself over the table. God, it was so fucking obvious that Roman really had no idea, did he? "You know, If you wanna go all gross metaphor with me, you gotta at least not half ass it,"

"Okay, but half ass it how? That how the saying goes,"

With all the tact and delicacy of a blunt axe, Roman’s words were cut off.

"Then it's a shit saying,"Before Roman could protest, "Look do you want me to help or not? Yeah? Then good. Just shut up for a sec and spill the juicy details," Pause, "Okay, what do you know about periods?"

Roman stiffened, obviously beginning to not like where the conversation was steered to. Because not even Jesus could take the wheel when Remus was behind it. However, Roman reluctantly let his shoulders relax when his twin brushed him off with an eye roll. Cautiously, because Remus still needs to be handled much like a skunk would.

"Remus— “

"Oh just relax. This is going somewhere. Trust me. And I won't do any shit I can't clean up. Just answer the question,"

Roman looked queasy, but swallowed heavily. He supposed he did ask, "I guess, just what Thomas learned in Sex Ed,"

Hm, he could work with that.

"So absolutely shit! Great! I just love the educational system in Florida. Wonderful. Wish the Nerdy Wolverine was here to tell you. But you only got me so it'll have to do— Should've prepared a whole musical number about it too—"

Remus held out his palms, and Roman sees the skin tighten. It strained and stretched before it ripped into a bloody gash.  Roman grimaced, the other unperturbed. In fact, he daresay Remus looked curious. Like he was mulling over what to say.

"Eh, Follow up— Have" Remus let the blood pool into his cupped hands. A tablespoonful turned into a cupful and soon it was overflowing. He tipped his hand so that the blood dribbled down. Drip drip drip, a small stream of blood hit the floor in splatters, "Have you seen it before? Period blood?"

"What?” Oh god, he feels like he could gag, “Gross—! No of course not,"

Remus rolled his eyes.

"Unfeminist much?" The dry tone was met with protest.

"I'm not!—" Roman spluttered, "I don't go around looking for what comes out of people's pants, Remus!"

"Yeah yeah, but did you know they're chunky though?"

"I— What the fuck Remus?"

"Just...humour me for a sec. So they're chunky," Remus sort of flicked his hand, sending smaller droplets flying. A particularly large droplet streaked across Roman’s floor, "Thick goopy, disgusting— Hey, think of that the next time you scoop out some Crofters eh?"

Well, there nearly goes Roman's lunch.

"Oh god.” He pushed down the tickle at the back of his throat, “Please don't— Just, get to the point,"

"Okay okay. Jeez. The point is," two scarred, calloused hands rubbed together, letting the blood smear, "Is that even blood flows differently,"

The hands raised up, tinged red and both of them marred with an angry, red, jagged tear.

"Look at this shit. See? Not everything that comes out is the same. Some places will drip. Others flow and some? They're chunky. That's just how it is. you can't expect chunky blood to flow as easily as fresh blood,"

Without letting Roman mull on the morbid metaphor, he ploughed on.

"Oh yeah— And blood coagulates. It dries up and turns to scab. It won't stay bleeding forever. It's not supposed to. And expecting it to is just stupid, so write that down with your fancy quill,"

Blinking, Roman's mind slowly caught up with him.

Flowing blood and drying and scabbing— He soon deflated.

Oh.

Oh…

He just watched wordlessly as Remus wiped his hand against the fabric of his outfit. Flakes of dried blood sprinkled down joining the droplets on the ground like some sort of morbid snow.

" And just in case you forget, because of course you do. Scabbing is good. Personal experience guaranteed. It heals things. Plus…" the hand with the cut waved again. Exaggeratedly, mockingly, and even Roman couldn't help but to crack a smile, "You gotta make a pretty deep cut if you wanna bleed a lot,"

Maybe Roman was imagining the softer tone that Remus had let bleed into his voice.

"And if you bleed a lot, you gotta let yourself scab,"

A long, slow exhale.

He had to let himself scab.

"And… You've kinda been bleeding a lot, didn’tcha?"

"I…" Roman swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "...Yeah...I think so,"

"Been making some huge cut lately to get it flowing?…"

"...Mmmm…" Shaking breaths, fragile and soft. Okay… okay… "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you… do you think I can… I should—"

Should he stop?

"... Course you could, you stupid bleeding heart…" a hand found itself in Roman's hair, gently carding it. Really, almost petting it, "...But fuck Ro, if that isn't the thing we all love about you, you doof. Of course you can. And you should. In fact, I am telling you to,"

Hesitantly, a pair of arms circled themselves over Roman's shoulder, pulling him close.

Remus didn't mention it when he saw broad shoulders decorated in tassels begin to  shake. He didn't pay attention to the soft sobs that sent a Prince, unwavering and strong, shaking. He didn't care about the way Roman's face had crumpled.

"It's time to let it scab, Roman. And try not to pick at it too much,”

Outside, the figure that had been leaning against the door for the better part of the last 10 minutes smiled.

Heh… Credit where credit's due, he supposed.

He tilted his bowler hat forward and began walking down the hallway. No need to worry.

Who knew that the Duke had it in him.

[catypus]

Okay I hope this isn't bothering you but I've been obsessed with this for a while now- akaashi x reader but she's dying young and she's never seen the snow and wanted to see the world and Akaashi being the compassionate person he is, he plans to take her traveling and to show her all the seasons in other places before she can't anymore-🥺😭 idk ive been obsessed with this idea since FOREVER 🥺👉👈

a | n : aww it’ll never be a bother!! thank you for sending in your request and waiting, we were really busy at that time but hope you like it <3

pairings: akaashi x dying!reader

genre: angsty huhu :”)))

warnings: implied death

© all content belongs to catypus 2020. do not modify or repost.

the four phases of grief (through the seasons)

when it’s you and me, it feels like nothing can tear us down; nothing can tear us apart

  - phase I; shock and numbness -

Time becomes a finite measure only when your days are set.

Others at your age are going out, exploring their futures, just setting foot into an unknown world and you? Get the better half of 1 year thrown at your feet and told, “here make what you will of it”

But how can you?

The words of the doctor echoes in your head, rattling your thoughts and making them dance about until nothing is coherent anymore.

It feels empty.

Like everything has lost its colour, its flavour.

But when he hugs you,

when he lets you cry it out on his shoulder,

when he cups your face and leaves a sweet kiss on your lips and whispers to you,

“my love, I'm here, I'll give you the best life”,

you can’t help but feel a miniscule tinge better.

That the love of your life, will remain a constant until the very end.

akaashi keiji, you’re one hell of a guy

The next day, he springs a surprise trip to Greece.

You could hardly believe the words as they left his lips.

“pack what you need, we leave at the end of the week”

“I’ve already called ahead to your work, you don’t have to worry about that”

And that’s how a week later you found yourselves on the windswept limestone cliffs of Santorini, gazing upon the tops of the notable blue and white architecture.

In the midst of the white-washed buildings, casted golden by the setting sun, Keiji tightens his grip on your hand.

A silent promise.

One that you treasure closest to your heart as the sun disappears beneath the horizon, bringing the day to a close.

 at the end, doesn’t everyone just want closure ?

 - phase ii; yearning and searching -

It's that time of the year where everything starts shriveling up and dying as the temperature takes a dip for the lower end of the thermostat.

And before you know it, you too will shrivel up and die

it’s a never leaving trail of negativity; one that only festers and broils as the autumn leaves scatter at the touch of the cold breeze.

