#the first one is the original the second one is me fucking around with filters which i think i like more hehe

[c6jpg]

soon

[kiame-sama]

Aquarium- (Yandere!Merman!Chrollo x Reader) pt 2

Warnings; part 2, continuation of story, kidnapping, theft, yandere, mer-creature yandere, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, involuntary physical change, mention of past noncon, some nsfw themes and moments, breeding kink, oviposition and mention of past oviposition, lactation kink,

~~~~~~~~

You slowly awoke, feeling oddly weightless and almost like the air around you was heavy. It took a moment for you to wake up further before you realized a handful of things simultaneously. The first was that you were suspended in water, the second was that you could still breathe, and finally you realized that there were two new attachments to either side of your ribs.

Impulsively, you reached up to grab at the odd things only to see they were actually sewn into your soft skin. It was more than a bit disorienting to see the new attachments and to see the extremely swollen state of your soft stomach.

As you scratched and tried to pull at the surprisingly tender attachments, the sound of clattering rocks made you stop your wild attempts and turn to look at the source of the sound. Though the light was limited minus what seemed to be some sunlight filtering down from a few cracks in the top of the stone cavern you were in, you could see an oddly familiar man. He was at the mouth of the cavern- which seemed to be the only entrance or exit- and spoke once he saw he had your attention.

"Darling, you can't take them off. I have ensured they will remain affixed to you for the remainder of your life. Even if you did damage them somehow, I would not allow you to drown."

You scoffed angrily. Despite the fact you were clearly in some kind of liquid, you knew humans couldn't breathe beneath the water. Clearly you were under the influence of something to make you think you were in water.

"Drown? What the hell? Where am I? The fuck are these things? Why the hell do I look pregnant-?"

The raven haired man pressed a finger to your lips to silence your questions and you vaguely felt the desire to bite the finger he held against your soft flesh. You fought against the impulse as you glared at the man who seemed more amused with your anger than anything. It was the octopus-man from the aquarium- Chrollo- and quickly your memories began to return to you.

You remembered being in the aquarium late at night and you remembered the man attacking you. Beyond that, you vaguely remembered the way he forced himself onto you and made you comply with his demands. It was difficult to remember much else beyond that and you felt anger bubble up in you.

"You can drown if you remove your new gills. The... Original owner... Won't be needing them anymore. You are in one of my dens. Well, in one of the back caverns of my den, to be exact. I will be keeping you here until you adjust to your new aquatic life. As for why you appear pregnant," he paused and two of his tentacles came up to caress your stomach, the other tentacles preventing you from stopping his gentle exploration, "it is because you are pregnant. You are full of my brood and I have no intention of allowing you to get away from me. You're stuck with me."

~~~~~~~~

Chrollo kissed your shoulders gently as he held you in a warm embrace, his tentacles and arms wrapped around you to keep you close. Each slow drag of his lips across your skin made you shiver slightly, your heart fluttering in your chest like the fragile wings of a butterfly. Thousands of questions rolled around in your mind, but the one that bothered you the most kept coming up.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Chrollo didn't stop the lazy way he traced his fingers and tentacles over your back, letting out a hum of contemplation. He didn't answer for a moment as his hand came to a brief pause when it reached your very swollen stomach, fingertips dancing over the delicate skin. You disliked the way he smiled and seemed to marvel at your swollen insides as if he were beyond pleased with the way you were stuffed full.

"I brought you here for the sole purpose of filling you with my eggs. My brood already grows within you and your body has adapted excellently to carrying them."

You felt dread wash over you, unable to tell if you were crying or not beneath the water. Honestly, you didn't know if you could cry anymore. Chrollo seemed to sense your sorrow all the same and nuzzled your neck, his attempt at soothing you only upsetting you further.

"Why..? Why me?"

"I have explained this to you already, Darling. You are unique and different from that which I expect from others. That and your ever intoxicating scent appeals to me in a way others do not."

The silence was heavy and seemed even heavier under the water, faint sunlight filtering into the underwater den Chrollo kept you in. Even if you tried to escape, you had no idea if you could go back to being on land for very long given the odd gills that you woke up with. They certainly seemed like a permanent attachment, meaning that he was likely to do this to you multiple times, not content with just one clutch of eggs growing within you.

"So, you... You put your eggs in me?"

"Yes, and I intend to do it countless more times after this."

"But I don't want to carry your eggs for you!"

"I don't remember ever asking what you want."

The harsh words made you recoil as best you could in his grasp, the octopus man almost seeming amused with your distressed attempts to get away from him. You barely put any space between the two of you as there seemed to be no true escape from the tentacles that held you. One adjusted its grasp and lightly dragged over your aching chest, making you unconsciously whimper and flinch in response.

"Sore breasts?"

"How- how do you..?"

"I can tell your body is preparing for our brood. It is ensuring there is enough of your warm and flavorful milk for our brood to feast on. You've been producing milk these past few days."

It was surprising to hear this as you hadn't even realized that you were lactating, let alone having been doing it for days now. You were still trying to adjust to life under the water, though your eyes were adjusted long before you opened them to your new surroundings, your mind was struggling to catch up. Of course he would know more about your body at this moment than you would, it seemed to just be another one of his unfair advantages.

"I don't know or care how you know what my... my milk tastes like, but-"

"You truly believe I wouldn't help myself while you rest?"

"I didn't want to know! Either way," you crossed your arms in an attempt to cover your chest, "I'm sure as hell not letting you have anymore-"

"It has never once been about what you want, but what I can make you do. Right now, I have a duty to take care of my mate, and your breasts are obviously sore, so let me relieve some of that pressure."

