#like it wasn’t a masterpiece but I was entertained by it

[githvyrik]

friends and I dressed up for dnd movie last night and like 3 people in public filmed/took pictures of us :/

[taegularities]

entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3 ➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing) ➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3

➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤   

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs 

“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”

“Fuckbo—”

“Nevermind.”

If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.

You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?

Yet.

You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.

Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”

You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”

“Sure.”

Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”

You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.

But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.

How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?

When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.

“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”

“But it’s not, yeah?”

“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”

Interesting…

“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.

You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”

“Ahhh. Like what?”

“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”

Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.

You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”

Earned it? How? 

Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?

And then…

If that’s what it is.

He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack. 

“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.

“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”

Someone…

Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.

He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.

Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”

“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”

Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.

And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.

But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.

One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.

He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”

“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”

“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”

“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”

Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.

Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.

Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.

But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.

Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”

“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”

“I do.”

“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”

Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”

You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.

He sighs.

“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.

And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.

You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.

And he watches.

Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”

Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.

And then… oh God.

He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.

All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.

Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.

When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.

You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.

But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”

You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.

Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…

He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.

He wishes he could.

His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”

“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”

People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?

Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”

He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.

“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”

Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?

You’re just a person.

Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel. 

He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.

No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.

Wants you to be the colour green for him. 

wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3

as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hello!! I’m not sure if this has been done before, but may I request how Trey, Cater, Azul, Rook and Idia would react to their s/o plays with their hair when cuddling with them?

Also, I wanted to say that I really like your writing. It feels like I’m reading a masterpiece, and whenever I get a notification from your blog I can’t help but feel giddy and wonder what masterpieces have you written today!! I hope you are taking care of yourself though, it’s not good to strain yourself!! :c

(I did this for Cater which pretty much feels like the same thing!

and thank you so much dear <3)

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul struggled hard with intimacy and even something as simple as running your fingers through his hair would take some getting used to. It’s better to announce what you want to do, not just because you get the gift of Azul’s flustered face, but because it gives himself a chance to think about it. He’ll normally allow you to at least try, as long as there’s an agreement that the minute he said no you’d stop, but he found having his hair played with wasn’t all that bad.

Idia Shroud:

Idia is trying not to sweat too much from cuddling, let alone you lovingly playing with his hair like you’re the most wholesome couple on the planet. He quickly realized that the visual novels ARE right, that having your scalp massaged and your hair twirled was the greatest feeling in the world. He wondered if he could employ your services as sometimes when he was in a raid he could get so tense he became tilted, but thought twice of it since you’d turn into an even bigger distraction.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is like a purring cat, unable to deny the draw of your soft, skilled hands as they worshipped his silky locks of hair. He chuckled as he thought about your natural smell passing along to him from how much you touched, the gentle breeze blowing making it seem like you were present when in fact it was just your remnants left over on his skin. It’s not an unpleasant thought, as smell was often used to mark territory, and you’re completely lost as Rook rambled about how honored he was to have you mark him up.

Trey Clover:

Having you play with his hair had always made Trey laugh, as it wasn’t quite long enough to do much with but you always seemed entertained by it. It was always so soft and lovely, you couldn’t help yourself, and sometimes you’d massage his head when he had a headache just to get your hands in his hair again. Trey couldn’t find it in him to complain, thinking that as long as it made you happy he’d fake a headache or two just to give you a reason.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

A/n: u guys r gonna have to imagine alot w these pics 😭 but i wrote whos supposed to be who so it makes a bit more sense!!!!! THIS ONLY MAKES SENSE IF YOU READ THE FIRST BIT

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by 3,308,252 people

Prepare for the ‘Anastasia’ photo dump 😈

view all comments

tomblyth: yummy cake 🍰😋

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: i'm craving it so bad rn 🤤

user1: THE MOVIE WAS SO GOOD WTAF

user2: Y/n and Tom's on screen chemistry is insane...

user3: her smile in the second picture 🥹

user4: empress Marie was a slay

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: she honestly was

~

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by 2,920,163 people

this is what we gotta say to those who haven’t watched Anastasia yet 🖕🖕🖕 (we’re kidding)

view all comments

user1: how was filming in St. Petersburg??

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: had the best time of my life 🙈 St. Petersburg is so gorgeous.

user2: yesss feed us w more Anastasia bts please!!!

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: yes ma’am 🫡

↘️ user3: BAHAHHAHAAH

user4: everyone go watch Anastasia rn. It’s a masterpiece😟

user5: she’s so gorgeous it’s not fair

~

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by 3,027,496 people

pics of me eating the most 21st century food in my 20th century fits 😋‼️

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tomblyth: fun fact, I took ALL of these

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: 😂😂😂

user1: this is so funny to me LMAO

user2: the fits 🤌

↘️ user3: THEY WERE EVERYTHING!

user4: so this is what u guys do behind the scenes? eating?

↘️ tomblyth: yup.

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: pretty much!!

~

tomblyth

Liked by 4,305,262 people

‘Anastasia’ out now in the cinemas!!!! So incredibly grateful to have worked with such amazing and talented people, experiencing it with y/n made it even better 💗

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y/n_y/l/n: i’m tearing up…. It was so much fun, I’m going to miss everything about it 💔

↘️ tomblyth: gonna miss seeing u in ur costume 🥹 you looked absolutely gorgeous

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: awee I love u!!!!

↘️ user1: my parents r so adorable 😣

user2: third pic is everything!

user3: they did so good with the casting!

~

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by 3,947,028 people

St. Petersburg weather was smth else 🥶

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actorwhoplaysrasputin: it wasn’t even that cold y/n 🙄

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: says the person who wore 4 jackets in between takes 😟

↘️ actorwhoplaysrasputin: zip it.

↘️ user1: I love this duo 😂

actorwhoplaysphlegmenkoff: it was a pleasure to work with such young, talented actors like yourselves!!!

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: awee thank you actors name!! It was an honour to work with you!!

↘️ tomblyth: appreciate it man 🤝

user2: them casting actors name as Rasputin was the best decision ever. Can’t see anyone else for that role!

user3: this movie had such iconic actors and actresses 😭

↘️ user4: I just know this movie was expensive 😃

~

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by 4,307,287 people

Anastasia dump pt. 2974822? 😂

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user1: FIRST PIC HAHAHAHA

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: felt xtra cute so I had to 😛

↘️ user2: Tom not looking amused in the back 🤣

↘️ tomblyth: I’m used to it

actorwhoplaysvladimir: miss you guys!!!

↘️ tomblyth: you act as if we don’t live in the same street 🤣

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: literally walk the few steps and you’ll see us lol

user3: I can’t wait for more of your bts vids to come out on yt bc man they’re so entertaining!!

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: I’m posting a 30 min bts vlog tomorrow 😙

↘️ user4: YAYYY

↘️ user5: y/n has a yt channel and I haven’t heard about it?

↘️ user6: she’s had it since she was in high school 😭

~

tomblyth

Liked by 6,958,212 people

Can’t believe ‘Anastasia’ has been nominated for best film adaptation of books!!! Thank you everyone who voted :)

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y/n_y/l/n: THIS IS INSANEE AHHHH

↘️ tomblyth: 🥳🎉

themichaellockshin: 🤩🤩

actorwhoplaysnicholas: hell yeah!!

user1: they’re so cute omg 🥺

user2: actresswhoplaysdowagermarie is such a slay 😭

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: she literally is!

↘️ tomblyth: we love her!

↘️ user2: ahhh you both responded 😭

~

themichaelockshin

Liked by 10,037,297

Cheers again for the love and support for this movie!! To all the cast members I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you are all such talented people and it was wonderful working with you all!

view all comments

y/n_y/l/n: thank you Michael ❤️ will never forget this experience :)

↘️ themichaelockshin: you and Tom were spectacular 🤩

tomblyth: what a journey we went through!

actorwhoplaysrasputin: miss you all!

actorwhoplaysolga: thank you Michael!! Filming with you all was a wonderful experience 🫶

user1: ice cream during the winter?

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: yup. What abt it 😛

user2: awe I love this cast sm

↘️ user3: literally the best cast

[scatteredskittless]

Greetings fellow human, I recently found you and I must say, I love your writing and especially the layout of the posts.

I might also suggest an Idea for you with Alastor.

How 'bout a very passionate painter reader getting their nightly inspiration and staying up all night, also listening to loud music. And maybe being a little messy with the paint, like it somehow ending up on the face or different unusual spots.

Would love to see you write it in whatever form you prefer. Hope to read something from you soon.

And keep in mind, you're doing a great job and keep being amazing <3

Alastor x Painter! Reader

A/n: Omg I used to paint a lot and the places said paint would get?? How it ended up like literally all over me I’m not sure 😭😭 Also thank you so much !!

Warnings: None :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

📻𖤐 Alastor finds you very talented and enjoys getting to see all of your little creations and masterpieces !!

📻𖤐 Bonus points if they’re a bit disturbing or dark, he’d love stuff like that (“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” — Cesar A. Cruz)

📻𖤐 The only thing he isn’t particularly fond of in regards to your passion, however, is how little sleep you’re getting because of it.

📻𖤐 Your sleep schedule is completely fucked because of how often you get inspiration while trying to go to bed at night, because of course you just have to get up and go paint it every time.

📻𖤐 Oh and how messy you can get whilst you paint… which Alastor doesn’t actually mind as much as he wants you to think he does.

📻𖤐 He can shake his head and tut about it all he wants but he can’t deny the fact that getting to clean you up is something he enjoys doing for you.

📻𖤐 Plus, it’s always entertaining to see all the peculiar places the paint ends up on you each time he does. From your cheeks to your arms to more unusual places like your ears… it genuinely never does get old in his eyes ♡

It was another one of those nights. You were lying in your bed, trying to get some sleep and all of a sudden you got an amazing idea for a painting !! You couldn’t help but get up to go bring your ideas to life on a fresh canvas :-)

You went on with your usual routine, playing some music as you got your stuff all set up. Once everything was ready, off you were into your own little world as you painted away at 2:30 at night

Fortunately and unfortunately for Alastor, your room was right beside his. The walls were quite thin in the hotel.. even so, the loud music blaring wasn’t exactly hard to miss but it was even harder to fully relax with it playing.

You usually stopped your painting at around 7 or 8 in the morning so he figured this was going to be a long night….. he sighed to himself and went back to reading for a while (or at least attempting to for around 10 minutes or so.)

Eventually he did recognize a song you had playing, you’d played it for him before. It was after his time but he did quite like the melody

That’s when he got an idea of his own. his undying grin growing slightly as he bookmarked his book, set it to the side and made his way next door to your room.

He knocked on your door three times, waiting outside of it patiently as he heard you set your painting materials down. His ears twitched slightly.

Once you answered the door he waltzed inside cheerfully, not giving you a chance to speak or ask why he was here.

“Salutations my dear!! Up to the usual, I assume?” Alastor would ask, taking a curious look at the canvas you had been working on before glancing back over at you.

You gave him a smile and nodded “Yeah.. got a little inspiration and wanted to paint it before I forgot it.”

“Hm. Well, would it be too much to ask to pull you away from your work for a while?” He raised a brow as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, offering you his hand; offering a dance. And honestly you weren’t too surprised.

With a giggle and the grow of your smile, you happily took his hand and let him pull you closer to him as you two began to dance to the song playing in the background, your little masterpiece-in-progress long forgotten as you swayed with your favourite Radio Demon.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

[xcherricutie]

「 ✦ love doesn't die ✦ 」

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

[Yandere!Zombie!Silver the Hedgehog × Human!Reader]

[Word Count - 10k]

[Summary - You've been living in an abandoned city for years. You figured your luck had finally run out when an infected hedgehog finds you, but it seems like he's not entirely dead]

[Tags: Zombie AU, reader is a human because I don't like writing anthro readers I'm sorry, Silver is also a bit taller than his canon height because I mean, come on, blood and gore, some guy loses an arm, Silver isn't super yandere for most of it because I suck at writing]

[Notes: First time writing for Silver, don't expect a masterpiece. Also, the ending is kinda doodoo mainly just cause I wrote 8k of this in one day and just wanted to be done, I didn't feel like coming back to work on it haha. I got the inspo for this from another one shot that is WAY better, I was also rereading the zombot arc and needed to do this. NOT PROOFREAD]

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Dark thunder clouds rolled in, covering the overgrown city in a deep darkness. As the city grew darker, flashes of light beamed down the corpse of what used to be a lively city. Turning a corner, the light revealed yet another empty street, much to your relief. Despite having walked these streets every day for the last five years, you were still wary of any signs of life. After all, most life left were the undead, the immortal corpses of loved ones long gone. As far as you knew, you were the only person left alive. You considered yourself especially lucky, you had never even left your apartment building from before everything collapsed. You maintained your old life to the best of your abilities, just with more isolation, and no internet for entertainment. 

You still recalled what life had been like before with vivid recollection. You remembered your old life back in high school, with all of your friends, human and mobian alike. You remembered the fairly frequent emergencies your world used to face, at the hands of a mad scientist. But that was a time gone by, a distant memory soon to fade from this world entirely. Assuming you were one of the only people left alive and sane, you were the sole carrier of those memories. It felt isolating, lonely, but you tried not to let it get to you. You didn’t want to live out your last days miserably. 

Letting the light of your flashlight guide you back toward the safety of your home, you silently walked across the street, glancing around occasionally for any stray undead. You had discovered they tended to stick together, following sounds, likely blind. But the darkness almost heightened their senses, so you had quickly made your way back home upon noticing the signs of a storm. Unfortunately, you hadn’t beaten the dark clouds, and had been forced to use your flashlight. While you were certain most undead were blind, not all were, and that had you worried. Coming across a human undead wasn’t much to stress about either, they were weak, bones and flesh crumbling at the slightest touch. It was the mobians that had you worried. Most mobians had strength beyond the comprehension of humans in their life, and that had carried over into their undead. You had managed to avoid them for the last five years, but that didn’t mean you weren’t stressing over finally finding one every time you went out for supplies and food. 

As the rundown, boarded up apartment building you called home came into view, you let out a sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at your lips. Just as you took a step forward, you heard a soft tap behind you, sending a violent shudder up your spine as you whipped around, flinging your flashlight in the direction of whatever had caused the source. The sound of your heart thundering filled your ears as your gaze bounced around in a panic, trying to identify the source. As your eyes fell to the ground, you noticed a tiny, circular dark spot on the ground, a wet spot. Staring at it as your panicked mind tried to piece together what was happening, a swashing sound filled your ears, your body suddenly soaked as the sky poured rain. Finally realizing it was only rain, your shoulders relaxed as you scoffed with a smile, rolling your eyes at your own paranoia. Perhaps isolation had done more damage than you had initially realized. 

Turning around, your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your blood freezing ice cold in your veins as your eyes met a pair of muted golden, bloodshot eyes. Tufts of messy white quills stood tall, nearly taller than you, stained a deep red shade. His maw was soaked in gore, the heavy stench of iron wafting from his being. He stared lifelessly into your eyes, almost as if looking straight through your head. Your mouth hung open, fear freezing your whole body as a silent scream began to build up within your throat. It seemed your luck finally caught up with you, as the especially tall mobian stood before you, his very presence setting your demise. There was absolutely nothing you could do to fend off the mobian, so as your instincts finally began to kick in, you chose the flight option of flight or fight. 

Turning tail, you immediately bolted down the street. Biting your lip to swallow your terrified scream, you glanced back to see if he followed. Your eyes flew wide open as his eyes were directly in your face, his presence filling the air behind you. He was fast. The scream you had bit back finally freed itself as you whirled around, slamming your flashlight into the side of his skull. You had expected the sounds of squelching to fill the air, but you had been surprised by how intact his flesh still was. How great for you. He just so happened to be one of the especially strong mobians. You were thoroughly screwed. 

His head whipped to the side as your flashlight smashed into his temple. The flashlight flew from your grip, momentarily distracting the undead hedgehog as the light whirled through the air. In that single moment of hesitation, you took the opportunity to run away, zigzagging through the dark. You hoped, prayed to anything that would listen that he happened to be at least slightly blind, but your luck had run bone dry as you heard the drum of footsteps just behind you. 