That day, Keiji brings home a new beanie and shoves it snugly over your head, tightly bundling your hair until it frays out. He lets out a low chuckle.

You pout at him, attempting to uncover your eyes so you can see him properly and get your hair in place, when all you see are two plane tickets to Ontario.

He smiles softly at you, watching at your expression.

You meet his gaze quietly, staring into his eyes.

His eyes that hold hope for you.

You both know by now that the prospect of extending your deadline is out of the question. You’ve taken more sick days and the monthly reviews have slowly transitioned into fortnightly ones.

Yet he holds so much emotion for you, so many wishes that you will be happy, with him. Even until the very end.

You grasp his hand, in which he holds the tickets.

“when do we leave?”

The mist rising from the falls breaks the sunlight and forms a slender arc of a rainbow above the crest of the waterfall.

Against the backdrop of the hues of orange, red and yellow, the colours of autumn have never looked more stunning.

The two of you stand there, at the outlook over the edge of the falls, watching the miniscule silhouettes of other tourists on board the boats as they view Niagara Falls from a different perspective.

Maybe it’s about the perspective.

Maybe it’s not that you have less than a year left.

Maybe it’s that you have the rest of the year to love Keiji.

That you have the rest of the year to get your forever with him.

As you link hands and slowly tread through the park, leaves crunching at your feet, he suddenly stops.

“my love, can i get a picture of you?”

As much as he’d never forget your smile, he thought to himself, if he could capture even a shred of your beauty, he’d be forever thankful.

As you stood there, amidst the falling leaves, adjusting your beanie, he thinks you’ve never looked more gorgeous.

 and as we stand here together, in this instant, it’s as if time is standing still, bearing witness to our love

 - phase iii; disorganisation and despair -

 The beauty of a small island in the middle of winter, covered by blankets of glistening white snow.

A fleeting moment, where the frosty wind nips at your cheeks as the ferry slows to a halt, docking at the jetty.

Clasping your gloved hand in his, he gently leads the way, weaving through the crowd.

As you set foot on the ground and take in the view, you realise that no image on google can compare to seeing it in real life.

In days gone by, you fawned over the picturesque landscape and imagery of Nami Island in South Korea.

Especially in the heart of winter, where many others have taken their own recreations of photos out of a K-drama.

“keiji, baby look- “,

As you would show him a sample image of a wedding photoshoot, the couple staring lovingly in each other’s eyes with the tall Maple trees bearing witness to their love.

The same tall Maple trees that you and him now stand before.

In the subtle shadows, casted by the barren trees, he graces your lips with a kiss.

Which turned into another.

And another.

Before he pulls back slightly, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed, just basking in each other’s company.

Softly swaying with the cold wind, he pulls something out of his pocket.

That in which he links around your neck.

When you lean back and look down at your collar, there sits a simple but elegant rose gold chain, to which a pendant is attached to.

And on the pendant, is your anniversary date.

The day that you said yes to being his best friend, his confidante, the love of his life.

Suddenly, you feel very warm.

Your face heats up and tears fall from your eyes before you even notice it.

“keiji, I’m sorry.”

“what for, baby?”

“i’m sorry for whatever’s going to happen after.”

 fate fortold that we would meet, so now my love, what’s the rush?

 - phase iv; reorganisation and recovery -

 The cold winds have blown, now the warm days are returning.

Looking out the window, the green fields rush past as the Shinkansen speedily heads for Sapporo.

Clenching your fingers tighter, you look down at where Keiji’s fingers hold on to yours just as tightly.

One last time.

Slowly but surely, strolling down the pathway, watching as high school couples bask in the bright glow of the pink hues of this season.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that you and Keiji linked arms and sat under the cherry blossoms.

Youth.

As you both sat on the bench, his arms tightly wound across your shoulder, he recalls how all those years ago, as he wiped the corner of your mouth of cream from the daifuku you were eating, he first told you those three words.

“i love you.”

“until forever and the day after that”

He pulls out his phone, your ever-beautiful face smiling back at him from under those autumn leaves in Canada.

The bench beside him has never felt emptier as he places one hand over his chest, the cold metal of the pendant pressing painfully against his heart.

It’s been a year.

A flower bud drops on his shoulder.

He remembers your expressions, the amazement you gave the first time you saw him do a snow angel, the contentment when he had kissed you under the maple trees. The love in your eyes that never wavered a single time.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, before shakily letting it out.

I miss you.

 even when the seasons change, our love will forever remain the same.

[mikeshanlon]

psst share your outer banks coloring secrets

ah, yes, one of the worst shows to color lmaoooo. i'll try to give some tips but im sure as anyone who has tried to color this show knows each scene is diff and has it's own flavor of awful yellow/green/red shading.

some tips on how to go from this to this......

............under the cut! (warning v long and idk if i'm the best at explaining things lmao)

so firstly, i use this psd i made ages ago for everything (alecbaenes was my url many moons ago i just am too lazy to change and reupload). usually i will go into each individual layer of that psd and see how they work with the scene, and will change the opacity or turn off the layer depending on what looks best. generally for obx, i will lower the opacity on the gradient map layer, as well as certain vibrancy/curves/levels layers, ones that make the gif brighter and more vibrant. i will usually bring back some vibrancy and brightness later but when im first getting the base coloring, some layers just heighten the yellow/red and we need to kinda bring that down before we make adjustments to get aspects like skin color more accurate.

so, just with my psd/adjustments made to the psd layers, the gif may looks something like this: (going to use this gif bc i made it more recently so i remember some of the stuff i did better, and is the most accurate to my current process--plus it sucks to color lmao)

ususally still way to red/yellow for my liking, both for the skin tones and to be able to manipulate the colors for a vibrant coloring! so the next step is to get colors as close to how they are normally. warning, you will have to make 345435354 adjustment layers and just keep tweaking and tweaking... and tweaking. sometimes i will have like 20+ adjustment layers at the end of the process. i usually put all my adjustments under my psd--i also always add a vibrance and brightness layer above. sometimes it helps to do final tweaks above the psd if you just cant get anything right bc of course the psd will change how colors normally look.

anyways, usually my base fixes will be some sort of combination of curves, levels, color balance, and selective color. so like, if the gif needs more depth/darkness, or is way too bright, i will bring the curve down or up respectively. levels, and also increasing the black selective color layer will also add depth. i will also use auto curve sometimes! the first image i have below i circled some of the extra tools i may use--auto for auto curves, the top black eyedropper you select the darker points in your gif and it will adjust based on that, the bottom one for the lightest--if i use those i will either use the black one only, or the black and then the white. the other three are examples of how my curve layers may look--i already have S curves in my psd, so when i do extra curve adjustments, it's just one single point, and i don't move it that much. same with levels, i dont make a super dramatic change, when it's under the psd it's enough to just move a bit to make a big difference. sometimes i'll also bring these layers to a lower opacity.

generally my first step is color balance though, especially if the gif seems mostly fine lighting wise. for obx, i usually shift it towards cyan and blue to cancel out the red tones. magenta and green depends, if its more green i may move towards magenta and vice versa, but usually i dont shift it that dramatically and often leave it alone. i will usually move the bottom bar towards blue, to soften the yellow tones. color balance helps shift the overall colors of the gif. notice that it's on mid tones in these pictures:

as you can see, i shift the cyan/red one more dramatically than the yellow/blue, and with magenta and green i usually just move it 1-3 points over. in the last one, i actually shifted towards red above my psd layer, because after all my adjustments i lost some of the red/warmth, so i brought back in red.