You pushed yourself harder, running as fast as your legs would carry you. If you could just lose him, for just a second, you could wrap back around and run home. You knew the city like the back of your hand, but you couldn’t risk leading him directly to your safe place. No amount of boards and nails could hold something like him back. 

Beginning to pant wildly, your lungs felt dry, suffocating you as you forced your legs to keep going. You couldn’t let yourself die like this, not after how long you had survived. Your eyes brimmed with tears as you swallowed, your mouth burning and dehydrated. But your ears were zeroed in entirely on the footsteps behind you, or rather, the fading sound of them. Pushing yourself onward, you immediately noticed the lack of footsteps behind you. Hope had instantly begun to overflow within you as you turned a sharp curve, circling back to your apartment building. 

Rushing through the doors, you slammed them shut behind you, taking a shaky breath as you slid to the floor. You were fairly certain that whole escapade shaved off ten years of your life expectancy, but at the very least, you were still alive. You supposed somebody out there must’ve heard your prayers, you thought for sure that undead would never run out of stamina. He is undead after all. 

Taking a moment to calm your breathing, you sucked in a deep breath, relaxing against the doors. Just as you thought to get up though, a loud thud rang through the room, vibrating against the door. Your heart jumped into your throat, eyes flying wide open as you forced your back firm against the door. You could nearly feel its presence just beyond the barrier of glass and boards, banging on the wood. 

Sucking in a sharp but silent breath through your teeth, you slid the bag that hung over your shoulders off, freeing your shoulders of its weight. Grabbing one of the loose boards, you steeled your nerves for whatever came after your next move. You knew you didn’t stand a chance fighting him, so you had to find a way to hold him off while searching for an escape route. 

With the remainders of your courage, you lifted yourself off the floor, back still firmly pressed against the door. The slamming grew more violent, almost as if it were getting impatient, the doors rattling as the boards weakened. You could hear the glass beneath the boards begin to crack, soon to give way. Taking a deep breath, you jumped away from the doors, the doors flinging wide open just as the pressure of your body gave way. 

The hedgehog stood before you, his silhouette being illuminated by the strike of lightning in the far distance. His golden eyes, despite being muted by the lack of life, nearly glowed in the dark, highlighting the spatter of blood across his face. 

You had expected him to immediately run for you, but he hadn’t budged from his spot, staring at you with an almost curious-like aura. You held the wooden board tightly in your grip, prepared to use it as a weapon, waiting for the lifeless body to make its move. Your body was nearly shaking now, the effects of your adrenaline beginning to wear off as your exhaustion caught up to you. You grit your teeth and bore through it, but the suspense had begun to take its toll as your body shook with fear. 

Your gaze had shifted down to his feet as you noticed his leg twitch, foot sliding forward ever so slightly, as if trying to sneak up on you. Your eyes widened upon the realization, an audible gasp slipping from your lips as your mind began to panic. It was intelligent, enough to attempt to evade your alarm. Your whole body bristled as your grip on the board tightened, before the tension in your body suddenly snapped. 

Letting out a scream of terror, you swung the board with all of your strength, the end hitting him square in the neck, knocking him to the ground. You lifted the board once more, slamming it on his head, before turning and taking off further into the building. You could hear it let out a frustrated growl, as if annoyed, his blood-soaked boots squeaking against the floor as he rose. But you didn’t dare look back as you ran towards the stairwell, flinging its metal door open and taking shelter inside. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, clicking into place, you ran up the stairs, your mind panicking as you tried to come up with a way out of this. There was no way out of the building other than the entrance that you had come in through. All of the first-floor windows were heavily boarded up, and there was no exit within the basement. The only other way you could think of was the fire exit, which was in the lobby, where the hedgehog hunting you down was. 

Through your jumbled thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed you had made it to the roof of the building until you pushed the door open, immediately being soaked by the onslaught of rain and wind. Thunder cracked in the sky, streaks of lightning flashing in the clouds. Your attention had momentarily been forced on the storm directly above you, before the sounds of footsteps echoing through the stairwell dragged you back into reality. 

You shut the thick metal door behind you, walking toward the edge of the roof. The wind pushed back as you stepped forward, the slick ground making you stumble as you stood over the edge. The drop was far too long for you to make the jump and survive, which meant you were now trapped here, with a hedgehog that had been very persistent in getting to you. This was it. You had finally met your end, after all these years. But you wouldn’t let the undead corpse have its way, even if you had to take your fate into your own hands. 

A loud thud pulled your attention back to the door, the sound repeating as visible indents had begun to form. You inched backwards, ever closer to the edge, until your heel was pressed into the edge, ready to slip with any slight movements. 

And then, with one final violent slam, the door burst open, revealing the infected hedgehog. An almost animalistic look glinted in his eyes as lightning struck, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint aura surrounding him before disappearing in small flecks of glittering light. 

Taking a step forward, the hedgehog was immediately soaked in the rain as he approached you. A sharp gasp pushed past your lips as your eyes snapped from the undead to the edge just behind you. Your foot slipped ever so slightly, a startled cry catching in your throat as your arms flailed, attempting to regain your balance. 

Your heart leapt into your throat as your body tipped over the edge, your mind suddenly in a flurry as you realized this was your end. At the very least, you weren’t going to be eaten alive like you had feared. That was the only comfort you received as you fell over, your balance slipping as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet. 

Eyes squeezed shut, you had expected to feel the wind rush past you, before meeting a swift end. Memories flashed through the darkness at a dizzying rate, your heart beating so fast you thought it’d explode before you hit the ground. You had expected everything around you to disappear, the chill of your soaked clothes fading into nothingness, or the feeling of your heart finally stilling. But the only new sensation that had hit you was the feeling of a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, yanking you upward. 

You felt the air forced from your lungs as your body collided with something wet, freezing cold. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes opened, vision being filled with white despite the darkness. Your nose tingled as strands of fur tickled the tip, leaving behind a cold sensation as your senses were suddenly overwhelmed, overflowing. You were still alive. You had been pulled back up into safety. Or so it had seemed, but the false sense of safety suddenly washed away like the rain as you finally realized what had pulled you back up. 

The hedgehog’s grip around your wrist remained, his other hand now holding your opposite wrist. You stood completely frozen, your mind trying to understand just exactly what had happened. Never, in the last five years of your isolation, living in a world with the undead, had you seen anything of the sort. Not only had every single thing that could walk wanted you dead, but none had the capacity or understanding to save you from death, not even for their own gain. Whatever this thing was, it certainly wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t entirely dead or alive. 

You didn’t know what to do. Judging by the blood spatters dotting his body, the hedgehog was definitely infected. The blood couldn’t have been his own. Which meant that, regardless of his mental capacity, he was still fully willing to eat a living being. Your life was still in danger, even if he had pulled you into some twisted form of safety seconds ago. You were stuck in place, you couldn’t move. Who was to say he wouldn’t sink his teeth into your throat the second you moved even an inch? He certainly had the perfect view of your throat after all, his muzzle leaned against your shoulder. 

After a long moment, one that had felt like years, you finally gave off a sign of life, your wrist twitching in his hold. When he made no efforts to bite into your neck, you gently pulled away just enough to look down at him, to at least try to gauge what was going on beneath the surface. But there was nothing in his eyes to suggest any thought process, no expression that told you he was in control. He simply stared up at you, his eyes shining with the occasional strike of lightning. Even without the sparkle of life, they still seemed bright, a remnant of what once was. 

A particularly close flash of lightning caused you to jolt, eyes going wide. As your facial expression changed, so too did his, eyes going wide slightly, like a delayed reaction. Almost as if mimicking you. You sighed deeply, unsure of what to do. You certainly couldn’t shake the hedgehog, you were stuck with him, but you couldn’t just stand out here and wait for the lightning to finish the job. So, despite what your gut was warning you of, you gave the undead’s hand a slight tug. 

“You, ah...” You paused, half wondering if he could even understand you. What were you even thinking, of course not, but that didn’t stop you from at least trying. “You seem smart. Do you understand me?” 

No reaction. Not even a blink of the eye. You didn’t know what you were expecting, a twitch in his facial muscles or a fully constructed sentence. Regardless, you continued, with the hope that maybe some nerves in his brain were still alive and kicking. He did save you, after all. “We need to go inside. It’s not safe out here.” 

Still unreactive, you decided to just hope your words got through to him, and gave his hand a stronger tug. You pulled the hedgehog slightly, waiting with bated breath for a violent reaction. But he simply let you tug and pull, dragging him back inside, back into the safety of the building. And yet, it had lost its sense of safety as you pulled the undead hedgehog behind you, straight to your safe space, your own room. 

Pushing the door open, a sense of security washed over you, happy to at least be home once again. Even if the hedgehog killed you here, at least it’d be in your home. You had to look on the positive side of having an undead follower for now. 

“This is my home,” You spoke, despite knowing your words would never reach him. You had even shot him a nervous smile, trying to be friendly. It was the least you could do to calm yourself and hopefully the hedgehog as well. Your mind was in shambles. 

“We’ll be safe here. I’ve been here for years.” You said, leading the hedgehog further into your home, telling yourself over and over in your mind to just pretend he was alive. Pretend he wasn’t a threat. 

As you continued to speak, walking around with the infected in tow, you attempted to pull your wrist from his grip, the same wrist he had grabbed to save you. The wrist that he hadn’t released the entire time since pulling you back from that edge. You pulled your wrist away, without even thinking as you spoke all about your time surviving the last few years. It had been your first time talking in years, and had gotten carried away, forgetting that you were still in the midst of danger. You had been forced back to reality as he gripped your wrist nearly painfully tight, pulling you back to his side with force. You looked down at him with wide eyes, your heart rate quickly picking back up as you looked down at him. 

Still showing no signs of life. You didn’t understand what was happening, what was going through that head of his. Some thought must have been present, he had the ability to understand your life had been in danger, he understood to follow when you pulled. He had the ability to resist killing you. So why? Why did he seem so dead, when there was obviously still some amount of life hidden just beneath the blood coated surface? 

“Um... You can let go now,” You tried to calmly say. Instead of seemingly not understanding though, now your words seemed to annoy him, as his empty stare turned into a frustrated look. You felt his fingers tighten around your wrist, his grip quickly growing painful. “I-It’s okay, really. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay right here.” 

You hoped that was what he wanted to hear. It was the only thing you could think of that made sense. He didn’t want you to leave his side, but why? Was he saving you for later? Did he still fully intend on taking your life? Why wait? You tried to wrap your mind around the situation, despite knowing there likely was no explanation. At least not one you could get to on your own. Likely, the hedgehog himself was the only thing that knew what was going on. He definitely had some train of thought, you were certain of it now, especially since he confirmed being able to understand you, to some degree. 

“Uh...” Mind scrambling for anything that could help you, you looked around your small apartment, trying to find something to get you out of this situation. “Wh-Why don’t you sit down? Come on.” 

You gave a light tug, trying to direct him to the slightly tattered sofa in the room. He didn’t budge for a moment, staring at you, as if he were eyeing you. But after a second’s passing, he let you pull him toward the sofa, sitting him down. He sat down with no direction at all, which had surprised you, as you didn’t think you’d ever actually seen an infected sitting down. 

You sat down next to him, being sure to put a few inches between you and him. He stared at you once again, putting an unsettling feeling within your being. But just as that feeling began to form, you felt his fingers loosen around your wrist, surprising you. His eyes remained trained completely on you, but at the very least, he seemed calmer. 

As your eyes met his, your brows furrowed as you thought. You had never even thought you’d be in a situation like this. You wondered if you could even take this to your advantage. He didn’t seem to be after your life anyway. 

“You can understand me, can’t you?” You asked. When you received no indication that your words got through, you began to think. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely capable of showing that he understood? He could show facial expressions, but so far you had only seen expressions of annoyance or frustration. Maybe he couldn’t show signs of other emotions. You hummed, finger tapping your chin as you tried to think of something to help you get through to him, or at least form some type of communication. A thought crossed your mind, making you perk up as you jumped to your feet. Your sudden movement clearly startled the hedgehog, but you failed to notice as you rushed past him with a burst of excitement. 

Practically shoveling through a closet of your old belongings and things that just had no use nowadays, you finally found what you had been looking for. You slammed down a pencil and paper on the coffee table before the hedgehog, missing the sudden jerk of his body as you surprised him. You looked up to him with a bright grin, unable to contain your excitement at the idea of getting to study the infected, getting to know him and have a look into his mind, without your life being in danger. 

“Okay, so you obviously have some capacity for thought,” You began, reaching out for his hand. He didn’t resist when you grabbed ahold, placing the pencil in his hand. “Try writing something, anything. A word, a number, your name, whatever you want.” 

The hedgehog just stared at you, unmoving. As seconds began to turn into minutes, you wondered if you got too excited. It did seem silly, now that you thought about it. You had assumed that since he managed to express some emotions, especially to your words, that he had some understanding of language. And he had shown himself to possess some motor skills, so why not writing? At the very least, he could do a little scribbled drawing. But it was pretty farfetched to think that something like him, something lacking thought and morals, could communicate. 

But your thoughts were cut off as you heard the scratching of lead against paper. With much applied force, the hedgehog began to slowly but surely make out letters, and soon, a very poorly written word had been forcefully drawn on the paper. The paper had ripped in some places, and the pencil had broken, making the lead appear rubbed. But despite that, there was still very plainly a word written in large across the paper. “Silver”. 

“Silver...” You squinted your eyes at the paper, before they widened as you made the connection. “Is that your name? Silver?” 

The lack of reaction this time finally confirmed your thoughts. If you had been wrong, he would’ve shown signs of frustration, but there was nothing. This was your sign. You had been right. He just lacked the ability to show other expressions, but still had the ability to think. There were still signs of life inside him after all. 

“Oh wow, this is...” You fell to your knees in front of the table, sitting across from him. You stared into his eyes, momentarily awe-struck. You had found somebody; somebody you could actually communicate with. “I can’t believe it. You can actually talk. I-I haven’t spoken with anyone in years. Wait, can the others talk too?” 

Silver’s brows furrowed slightly, your sign of communication, his version of “no”. You visibly pouted, disappointed by the answer, but you couldn’t be surprised. Silver was the only one who could even think, let alone show emotions. 

You wanted to ask him more. You wanted to get to know him. You had gotten lost in your thoughts, trying to figure out more ways to talk with him. You had come up with the idea of asking him yes and no questions and having him write down the answers on the paper. He had been bad about writing too big to fit multiple words on the paper, which had resulted in you running out of paper and ending up just writing on the wooden table. But you didn’t care at this point, too interested in finding out everything you could about Silver, which ended up being quite a lot. 

You had discovered that Silver was once one of the heroes who used to defend the world from the mad scientist who often put it in danger. You had also found out that he was the very last hero to live in the end, every one of his friends dying off one by one to the virus. Thanks to his psychokinesis, he had survived for years, only recently finally losing the fight. Apparently, he had been searching for the cure all this time, a person with special immunity to the virus. In the end, his efforts had gone to waste though, and he had died. You didn’t even know how to begin to process any of that, and by the time you had found out everything, it was late into the night hours. You were running on fumes, eyes struggling to stay open as you thought of another question to ask Silver. 

Your eyes widened slightly as Silver set the pencil down, leaning back onto the sofa. You couldn’t get past the jarring, dead and empty look in his eyes, which never even blinked. It felt odd seeing him move around, seeing him interact with his surroundings, with you, despite the obvious lack of life. For the most part anyway. 

Silver’s hand caught your eye as it softly pat the sofa next to him. You tilted your head in confusion, before realizing what he meant, surprising you. You didn’t think he was capable of that level of awareness, noticing your own emotions. You let out a soft chuckle as you stood, stretching out with a yawn. 

“I’m still shocked that somebody like you even exists,” You said, giving Silver a smile. You failed to notice the slight twitch of his eyes; the flicker of some emotion hidden deep within him. “I guess all those years of perseverance keeps you going. I bet you could cure yourself if you tried hard enough.” 