with color balance/curves, the gif may looks something like this

less of a completely red/yellow filter over everything! but still not great, their skin is too red, and overall still not the best base to try colorings. so next up is selective color, which can really help you fine tune things, but because of that.... SUUUUPER tedious. i will have 3495874 selective color layers and sometimes like 5 of them will be half canceling each other out just to get something okay. but this is a hobby i've chosen so we must suffer LKRGJRG. generally, my realm revolves around red, yellow, and at times magenta or neutral. if you think back to how we fixed some of the colors with color balance, kind of a similar principle, just with the individual colors. and lots of experimenting. so with color balance i would cancel out reds by making them more cyan--on the red selective color, im also gonna turn up the cyan. for yellow, i'm gonna make it more magenta, to make the yellow tones warmer. i will tweak the other tones too, just kinda experiment to see how changing it affects the gif, and then soon you will kind of intuitively know how to change the values based on whats going on in the gif lighting. magenta selective color helps for red values that are more pink, so make them more red or yellow based on what you need--i don't use this as much, hence i didnt have an example in the crop of psds i opened, but it's helpful sometimes. with neutral selective color, it usually affects the whole gif, so again, only minimal changes--usually i will bring the black levels down if it got to bright, or add just a tinge or yellow or cyan or whatever i need. here's some pics to show examples of what mine looked like for this gif:

there were many more, but i just chose a few. the '1' and '2' i wrote to demonstrate that these layers were sequential, how they balance each other, and how selective color can be a tedious balancing act-- the second example it's like basically the opposite but it balances it out. also, if you have two characters with different skin tones, or the lighting is different for them, etc, you can use layer masks to erase certain adjustments so it only affects one of the subjects. some of these tweaks will be inbetween me transforming the gif to be colorful, and noticing how the colors interact, etc. so between this i was also making it colorful and it's not exactly the finished product at this stage: but this is kind of what the gif would look like after all the adjustments just to get it looking... normalish:

not totally perfect but MUCH better, and also will look a little different when surrounded by the colors i want to turn it into. i have some stuff about how i color in this tag, i can do a lil other tutorial or smth if needed but bc i have limited photo space on the ask and already wrote so much i wont get super into it here. but for shows like obx, it helps to work with a group of colors that will work with the show--yellows/oranges are easier bc of all the yellow already found in the show. pinks can be harder because there is so much yellow in the show, but doable. greens are good because of all the green in the show, and thus blues are good because its easy to go from green to blue with selective color and stuff. thus, purples are good too because its easy to go from blue to purple! stuff like that makes it easier. some work with selective color, hue and saturation, gradients, and voila!

you can see how maybe some of the issues like it being still a little too yellow/greeny toned balances out with the surrounding colors.

also, a big part of it is just practice! i've been giffing for yeaaaaaars and with media that has just the most god awful lighting so i've gotten good at understanding what to do and sometimes i'm just on auto pilot.

hopefully that helped, i know it was long winded and it can be hard to explain/understand photoshop. if y'all want some more in depth explanation about a part of the process i can try, or with other examples!

[annhellsing]

Your Shape.

notes: never in my life thought i’d write an original thing again, but i had a lot of fun!!! i was feeling super overwhelmed and decided to put my maladaptive daydream about a meet-cute with a mysterious entity in a forest into words. rating: teen, we stay tame in these woods pairing: mysterious entity boyfriend idk / reader word count: 3,286

The shape in the forest wants to know if you are warm enough. Moonlight falls over the crown of your head, so yellow and full as to be a parody of sunshine. This late in September, with the harvest coming soon, it is easy to confuse the two.

But the shape does not ask, he does not want to scare you. Your shoulders are slouched, cheeks pressed to your palms to hide tears and sobs. He wants to know if you are unhappy, too. He imagines you have already given him a fair answer, despite not having spoken at all.

A dirt-caked hand curls around the trunk of a tree. The shape leans out of the dark, eyes aglow and horns in danger of bumping on a branch overhead. He ducks a bit, takes a careful step forward. If he were anyone else, the twig under his foot might have snapped and made a sound. But there is an understanding between them, an old promise. The only noise in the night is of your crying.

“It’s too much,” you whisper, half-wailing around the air being pushed from your lungs. You press a hand over your mouth and for a moment, all is quiet. 

The shape decides he does not like that at all. You are unhappy, he’s sure of it, so why not express it?

“What is?” he asks, compelled to speak when before he had stayed silent. You were not crying before, he rations. You did not need help then as you do now.

You turn at the sound of his voice, it is as cold and as full as the moon in the sky. It belongs there, that voice, between the trees. You peer into the dark, not afraid of what might be speaking, but why. Creatures are not uncommon, it is their motivations you have been taught to fear.

A breeze picks up, pushing cool air at your hot cheeks. The feeling is almost pleasant, it’s accompanied by the sound of rustling leaves. Or perhaps of footsteps from your newfound companion. 

He does not walk as a human might, though he is shaped like one. With the grass, too, he has an understanding and his gait is as noiseless and natural as the way that he speaks. You stare up, up, up at him, craning your neck until you find his face.

It is a handsome face, which does not immediately set you at ease. You see the outline of his head and shoulders, framed by two horns extending back against the starlit sky. But the rest of him is a mystery. It disappears into the shadows that knit in a circle around the glade.

“Everything,” you answer with honesty, for it is the best policy.

“I can understand, then, why you are upset,” he replies. 

Your sweater scratches your cheeks as you wipe away tears. But you are very careful to keep one eye open and fixed on the shape, the visitor. It is not very smart to do more than blink in their company.

Still, you make noise. Soft sounds of life, of breath as you try to stifle sobs. Crying gets you nowhere, you remember, especially not with an audience.

“How long have you been watching me?” you ask, careful not to sound accusatory. You are not accusing him of anything, you are only curious.

“I did not mean to infringe on your privacy,” he returns.

“This forest is your home,” you reason. The shape gives a slow shake of his horned head.

“It is home to everyone,” he says, “especially to those who need somewhere safe to cry.”

“Thank you,” you nod, “but have not answered me.”

“Longer than you would be comfortable with,” he replies, “I am sorry.”

“That’s a little vague,” you say.

“Not to me,” he says, “I have seen you here before. Not often, but I have.”

“Oh,” you pass your sleeve over your left eye once more, “I meant tonight, but I appreciate the truth.”

It’s becoming easier to control the way your chest moves. The compulsive need to breathe quickly slows with your heart rate. You are not calm, but you are managing.

“You looked happy before,” he says, “the last time you were here.”

“The last time I was here, things were---” you sigh, dropping your hand and your head. Though you remember very suddenly the dangers of doing so. But when your eyes return quickly to the shape’s again, you notice no change in his appearance. “They were different.”

“They were better?” he asks. Defeated, you nod.

“I am so tired,” you let out a slow breath.

“If you slept here,” he begins, “no one else would bother you. That is a promise.”

“And you keep your promises,” you state, knowing better than to insult him by phrasing that as a question.

“I do,” he says, “the grass is comfortable, the trees keep out most of the rain. Every night I have known life, I have spent it on the floor of a forest.”

“That sounds nice,” you admit. But you are not so foolish as to blindly trust visitors. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Is it very difficult to be there?” he cocks his head to the side, the moonlight falling on a sharp cheekbone. A shadow pools there, you stare with more curiosity than perhaps you ought. The shape doesn’t seem to mind.