You joked, but it also made some amount of sense. He was a super powered hedgehog, far beyond anything like you’d ever seen. If anyone could overcome the virus, it would likely be him. You had assumed at this point that his interest in you was because he’d finally found someone alive, someone who wasn’t braindead. You would quickly find though, that wasn’t the only reason for his interest. 

You had decided against Silver’s offer, telling him you were going to sleep in your own room. He had expressed slight annoyance at this, but calmed down after you told him he could sit and watch for danger in the living room. And while it felt nice to know there was somebody who wanted to protect you now, you also didn’t trust that Silver could control his hunger. So just in case, you had locked your bedroom door. You knew it’d do little to stop him, should he really want to get in, but it gave you some comfort. 

Despite your initial excitement, you couldn’t help the fear that Silver was still a danger to you. He could think and communicate, sure, but did that stop him from eating people? Had he actually eaten anyone before? You didn’t dare ask him, scared it was a touchy subject. He had emotions, so it was obvious he must’ve felt something toward his sickness, his “condition”. He was dead, of course it was a touchy subject. So, you lived in uncertainty now, fearing the day Silver lost control. 

But you’d find out his hunger wasn’t what you had to worry about. You found that out almost immediately the next day, explaining to Silver that you had to go out again and search for food. To put it simply, he was not happy. 

“Silver, I have to go out! I will literally die without food!” You argued, pulling on your wrist as Silver held you tightly. He didn’t move or even budge a single muscle, your efforts doing little to escape his hold. You grumbled in annoyance, glaring down at him. “Would you rather me die? I don’t think I’ll be as lively as you when I’m dead.” 

Your words seemed to cut through whatever stubbornness he had been feeling as he returned the glare tenfold but released you. You huffed, rubbing your pained wrist, turning away from him. You grabbed your bag that you had retrieved from the lobby (without Silver, of course), stuffing inside anything you may need on your trip out. You had to leave space for food though, which meant you couldn’t bring very much with you, aside from a flashlight and a knife. 

“I’ll be fine, Silver, promise. I’ve been doing this longer than you, after all,” You teased, though you’re unsure he found it very humorous. But you didn’t linger on it, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “You could even come with me and help. It’d be nice to have some help for once.” 

This seemed to perk Silver up, as his glare relaxed into that empty look you were coming to know. You smiled, a small chuckle escaping your lips. Perhaps he still retained that heroic personality he had in life, trying to protect you from any and all harm. 

With that settled, you and Silver headed out. Silver took the lead right away, keeping a lookout for any infected. The city was empty and silent, most undead out in the woods, looking for wild animals for sustenance. The eerie silence was still jarring to you, even after all these years. Even with all of the plant life overrunning the city, there was a lack of wildlife. No birds chirping, or squirrels running about. As far as you could tell, Silver and you were the only life for miles. Or so you had assumed. 

A splash of water broke through the silence, drawing your attention as you looked down into the murky puddle your boot had stepped in. Your reflection rippled through its surface before disappearing as you lifted your boot, unsettling the mud. You let out a soft hum, eyes glancing around your surroundings. All was quiet, even with Silver at your side now. You found his silence gave you almost a sense of foreboding. Were the infected all this quiet? 

Your attention focused on Silver; you didn’t even register the sound of water splashing just behind you. You barely had time to process the hand that reached out from behind, a shiver running down your spine as your mind lagged behind, realizing just seconds too late what was happening. 

Silver’s feet dragged as he trudged forward, bleary eyes shifting back and forth as he looked around. All was quiet, and his sharp sense of hearing didn’t pick up anything other than the thuds of your footsteps just behind him. Hearing a splash of water, Silver’s ear twitched slightly, but shrugged it off as your presence. It was strangely quiet, even for him. 

A sharp, shrill scream pierced that silence, startling Silver as he whipped around, trying to focus his eyes, trying to find you. His eyes landed on your form, legs kicking as you tried to fight off the infected that had snuck up on you. Its hand wrapped around your face, other hand holding your shoulder as it leaned in close to your neck. 

Swinging your body back and forth, you tried to shove it off, letting out a startled cry as you felt its hot breath down your neck. Tears brimming in your eyes, you grabbed it by the arm, using all of your strength to fling it over your shoulder. Its body slammed against the ground, the rotten flesh of its arm tearing clean off. 

A shudder ran down your back as you dropped the dead flesh, your blurry eyes landing on Silver as he rushed to your side. But you didn’t have time to focus on him as your peripheral vision caught sight of movement, whipping to face whatever was approaching next. Your eyes widened to see not just a few stray infected, but an entire horde. The streets were filled with undead, the putrid scent of death hitting your nose. 

“Th-They’re everywhere,” You muttered, turning to look at Silver. If an infected could look panicked, Silver surely did right now. His eyes were wide, shoulders stiff as he leaned closer to you, as if to try and protect you. But even Silver couldn’t fight off an entire horde, he had found that out in his final moments of life. 

The storm had to have led them in, you assumed. They relied on their sense of sound and must’ve lingered even after the storm passed. They had you and Silver completely surrounded, and there was nothing you could do to get through. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing growing erratic as your eyes darted around for any kind of escape. 

Body trembling, you felt your knees grow weak with fear as you realized, this was likely your end. It had been just your luck to finally find someone who could change your life, only to have it all ripped away from you. You squeezed your eyes shut as you noticed the infected beginning to approach, your tears streaming down your face as you tried to shut the world out. 

Just as you closed everything out though, you felt a cold hand wrap around your own, fingers squeezing gently. You peeked your eyes open, meeting the pair of golden eyes you thought you’d never get the chance to see again. But something was different, there was a whole new layer of color to them, a turquoise aura surrounding both you and him. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. It was the smallest upturn of his lips, crinkling his muzzle ever so slightly. You hadn’t even thought it possible for him to make any expressions other than aggravation, but in your final moments, he had given you the comfort you didn’t even realize you desired for all these years. 

Your mind had been distracted from what you had assumed would be your final few seconds in life, your eyes entirely on Silver. Something about your gaze, the way your eyes lit up upon seeing his smile, it made something deep within Silver flutter to life. Something he had rarely ever felt, even in his days alive. It gave him the strength to use up what little power he had access to in his rotten body, lifting his body from the ground. You hadn’t even realized what was going on, having closed off the world as your mind focused entirely on Silver’s face, on his smile, his soft and kind eyes. It wasn’t until your feet had left the ground, did you finally come back down to Earth. 

Your eyes widened as you looked down, the ground getting further and further away as Silver lifted you just above the infecteds’ reach. Your eyes practically lit up with exuberance, nearly welling with more tears as you realized Silver had once again saved your life. But that excitement quickly dissipated as your eyes met his, noticing the strained look written across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a soft groan as the aura surrounding you had begun to flicker and disappear. He had just barely managed to land on the roof of a tall building, thankfully with no entry to the roof. They were safe, for the time being. 

“Silver, that was amazing!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him without even thinking. Silver’s eyes widened as he felt you squeeze him close, muttering words of thanks over and over as you pressed your face into his shoulder. 

A sharp jolt burst through Silver’s body, causing him to twitch slightly in your hold. It felt electrifying, like something within him had been shocked to life. It almost felt as though his heart had been jumpstarted, his cold, dead body, blood that had long since stagnated beginning to heat up his body. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that your touch had brought his body back to life, more so that it had given life to a brand-new feeling, an indescribable feeling that Silver immediately knew he had to protect at all costs. 

“Oh, but...” You pulled away slightly, much to Silver’s dismay, as you cast your gaze over the edge of the building. The sky was still cloudy, blotting out the sunlight, the wind sending a chill down your spine. “We’re stuck up here now. Do you think you could fly the rest of the way home?” 

Silver frowned deeply, giving you your answer. You sighed, shoulders drooping in disappointment. That meant, that until the horde either dispersed, or Silver gained enough energy to fly once again, you were stuck up here. And the fact that you had yet to eat anything today was finally starting to catch up with you, your body feeling tired and weak. 

Your gaze lifted back up to Silver’s, finally realizing your arms were still wrapped around him. You could barely even recall the fact that he was dead anymore, the only reminders being the sickly sweet smell coming from him, and the droopiness of his eyes. But the way he held you softly in his arms, the smile he had given you to comfort you in what could’ve been your final moments, it felt so much like a real person. Like there was still somebody in there. Somebody who cared for you. 

“Can you smile again?” You asked, both genuinely curious, and missing the presence of his smile. Silver seemed a bit caught off guard, his body tensing slightly. His hands pulled away from you, leaving a cold, empty feeling where they had been, which you ignored. It had been far too long since you felt physical contact with another being. 

Silver’s cheeks twitched slightly as he struggled to curl his lips upwards. He had even squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull his lips upward, but they simply wouldn’t budge. You frowned slightly, wondering if doing even the simplest things overexerted his muscles. They were pretty much dead, after all. It was shocking he could even do it before. 

Letting out a frustrated growl, Silver lifted his fingers to his cheeks, pushing the corners of his lips upward. Your eyes widened at the annoyed hedgehog who forcefully turned his lips upward, giving him a very strange and almost scary appearance, had you not known what was going on. For a moment, you could only stare in pure surprise, before a sputter of laughter escaped your lips. Covering your mouth, you tried to hide the laughter that bubbled up within you, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped. Soon enough, your hidden giggles turned into uproarious cackling, sides nearly splitting as you doubled over. 

Like an infection, your euphoria spread to Silver, nearly having to do a double take as you caught sight of his face. His lips had been pulled into a tight smile, mimicking your own. His sharp canines stood out, stained slightly red, his gums showing from how hard he was pulling. But despite that, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling within you at the sight, chuckling. 

“You have a lovely smile, Silver,” You said, your words causing Silver to falter, his lips trembling. It felt like his heart was trying to stutter back into life, almost painfully so. He didn’t think he’d ever felt an emotion as strong as what was going through him now. And your words only made it worse as you continued. “I’m so glad I met you.” 

Silver knew from that moment that he needed to keep you, he wanted you at his side, forever. 

It had taken a few hours, but the horde of the undead had finally begun to disperse, following sounds in the woods, looking for their next meal. Silver had also gathered just enough energy to fly back home, holding you tightly, taking every chance he could to squeeze you against his own body. You were so warm against him; it was becoming addicting. 

Before finding you, Silver had assumed there was no life left aside from the occasional wild animal. But even those were becoming rare. He thought it a curse that he could see the world around him, that he still had some thought and comprehension, but that he lacked control of his own body. It wasn’t until he saw you for the first time, roaming the dark streets, did he finally feel like himself. He needed to see you, to see an actual living being. He had died all alone and thought the rest of his undead life would be the same, and you changed that. You were like his lifeline, keeping him connected with his humanity. He needed you. 

Once you had made it back home, you made sure to lock the front door, pushing a shelf in front of it with Silver’s help. It wouldn’t stop a group of infected, but it might stop one or two. Maybe. Silver didn’t make it seem like a silly idea, so you found comfort in that. 

As the hours grew late, putting a close to your second day since finding Silver, you found yourself practically attached at the hip to Silver, the same going for him. Asking him more questions about himself and his life, you were enthralled by him. It had been many years since you got to bond with anyone, it felt like you couldn’t detach yourself from him if you tried. 

Letting out a yawn, you leaned back onto the sofa, having run out of ideas to ask him. Communicating with someone via yes or no questions could only get you so far, and you felt like you had hit that limit. There wasn’t much left to ask him, now the information you sought could only be given by him, and that obviously wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it, Silver still lacked the ability to actually speak, and likely would forever. 

“I guess that’s it for today. It’s too bad we couldn’t find anything, I’m starving,” You mumbled, your stomach growling. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gone a day without food before, but it was still slightly painful. You sighed, standing up as you smiled at Silver. “I guess I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have cleared out by then.” 

As you turned away, going to prepare for bed, you failed to notice the look of disapproval on Silver’s face. He watched you walk away, a slight scowl on his face. 

Walking into your bedroom, you stretched out your arm, though came to a screeching halt as an intensely sharp pain stabbed through your shoulder, nearly drawing a cry of pain out of you. You hissed, letting your arm go slack as you rushed into your bathroom. The dim moonlight bathed the room in an almost blueish light, highlighting the red gash that had been scratched across your neck and shoulder. You could only stare with wide eyes, your mind unable to process the sight before you, breath caught in your throat. How had you failed to notice that? When did it happen? 

As the memory of the infected that had snuck up on you passed through your mind, you faintly recalled feeling an uncomfortable scratch across your collarbone that you hadn’t given much thought to at the time. Your life was in danger, you were focused entirely on escaping the situation. But now that you were home, and hours had gone by, the blood had dried, and the wound had begun to heal. It wasn’t a deep scratch. Just enough to break the skin. But was that all it took to turn? To become infected? 

It had been hours, you reminded yourself. Turning was usually immediately. But you also knew there were rare cases where it could happen over a course of time, slowly killing the host. You had been infected. There was no doubt about it. 

Stumbling back into your bedroom, you collapsed against the old, beaten mattress. There was nothing you could do except hope that you woke up tomorrow morning. You couldn’t tell Silver. He had finally found someone he could talk to. Someone he could bond with. You didn’t want to crush that so soon. 

Closing your eyes, you ignored the pain in your shoulder, letting slumber take you. You had been fully prepared to just never wake up again, at least not fully. But much to your surprise, you woke up the next day, sunshine pouring into your room through an unboarded window. You blinked away your sleepiness, slightly confused as to why you were still you, before jumping out of bed. 

Rushing to your bathroom, you checked your collarbone once again. The scratch remained, still healing. You had honestly thought it to be a dream when you woke up, but seeing it there, feeling the remaining pain as you moved your shoulder, you knew it was real. 

You didn’t know what to do. Your mind was rushing for a solution, or at least a way to keep this from Silver. You didn’t want him to see you change. You had to come up with some sort of plan to get away from him before changing, and today was the perfect opportunity. 

That was what you had thought, until Silver had decided not to let you out at all today. Just like yesterday, he held you by your wrist tightly, refusing to let you walk through your door. You had even tried the same reasoning as yesterday, saying that he could come with, but he still wouldn’t let you go. You had thought it was because he hadn’t been there to keep you safe from being grabbed, but you were fine as far as he was aware. There was no reason for him to feel bad. 

“I have to go out, I need food, I’m hungry! Just let me go!” You huffed in frustration, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you tried to tug your arm free. Silver simply glared up at you, visibly growing more frustrated the longer you fought him. He didn’t understand why you thought it was okay to go out again, not after yesterday. Not after he nearly lost you. 

“Let me go!” You raised your voice, trying to urge him to free you. It seemed your tone only made him mad, as he roughly yanked your arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder. You cried out in alarm, holding your shoulder as you hissed. “You’re hurting me, Silver!” 

Your cries of pain seemed to startle him as his grip loosened significantly, almost enough for you to pull your arm free, but his grip returned just as you tried to pull. As your eyes met his, you could see a look of not just frustration in his eyes, but confusion. Guilt suddenly squeezed at your heart, making you sigh as your shoulders fell. 

“Okay, if you don’t want me to go, then why don’t you? You’re one of them after all,” You said, giving him a small, comforting smile. “That way, I can stay safe at home, and you can bring me food.” 

Silver let you go at that, agreeing immediately. He walked past you, shoving the shelf blocking the door aside with ease. As he looked back, your eyes widened as he gave you the tiniest of smiles. The sight made your heart flutter, but at the same time sink, knowing it would be your last time getting to see such a smile. The smile of someone with perseverance great enough to live beyond death. 

You gave Silver a bright grin in return, your smile remaining until the door had closed behind him, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. It was just like before now, when you were all alone. Silver was gone. And it had left a bigger hole in your heart than you thought it would. 

But you had no time to waste. You didn’t know when it would happen. You had to disappear before Silver could return, without being noticed. You waited until you were certain Silver was gone before preparing. 

The table was covered in Silver’s scribbles now, with little room left. Taking a marker, you wrote over Silver’s handwriting, writing a small apology, that you didn’t want him to see you turn. With your final words written, you took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your old apartment one last time. Since showing up, Silver had left that sickeningly sweet smell everywhere he went. A smell that once made you sick and terrified, you found some sense of comfort in, knowing it was from him. 