“It is,” you reply, “it’s quite lonely, too. Even when I’m spoken to, I feel alone.”

The visitor hums, the sound like the wind against tree boughs. Could he understand?

“I am here,” he says, “for what it is worth.”

You pause, considering his eyes that have not left yours once. Not even to blink. They are a strange colour, glassy but focused very intently on the curve of your face. They look, you consider, like the yellow moon that hangs so close to the edge of the forest.

Round and wide and curious, he stares at you. Not as one might stare at an insect, but as an interesting person.

“So am I,” you reply. And a hesitant smile of your own joins his.

“You have family,” he says, “friends who love you?” and the question at the end cuts like a knife.

“I have nobody,” you say, “though a few would likely search for me. It would be out of habit.”

“Habit?” he asks.

“Because I would do the same for them,” you explain, “my friends and I look after each other. But we’re not very close.”

“You need not be afraid of me,” he says. And that otherworldly smile returns, but it does little to dissuade the butterflies in your stomach.

The shape moves a bit closer, until only his horns are silhouetted against the inky sky. You can see him a bit better, though his lower body still remains a mystery.

You find yourself looking closely at his hands, searching the dirt and grass stains for signs of blood or cruelty. You find neither.

“I am not afraid,” you say, following a shiver.

“Yes, you are,” he says, “I am sorry. I frighten people, I know. But you need not reassure me that you shall be looked for.”

“Force of habit,” you say, “I’ve been told stories all my life, advised to be careful about what I say to visitors.”

“I understand. It is wise for you to follow that advice, but I will not hurt you,” he says.

“And you keep your promises,” you repeat, the smile once again curling on the corners of your mouth.

He surprises you with a laugh, the sound fills your chest even by proxy. As full and soft as his voice, the shape’s laugh makes you feel whole. It isn’t cold any more, you realize. A familiarity blooms in the way he speaks to you already. Perhaps he truly does understand the need for companionship.

You shift a little on the log, deciding to believe him. Not trust, not yet, but to believe.

“I am afraid, but I’m not scared of you,” you say, “would you sit?”

“Can you be both at the same time?” he asks, though he starts forward towards where you are. You’ve straightened up, your cheeks have dried. That pleases him. 

“I am afraid of what would hurt me, of the stories I’ve been told. But you are not like the stories, are you?” you ask. The shape slowly shakes his head. He sinks down beside you, with not a creak from the wood beneath.

“I try not to be,” he admits.

“The woods are lovely,” you say, “I cannot blame visitors for wishing to protect them. It should be protected.”

“But not from you,” he replies, “remember, this is also your home.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you confess.

“Perhaps not, but you do choose to come here every so often. Why?” he cocks his head to the side again, a strand of dark hair falls over his shoulder, having come loose from where it was gathered into a low plait at the back of his neck.

“No one knows me here,” you say, “except for you. And don’t apologize, I don’t dislike that.”

“You do not?” he straightens his neck again. His eyes widen a fraction, as does your smile.

“I forgive you for watching me. I know you meant no harm,” and the visitor nods. “I come here because I am unknown, I can be myself. I have no obligations here. The sounds and sights are never too much, the moonlight is never too bright.”

“Elsewhere you feel overwhelmed,” the shape summarizes. You nod.

“Precisely. And I sit on that feeling until I have no choice but to cry,” it is harder to admit out loud than you like. But in his bright, yellow eyes you find some form of agreement.

He really is quite handsome, you note the longer you’re allowed to look. And though you are less worried about when to blink around him, you find no evidence to suggest he is changing his shape. You suppose that a visitor with ill intent, looking to ensnare a foolish human would choose a less challenging mask.

The visitor is not quite right, unearthly as his beauty may be. His unbroken stare is a colour no mortal thing could ever have. His hair is braided, yes, but this close you can tell a brush has never touched it. What you can see of his ears is sharply triangular at the ends, rather than rounded. Dirt and dust are caked under his fingernails, you wonder if he might be a gravedigger.

But no blood, nor memory of blood pools at the corners of his thin mouth. His lips are not tinged with pale blue the way corpses are. While he is wan and waxy, he does not carry the chill that wraps around you. He may not be fully separate from the night, but he does not seem to belong to it.

“Who are you?” you ask. You’ve spoken at length about your sadness, but it has never felt so far away as it does now. The shape’s smile falters for just a moment.

“I am not certain,” he replies.

“You and me both,” you try to find his grin again, giving him your own so that he will not worry. “I only ask because---”

“Because there is something sinister about me,” he finishes. And he nods, as if he has heard it before. His head dips a fraction, turning from you. All the better see the horns that sprout from it.

They are long and black as his hair, arching back from his brow. They curve, just once and end in a delicate point. And yet he moves as if they are barely a hindrance, with grace that would accompany experience.

“Quite the opposite,” you reply, “I have never heard of anyone like you.”

“I am not a gravedigger,” he replies, “and I am not a monster.”

“No,” you agree, “you don’t eat people, living or dead?”

He curls his lip in disgust rather than answering, it makes you choke on a small giggle. The shape turns back to you, as confused by the sound as you were when he laughed. There is similar awe in his face.

“Then you could be a forest spirit,” you try, “that would make sense.”

“It is possible,” he concedes, “but I do not know. I have been alone for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s so sad,” you speak without thinking, usually a dangerous game. But the shape is unoffended by the obvious pity in your voice. You’ve given him plenty to pity you for, after all. “Do you speak to other people in the forest very often?”

“I have, but never frequently,” he replies. You still do not trust him, but his slight anxiety appears to match your own. As much as he belongs here, it appears he is not sure if he belongs here with you.

He stays a safe distance from you on the log, you shift a little closer. Though your cheeks still sting and the whites of your eyes are still red, you feel less lost in your misery. Less alone.

“I wish I never had to leave,” you sigh, “I could sit in this glade and watch the sky move forever and ever.”

“I have done so,” he says, “it is a very good way to spend one’s time. I enjoy it.”

You trust that to be right, at least. Still, for all his flawless strangeness and otherworldly beauty, he seems very lonely. He’s unhappy.

“I wish---” you start, but cut yourself off. 

“I could steal you,” he says, so suddenly that you wonder how long he’s been holding it back.

“Steal me?” you ask, turing to the shape with an arched brow. But you do not, in fact, sound repulsed.

“You would not have to return home if I did. You could stay here,” he reasons. Taken aback, you smile for the confusion.

“Have you stolen many people?” you ask.

“No,” he says with a firm shake of his head.

“Is it a great honour?” a teasing tone creeps into your voice, your smile turning impish. The visitor smiles too, as if your joy gives him joy by proxy.

“I think it would be my honour, as you would be my guest,” he explains. 

“But why take me?” you ask, resisting the urge to dismiss this completely as some sort of joke.

“So that you will not cry,” he says. And the faraway solemness in his voice stuns you to silence for a moment. 

“Lots of people cry, lots of people are afraid,” you try. He shakes his head.

“But you are here, I am here. Your home is here,” he says. You make a sound, like a sob but softer and more amused. Bewildered.

“Is it allowed?” you know the rules in part, never to accept food from visitors or stay too long. But he isn’t like the creatures in your grandmother’s stories. And if he is, you might be willing to take the risk. Going home with this exchange behind you feels wrong.

“I do not know, I have never offered before,” he admits. You give a slow sigh.

“Are you afraid? There may be consequences,” you try to rationalize why it could never be, and the way his face falls is heartbreaking.

“I am lonely,” he confirms, “nothing else.”