You wished you could’ve had more time with him. You wished you could’ve met Silver before everything, before he and everyone around him died. You imagined you would’ve been great friends. But you couldn’t linger on that, not anymore. 

Slipping out of your apartment, you made certain that you were completely alone before exiting the building. The streets were silent once again, but this time, you knew nothing was around. Not even Silver. You were alone. 

Making your way into the woods that had begun to creep up on the old city, you were surrounded by the darkness the trees provided, hiding you from the light. Even in the woods, it was dead silent aside from the wind rustling the leaves and branches. It was a lonely final resting place, but you preferred that over putting Silver in even more pain. 

With one final glance back, you could see your memories flashing through your eyes just like before, but at a slower pace now, reminding you of everything you’d lost, and the friend you were going to lose now. You were simply thankful you got the chance to meet Silver. For a mere second, you thought it might’ve been possible he himself was the cure he had been searching so long for. After all, he was still alive, even though his body technically wasn’t. The thought made you smile, comforting you as you disappeared into the darkness. 

The sun had begun to drift lower and lower into the sky. Silver stared up at the sky as it turned from a bright blue into a brilliant orange. Despite the beautiful view, Silver only wished you could’ve been with him to witness it. He knew he had made the right decision in leaving you home, especially since he had seen a few infected during his search. But he still couldn’t help but miss you, wanting to be always at your side. 

Making his way back home, Silver pushed the door open, mustering up his best smile as he held his arms out, showing off the food he had found in his search. But upon seeing the empty room, Silver dropped the food without a thought as he looked around. Where were you? Why were you not here waiting for him? 

Red ink scrawled across the table caught his attention, golden eyes landing on the message. Taking in its words, Silver didn’t even think it possible to feel his blood pressure skyrocket, and yet the feeling that overcame him in those two seconds rivaled the feeling. 

Silver didn’t think he’d ran that fast since he was alive. He didn’t even know he could run as fast as he was, nor did he think he had the same heightened sense of smell as the other infected until he was completely zeroed in on your scent, on the blood in your scent. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not after he’d finally found someone to be with. Someone who was alive and made him feel alive. He had to have you, no matter what. Even if you were infected, he’d find a way to help you. You could be just like him; he would make you be just like him. Even if he had to infect you himself. 

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and the woods grew darker with each second. You shivered as the wind blew a chill down your spine, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. Despite the pain in your shoulder, you couldn’t feel any effects of the virus. Perhaps you were one of the rare cases that had to suffer longer? It certainly lined up with the luck you had. 

The leaves crunched softly underneath your boots as you walked, your mind drifting as time slowed to a crawl. You were just ready for it to be over. Silver was probably already home, though you couldn’t even begin to guess what his reaction would be. You guessed he might try to look for you, but you’d already be turned and long gone before he could find you. You felt guilty, but it wasn’t like letting Silver watch you turn was any better. 

Your mind was brought back to reality as you heard a particularly loud gust of wind. Looking around, you felt your fear begin to crawl from the pits of your stomach, and up your spine. Squeezing yourself tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, before continuing on. 

Before you could take even a single step forward though, you were suddenly and violently tackled to the ground. You let out a startled cry, your shoulder slamming against the ground, forcing a scream from your lungs. You felt a hand grab your injured shoulder, flipping you over with great force, nearly knocking the wind out of you. 

Your eyes met a pair of wildly glowing golden eyes, a sneer pulling at his lips, revealing his canines. You cried out in alarm, trying to crawl away, Silver’s tight grip holding you in place underneath him. You had no time to react, no time to stop him as he bent down, immediately sinking his teeth into your collarbone. You let out a shrill scream, feeling your own blood soak your clothes and skin, staining Silver’s muzzle. You fought and shoved against him, feeling the cool air hit your skin as he pulled away, revealing his dripping maw, blood trickling down his canines. 

“Mine,” A strained, raspy voice spoke, startling you. He repeated the word over and over, rubbing his nose against your neck. He switched to the other side, making you panic as you felt his sharp teeth brush over your skin. He sunk his teeth into your flesh, taking in your scent, practically burning it into his brain. He was never letting you out of his sight again. You were his, he needed you, you were all he had left in this world. 

Pulling away, Silver stared at the sight of you below him. Your neck was littered with bites, and after the third bite, you had lost the strength to fight him, just waiting to succumb to your death. Your eyes drooped, a sleepiness unlike anything you’d ever felt washing over you, granting you relief. 

As your eyes fell shut, you could feel Silver lift you, holding you against his fluffy chest. You leaned into his surprisingly warm hold, deciding to just go with it. You were dead anyway, so you might as well soak it in. Despite everything, you were still glad to have met Silver. 

It felt like time had slowed to a near stop, and you couldn’t differentiate minutes between hours, and days between years. It felt like you had been forced to wake though after a long time, sunlight pouring over you, bathing you in its warmth. It was strangely warm. You had expected everything to be cold, dead. 

Eyes slowly peeking open, they blurred in the light, making you groan. Just as you began to stir, you heard a gasp, startling you fully awake, eyes clearing up immediately as you sat up. Just before you stood Silver, or what you had assumed was Silver. He was strangely... lively. Almost like he was alive. 

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, his crystal-clear voice startling you to your core. It wasn’t like he was almost alive; he was alive. His golden eyes held that flicker of life that was once missing, his lips curled into the biggest smile you had ever seen. 

As if able to tell you were both shocked and confused, Silver chuckled, sitting down next to you on the bed. “A little while after I bit you, I got better. It surprised me too, believe me. I guess it turns out you were the immune person I’ve been looking for all this time!” 

Your brain didn’t process a single word he said. You were shocked you were even still alive, especially after how Silver had bitten you, and many times at that. The memory of Silver biting you over and over suddenly filled your head, the pain still ever present in your neck. You ran your hand over your neck, feeling the deep teeth marks scattered across your skin. Silver’s eyes fell to your hand, his smile remaining, but the glimmer of innocent cheerfulness fading from his eyes. 

“I wanted to be the one to turn you,” Silver said, his voice forcing your attention back on him, looking up at him with wide eyes. He smiled at you, the corners of his lips reaching his eyes and forcing them to crinkle. “I was going to make you like me. But this is better! This means that you can’t turn, and even if I do, I can just bite you and cure myself!” 

Something about Silver’s words, or the way he smiled, put an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Something about this didn’t sit right with you, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it kind that he wanted to turn you himself? You couldn’t tell. 

“What does this mean? A-Am I going to have to cure everyone else?” You asked, confused. You didn’t think you could handle getting bitten that much. You didn’t even have enough blood to spare a few hundred people. And wouldn’t that, you know, kill you? 

“Oh, no!” Silver chuckled, shaking his head. He took your hand into his own, squeezing it much more gently than he had when he was infected. “I can’t let you be getting hurt. It’s just you and me against the world.” 

Silver gave you a big smile, his eyes filled with love, and yet, you knew, there was no real love to be found. His love had died with him when he died so long ago. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[mysticmunson]

Maybe some Alpha!Eddie x Plussize!Omega!Reader comfort fluff/smut? Acquaintances to Lovers, she didn't think Eddie looked her way until it was discovered she was an omega. Reader is feeling low wondering if Eddie actually has feelings for her or if it's just because she finally presented. Turns out he always had a crush on her. He shows her he would've chosen her regardless.

from the sidelines: alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader

authors note: hi darling! thank you so much for the lovely ask, i'm a bigger girl myself so these hit close to home. i hope you enjoy! i also want to note that my work can be interpreted as any body type, but this piece does reference being bigger. i'm not sure how i feel about this so feedback is welcomed as always. (not proofread whoopsies)

warnings: mentions of being bigger than others, insecurities, brief smut (18+)

When going through a turbulent time, a good friend can be the remedy or the impairment, but you weren’t sure which one had occurred with your relationship with Eddie Munson. 

Being the outcasts in middle school meant you stuck together, hushing the boys who teased him as he scared the girls who belittled you. Watching him grow was an unexplainable experience, not knowing the exact day when your platonic connection became romantic.

Change knowingly came when you both presented, him as an alpha and you as an omega. The knowledge of one another was by pure happenstance, but he didn’t hesitate to come to your house, assisting your situation. Already in a state of blatant desire, all his attributes became more prolific, noticing every line by his eye or fainted freckle on his shoulder.

The next few days were spent beside each other, comforting the other through affirmation or unspoken caresses. But as you faded from your heat, the knife in your chest began to twist, that there was a future beyond what was in front of you.

The delusion brought by nature during this time had blindsighted you to the impact this could have on your friendship, on your other friendships, and your mental health. The thoughts swarmed in your brain once Eddie pulled on his Metallica tee for a final time, kissing your head and going to his van.

The warmth of his skin still left you shuddering, recalling it like a forgotten song as he played every string of your body, a one sided symphony being left in its wake. His duty as composer satisfied his need to create as you reeled in the masterpiece at hand.

You hadn’t spoken to him since, taking every opportunity to avoid those soft brown eyes that were once so close to your own. However, the game of cat and mouse could only go on for so long, especially when he wasn’t one to beat around the bush. 

Trudging to the door, it was the first knock you heard on your door all day, the sun now set as the star just began to shine. The pounding increased as your steps went in sync, prepared to politely scare away whoever decided to ruin your night of somber. As you threw the door open, the tall man with a mane of curls was before you with an unamused look, stepping inside without saying.

He looked at you, crossing his arms over his chest with furrowed brows, clearly not entertained by your avoidance. It made you feel two feet tall, glancing down at your feet, only to realize your state of undress in only small shorts and a thin tank top.

“Shit, Eddie, let me get changed.” You mumbled, walking quickly, but he followed right after you. Cutting you off to your room, he went in first, flopping on your unmade bed.

“Not like I haven’t seen you in less,” He sassed, propping himself up on his elbows, “Now tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

The silence laid thick enough to cut, emotions swirling around you as you tried to think of any congruent thought. His attitude would typically amuse you, but now it felt too real. As if this were an interrogation, the bright light beaming down on your face as you broke a sweat, barely able to see him under the pretense that you had been caught. An unspoken crime.

Walking to your dresser, you pulled on a baggy sweatshirt, despising the heat while aching for the coverage. The same eyes that were looking at the back of your head had seen every crevice and crease of you, but you doubted he truly perceived you as you did him.

The detail in which you find yourself yearning for him goes beyond skin, but it’s the part of him you can touch. The self-given tattoos that took residency on his arms, the dimple in his back, the way his hair poked through the pores of his face. 

“Hey,” He broke you from your daze, “Talk to me, you’ve been ignoring me since last week.”

He sat at the edge of the bed now, pillow in his lap and, seemingly, much calmer. What you hated was the way it made you feel even lower, that your longing was so blind to him.

Rubbing your hands down your face, the burning within your skull made you curse yourself, struggling to control your emotions. The hitch in your breathing made his attention heighten, standing to pull your hands away to see your distress. 

The combination of loneliness, affection, anxiety, and all the other unexplainable sensations brewed into anger. Pulling from his loose grip, you pointed at the door while looking towards your feet, tapping one to show your lack of patience.

“I’m not leaving, not until you say what’s wrong. What we did was completely natural.” He sighed, flopping his hands against his jean clad thigh, wishing things would resume to how they were.

But the past was as painful as the present for you, maybe even more so now knowing he had touched you. It irked you that maybe the past was so easy for him to go to because nothing had truly changed.

“Eddie, stop, you don’t get it.” You spoke with a waving voice, trying to reign in the racing beat of your heart.

He scoffed, making you lose your grip on the invisible rope, blood flushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and pain. 

“What makes you think I don’t? We’re going through this together!” He emphasized, “I know it's different for alpha and omega’s, but we have each other.”

The band of false serenity snapped as your fists clenched, biting your lip for a brief moment before letting your words loose. 

“Eddie! You don’t get it because you didn’t have to watch you leave!” You sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in momentary confusion, “You went into your van and you drove home, but I’m still there. I’m still at the night you arrived, the night you left, and every fucking minute since.”

Your usual calm tone was exchanged for a fierce one, but through the frustration, the agony rose to the surface. He felt frozen in place as you continued your rant, wishing he could take a peek inside your brain.

“I have spent years watching you look at girls and I supported you every single time even though it made me want to die. These girls looked perfect and only had to worry about if your personalities matched, not if they even liked bigger girls in the first place! And I was there every single time. Shit, I was here when you presented!”

The tears rolling down your cheeks cascaded like the words streaming out, losing any bit of secrecy you had from him, hoping the feeling of relief would wash over you soon.

“I was here and I felt so beautiful and amazing and worthy. It hurts like hell knowing that was a natural instinct for you when it was so much more for me.” 

Before you could continue, arms wrapped around your body, securing you firmly to a warm chest you knew too well. One that you would fall into without hesitation, greeted by the familiar aroma that infiltrated your senses.

A palm stroked your hair, hushing your cries as you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling as if this were the last time. As if this were a pitiful action to cease the awkwardness, but there was nothing that could make Eddie seem anything less than accepting of you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, swaying you both to soothe you, but you tensed at his response. 

All the years of friendship seemed to be dripping from both of your hands, piling into a mess on the floor that would dissolve without a trace, just a memory. The thought of letting him go and never seeing him again terrified you, enough to humiliate yourself just to get one more minute of his love.

“You mean so much to me and I fucking mean that. I wanted you before we presented and even more now, it felt like destiny, like a plot twist in DnD.” He gasped, his nerdiness making you laugh as you smacked his chest, looking up at him, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but the thought of you here, so needy, made me insane. More insane than usual.”

Hands gripped your hips as he pulled you to his body, “I need you, I wanted to ask you to be my omega, but I chickened out. I think you’re magnificent, like a beautiful princess from those old fairy tales.”  

Unexplainably dorky and with a hint of self depreciation, nothing could have been more genuine from your curly haired knight in shining armor. The cracks in your confidence would take a while to patch up, there was now assistance in the job as mere words helped mend the destruction.

“I have thought about you every day. How gorgeous you are, how perfect we are when we- uh- made love? Fucked? Whatever, that was great.” He laughed walking you both over to the bed, having you lay down as he threw his shirt to the floor.

Noses skimming across one another, his brown eyes pierced your own, his own breath tickling the hairs above your cupid's bow. There was no time for insecurity as his lips met your own, melting together into an entanglement of words left unsaid. 

As the clothes came undone into an accumulation on your childhood rug, your bodies mended as the doubt washed away, flooding into the forget worries of only minutes previous and longer. 

“I love you, I’m sorry I’m shitty with my words and didn’t say it sooner.” He breathed out, stretching you as he rutted into your cunt as you elicited a moan.

“I love you too.” You whimpered, cupping his face while your thumbs ran across the hair protruding through, scratching the pads of your fingertips. 

It felt like you were creating a work of art as he made love to you, as if no one had felt so strongly about one another as the two of you felt right now. That no matter what occurred in the world outside of your home, it wouldn’t amount to the pure passion filling your bodies.

Finishing quickly with him right behind you, his body felt limp against yours as his arms shook, making you giggle that was music to his ears. With a wet kiss to your nose, he stared into your eyes and wondered why it took him so long to ask in the first place.

He had never felt this close to anyone, ever since joining forces in middle school, and he didn’t plan on anyone else. He had considered others, but no matter what, he couldn’t wait to run home and call you. To hear your voice on the opposite end of the fuzzy phone line, reminding him that you were always there. 

Truthfully, even if you hadn’t presented as an omega, he thinks he would’ve done anything in his power to adapt. He wasn’t ready to move through adulthood without you and if there was anything he could do about it, neither of you would have to find out.

tagging some who were interested in my other alpha content :) @elizabethmidnight2017 @iheartyouyou @forksloree @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics @sillypurplemurple

[edwardslvrr]

༯ GOOD RIDDANCE, TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x singer!reader

the one where rumour has it YN’s new album is about Trevor

taglist if you’d like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment xoxo

main masterlist trevor zegras masterlist

yourinstagram

los angeles, california

liked by _alexturcotte and 1.213.175 others

yourinstagram good riddance is now out and about for you beautiful souls to listen to I hope you love it as much as I loved making this. now it’s time for wine and a party, thank you.

view 20.194 comments

username so here for this drama!!

username “all our best years are behind” mind if i just go into full sob mode??

username she’s just making us go through it fr

username “got a lot to cry about” yeah me too rn

username trevor has never been more quiet

username all his friends liking this post pretending like it isn’t about their best friend 😭

yourbestfriend give this woman her grammy rn, babes pulled my heart out of my chest and just stomped on it this is what i call a fucking masterpiece!!!

yourinstagram ILOVE YOU SOOOO !!

username I SHOULD HATE YOU IS IT. IT IS THE MOMENT. IT IS THE MAIN CHARACTER.

trevorzegras

michigan, usa

liked by colecaufield and 284.195 others

trevorzegras same time next year?

view 1.329 comments

username bro acting like nothing happened

username what is he suppose to do? make a poem abt it?

username poem sounds nice tho

jackhughes could be.. difficult

username did he just?

username I think he did-

username jack is running wild😭

username bro feeding the dixie rumours w the 3rd photo

username only here for the drama 💪

colecaufield haunted house era

username the gc is 100% going wild rn

username nahhh there aint no way, they’re fr taking the piss tn what is this😭

username dude is regretting all his life decisions atp

yourinstagram

los angeles, california

liked by trevorzegras and 1.421.184 others

yourinstagram the support on Good Riddance is INSANE! could have never imagined this all being the outcome of just writing my feelings down on a piece of paper. you guys have been the absolute best people ever, the way you promote this album just makes me tear up. LOVE YOU ALL!! see you soon.

view 18.382 comments

username this album is my new personality for the next 2 years

username my new therapy fr

username ayo trevor is see you👀

username he panicked liked

username bro just knows he’ll never hear the end of this

username i honestly for the drama when a break up album gets realeased

username not trevor liking this post😭

username he’s just fighting for his life in the gc

username he’ll be hearing the chirps on the ice for a couple years

username just looking at what he missed out on fr

username y’all so worried, bro couldn’t care less

username and what if the album wasn’t abt trevor

username trevor here to take his little bit of fame

yourname

via twitter

REPLIES

username now this is what i call sus

username she’s brave for not typing out the rest of that bridge

username “And now, I, now I bet you resent All of me, all of it, angry, blocking me over the internet Promise I don't forget all of my fault in this” SUS

username think she’s the one regretting her choices rn

username the money entering her bank account isn’t

username so real

username she def sent him a long paragraph apologising for his comment section 😭

username everyone always out here claiming they know trevor and YN personally or sum shit

[megumri]

GOOD GOOD - PART I

ISAGI YOICHI  X  AFAB READER  X  ITOSHI RIN

 ↬   you’re careful to never sleep with your pro-footballer boyfriends at the same time; but, all that changes when rin comes home unexpectedly early…

wc: ~2.1k | genre: porn with tiny plot

cw: established poly relationship; unprotected sex; isagi has a thigh fetish; pussy job; cum play; hickies; biting; edging; fingering (fem receiving); vaginal sex; (super) minor spoilers; please lmk if i missed something

All characters are +21. Minors don’t interact.

notes: my tumblr writing swan song; named after tanerelle’s “good good” more at the end !

series masterlist  |  part ii

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Balancing Rin and Yoichi is your own subconscious state of flow. The act evokes memories of mind-numbing rainy days huddled in a makeshift fort aglow with buttery lamplight. There you concocted masterpieces to satiate your thirst for entertainment: bottles filled with oil and water. An experiment rooted in patience, observation, and curiosity.

The relationship itself felt often like the construction of your make-shift toy. The process was simple: portioning equal amounts of both liquids with surgeon-like precision, a few squirts of food coloring, and testing ensued.

Rippling waves from gentle cants of your wrist. Furious bubbles with a few pumps of your hand. An explosion of riotous emulsion when dropped to the floor. Perfect stillness from a gentle grip.

It took practice to settle into your roles: Rin, bitterly fluid; Yoichi, bracingly adaptive; and you, resolutely miscible. It wasn’t easy to intervene, passively and occasionally aggressively. You often felt like a small wedge of wood shimmying below their enormously powerful legs to bring everyone back to even ground. Nowadays, equilibrium reigns supreme.

Their time with you is a calculated cycle beginning with their between season homecomings. First Yoichi, sweet and affable; second Rin, scintillating and emphatic. And substitution upon Rin's arrival is seamless. Yoichi slips out for a meandering stroll while a weary, slightly grumpy, Rin presents himself.

It's as if they reached a prior agreement before returning to your side. A deal to ensure minimum intrusion… although, you know better than to believe that. No, more likely you solidified their established habits. Or, likelier still, they wordlessly arrived at the same conclusion, much like their relationship on the field. Forever caught in an undulating dance of unspoken wills. Oil and water indeed.

A muted click sounds like an alarm through the halls. You lick your lips, a flutter of anticipation alights in your stomach. He fills the doorway with a bashful smile, marred only by the wedging of his teeth in one corner of his lower lip. His presence permeates the room like a peaceful sigh, a glimmer of delight amasses in your chest.

In a few short paces, Yoichi greets you with pliant lips.

Feather-light kisses dot your face until they coalesce into the firm honey-sweet press of his mouth against yours. A warm hand grasps the nape of your neck, anchoring you to him. His tongue sneaks between your lips and flicks against yours as he stretches alongside you on the bed. Warmth seeps from his body into yours and like a flower starved for the light of day, you soak it in.

“How was it?” you sneak in as his lips brush down your neck.

“Won ‘em all,” he replies, breath tickling your collarbone. His hand slides into yours, squeezing your fingers. He pulls away revealing his signature sunshine smile you automatically reflect.

“Glad you’re back,” you hum, leg hooking around his waist.

Snuggling closer, his lips tickle their way to your ear. You catch the fresh scent of his shampoo still clinging to the damp tips of hair prickling your cheek.

“Glad to be back,” he hums.

You pull him closer and rub against the bulge in his pants. His hips rock with yours, matching you swell for swell. Arousal springs like a fever throughout your body. Hands mold around the curve of your thighs. Lightly chapped lips graze along your jaw as he careens his head, gaze cementing on his fingers pressing into your bare skin.

"Can I… mind if I put it between them?"

"Do it," you breathe.

A gleam, too quick for diagnosis, shoots across his eyes. He stands, shucking off his pants. Eyes greedily glued to your hands, he watches as you wiggle out of your bottoms.

Scooting down the bed he parts your legs, laying his cheek against the skin of your inner thigh. A heavy exhale skitters straight to your exposed, leaking cunt. He nuzzles his face in the plush muscle.

A scrape of teeth—and scorching open mouth kisses weave down to the inside of your knee. A shiny sheen of spit follows his snail-like descent.

His arms encircle your outer thighs, scooping them into the circle of his embrace. He buries himself in the crevasse of their union. Moans shoot a pitiless hunger through your body. He peeks at you with an ill-concealed drunken desire.

“Can we do that new way I wanted to try?”

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it,” you don’t bother masking the excitement in your voice.

He settles behind you, legs propping up your back, chest warming your legs. Wedging a hand between your thighs, he lifts your legs as if parting a divine sea of flesh, and lays his cock against your slick center. Your breath titters, and you fight the urge to snap your legs shut.

He lowers your leg, crossing one shin over the other, sandwiching his cock. Only his pink tip protrudes from the makeshift cocoon. You pillow an arm under your head and get comfortable.

Lazily, he ruts, adjusting his angle with each movement. The bed begins to creak as he anchors a hand on your lower thigh. Each roll of his hips further saturates his cock. Each glide nurtures the acute ardor simmering in your hips.

He catches on your clit, your muscles twitch. He picks up his pace. Sweat and a faint trace of Isagi's soap taint the air. A curl of white-hot fervor unfurls in your stomach.

"Close, I'm close–" He grits out.

You focus on withholding a smirk. He never lasts long in the beginning; but, it’s not like you have much ground to stand on either.

"Uh, mhm, m–me too.”

Teeth prick the tender skin of your Achilles's heel. A sharp sting shoots tremors from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You curl inward, fighting not to bend at the knees, and pinch your legs around his erection. Your arms gather the sheets to your chest in a clammy embrace as your muscles spasm in release.

His hand descends lighting fast to cup his tip as it spits hot ropes cum. An erotic thrill shoots through your relaxing muscles as you watch it pool in the palm of his hand. Release drips onto the curve of your thigh. He slows his pumping, panting filling the air.

"I want to, can I still—"

“Yeah,” you sigh.

Slipping an arm between your shins, he lathers the inside of your thighs with his seed. It's warm and runny, coating your tacky skin in an egg-white jelly.

His cock twitches from its perch below your cunt as he carves a path of swoops and swirls with his thumbs. The air thickens with the sweet musk of sex. His tongue darts out, licking your calf as if in anticipation of his next meal.

With a gentle push, you flop onto your back and Yoichi settles himself between your thighs. Sucking, licking, slurping—his mouth inhales his self-portrait. Lewd wet pants, absent of shame, cause blistering want to bloom in your center.

Two rogue fingers scoop up a congealing stripe of cum and seamlessly glide it to your clit. His tongue follows. It picks up the residuals, parts sticky slopes of skin, and reveals your dripping cunt.

His fingers stain your throbbing heat: one teases your aching center; another timidly dips inside; a third drags against your clit. They coat you in his seed and voracious weeds spring in its wake. They thicken, tangle, and twine. You squirm. Mouth returning to your leg, he bestows bruising kisses.

Your patience splinters. Fingers fisting in his blue-black locks, you yank his head. A bleary, intoxicated Yoichi greets you.

"Fuck me," you demand.

A wickedly content smile shines through the fluids coating the bottom half of his face. He raises himself from the bed and pulls you onto his lap. His cock, coated in your slick, smears against your hip.

A soft expression at odds with his vicelike grip on your thighs encompasses his face. His eyes grow into twin navy mesmeric marbles reflecting back a deep-seated longing as his face looms over you. Suddenly, you feel small under his gentle scrutiny. You shrink back, nerves preparing for whatever may come next.

“Must’ve missed me quite a lot…” he murmurs, nose tapping your cheekbone.

“Yeah, I missed you,” you petulantly admit.

He hums with delight, pecking the corner of your mouth.

“How much did you miss me?”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you wind a hand between your feverish bodies, you find his cock. Your fingers pitter-patter along his shaft. He shivers.

“Thought about you everyday,” you whisper, “saw all your games.”

You hesitate. His mouth parts as if to draw out your next confession. You drag a finger up to his soft mushroom tip. Brushing your lips against his, you breathe into his mouth.

“Touched myself everytime you scored.”

A wide, devilish smile swallows his saccharine seduction. His mouth slams into yours knocking your teeth. The momentum sends you reeling into the bedsheets.

You scramble for the back of his shirt, clawing your way underneath, hands tingling at the electric hum that emanates from his damp skin. You lift your hips and wrap your legs around his waist. The tip of his cock grazes your pussy.

He draws back, eyes two pinpricks of desire in the center of your tunneling vision. Smearing his leaky tip against you, a prickling heat tickles the back of your neck. You shiver, every fiber of your body screaming with esperance. He leans down, lips hovering over yours. Your breath falters.

Nipping your lower lip, his mouth slothfully slides against yours. Tongue molding, lips dancing—each movement settles like sand in an hourglass. Granules stack, lying in wait until one of you breaks and sends the grains flowing once again.

Grasping your hands, he intertwines your fingers and pins them against the sheets. His nose skims your cheekbone. Your legs loosen around his waist.

Slowly, he guides his cock into your throbbing heat until his pelvis presses against you. Adapting to the intrusion in a gleeful shudder, you squeeze his hands. Bliss sloshes through your body, filling you to the brim until it precariously plateaus at the rim. Leveraging the hold on your hands, he pushes up, lofting himself. The shift in angle drives him a little deeper, creating a delicious friction.

Languidly he rolls his hips, settling into a steady pace. Pleasure drips like a leaky faucet, adding to the cohesion in your brimming cup. He releases one of your hands, and you plant it between his pecs. A light sheen of sweat greets you.

"How does that feel?"

"Perfect," you sigh.

A pleased rumble vibrates against the flat of your palm.

He picks up his pace, each stroke chipping away at your rapidly dwindling composure. Your legs clamp back around his waist. Black devours the indigo of his eyes. Slick fingers rub your clit. Mouth falling open, you overflow, releasing with unbridled euphoria.

He trades precision for speed. His pelvis rams into yours, making your thighs quake from the force of his thrusts. Lifting the hood of your clit, his finger runs tight circular laps. You writhe beneath him, hand fisting against his chest. Wet, skin-slapping squelches fill the room. You groan, toes curling, legs trembling.

He continues to bully your clit, to drive deep inside you until the edges of your vision blur. You spasm around him again, losing any sense of direction, and tumble down into an abyss, gasping and whimpering.

"Y-Yoichi—too much," you splutter.

Engaging your core, you hook your arm around his neck. You try to anchor yourself to ride it out with him. An ache blooms in your hips.

His hips jolt. Tossing back his head, he exposes the pale length of his throat as he releases deep inside you. Groaning, he hangs his head. Intermittent thrusts ease you both into a disjointed gasping heap. Listless blinks cloud your misty eyes. You deflate into the mattress, body buzzing.

Yoichi bows into your hold. The room quiets—save the faint pounding of your slowing heartbeat. Puffs of air ease into deeper, longer exhales. You pulse your arms around him and he pulls back to give you a shy, sweet smile. You return it with a fatigue-ridden one of your own.

"Tapped out already?"

Rin's flat baritone, off-key and unsettling, punctures the membrane of your haze like an egg splattering on the ground.

You start, cunt involuntarily constricting at the sound of Rin's voice as you twist. He slouches against the doorframe, hands tucked carelessly in the pockets of his shorts.