“I was worried you were,” you say. You look at him, horns and all in the moonlight. You dip your head and try to catch his big, yellow eyes. He looks back with no hesitation, like he was hoping for you.

“So, will you stay with me?” your visitor asks. His face softens, more vulnerable now than you’ve seen before. And you thought you had known it all. If this is a lie, you might like to be lied to.

“Right here?” you say, foolishly. His reedy laugh fills your chest again.

“Perhaps not only here, not all the time,” he replies, still looking happy. “I could take you to the places that I like best.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying in the forest,” you consider, pulling your eyes away. The circle of woods around you feels far bigger than before, more free and ready to explore. There is excitement under your tongue. 

Your visitor hears it, he leans in just a bit with your back turned. He couldn’t help it if he wanted to, his mind is already pushing against the confines of his skull. It’s such an old mind, such an old skull. And it has been too long since another voice occupied it the way that yours does.

When you look back to him, you are not afraid. He watches your face very intently, ready to see fear or watery sadness return. He dreads both,  he cannot stop himself from saying,

“And I would not mind your staying, say that you will,” your visitor does not know if he has breath the way humans do, but you have taken his. It will be so hard to part with if you decline. 

To his immortal joy, you lean in a little closer as well. Your shoulders slouch, you relax.

“Where is your most favourite place?” you ask, distracting him from the clutter of his desperation for a moment. 

“Along the bank of the mirror pond, it is not far due east from here,” he replies. It is hard not to smile when thinking of it. The perfect circle of still water, flanked by willow trees and daisy clusters. You might like it there.

“I haven’t been swimming since I was a little girl,” you admit. It’s almost sheepish, embarrassed that such a mundane joy has evaded you.

“You could again,” he suggests, brightening further. Until your visitor’s enthusiasm is dulled by his own hand, worried at reminding you of whatever dreadful situation you’ve come from. “But I would not make you.”

“Do you promise?” you cock your head to the side this time, tilting your head back a fraction to appreciate the full length of his horns.

“I do,” he insists. He would like to have an understanding with you, to understand you. The grass can keep his promises, but it never speaks back.

Your visitor looks so hopeful, you’re shocked by the realization that it may be mirrored on your own face. You are just as desperate, searching for a reason you could say yes. It’s right there, hiding just at the back of your throat. Another word from him and it will come.

He is made of smoke, you’re sure. Of dirt and red clay. Of pine needles and the daisies that you saw when you tried to get thoroughly lost in the woods. And of a kind thought or ten. He is so very sweet, it seems right.

“If you offer and I accept, is that still stealing?” you state your question, the final one before you answer. You’ve decided on that.

You reach into his lap, over thin knees that appear under heavy fabric. You did not see it before for the shadows, but he wears a cloak of green canvas--- so dark as to be almost mistaken for black. His dirt-caked hand, boney and cold from the night air rests against his thigh until you pick it up.

He fits his palm to yours as best he can, it is good enough. 

He smiles, showing his small fangs. You give his hand a squeeze, hoping to warm him. But, you remember, you will have a while to do so. Slowly, you stand and he follows.

“I have no idea,” your shape says.

[vanchlo]

Under The Bed / Chapter One, “Josie”

ABOUT: Josie Stephens was having a hard enough time at her mere age of five, having to start Kindergarten and move to a new house. Little did she know that it all would get a lot worse that first night when a monster popped out from under her bed, changing her life forever. Inspired by the 1989 movie, Little Monsters, one of my childhood favorites, I began this story in 2016 and recently fell back in love with it.

->   SERIES MASTERLIST

->   MAIN MASTERLIST

-> READ ON WATTPAD

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 4k words

TAGLIST: IDK HOW TO DO THESE, BUT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED SO YOU KNOW WHEN A NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED, JUST LET ME KNOW! :)

@berrynarrybanana​

@wotamelonsugar​

SNEAK PEEK OF COURSE -> 

“He remains quiet, and when his neon green irises dart away from me, I know that something is up. 

He may be a monster, but I can read him better than any human I know. His long pale fingers dotted with those blue freckles picks at a hole in my comforter, head bowed and two little mustard colored horns poking out from his mess of hair with one on the left, and one on the right.“

NOW

/

Leaves ranging every shade of red and orange blow around me and settle on the cracked sidewalk. They crunch under my scuffed and dirty high tops as I walk fast around the corner, waiting for my cream house to come into view. Cars and school buses whiz past me, and I hear a barking dog a few blocks away.

I take two steps at a time up the walkway and then on the stairs to the porch, the porch swing in front of the window swaying slightly in the wind. It suddenly stops as I approach, but I don't give it another thought as I pick up the heavy orange potted plant next to the door to find the plate it sits on. The plain silver key sits there catching the sun's light, where I left it yesterday, because my copy has been missing for months. I only wonder who could have done that. Grabbing it, I stick it into the door and give a twist before placing the key back under the pot, like any other day.

The house is silent and dark when I step inside. I flick on the light and the living room is awash in light as I toe off my shoes, warm sunlight pouring in from the open door until it slams shut suddenly. My head flies up and I look around quickly, taking a deep breath and after a minute, I decide it was just the wind. Dropping my heavy backpack at the end of the stairway around the corner, I walk through the living room and into the kitchen against the back of the house.

/

I push open my ajar bedroom door with my foot, leaving my backpack at the door. The sun peeks into my room from the left, coming in through the hastily pulled drapes above my desk. I choose my steps carefully amidst the mess of clothes flung haphazardly across the floor, and others falling out of the open duffle bag sitting by my desk. Falling onto my bed, I click on the TV and bring my crustless PB&J to my lips. Crumbs litter my lap and covers as I watch the rest of an episode of Bones, a rerun but a good one nonetheless.

After awhile with crumbs clinging to my shirt sleeves and sticky peanut butter fingers, I drag my feet over to my desk and get started on my homework. Music trickles from the bluetooth speaker sat at the corner of my desk. I scribble answers in the blanks on the worksheet, turning it over and groaning at all of the questions waiting for me on the back. Peeling my eyes away from the history worksheet, my eyes lift to the gently open blinds. There’s the sliver of outside visible through them, and what really catches my eye - the sun setting on the horizon. My heart does a jump at the sight of it, and I look over my shoulder before I can stop myself. I automatically look to my bed, and the emptiness and scuffed wooden floor underneath it.

With an impatient sigh, I back to my homework with a sullen face. Skipping the next song, I flip the page of my textbook and move on to the next question. I just want to get this shit done already. Who knew it could take so long to find the answers to questions about The Constitution. Yet, more than anything, I try to stay busy. After awhile and two Vampire Weekend albums later, I stuff every single textbook and mechanical pencil away in my backpack.

"Josie, did you hear me? Dinner's ready, come on!" Dad calls up the stairs to me, and I zip one last zipper before yelling 'coming!' and getting to my feet. Opening the door, I step a foot into the hallway and search for my bedroom light with a wandering hand. Something out of the corner of my eye moves, and I look around until I notice the comforter hanging over my bed flutters upwards again. I flick off the light and the room is sent into darkness, before I head downstairs.

/

Wiping the dot of fudge from my lip, I take my time walking up the stairs. The murmur of my parents voices melts together into a background noise as a soft darkness covers the staircase. When I look up to the top of the landing, something stands out from the dark, and my heart does a somersault. A bar of light peeks out from the bottom of my closed bedroom door, and I hear sounds trickling from my bedroom. When I set my foot down on the next stair, a long creeeeeak peels out and the noises cease. The light flickers off and it's silent once again. I lift my foot off the creaky step and walk up another stair, wanting to take them two at a time, but I don't. I try to slow down, no matter how fast I want to go right now, forgetting the fact that I want to run in there right now.

I push open the door slowly, hearing it's long creak before its little clunk when it hits the wall. My hand runs over the wall until I find the light switch and flip it upwards, bathing the room in light. My backpack still sits open by my desk. My laptop is open, but the screen is dark next to my dormant desk lamp. My bed is a mess of wrinkly covers, albeit a dip in my pillows where I sat earlier. Oddly enough, there's another dip at the head of my bed that pulls my eyebrows down into a question. It also yanks my lips up to pinch my cheeks with a smile.

A scuffle pricks my ears, and I look around, confused. First, to underneath my bed where it sounds like it had come from, but the sound is gone as quick as it had happened. My lips set into a frown as I turn and take another look, and when I'm facing my door a loud 'boo!' almost scares me off my feet. I jump back and feel myself start to fall, and luckily, my bed catches me.

"Ugh! You don't have to do that just because you're a monster!" I huff, sitting up and laying my eyes upon the giggling guy in front of me.

"Wha', why not? 's me favorite, it gets ya every time!" he squeals in excitement, and I have to hold myself back from rolling my eyes. That becomes the least of my worries when everything blurs and I'm pushed onto my back. "Hiiiiiiiya, goose! I thought it was you I heard on da stairs, but had t' make sure. Smelled ya when ya walked in, y’know. I knew it was you cuz ya smell like berries and cream," he says as he lies dead weight on top of me. I laugh and hear his silly one in return.

"You'd think you'd be lighter for being- you know, nonhuman, but you definitely aren't."

"Tha's no way t' greet me afta not seein’ eachuther for days. That was rude, goose. Think ya need t' be shown a lesson, you do,” he scoffs and I watch his lips fall into an exaggerrated pout.

"No no no, please don’t!"

"Oh, yes!" he laughs evilly, and I feel it start. It doesn't look like it, but he's strong. Dammit, is he. "Waitin' up here fer tha last half hour for you, thought I was two sweet seconds from gettin' caught fer tha first time in . . ever, and ya call me fat. Tsk tsk, think ya needa lesson taught t' ya," he says, clucking his tongue in the middle of my shrieks and laughs.

"NOOOOOO, WAIT! YOU’RE GONNA!" I shriek in between laughs and desperate pleas for him to stop. His long and quick fingers continue to poke and prod at my ribs, dancing along my stomach and wandering to my armpits, every now and then. Sweat builds on my brow as I flail and squirm, trying to kick him and hit him, but he's expecting that. He knows.

"Josie! What's going on up there?" the loud voice of my dad booms up the stairs, and his movements come to an abrupt stop. His crazy green irises framed by yellow tinged scleras grow wide and alert before darting around.

"Fuck, no. Not yer parents," he whispers fast, and in a blink, his weight from on top of me is gone. My lungs are spewing tiny thank you's, but when I look around, he's gone. There's that same scuffle again and my bed lifts to fall back down a second later.

The old bead necklaces around my door handle slide back and forth when the door opens. My dad's towering figure stands in the doorway and quickly, his hands fall onto his hips in a question while he looks around my room. "I heard yelling up here, what's going on? Are you okay?" the words fall from his thin lips fast, his brown eyes staring back at me while his frown is hard to see through his thick beard. I swing my legs over the bed and face him with a nervous gulp.

"I'm fine, Dad. I was just uh, watching something on TV and the volume was really loud.I'm sorry."

"Hmmm, I could've sworn . . . ," he begins but he waves his hand, his old gold watch falling down his hand along with his wedding ring catching the light. "You just um, try to keep it down up here, sound good?" he finishes with a little smile.

"Yeah, Dad, of course," I reply, and his gelled back ashy blonde hair moves as he nods. I feel a tug on the bottom of my jeans, and I reply with a kick of my foot.

"Okay, well . . ," my dad trails off with a shrug of his shoulders. He then forces an awkward smile before turning around to leave. There's a sharp pinch on my ankle and I wince before giving another kick, and hearing an 'ouch!' I cough quickly to cover it up, sighing when my dad doesn't turn around and walks down the stairs.

"You idiot!" I exclaim under my breath, jumping off my bed and hurrying across my room to close the door.

"How come 'm tha idiot here? I don' remember bein' tha one screamin' her bloody lungs out, now was I?" I scoff as the door meets the hinges and I turn to watch him sliding out from beneath my bed. His sickly pale hand the lightest shade of blue hangs onto the edge of my bed that’s propped up in the air.

He gets to his feet and it falls back to the floor slowly and without a sound, just like every other time. Only a scuffle. He just smirks, his yellow but perfect teeth showing behind his sly smile. My hair moves with my shaking head as I sit back down on the bed, his tall figure moving towards me out of the corner of my eye.

"I dunno why ya don' enjoy me tickles, they're fun. 'm good at it. Y’know 'm quite givin’, could be loads worse, Jose," he comments matter of factly. His  shoulder knocks against mine, and he pushes me over to make room to sit down next tome. I bump shoulders back, but he hardly moves. Figures. "Jus' be lucky ya don' have tha tickle monster under yer bed 'stead, love."

"Sureee," I say, falling back to lie on my bed. There's a little poof and the mattress bounces when he lands next to me.

"Rememba when ya first put up those stupid plastic stars. Thought ya were a bloody genius, you were," he smirks beside me, our elbows knocking against each others. I feel his right shoe nudge against my foot and I kick it off the bed. "Hell, babe! Wha's yer problemo t’night? Wha', ya not miss me, Jose?" My eyes remain on the ceiling, and on the chipped, peeling glow in the dark stars stuck there in an array of sizes and arrangement. Their opaque white color has turned a slight yellow during their age, but his hand pops right in front of my face to block my view of them. It goes back and forth, and finally, I catch it and push it away.

"C'mon, goose, talk t' me. Hate it when yer quiet, makes this no fun."

"That's just it, Harry!" I retort, sitting up and looking to my right to find him lying there on his side looking up at me, confused. His mussy brown curls are crazy once again and swept over his forehead. A few of his sky blue, oblong freckles that cover his body poke out from his fringe of dark hair.

"Wha's just it? 'm not one o’ them monsters who can read minds, Jose, not some jinn or those bloody bogus fortune tellers you lot put so much worth in," he mutters curtly, tsking quietly, thinking I can't hear it, but he's one of the loudest monsters I know. Possibly the only one, but still.

" . . You didn't come last night."

He remains quiet, and when his neon green irises dart away from me, I know that something is up. 

He may be a monster, but I can read him better than any human I know. His long pale fingers dotted with those blue freckles picks at a hole in my comforter, head bowed and two little mustard colored horns poking out from his mess of hair with one on the left, and one on the right. "I didn't think ya'd be home from yer gram's 'till like, this mornin', like ya said," he reveals with a heavy huff holding a hint of an animal-like sound to it, catching me off guard and tearing away any kind of response I had ready. "But, I popped in 'round quarter afta four, afta gettin' done at Ronny Snooker's house, and found ya all curled up like a toasty lil' burrito. Wanted t’ wake ya, trust me I did, but I knew I shouldn't cuz ya'd get all angry at me fer wakin' you an' I hate it when yer mad at me. Can' handle it."