"Didn’t expect anything less from a second rate striker."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

a/n: hellloooo welcome to the first installment ~ these two are my unhinged favs and there is absolute filth coming, reblogs/ comments appreciated :)

disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters or people mentioned in this piece & all characters are +21 plus regardless of published canon

please do not copy, translate, nor repost this work nor other work belonging to @megumri

masterlist  ⎸  series masterlist 

[junk-story]

Interview: Ongaku to Hito and Sakurai Atsushi - Ichikawa Tetsushi x Kanemitsu Hiroshi, Part II

This interview is on pages 52-57 of the magazine. Footnotes are included in numbered parentheses and can be found at the bottom. For Part 1 of this interview, click here.

~~~~~~~

Ichikawa: It may have been a shock, but in short, [BUCK-TICK's] material elevated. Really, because they were able to turn their work into art, we can grasp now how they were able to bring forth a decadent rock masterpiece like 21st Cherry Boy. Although that kind of dark decadence is seen as a negative, they established it as an excellent form of entertainment, which is fantastic. When I listened to that, I wondered, “Why has Sakurai made a breakthrough to this point?” What did you make of that? 

Kanemitsu: I think he was able to gradually create distance between himself and the band - in a good way. It wasn’t because their relationship had worsened, and there were still times where they’d be up until the morning drinking, but, as you might expect, after nearly 20 years had passed since they debuted, their relationships with people had expanded too, right? When that happened, this sort of scene, where Imai-san would finish an interview and the other 4 were drinking while they waited for him, it almost completely disappeared. This positive sense of individualism is how BUCK-TICK came to be born. 

Ichikawa: I see. In the 21st century, I was listening to the works of B-T as a fan only, so I didn’t bear the weight of that darkness. 

Kanemitsu: What I call acting out the darkness, that elevated their work as entertainment. But normally, when you have this individualism come to be, it leads to actively pursuing solo activities…and that can be troublesome, certainly. 

Ichikawa: That’s the self-indulgence I talked about earlier. (laughs) When that happens in a regular band, they disband and it’s over. Suddenly some new thing starts, and the other members end up not knowing what to do. But Sakurai ended up feeling guilt about this, because he was a man with a kind heart. Thanks to that, the unique worth they had as a band that continued for 35 years with its original members came to be. 

Kanemitsu: In what ways did you feel Sakurai-san’s kindness? 

Ichikawa: Well, in many ways, the Sakurai Atsushi I carry with me is still a yankii(1), you know, a good-looking yankii full of chivalry. We talked about the time when his mother passed before, but there is no shortage of that kind of material. For instance, the launching issue of Ongaku to Hito. I asked Sakurai to be in it as well, and even though it wasn’t around the timing of any [album] release, he said, “Well, since it’s a magazine Ichikawa-san is creating, I’ll do it”, and in the middle of a national tour he came back to Tokyo from Numazu after the concert was over, and it was after midnight at an oden food stall in Sendagaya where we had a no-makeup photoshoot and interview. He was a man who could simply do such things. 

Kanemitsu: What about Sakurai Atsushi made us so charmed by him, do you think? 

Ichikawa: Hmmm…his face? 

Kanemitsu: Well, that’s some brutal honesty!(2) But certainly, it was important. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Wahahaha. There’s that issue with Sakurai Atsushi on the cover where he’s wearing an unremarkable white shirt and has a slight smile, right?(3) That one is among my top three favorites. For some reason, it was a time where there weren’t any interesting releases, and there was no content to be had during this lull, so we ended up in a tight spot for an artist to put on the cover. To be honest, we made the offer to Sakurai like, “heeeelp!”, and I was grateful when he readily consented. They also didn’t have any releases coming up, so I suggested we try a risky(4) cover with no decadence, where Sakurai had a casual appearance and is looking into the camera with a smile; he had also become more concentrated(5) at that time and said, “Let’s do it!”

Kanemitsu: That’s why he cut his hair without anyone’s permission. (laughs)

Ichikawa: I’m glad we didn’t go that far with it. (laughs) But really, Sakurai Atsushi could not be detached from my magazine. There were always plenty of guys skillful at conversation, but I have never met another frontman who, even though he wasn’t good at speaking, could expose his inner thoughts to such a point. Of course, there were also those with negative feelings, like, “It’s all just to tickle the B-T girls’ fancies”, but I hoped, even without him knowing, if we could drain the low-water swamp called Sakurai Atsushi, something amazing would happen. I wanted to do something with this man. It was the same for you too, right, Kanemitsu? 

Kanemitsu: I didn’t have that “I want to do something”. But I did have something like a maternal instinct. (laughs)

Ichikawa: (wry laugh) I understand that too. You can’t leave him alone. 

Kanemitsu: Because at some point, there were only a few articles about the album releases outside of ours. 

Ichikawa: Why was that? As I said earlier, during my time, he spoke frantically as if it was needed to confirm something to himself - so in other words, something must have changed where he could become more self-contained. 

Kanemitsu: It was like Sakurai-san created his own style. As though, dressed up in decadence and gothic imagery, he tried to act out his ideal Sakurai Atsushi. 

Ichikawa: The same as kabuki. The great name of “Sakurai Atsushi” was focused as he would be in the traditional Japanese arts. 

Kanemitsu: Yes, yes. I think that was a good thing. 

Ichikawa: It finally makes sense to me. So that’s why it happened. That Prince of Darkness character was created. 

Kanemitsu: There was what you call the Prince of Darkness character, but he also loved cats, which brought out his playful face. If such a person were to appear on TV with Shiina Ringo, everyone would be hooked. 

Ichikawa: A rare creature, really. (laughs) This may be inappropriate, but it seemed to me that Sakurai could only bring the curtain down(6) on Sakurai Atsushi in the way he did, or by going into a life of seclusion, unknown to anyone. Because he was carrying such sin(7) with him. 

Kanemitsu: Well, as someone who saw him from the 21st century point of view, I feel that he’d aged well in this way, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of his life happily. It’s just that he was a sensitive person, so he was affected by things like children being displaced by war, the oppression of people based on gender, and so on, and when he tried to get closer to the emotions of the weak, he would be forced to remember his own pain, so I suppose in the current era, it was hard for him to live…that’s what I think, anyway. 

Ichikawa: Hearing the talk about the Sakurai Atsushi of the 21st century from Kanemitsu today, it makes sense now. For me, who only knew the Sakurai of the 20th century, the Sakurai of the 21st century is like a different person. I was very fascinated with him all the same. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but it’s like he established a whole separate persona. How can I say this…maybe I could call it guilt. I could see his guilt so clearly through his songs in the 20th century, and it was made invisible in the 21st century. And, invisible things aren’t bad ones. Because that just shows how accomplished he was at fulfilling his role as Prince of Darkness. That’s also how he elevated to being a charming big name. 

Kanemitsu: As a musician, an artist, the purity of his expression had reached a level so high as to be incomparable [to anyone else]. 

Ichikawa: His skill in the 21st century clearly went up. But, although the Sakurai Atsushi of the 20th century was still a work in progress, that progress had turned into a serious dead end that was plain to see. So there were many people who were able to empathize, and I think he himself, the band, the media, and the fans all came together, able to become a community with a shared destiny. It’s strange, but in other media, BUCK-TICK was just shown as a cool band, right? However, at Ongaku to Hito, it wasn’t like that in either the 20th or 21st century. 

Kanemitsu Because we got to see them as 5 people with 5 different styles of character. 

Ichikawa: In other words, they’re “Osomatsu-kun”(8).

Kanemitsu: Hahahahaha!

Ichikawa: When I was doing it, they were “Osomatsu-kun”, and while Kanemitsu’s been doing it they’ve been “Osomatsu-san”. Their appearance between the Showa and Heisei eras was totally different, but the original people were the same. In both the 20th and 21st centuries, Sakurai was Sakurai, and his foundation and attitude didn’t change, only his appearance from that of an unusual self-deprecating man to the Prince of Darkness did; as a result, he was popular in both cases. So, as Ongaku to Hito, speaking from our beginning, he is the person we should be the most grateful for, and he was the kind of man who made me feel like I had to include him in our publication. 

Kanemitsu: He was. No matter how cool Sakurai Atsushi looked on the stage, everyone knows that he actually also had these traits. 

Ichikawa: Of course, with that presence, that appearance, and the look in his eyes, no one would know he was actually this cute and loveable character. 

Kanemitsu: Through the medium of Ongaku to Hito, you and I wrote about those parts of him, so now everyone knows. 

Ichikawa: That’s true…a long time ago, when I was doing a late-night Friday FM radio live broadcast, I had Sakurai on as my first guest. We were at the Satellite Studio in Ginza, and even though I hadn't asked them to come, Takuro and Hisashi [of GLAY] came. We finished at 3 AM and the 4 of us were drinking when Sakurai said, “Will you come to my place?”, which was unusual. When we went there, the windows - all of the windows - had these pitch black curtains on them, it was like being at a planetarium. (laughs)

Kanemitsu: Hahahahahaha!

Ichikawa: We drank in that dark room until we eventually were struck by sleep, but even when I woke up, it was pitch black and I had no idea what time it was. (laughs) When the sun was at its peak, I woke those 2 [from GLAY] up and they went home, but while that was happening, Takuro said to Hisashi, “If you’d told me 10 years ago that I’d go to the home of BUCK-TICK’s Sakurai Atsushi and drink together with him, I never would have believed you”, and I’ve never forgotten that. It was purely moving, emotionally. 

Kanemitsu: Everyone wanted to become like Sakurai Atsushi. 

Ichikawa: It must have been a dream for them. However, it’s a dream that no one could achieve. This sounds misleading, but I think you have to want to be like Yoshiki [of X JAPAN], if you’re going to abandon yourself to despair(9). (wry laugh) But no matter what gimmicks you make use of, you’ll never be Sakurai Atsushi. And for better or worse, it was tough. 

Kanemitsu: I’ve said this many times, but him finding that gothic style was big. 

Ichikawa: The gothic atmosphere seemed like maybe the one he was most comfortable in. The decadence created a kind of surreal and abnormal worldview. But Sakurai Atsushi himself was not abnormal at all, nor was he trying to intentionally deviate strongly from what’s accepted(10). It was just the suit of armor(11) that best fit when he was confronting the world, definitely. 

Kanemitsu: It was Sakurai Atsushi’s suit of armor, wasn’t it. But whether he ended up putting it on or not, he empathized with people’s sadness, and he was a person who could shed tears. And because that seeped out, everyone loved him. Those feelings [of empathy] were expressed in what became his last album, Izora. 

Ichikawa: I see. Well, perhaps he would have continued on expressing it, if he could. 

Kanemitsu: I really think so. There were yet many things he could do, and many he would have wanted to do.

~~~~~~~ Footnotes: (1) I think most people into this scene are familiar with this term, but in case you aren’t - yanki/yankii refers to a young delinquent, usually one who dresses in a sort of street/biker style. (2) If someone has ever said to you, “wow, tell us how you really feel!”, it has the same sort of feeling to it as that, although a bit more polite since Ichikawa is the elder of the two, lol. (3) I believe he is referring to the January ‘95 issue cover, based on his description. (4) Risky in the sense of something not usually done. “Nikopachi” is the type of photography he describes, and online sources generally spoke negatively of it as something not befitting professional photography. (5) Literally “boiled down”. I think this is a reference to paring back his visuals from what they were earlier in their career. (6) This is a metaphor for Sakurai’s passing - but I liked the nuance of his wording and tried to retain it. (7) This word really does not translate well - in different contexts it can be sin, guilt, karma. I translate it again as “guilt” below as it’s more befitting the context, but in all cases here, it’s a sort of heavy emotional load brought upon oneself. My husband’s preferred definition translated to “a living with the burden of past wrongdoings and feeling a sense of remorse”. (8) Per Wikipedia: a comedy manga that revolved around of group of brothers who cause all sorts of mischief. (9) I asked for more clarity on this - what he is getting at is, it’s possible, if you really want to, to become like Yoshiki, but no matter what you do, you can never become like Atsushi. (10) The direct translation for this was “be a heretic”, but heretic is a loaded word in English, and this does not have any Christian overtones. (11) He specifically says “mobile suit”, as in the suits from Gundam.

[fernandezology]

fernardezology’s recommendation list

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jelaous mason>>

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[marvelmusing]

Keep Your Judgement is another masterpiece in the making, and it’s helping me immensely with the stages of my grief 🥲

This tho, I saw and thought…. What if years after marriage, IAL Aleksander has had many conversations about the Reader’s world, including what men of that world wore. For an anniversary, he has Fabrikators create what he understood to be the approximation of said fashion and, voila… i mean, he meant well and all 😅☺️

I’m so in love with every piece of bts content we get, seeing the actors just chilling or messing around while in costume is one of my favourite things

anyways, here’s a little something for you...

New Wardrobe

Featuring IAL!Aleksander x Reader

-

For a solid five seconds you stare at your husband, not quite comprehending what you are seeing. Whatever words had been half out of your mouth are now forgotten as you stand at the threshold of the former war room after wandering through your bedroom in search of him.

Once your body settles on a reaction, you find yourself pressing your palm to your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“Are- are those sunglasses?” you ask.

Aleksander turns to look at you from where he’s seated at his desk, a pair of shaded glasses perched on his nose as he flashes you a wide smile. At that, you can’t help but turn away to laugh.

With every day you spend living in Ravka, everything here becomes more and more real to you. What was once fantasy is now your normality. But seeing the Darkling wearing sunglasses - indoors - is too amusing and absurd for you to remember that he is also your husband.

A hand against the door frame steadies your folded body as you bend over with your laughter. Every time you push back the amusement, you turn to look at Aleksander, only to continue laughing.

Only when you see him pouting, pushing his chair back to leave, do you manage to somewhat stop yourself.

“No Sasha, love, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you,” you tell him. Moving quickly towards him, you wrap your arms around his middle as you press your forehead against his back. “I promise. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Surprised you?” he repeats drily.

“I wasn’t expecting it.” After a small pause, you ask tentatively, “Why are you wearing them inside?”

“I heard you coming and just wanted to show you them.”

“What if I was actually Ivan?” you ask teasingly, imagining the heartrenders face attempting to remain neutral at the sight of Aleksander wearing sunglasses - a previously unheard of accessory in Ravka.

“Ivan would knock on the door, not walk through our bedroom.”

Aleksander pulls the glasses away from his eyes as he turns to face you, finding a fond expression on your face though the amusement still sparkles in your eyes as he places them down on his desk.

Then your gaze falls down to the rest of his outfit. He’s wearing his summer kefta, a lighter fabric than the thick wool of its winter counterpart, and his thin black tunic. The cut of the neckline for both of these articles of clothing is quite low cut, something you particularly enjoy.

But today you spot something underneath, black fabric with a rounded neckline, almost like a t-shirt. Frowning, you look at the rest of him.

“Are you wearing sweatpants?”

He looks away almost sheepishly, brows pulling together slightly in resignation, as if he knows his answer will give you even more entertainment than the sunglasses.

“Perhaps.”

Instead of laughing, you suppress the twitch at the corner of your mouth and slowly slide your hands under the lapels of his kefta, slipping it from his shoulders. He tilts his head aside, watching you as his kefta is draped over the back of his chair by your careful hands.

Unclasping the hidden hooks of his tunic, you reveal the full ensemble he has created. Black t-shirt and black sweatpants. The smile on your face widens, which makes Aleksander sigh as he narrows his eyes at you in warning.

“Still surprised?” he teases, but a pretty pink is dusting its way over his cheekbones.

Seeing Aleksander wearing clothing that had once been so ordinary for you, instead of ornate keftas of silk and wool, sends a thrill through you.

He looks just as handsome as ever and you can’t stop yourself from imagining him in your old world, a charming stranger that you run into one sunny day in a park. Perhaps that’s how you meet in some other reality.

Standing on tiptoe, you place the sunglasses back on his face, smile softening as you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Very surprised.”

-

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

WOMANIZER

Pairing: Mor x Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: girls just being horny for one another, consider reader kinda like Satine from Moulin Rouge, or even like the mata hari

Words:2767

Summary: For shits and giggles, Mor accompanies the Shadowsinger and General to see one of the Day Court’s famous showhouses. It’s said that the most beautiful temptress with Illyrian wings dances for the wealthy.

*I know in SJM's universe the words 'man' and 'woman' aren't used to describe fae genders but for the sake of this story, I'm going to push that fact aside since I really like the title name :)

*doesn't really follow any canonical timeline

*This is my first time writing for ACOTAR so please be kind

Mor stares at the finely painted poster depicting a curvaceous female with bat-like wings trailing behind her. She wonders if the painter exaggerated her beauty or if it how the female truly was.

Either way she thought it would be amusing to go along with Cassian’s suggestion.

He’d heard talk all over the Day Courts of the performer known as the Temptress with Wings. Illyrians weren’t necessarily big celebrities in Prythian. They chose to stay in their mountains and commit themselves to savagery. The Temptress was different. Or so that’s what Cassian heard.

Unfortunately Azriel wasn’t as willing as a companion. He put up with his brother dragging him by the shirtsleeve and the stares that were being shot their way.

Chuckling to herself, Mor shakes her head. Those two could act like petulant children sometimes.

She picks up her pace to catch up with them and holds up three tickets. “They’ll turn the two of you away if you go in there looking like you kidnapped Az. Plus you need your tickets.”

Outside stained glass doors, decorated with warm oranges and reds to imitate the nature of the night’s performance. While Mor had been doubtful about this adventure, all was swept under the rug when the trio steps through the grand entrance of the showhouse the Den.

A wave of anticipation starts to thrum against her pulse. Her brown eyes round in awe.

Every sense is held captive, a mesmerizing fusion of opulence and seduction is rolled out in front of her. Of course, only in Helion's domain would there be such splendor; a haven where temptation was shamelessly displayed for all to see. Bathed in a soft, golden glow, the walls are adorned with tapestries depicting other performers that had resided there at one point in time. They were stitched in poses of passion and desire.

Cassian and Azriel too are captivated by all around them yet the other attendees go about their business, waiting for the show to begin so that they may entertain the main hall.

Mor picked up on the heavy scent in the air of exotic perfumes mingling with a small instrumental band that played on a smaller dais. Their intoxicating melody floated through the air to mingle with the perfume.