". . I shouldn't even be talking then," I speak up, and his head of curls lifts, letting me find those magical eyes past those long-ass eyelashes. If every monster has eyelashes those long, I fricken swear.

"No, 's not yer fault, Jose. Jus' a teenie tiny misunderstandin’, 's all."

"I did miss you, though. I mean, I guess."

"Ha! I knew it, just had tha feelin’," Harry smirks, his ghostly lips spreading high and wide, and almost up to his eyes. Dark dimples fall into his chiseled cheeks as he whispers an 'aha!' and then, all of a sudden, his wiry stony arms are around me. "Ya miss me, ya miss me, now ya gotta kiss me!"

"I don't think that's how it goes," I get out in between the middle of tight hugs enclosed in his stiff arms, as his familiar musty smell comes over me. It’s like an old basement.

My favorite smell.

"Sure, it does. I know what 'm talkin' 'bout, gotta respect yer elder, goose," he insists, and when I look up at him, he's still grinning. Soon, it falls into a pensive line, and the nostrils of his big pointy nose flare. And sure enough, he sniffs me. "Wha's that I smell on ya?"

"What the hell, Harry?"

"Ya smell like . . Smell like peanut butter, love. Thought you lot ran out last week, like ya said," he says quickly, the words leaving his devilish lips at light speed.

Oh no.

His thick eyebrows hike up his forehead as he sniffs around me fervently, only making me giggle and giving me a tickle. "Oh, ya think 's so funny, do ya? Don' like it when ya tell me lies, goose, an' you know jus’ how much peanut butta 's me favorite. You silly goose, you." He raises a finger and wiggles it at me, giving me a glimpse of his short dirty nails.

"Okay, Okay, I'm sorry! Mom brought home some the other night, like a big tub from Costco. But, Harry, you can't eat it all this time!"

"An' why bloody not?" he replies, annoyed. His dark unruly eyebrows come together and down in a furrow.

"Because! I got blamed for it the last time, like you always seem to do!" 

"Dunno wha' yer talkin' 'bout. 'd never be such a big meanie an' blame sumthin' on ya like that," he smirks, and I push him off of me, getting up and walking over to the black dresser sat against the wall by my door. "What, 'm I s'posed t' do, Josie? Y’know I got this love for peanut butta I can' control."

"You can say that again," I mutter, opening one of the drawers of my dresser and rifling through my clothes

I hear him tsk tsk from behind me, and a squeak from the mattress follows in suit. When I glance over my shoulder at him, he's lying on the left side with his hands behind his head, getting all comfy. Rolling my eyes, I grab a t-shirt and pajama bottoms at random to change into for the night.

"But, I don't know, Harry. Don't they have peanut butter down there?"

"No, I’ve already told you this how many bloody times?! Ni's allergic or summat, tha bloody weirdo, so he neva let's me within like, a mile radius of it. He’s afraid 'm gonn' kill him or summat, even though tha's impossible. Dunno how he can be allergic t' sumthin' so bleedin' delicious. 's rubbish, 's what it 's," Harry says, shaking his head which I laugh at. His eyes drag over to me and he leers at me before shaking it again with his lips pressed into a disapproving line. "Talk it up, Jose. You try bein' a monster for a day."

"I would, if you'd let me," I say quietly. Walking across the room, I slip into my closet,shutting the door behind me.

"Don' even ge'mme started, you li’l shit. Ya think I dunno what yer gettin' at, d’ya?"

"Hey! Be nice to me, and what ever happened to trying not swearing around me? I thought you said it was 'unbecomin’ o’ me t’ swear ‘round you’ and all that," I yell through the door, turning my back as I slip off my clothes to change into the others sitting at my feet.

"Ya, that lasted 'til you were 'bout I dunno, ten, goosie. 's like me vocabulary, I can' help it. I mean, God, ya should hear Ly’ swear - he curses like a friggin' fairy. But, don't tell him that cuz he'd kick me in tha jewels if he heard me compare him t’ a fairy. I mean, ya wouldn' think they're capable o' cursin' - those fairies with that teeny tiny body o' theirs, but boy, oh boy. do they. ‘m quite envious of his swearin’, tho’, if I do say meself."

"I know, I remember. You taught me my first swear words, my parents were horrified when I said 'shit' for the first time. When was it again? Oh yeah, that day in fourth grade when I fell learning how to roller blade," I giggle in return, sliding on the pair of plaid pajama pants, tying the strings at the waist. "And, how would I tell Ly’ anyways when you won't let me meet him?"

"They should be lucky I didn' start ya sooner, but ya, one o' tha proudest moments o’ me damned life," he sighs happily as I walk out of the closet splaying my caramel blonde hair over my shoulders. I try to ignore that he dodged the second part of my sentence. Now, I'm rolling my eyes as I walk to the door and flick off the light, soon joining him and his fake crying on my bed.

Curling up under the covers, my bedside lamp lights his features as he stares up at the ceiling, thinking. Thinking about what, I don't know, but I'm curious. "What do monsters think about, Harry?"

"Y’know . . I rememba tha first time ya asked me that when ya were- what, five? Jus' came home from yer second or third week o’ school an' asked me it. Suddenly, yer in Kindiegarten and ya think yer such a hoot."

"Well, I don't remember what you said then, considering it was almost thirteen years ago, so please, do enlighten me," I joke, and the single dimple in the middle of each of his cheeks falls down when a smile bends his lips upwards. Who knew a monster could have dimples, or be so cute.

"Okie dokie, smartass, well 's not real different from you humans. Y’know, think 'bout food and things we wanna do," he answers me, turning his head and looking me in the eyes. Yellow smile falling and dimples slowly disappearing. He raises his eyebrows at me, only to wiggle them a second later, making me giggle.

He almost scoffs, biting his tongue as his head of curls goes from side to side. I murmur a dumbfounded 'what,’ earning me a shrug of his bony shoulders in return. "Dunno, missed yer laugh, I guess. Don' hear 'em often when yer not 'round. Well, not happy ones, that is," he tells me, giving me a cheesy smile showing no teeth. I sigh and move closer to him, my forehead just missing his shoulder by a centimeter. His calming musty smell walks up my nose, and I close my eyes with a happy smile.

"What did you do while I was gone?" 

"A whole lotta nothin'," Harry hums in reply, and I feel the hard tips of his fingers on my scalp stroking at my hair. "Jus' went 'round me business scarin' tha other kiddies in town. Ronny, Daisy, the redhead, and the new little tot on Willow Street. They're pretty easy, 'cept Ronny, he's such a li’l shit, ugh. Did I tell ya I took all tha air outta his bike tires, and drank his chocolate milk that was s'posed t' be for lunch tha next day?"

"No," I giggle, moving closer to him and finding his shoulder and the soft holey fabric of his pitch black t-shirt.

"Ah damn, it was a hoot. Wish I coulda been there tha next mornin' t' see his face. Tha li’l devil deserved it, he gave me a right bruise on me shin kickin' me when I popped in tha other night," he huffs, making a funny sound with his lips. “That kid can't grow up soon enough. Hell, 'm almost tempted t; make it seem like 'm a ghost hauntin’ their house, so they'd move tha fook out an' I don' hafta deal with him anymo'."

A chuckle falls from my lips as my eyes remain closed and I breathe in his smell. Oh, how I missed you. "Ya fallin' 'sleep on me already, Jose? 's hardly nine o'clock, 'm disappointed in you."

"I'm tired, and I have school tomorrow," I whine, hiking the covers up my shoulders with a groan when they don't come easily. The bed moves and the comforter goes up smoothly, making me open my eyes to find his nimble, pale hands draping it over me. He gives me a smile before lying back down and replacing his hand in my hair, going back to lulling me to sleep playing with it.

"Oh ya, yer a big ol' senior now, hmph," he clucks, ending it with a final sigh. "Fine, I guess ya can go t' bed. But, we gotta catch up one o' these nights 'bout yer trip t’ yer gram's. Ya betta have saved me some o' her butterscotch cookies, or 'm not gonna be too happy with you, goosie. And, I was searchin' real hard for where I hid yer house key, almost thought 'd found it, but I dunno." I hum a sleepy 'okay' as I close my eyes again, grunting in frustration as I try to find his shoulder again. His lovely giggle touches my ears and I find him not long after with a huff.

"Funny li’l thing, you are. Now go t' bed, ya sleepy bones. An' try not t' snore, will ya? I mean, 's awfully cute, but it interrupts me readin'. Gotta see what you lot are readin' this year an' catch up t' ya," he jests, and I shove him with a small groan.

His squeaky laugh leaves his devilish lips, hanging there for a small second. "Alrighty then, go t’ sleep, you. Have tha sweetest o' dreams, goose. Oh, and don' let tha beddy bugs bite."

[zutaraangtastic]

Idk if it’s too late to submit a prompt but I would love to see more inappropriate uses of bending please !

More inappropriate uses of bending coming right up! Also, this is the only prompt we’ve gotten so far, so for anyone reading this, feel free to ignore the original deadline and send some more in! See this post for suggestions/guidelines. - Mod J

The occasion is some fancy function in the Fire Nation, honoring a cousin of the royal family whose support for Zuko’s reign would carry some weight with the lesser nobles. It’s just bad luck that the evening social comes in the middle of a rare, full week that Aang and Katara have been able to take off to spend with their dear Fire Lord. Of course, they weren’t just going to stay behind and let him go without them. Two extra high-profile guests, the world’s greatest waterbending master and the Avatar, could only help Zuko’s efforts to impress.

The couple arrives fashionably late on Appa, needing a little extra time to fit the dress code – they hadn’t come here expecting to attend a gala, so they raided Zuko’s closet and combined their findings with some reasonably priced streetwear from the city.

The moment Zuko sees them, it’s hard to look away.

Katara is draped in a simple wine-red gown, with an open slit halfway up her thigh and a golden sash wrapped around her waist. Her brown shoulders are bare, though she wears two unattached wide sleeves, secured at her upper arms just beneath the rise of her biceps. Aang, too, has a lot on display, decked out in a flowing, scarlet, gold-trimmed hanfu skirt without a complete robe over the top. A yellow shawl thrown over one shoulder, tucked into the waist at the front and back, leaves half his chest exposed and allows a peek at the other side even beneath the covering.

Zuko’s always enjoyed seeing them in his colors – on Aang, they’re so fitting, only a step to the left from the usual warm tones of his air nomad garb; on Katara, they’re wonderfully surprising, contrasting with her striking blue eyes and her mother’s necklace. 

Their clothes are bold choices for a formal event, but it’s the thick of summer, and nobody could blame them for dressing lightly in the heat. Zuko feels conspicuously overdressed by comparison. Even near twilight, with a full moon rising in the sky, it’s oppressive. Besides, their fashion statements can be taken as that – statements. Soon enough, the whole Fire Nation will be trying to replicate the outfits they wear tonight.

After greeting the host, they find Zuko and a quiet spot away from the throng of people, sharing private, eager smiles all around.

“You look…amazing,” Zuko says, and mentally kicks himself for not being able to come up with something more eloquent.

Aang grins, catching his moment of regret, and says, “Really, just amazing? Katara’s breathtaking.”

Katara leans against her husband, holding his arm and smiling up at him. “I think you’re mixing your metaphors, sweetie.” She reaches out to take Zuko’s hand, lacing their fingers together. To any spectator, it might seem like only a familiar gesture of friendship, but the way their gazes meet speaks volumes. “He’s the breathtaking one, don’t you think, Zuko?”

“Well, yeah, so in that case, you’re – refreshing. Like a cold drink! Of, uh, water, or something.”

“I’ll take the ‘or something,’” Katara says, laughing. “The cat-owl’s really got your tongue tonight, Your Fieriness.”

“Or is it Your Hotness?” Aang asks with a look of faux intellectualism. “He has so many titles, I can hardly keep track. I guess that’s what you get for being the best Fire Lord who ever lived.”

He snags Katara that drink from a passing server – he doesn’t partake himself, but he knows it’s a sure way to get her to dance and have a good time. Zuko’s face is mildly red even without any alcohol, and Aang takes full advantage of the chance to fluster him further, sidling closer to bump their shoulders together. “You’re lucky Sokka’s not here to razz you about sharpening your wordbending skills.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, but he’s acutely aware of the jump of his heartbeat, Aang’s strong arm around him, Katara giggling at them both over the rim of her glass. He clears his throat. “You know, that’s how you know I mean it when I say you look good,” he says. “Because it’s not just anyone who can leave me speechless.”

Katara’s expression softens fondly, and she thinks if she’d had a little more sparkling wine by now she’d try to kiss him, secrecy be damned. Instead, she squeezes his hand and says, “There’s the smooth romantic you keep deep down inside!”

“Speechless, huh?” Aang echoes, with a sneaky look on his face.

He doesn’t really think it through – it’s just an impulse, the same as the game of juggling a small fireball back and forth with a shivering Zuko at the South Pole, or passing by a fountain in Republic City with Katara and sprinkling her hair with water. Aang steals the breath from Zuko’s lungs just briefly, not long enough to hurt, but long enough to make him touch a hand to his throat before Aang allows him a normal inhale.

“How’s that for speechless?”

Zuko opens his mouth, closes it again, and there’s a stunned shine to his eyes and a distinct flush high on his cheeks that reminds Aang of a very different kind of play than he had in mind. More of the kind that happens in the bedroom, when Katara makes Zuko’s every muscle arch with bloodbending, when Aang trails a little spark of lightning across Zuko’s chest.

“Don’t – don’t you dare say anything,” Zuko warns, avoiding eye contact and tugging at the collar of his robes, suddenly too warm. “We’ll pick this up later.”

Katara and Aang exchange a look as Zuko disentangles himself from their affectionate holds and darts away to socialize with the nobles he came here to appease.

“Look at you, discovering a whole new way to embarrass him,” Katara says. “In public, no less. You’re going to cause a scandal if you’re not careful.”

Aang blinks a few times, still trying to process what happened. How has he never thought to use airbending like that before? Why did Zuko like it? He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Zuko’s going to kill me, just for this.”

“And you’re looking forward to it, I bet. You’re the one who always wants to play ‘capture the Avatar.’ Maybe I’ll ally with Zuko this time – he’s going to need all the help he can get.” 

Katara smirks up at Aang, who blushes and looks away. Subtly, she twists one hand, and he stiffens at the strange sensation as she gently pulls at his blood. She leads him out to a clear space on the floor, bathed in a pool of moonlight, and Aang smiles, his ears tinged pink as she makes him bow and invite her to dance.

Not by coincidence, they end up in the perfect spot to catch Zuko’s attention. He’s composed himself enough to keep up an amiable conversation with his cousin’s husband, but his eyes keep straying to Aang and Katara, twirling each other back and forth with the aid of the cool night breeze and – is Katara bloodbending him? Zuko shakes his head. Breathtaking, indeed.