"Every corner of this place is a masterpiece." Azriel murmurs, the first thing any of them has said since entering. Az cranes his neck up to check out the ceiling. Crystal chandeliers cascade from the top, multi colored lights cast a dazzling stained glass affect on the marble floor beneath them (much like the front windows).

Releasing a low whistle, Cassian puts his hands in his pockets. He looked and felt a little out of place. His frame was already large without his wings carefully tucked in. Even the rugged charm of his face couldn't compare to the polished beauty of the other guests. This didn't stop him from shooting Mor an excited smile.

As the doors to the show hall were still closed, they wade through others to get to the bar that was filled to the brim of every alcoholic drink Prythian had to offer.

Subtly, Mor listens in on a few conversations going around her.

"I didn't think an Illyrian could be graceful. (y/n) is really something else." A well dressed male comments with a toothy grin. "It's near impossible to book a private meeting with her though."

His companion groans. "I know. You'd have to be as wealthy as the high lord to get into contact with her."

Off to her other side, a woman complains to her friend "Such a backwards people shouldn't be let into our society." She scoffs and uses her fan to cool herself off as the room was growing warm with so many bodies pressed together.

Her friend disagreed. "Now I don't know about other Illyrians, but she doesn't seem to be like them. I hear her father was a high fae and once he heard about the wing clipping he took his daughter out of there and raised her among us."

That knowledge didn't make (y/n) anymore endearing to the first female. "So she's a mongrel then."

Mor keeps her face smooth, concealing the nasty look she wanted to shoot toward the cynical female. But many would think the same.

Azriel, as was his job, had been absentmindedly listening as well to the flow of different conversations. His own brow twitched at catching the mongrel remark. "Yet here she is paying good money to watch a mongrel perform." He grits out under his breath.

Tossing his drink back, Cass keeps the mood light by saying "Hey it's (y/n) whose having the last laugh. With this crowd, she'll be raking in all that gold by the end of the night."

True.

The reception room, while large, was bursting at the seams with males and females alike. There would be quite a lot of money to count come closing. Wealth was something this (y/n) was not lacking in.

Finally, several sets of double doors swing open, welcoming everyone into the actual show room that was no less elegant. The flow of the crowd is calm like a river as people spill into the show room, going to their respective seats and tables. Balcony seating had dining tables available for those who wanted to eat and watch the performance without disturbing the audience.

They take their respective seats, eyes falling upon the empty stage with titillation.

Once everyone is seated, a hush descends as the lights of the stage are lit and a symphony of sound, color and movements dazzles them. Out steps the most beautiful creature Mor had ever laid eyes on. (y/n) is adorned in an elaborate costume (much like the one she wears on the poster) that leaves little to the imagination. Gold adorned her wrists and ankles as well as the delicate structure of her neck. Her wings trail behind her and move in a perfect, fluid harmony as her hands flutter; inviting the crowd to the forbidden pleasures that would unravel on stage. The skirt she wore was of the faintest lavender hue and dangled with tinkling bells as she danced.

Everyone held their breath.

The way she moved with her wings, unperturbed by their existence and even utilizing them in her act.

And then she sang.

The audience had already been a sea of enraptured faces, but the moment she parted her lips, no one stood a chance at concentrating on anything else but her. The most heavenly voice she had ever heard resonated through the showhouse, filling every empty corner with its ethereal beauty. Divinity was woven into the fabric of her vocal cords as (y/n) crooned. It wrapped around the hearts of not just Mor, but also her companions who sat dumbstruck.

(y/n)'s voice was magic itself. Lyrics that spill from her paint vivid images and evoked emotions she had never experienced before. Something like this, Mor was sure, could heal wounds, mend broken hearts and ignite hope within the darkest of souls.

Every cruel memory that made up Mor's past vanished. Meaningless.

Her wings, which she spread out to fan behind her, shimmer against the multicolored lights of the stage. Fluttering gently along with her swaying body.

There was a moment where she could have sworn she caught (y/n)'s teasing eyes. That a fleeting smile graced (y/n)'s lips when she spotted Mor. But the moment vanished just as soon as it had happened making Mor doubtful about the exchange. Still, even that bit of attention from her had Mor drawn in deeper.

How long had they all been held captive by (y/n)? Mor wasn't sure.

Only when the music ended at (y/n) walked off stage did people leap to their feet in thunderous applause and roars for an encore.

Mor, Az and Cass simply sit there in awe.

It had taken a lot of strength for the trio to peel themselves out of their seats and go back out into reality. They felt dazzed and lost but grateful for experiencing such a show.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you here?" Cassian jokes as they go back out into the reception hall to grab one more drink before leaving.

Azriel shakes his head but he had a smile on his face. "Don't push it."

Mor chuckles but a tap on her shoulder as her straightening her back to address whoever had tapped her.

"You've been requested an audience by (y/n)."

Cassian and Azriel gawk, a little jealous that Mor had been chosen specifically.

Hesitantly she follows the usher before telling the boys she would catch up with them later.

Down one corridor were secret alcoves, covered by velvet curtains. An incredibly intimate warmth runs up Mor's neck as the usher pulls back one curtain to reveal (y/n) among dozens of bouquets and boxes with glittering jewels. She'd looked bored before Mor was introduced. Her (e/c) eyes came to life and she beckons Mor to come in.

The usher leaves the two alone as Mor makes her way through the throng of strong smelling flowers.

"I must admit, it's quite the honor to have the Night Court's most trusted advisors watching me perform." Her voice is of the finest skill as she purrs, patting the spot next to her on the love seat. She no longer wore her costume, but a lightweight robe that still revealed every curve of her body.

Mor smiles, forcing her heart to get a grip. "The honor was our's. I've. . . We've never seen an Illyrian like you before. Not one that can move or sing like that. You were magnificent." She watches intently as (y/n) grabs a bottle from a tub of ice and hands Mor a long stemmed glass.

"I doubt Illyrians would ever even entertain the idea of performing for high fae." (y/n) rolls her eyes. "My father took me back once to the mountains where my mother's people live. That much was enough for me."

Pursing her lips, Mor nods. The words of the woman in the reception hall are repeated in her head.

Mor could see the pointed tips of (y/n)'s ears, the only sign that she was only half-Illyrian. Much like Rhysand's. Up close, Mor could even see a spattering of freckles on the bridge of (y/n)'s nose. Mor was distracted by the halflings beauty as (y/n) chattered away.

"-and when I saw you. Mother above." (y/n) laughed out. "I'm sure everyone tells you that you have to be the most beautiful female in the entire known world. I almost forgot the words of the song and my footing."

Cheeks flushing, Mor smiles for she was thinking the same about (y/n). "It means a lot more coming from you. We heard your praises while waiting for the show to start." Alcohol is definitely warming her up and making her tongue loose. This wouldn't be the first time Mor had courted a female, but this would be the first time she has met her match in a potential partner.

"Yes, I'm sure you heard more than praises out there." Unconsciously, (y/n)'s shoulder leans against Mor's arm as both get comfortable with one another. This is not an unwelcome contact for Mor as the mere touch has a blaze engulfing the Morrigan. "No doubt you heard how I entertain rich males and bleed them dry."

"Have you ever invited Helion back here?" Mor takes a sip. Certainly the high lord with a high libido would not have let this treat go unsavored. Helion didn't seem like one put off by Illyrian wings considering he has asked for a four way that including Az and Cassian.

She nods. "Oh of course. He is the most generous of my patrons. But you can imagine he doesn't stop by often. What with being the high lord, he has more things on his mind than a pretty singer."

But (y/n) wasn't just a singer. That much Mor was sure about. If (y/n) had it in mind, she could be a sorceress and wield the most powerful magic. Her voice had influenced all in the room. Imagine that kind of power on the battlefield.

One could view Mor's that's as her trying to come up with a reason for the Illyrian singer to stay with her when she'd inevitably go back to Velaris. (y/n) could be useful to Rhysand but Helion would loathe to have such a renowned performer leave his court.

As bottles were emptied, Mor and (y/n) grew more comfortable around one another to where Mor had her legs drapped over (y/n)'s thighs while she ran a perfectly manicured hand along the length. This send shivers through Mor.

They spoke about everything under the sun from war to art to even Mor's upbringing in the Court of Nightmares. She couldn't bring herself to mention everything that transpired with her family and Eris. Maybe. . . Maybe some other time. But the mood was light and Mor didn't want to ruin it. Not when (y/n) was tracing intricate designs on Mor's thigh. Damn was it waking up every nerve on her skin and even more so it lit a needy sensation between her legs.

In the back of her mind, Mor reminds herself that this is what (y/n) did for a living. Of course not even Mor could refuse such seduction.

(Y/n) had not mentioned anything along the lines of payment as she genuinely seemed to want to be in Mor’s presence. At such ease with Mor’s shapely legs draped over her. Electric tingles sent chills up her arms when a finely shaped nail ever so gently scrapes along her skin. Her huge bat wings didn’t even appear to be in the way, the hung off over the back of the loveseat.

Illyrian wings were so sensitive. That was what the male part of the inner circle said. If Mor were to ghost her fingers along the leathery skin of (y/n)’s wings she wondered if the singer would mind. She’d never touched Cassian’s or Azriel’s and definitely not Rhysand’s.

So mesmerized, she missed the way a pair of dark eyes admiring the contours of her face, the pair of full lips painted in a alluring poppy red.

She likes the blonde’s appreciative gaze on her wings. They had escaped the plague of scars and deformity like many Illyrian women had due to the grotesque tradition of wing clipping. It wasn’t flattery that made (y/n) praise Mor’s beauty. When she saw Mor in the crowd, well, she knew she wouldn’t be having any other visitors that night. Perhaps not for a while depending how long Mor planned to stay in the court. Growing weary of the groveling of men, not even their money made up for what (y/n) had to put up with. They always wanted more than what she would give them. All the males (maybe except for Helion) were greedy. The few women she'd had in the past were more agreeable lovers. But females were often intimidated by (y/n) and tend to lean on being resentful toward her for her charms.

Not Mor though. She knew Rhysand's trusted advisor would not see her as a threat but a companion.

A heady fragrance of perfume and with the taste of intoxicating drinks in their system heightened their senses and emboldened there desires.

Before Mor could come to a conclusion on if she would brush her fingertips against (y/n)'s wings, the singer coaxed Mor's face to turn to face her with gentle fingers. She leaned closer and brushed her lips against Mor's. From that simple contact, a jolt went through the blonde. Tender and passionate became the exchange. Sound coming from outside of their intimate cocoon faded away leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

Countless kisses were shared that Mor began to lose track of the count and time for that matter. Hands flutter and grope at anything they could get ahold of. Never had Mor felt so complete before and so lost.

Her heart burned with the knowledge that their paths would cross again. How, she didn't know. But she'd be damned if this would be their one and only night together. If required, she would go to Rhys and tell him of her desire to have (y/n) by her side and perhaps he could come to an agreement with Helion to relinquish the beloved singer.

Finally pulling away with bruised and swollen lips, (y/n) smiled at her as if having the same thoughts.

They would meet again. Both females would make sure of that.

[docwritesshit]

The Ink feels right

Blurb: You rarely felt comfortable, and barley when it was needed. Nothing helped, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to draw on your skin, without realizing someone else could as well

Type: Fluff, bits of angst if you squint. Soulmate AU

Word count: 3.2k

Pairing: Sun Wukong x reader

Authors note: This was just a self indulgent x reader honestly. I rewrite this so many fucking times too-

Ick, that was the best you could do to describe whatever the hell you felt. The feeling of just… ‘no’ was ever present in ways you couldn't pinpoint in any other word or phrase. There were days that you felt the need to scratch at your own skin, gauging at the itch that laid deep within your bones that would not let up no matter what you did.

You tried to distract yourself, you did. Drawing, burying yourself in your work, reading, sewing, taking up any and all projects that made your hands busy. But the ick was still there. And don’t even get started on the intrusive thoughts.

They were the shadows that creeped in the deepest corners of your mind, taking your brain full force, making you want to get rid of your own body. That just made the raking across your flesh ten times worse. This wasn’t your body, not this monstrosity. It was too much, too much all at once. And it made you worry.

At first, your parents grew worried at your constant scatrching of your skin, sometimes drawing blood. Being paranoid, they did many charms and spells, thinking it was a curse that needed an exorcism. But it never went away. So they thought it was a demon, plunging you into training at the ripe age of seven, teaching you self defense and combat through spells and taking advantage of your environment, It made you quick on your feet, and made you busy, but the ick was still there.

Nothing worked for you. You changed your wardrobe dozens of times, thinking the change of fabrics could help. You went on and off perfumes and fragrances, but the result was the same. You wanted to scream to the heavens what were you missing? Was this just a ploy? A game? Some trick to entertain the court above?

It got especially worse today. You were alone in the study, looking over maps for a voyage your cousin would be taking when the ick grew, and the thoughts came. Your whole body felt it was on fire, the thoughts in your mind felt like it was consuming you. You groaned, taking the quill in your hand and swiping it across a document, then on your arm in desperation. You stilled yourself, and looked down.

The ink made a wide, splattered line that swerved across your skin. You bite your tongue, cursing. An old tale came to mind, one your parents gushed about endlessly.

When a celestial becomes of age, there was a small chance there was one person there for them in the world. That one person would share many experiences with them, their triumphs, their failures, their highs and lows. Until they found them, the only thing they would share was the skin across their body.

Your parents phrased it as your body was the canvas you and your bound shared, and together you could make the most beautiful masterpiece even when you were apart. It sounded like you got punished for being eternally connected with someone.

You sighed, getting up from your seat to wash up in the bathroom when you felt more pressure on your arm. You looked down, seeing the ink line transforming into a sea, then a boat was slowly being added, sails fluttering in the wind. You stood in shock, in bewilderment. Was this the person you were bound to? Why did it feel fo foreign yet so… relieving? The ick dissipated a bit, the pressure of the phantom pen keeping it at bay. You stood, witnessing the boat gain a captain, a small monkey with a crown on it’s head, holding up a sword towards a forming sunset. It was enchanting…

A small print followed below the drawing, big and scrawled.

“Thanks for the inspo! I was bored for a bit now”

You stared at the message for a solid ten seconds, before rushing to the bathroom and scrubbing your arm raw to get rid of the masterpiece, watching as the black tinted water swirled down the drain. You waited a few moments for a new message to appear. When none came, you walked back to the study. You would deal with this at a later date.

And… that later date came within the next few hours, when intrusive thoughts began again along with the ick. You groaned, tossing and turning in your bed. You prayed that it would pass, trying to clear your mind, focusing on the feel of the silk sheets underneath your fingertips, but the shadows clawed their way into your thoughts again and again.

You gave up, tossing the blankets aside and going to your desk in the corner, grabbing a pen and your journal, thinking you might as well try and write the thoughts down so they don’t bother you as much. That was the plan anyways, until the pen dripped onto your hand as you tapped it to get an idea going. You began to reach for the rag you kept for times like this when the phantom sensation came back. You looked down to see a ghost pen connecting the ink dots, creating constellations.

You froze again, witnessing as your ‘soulmate’ sketched out a cliff and another monkey looking up at said stars. The shadows retreated back to the corners of your mind, the itch dissipated again, almost fully. You traced your fingers over the constellations, catching yourself smiling. You shook your head, and stalked back to bed. You would deal with this in the morning.

In the morning, you found another note from the ghostly artist using your sin as a sketch pad.

“Most say the constellations are the most beautiful sights to see, but I’d say the stars pale in comparison to you ;)”

You pity the poor training partner your parents set you up with that day, as they got the brunt of your anger and rage and flusteredness. By the end of it, they were struggling to stand, legs wobbling and leaned on the instructor for support. You made sure to send some of your personal remedies and a note as an apology when you calmed down.

Over the next few days, you avoided excessive contact with ink or anything that might get on your skin. You made it a habit to wear long gloves when documenting routes and annotating maps. During training, you convinced your agents to have a barrier around you to not get any dirt or, gods forbid, blood on your skin that would prompt whoever was bound to you to be concerned.

It was night again when it became too much for you. The itch deep within your bones grew more and more, causing you to pace in your room, fidgeting with your rings to stop yourself from raking your nails across your skin. You didn’t want to, still trying to get through the night without even touching a pen, but you relented.

You picked up your pen again, throwing caution to the wind and started with a line. The line became curved, then another line followed. You drew and drew, the itching burn, cooling bit by bit as the doodle grew more. When you woke up from your inky splotched daze, you saw roses and thorns decorating your forearm. You sighed in relief, and made your way back to bed. Then the phantom sensation began again.

“HOW DARE YOU HIDE THESE BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECES!!! Who knew I had such a talented soulmate?”

You blushed, your brain clearly not kicking in when you responded.

“Well, I didn't want to bother you creating your own masterpieces.”

When you read what you wrote, you smacked your forehead. You really were sleep deprived huh? You could feel your bound write back quickly.

“Oh so you do know how to write! I thought you were just learning with all the ink getting on your arms. But, thank you for the compliment, but I rather enjoy your art as well.”

You bit your lip, tapping your pen to your chin. Should you respond? You already wrote back once, shouldn’t that be enough?

“I like yours better honestly, you make art from my mistakes.”

“Oh those? I was glad for the distraction honestly.”

“Well, I’m glad to be a ‘distraction’ then”

You felt no other phantom sensations after that, determining your artist was too tired to be bothered for much longer. So, you drifted off to sleep. In the morning however, you found a new addition to your sketch, a butterfly with a peculiar wing pattern sat on top of one of your roses, along with another note

“I hope you don’t mind, but I just wanted to release at least one of the butterflies you give me”

Without meaning to, your ‘distractions’ became more frequent to your bound. The nightly ritual of you giving them a line, a few sketch’s their way, and falling asleep as the phantom sensations guided you to your dreams instead of the shadows ever present to your mind.

You caught yourself smiling as the quill dripped ink on your hand, but you let it be. Your parents caught onto your elevated mood, seeing the weights fall bit by bit. They witnessed your forced smile to court officials come easier, your eyes regaining the sparkle they missed. They questioned it, but all you said was you found a way to get rid of the ick for the time being. They were elated, celebrating with a feast of your favorites. You smiled with them, subconsciously rubbing your sleeve where you could feel your bound make another doodle.

And when you were assigned to go down to the mortal plane to see who this new successor to the Monkey King was, you accepted it with little resistance. You needed to get out of the palace anyways.

And oh, was he the Monkey King's successor. You could see the aura around him from blocks away. Honestly it was a miracle that he hadn’t been jumped all day by some sort of demon.

Oh, the heart of gold he wore on his sleeve as well. You could tell he was a fan-boy the minute you mentioned Monkey King to him while talking about going to see the new movie. His ramblings warmed your heart, but you were here on business, not pleasantries. Until the Ick came back.

Sitting in a lone booth waiting for him to come back after some deliveries, you pulled out a marker you started carrying around in cases like these. You started a small line on your palm, going to your wrist, creating vines that wrapped around the veins visible. Your doodling came to an early end when MK entered the restaurant again, joining you in your booth.

“I’m glad you caught me right before my break! What did you want to talk to me about again?” He asked. You smiled, hiding your art with some glamor.

“Nothing too bad, I assure you. I am with the Jade court, and they just wanted to send me down here to see who this Monkie Kid was.” You explained, resisting the urge to look down at your palm when you could feel the artist on the other end add onto your drawing.

“Oh, well- I mean- Um-“ The poor kid got flustered so quickly, a pink blush dusting his cheeks already. You chuckled, covering your smile with your hand.

“Don’t fret please, you seem like a good kid.” You tried to calm him down.

“Oh, ok. Well, I’m still training with Monkey King and I’m still learning.” He said, his hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. You hummed in acknowledgment, recalling how recently he had gotten the staff. His eye then widened, standing up in a panic

“SHIT MONKEY KING- I forgot we had training scheduled like fifteen minutes ago-“ He scrambled out of the restaurant, presumably to change out of his work uniform into a more appropriate sparing outfit. You rolled your eyes. Yep, he was definitely the chosen student of Sun Wukong.

You could feel your little artist stop drawing, taking the chance to look down at your palm again. You smiled, seeing flowers and fruits sprout from the vines you drew. A small note attached as well.

“I‘ll make sure to get a bouquet more beautiful than this drawing, cause nothing can be more beautiful than you <3”

Well, they had gotten a lot more cheesier with the pick-up lines you noticed. The bell above the door to the restaurant made your ears perk up, turning your head and almost fell out of the booth.

“Hey Pigsy, is the kid still here? He and I had training and he still hasn’t shown up”

The cook on there other side of the bar gave a grunt, pointing upwards with his ladle.

“Bud got distracted with deliveries and talking with customers. He’s changing upstairs.”

“Great! That means he’ll be here any minute now!”

The form he took to walk around the city wasn’t too suspicious, wavy ginger hair slicked with a bit of stubble on his chin to account for his fur. You got up, hoping to sneak out the front as he continued to talk with Pigsy, reaching for the handle when he looked over at to see who was leaving. Even with your glamour though, he could still see your celestial form.

“HALT!”

You froze, fingertips grazing the doorknob to your escape. He strolled over, scrutinizing you. You squeezed your eyes closed, praying that he won't try and fight. You knew he was protective of his pupil, and knew he wouldn't take kindly to anyone with malicious intent close to him.

You cracked your eyes open again when you felt his claw grasp at your hand. You pulled away on instinct, pulling it close to your chest. You looked up to see his eyes widened, a small smile lining his lips.

“Now this wasn’t how I expected we would meet.” He commented. You raised up an eyebrow, moving to take a step away when he held his own hand up, letting his glamor down to reveal vines and flowers painting his palm and wrist, along with the note and heart he left behind.

You purse your lips, turning your back to him and pulling out your marker, adding a question mark to the fingertip of your pointer finger. You had experienced some demons and celestial beings trying to pose as your bound, glamorizing their own markings to match yours. You simply added on in secret to see if they were lying, and today was no different.

“You know that’s just going to show up on my skin right? Why a question mark? You could have at least done something funny,” The Great Sage Equal to Heaven said. Your blood froze, turning your head slowly to see that indeed, the question mark was on his pointer finger as well. You looked up at him still rambling on the wasted potential of your symbol for him to try and glamor on his skin. You wanted to combust right then and there, your brain processing you were bound to the menaces to the celestial heavens.

He stopped himself, tilting his head when he noticed your inner turmoil.

“Uuuuhhh, you good?”

You sped out the door, sprinting down the street. You weren’t dealing with this right now.

But he was. He followed after you in his hawk form, above you at every twist and turn you took. You stopped to rest at a bench when he popped up next to you.

“Gotta say, you got a pair of lungs on ya!” He announced, collapsing next to you. You scooted away, the ick coming back now. You huffed, mindlessly scratching at the back of your hand. Wukong noticed, seeing your nails rake across the skin made goosebumps rise. He grabbed your hand again, stopping the motion. You looked up at him, and pulled away from his grasp again.

“Sorry, force of habit.” You mumbled. He furrowed his brows, looking down at his palm that held the art you and him made. He cracked a smile, tracing the vines you sketched.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were good by the way.” He commented. You chuckled, looking at your own palm.

“Yeah I know.”

He looked back over to you, his tail slowly inching closer to you. You sucked in a breath, debating whether or not to run away again. But the itch grew, and it was becoming unbearable. You sighed, taking out your marker again and placing it in his hand.

“Please draw again.” You pleaded. He raised his eyebrows, but obliged. Taking your arm in his grasp, he began lining out his own staff, and you exhaled slowly as the itch ebbed away. He stole glances, seeing you relax more and more as he drew. You could feel the eyes at the side of your head, and decided it was too far to go back now,

“What is it?” You prodded. You felt the marker become still, the felt tip against your arm. He looked your way again, locking eyes with you.

“Why did you run away?” He asked. You hummed, the words rolling in your mind not forming coherent sentences that would be nice fir anyone to hear. But you did your best!

“Because you aren’t who I expected to be bound to. Though I should have guessed by the amount of monikes you draw.” You deadpanned. He pursed his lips, shoulders shaking in resistance to the laughs building in his chest. A few chuckles escaped, soon a fit of giggles followed. You chuckled yourself, feeling a little lighter.

“Ok, I'll take that, Not on the best terms with the bosses above.” He stated, continuing with his drawing. You hummed, relishing the relief that was flowing through you.

“Hm, well that’s an understatement.” You muttered. That got another chuckle from him. He looked back down at you and his gaze focused on your hand, still with the vines and flowers staining your palm. He locked eyes with you, stilling his hand again.

“Why didn't you draw sooner? And why did you ignore me?” He asked. You froze again, recalling your first contact with each other. You exhaled again.

“To be honest, the line was an accident. But when you drew, it felt… right. The only thing that was right with my body, and I hated it. So I ignored for a while, but… well I call it the ‘ick’. It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch and it gets worse with intrusive thoughts. Anyways, it came back not long after though, and I decided to draw on my skin to see it would help since it did when you drew. It did, and you continued to add on, and it just felt right for once.” You rambled, Wukong holding onto your every word.

He smiled down at you, finishing the last details of his staff before turning towards you, reaching his hand out.

“Well, if it felt so right, what’s wrong about it?” He inquired. You looked at him, and grinned. You accepted his hand, and he pulled you into a tight hug. You melted against his warmth. You guessed dealing with it now wasn’t so bad…

[mcpirita]

Pierre Paulin’s Dune Sofa is made for living

A couple of years ago, Frank Ocean posted a selfie of himself laid out on a huge diamond-latticed sofa—electric blue, with peaks and valleys. The couch called the Dune, was conceptualized by the late interior designer @paulinpaulinpaulin in the early 1970s and is today considered a masterpiece.

In an interview before his passing in 2009, Paulin shared that the concepts failure to go into production was his biggest regret, as he believed it may have changed furniture norms and types. It wasn’t until 2014 that the couch was brought to life—with help from Louis Vuitton—as part of a stewardship initiative called the Pierre Paulin Program, formed by the designer’s family to revive his old works.

PPP produces just a handful of Dunes a year with every new model made to Paulin’s original, exacting specifications. “They’re handmade on-demand by artisans in the south of France,” says Paulin’s son, Benjamin who now keeps his fathers vision alive. “It’s a very small production, it’s complicated to make, it’s not made to be industrialised. We work a bit like a gallery and I can honestly say that I know everyone who owns a Dune.”

Each of the modules in Paulin's Dune collection cost around €4000. Once you have a set, there are various ways you can arrange the modular pieces together. Some iterations are ideal for entertaining, like one with a table surface nestled between two raised mounds. Benjamin says the best set-up is 25 units as he has displayed in his own home, which also doubles as the PPP showroom. “You can be 1-10 people sitting here, whether it’s with the kids reading books or enjoying as a movie room.”

Paulin says his father’s intention was to change the world by producing furniture that could bring joy to people’s lives and create happy moments together. “He just wanted people to be comfortable, secure, and happy to just live in his designs.” Today, the Dune continues to make good times nearly 60 years on. “My father was in his 30s when he created these pieces, so it’s amazing to see people the same age today having an immediate understanding of the piece.”

[rriavian]

For a prompt from @windsweptinred for the flower prompts we're doing with @bobbole. Still unfinished but I already had a short wip that the prompt worked really well with, and it was the kick I needed to get going with it a little more. Still very very rough but thought I'd share :) Hope you like it! <3

The Corinthian and Calliope: Rose, yellow, A murderer's confession, Prompt Jealousy—

After his failure to persuade Ethel Cripps to work with him the Corinthian seeks out another who might have cause to seek revenge against Dream.

Calliope surprises him.

-

Calliope knows the Corinthian, of course.

She had met Dream’s masterpiece while she was married.

She had heard of him long before, an impression built by Dream’s soft smile, the excitement glittering subtle in his eyes as he told her of his latest creation, a design he traced in sand as if proud to show off even an outline. Calliope has not seen the Corinthian since—to be expected, given both how she’d parted ways with Morpheus and the reality of her current situation—a surprise when she hears the door to her room open, sees a bloodstained knife glitter in the light. Next it catches in golden blond hair, scatters from the gleam of teeth; a memory in that too, of Oneiros and his painstaking hunt for exactly the right shades, his dedication to it, unwilling to give anything less than his very best to every single thing he made.

Calliope must admit she still admires him for that.

Then her eyes find the changes, the additions, the soft cream of the Corinthian’s coat, the dark opaque sunglasses hiding biting mouths. There is a deliberate slowness in how he now cleans the bloodied knife, how he wants her to watch it, to think about what must have happened to the only other occupant in Richard Madoc’s house. Calliope can feel that her captor isn’t dead, can feel it in the chains that keep her trapped here, knows exactly why this nightmare has approached her like this.

The Corinthian is a story stood close enough that she can read her former husband’s writing in the blurb, a compliment to the Corinthian’s own script when she reads further to find his finely printed prose.

He wants leverage.

“Corinthian.” Calliope greets calmly. “It has been some time.”

“Fancy finding you here.” The Corinthian replies with a sharp, mocking grin, not even bothering to pretend this wasn’t planned. “An oddly poetic coincidence, given what’s happened to Dream.”

He thinks to lure her into asking.

Calliope won’t.

“Do not speak to me of poetry.”

The Corinthian pauses. “You already know, don’t you?”

“That Oneiros has been captured? Yes.”

It amuses her that the Corinthian thought to tell her, thought to begin the game with the upper hand. The Fates had filled in more details, had gloated when she’d called for help, but even before that Calliope had known that Morpheus was missing. Of course she’d known, how could she not?, how could any immortal remain unawares to the disappearance of Dream of the Endless?

"He's free now." The Corinthian replies, leans against the door frame as if a slouch will make the words less targeted, throws hope at her and watches for a flinch. "Do you think he'll come for you?"

Calliope must admit that makes her stiffen.

"Do you think he will if I call him?"

A shrug.

There's tension though.

There's a minute grimace trying to twist the Corinthian's lips, a page torn out before Calliope can read it. The grin remains. He stays smug, grounds himself to it, more than a little overconfident because he’s gloating far too soon.

“I did it, you know. Strengthened the trap.” The Corinthian says slyly, watches her from where he's still leaning in the doorway, watches how Calliope sits on this bed in Richard Madoc's house while a few feet a way a door has long since stood unlocked. “It’s my fault he was there for so long.”

Now it's Calliope's turn to shrug. “So?”

The Corinthian seems entertained by her tone, even as it confuses him, even as he tries to get his teeth around it. “I want to ensure he’ll be gone a lot longer.”

“Then I wish you well in finding the luck you are hoping for, because you will certainly be needing it.” Calliope replies coolly.

“C’mon,” The Corinthian has been lazily circling his point like a vulture, like a wolf guiding prey towards a favoured terrain, now still as he prepares to lunge. “Aren’t you the least bit tempted?”

“By what?”

“Revenge.”

He’s said it because the Corinthian thinks it's something of what she wants. He thinks it’s bait that isn’t possible to resist, thinks it because there is a similar desire in him, sitting unrealised in his chest like a stone. Calliope wonders what her former husband did, wonders if it even matters, because she also knows that revenge is a second, a flicker, a blink in response to a blinding. It’s too fast, too instant to really register for someone as long lived as her; she cannot feast on something so small.

“Is that what this is to you? Revenge?”

He laughs. “Well, not only.”

“Tell me what else.” Calliope commands. “If you want my help then tell me why.”

The Corinthian thinks faster than hesitation can register.

He switches plans at the same smooth speed, and it’s a truth he’d not wanted to lead with, bait he was saving only for a moment suited to the greater power of its sting. “I won’t go back to the Dreaming. I quite like it here, and so it’s not just about revenge. It’s about freedom.”

How like a nightmare to dream of a concept even humanity longs for.

How like a nightmare to think the guarantee of it can be found in their world. 

“If you can only be so when Morpheus is trapped,” Calliope says; sat there on this bed in a thin nightdress, chained to a mortal by the laws of her own kind, chained to a man who ‘needs’ her gifts to give him the life he thinks he deserves. “If your own freedom relies on the imprisonment of another—"

She shrugs.

“Then can you really say you’re free at all?”