Despite the way you tried to struggle against him, Chrollo easily used his tentacles to pin your arms to your side. The vague covering he gave you to cover yourself almost instantly came untied and gave him access to your tender breasts. He didn't immediately latch his lips around your soft peak, instead he took a moment to cruelly pinch the sensitive peaks with an almost sadistic grin.

"I may not let our brood feast on your rich milk... It may have to be something for me exclusively..." He flicked your sore nipples and chuckled when you let out a squeal of discomfort, "How precious... Are they that sore, dear one? Let me help drain some of that milk that's causing your discomfort."

Before you could argue with him, he latched his mouth on your perked breast, intensely suckling as he let out soft moaning noises. You whined loudly as he gently kneaded your breast to get as much milk as possible, switching to your other breast to take an equal drink. Each intense suck made you flinch as you whimpered in response to the sensation, struggling against the tentacles until you could rest your hands on his shoulders to try and push him away.

He kept his mouth around your sensitive nipple and continued suckling, occasionally biting when you tried to remove him. It got to the point that the only thing you could do was let him do as he wished, finding the bites more painful than expected. Eventually he released your soft breast with a pop of his lips, finally giving you a rest.

"The sweetest cream..."

Chrollo seemed more than pleased with the way you had stopped struggling, a sly grin taking over his lips. He already knew you weren't going to be able to get away from him, especially since you were carrying his eggs inside of you. Besides, waiting outside of the den in the larger hollowed out volcano was the rest of the troupe.

They often shoaled together even if they would occasionally part for various reasons or purposes. This was one of the few times the entire troupe gathered together and had no immediate concerns. Chrollo knew that some of the troupe members were only present because they were curious about his new human mate.

The only other troupe member who has seen his mate was Machi and it was to check up on how your gills were healing. All of the other members were curious as Chrollo had never really had interest in others, let alone a human. Humans were food to them or interesting experiments to steal from, yet their leader- whom they all respected and adored- had taken a human as a mate.

There was little chance you would manage to get away from him with any efficiency before you were caught and returned to him.

He gently kissed your throat and two tentacles came up and caressed your swollen stomach.

"You know, I have plenty more eggs to stuff inside of you. I could keep you constantly stuffed full of my brood. Each clutch making your soft stomach bulge out..."

The slow way he stroked his hand across your skin sent chills down your body as you lay in his embrace.

"For now, as you are already stuffed to full capacity with my brood, I feel you should meet a certain group of my colleagues."

You wanted to argue against the idea of meeting any other sea creatures, seeing as your first interaction with him went so sideways. Chrollo seemed to be able to tell that you wanted to argue, his enigmatic smile never leaving his face.

"It wasn't a suggestion, Dearest."

~~~~~~~~

You slowly woke to the vague sensation of a light suction on your swollen nipples, whining as you came to consciousness. The feeling of tentacles wrapped around your engorged breasts and kneading them made you look down your front. Familiar ink black hair slowly waved with the water and his motions as Chrollo contently suckled on your warm breasts, happily feeding on your nutrient rich milk.

"Do you really have to do that whenever I sleep?"

Your complaint made Chrollo look up from where he was suctioned to your aching chest. He gently released your breast and licked his lips, seeming more than pleased with himself.

"I'm an opportunist feeder, Darling, I will take almost any meal available to me, even human."

"Then... Why didn't you eat me?"

"You don't smell like food to me, you have the scent of a mate."

You felt surprise run through you, wondering just what he meant by that. He just admitted that he would eat humans, but apparently your scent was not the same as other humans, enough so that he decided to mate you instead. Part of you wondered which you would have preferred if given the choice between the two.

Chrollo took advantage of your apparent mental absence to lightly squeeze his tentacles around you, holding you close to his chest and nuzzling your neck.

"Do you know what the best part about mating you was for me?"

You refused to entertain him with an answer, knowing he was going to tell you regardless of what you said.

"Stuffing you full of my eggs and seeing your warm stomach expand with each one, feeling them push into your womb. Every single one pumped into you, giving me endless pleasure and filling you up just right."

Chrollo let out a soft sound that was akin to a low hum, the noise sending shivers down your spine. The way he spoke was low and husky against your ear and clearly he took great pleasure from making you uncomfortable with his sultry purr. As you whined softly, he gently ran his fingers over your distended stomach as if worshipping your body.

"I can hardly wait to fill you up with the next brood, just watching your stomach stay nice and swollen for me."

Some part of you realized that Chrollo didn't care if you responded to him or if you were even listening. Clearly he was pleased with reminding himself that he had you trapped and planned to stuff you full of even more eggs. He kissed your forehead and cuddled close, his arms wrapped around your body.

"Go back to resting, Darling."

"Why, so you can feed on my milk again?"

"Yes. Now rest. I want you to meet my shoal soon."

[mysafehaneul]

I.AQUAMARINE

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 4.5K

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

ANGST, (obviously lol), Fluff, Smut (in future chapters not this one).

I wrote a timestamp sometime around three years ago and said if this gets good responses then I'll turn it into a series, Now a few of you showed your interest in it and I feel like writing again, it will not be perfect but I will try to do justice to all the characters, the story, and the time and effort you guys put in reading and liking, please do leave comments, and Do not refrain from giving your suggestion as it will only help me improve without any further ado lets start with the first chapter! <3

PSA: You don't have to read the Timestamp to read this as it has a different plot route from it but still, the essence is the same.

This is my original work for free comsumption because fuck capitalism but please do not steal it. All characters are orginal except The members of Seventeen, I do not own them. This is purely a work of fiction with no similarity with real life whatsoever, If any incident feel familiar, That is purely a coincedence. Happy Reading!

Chapter 1: The Unforeseen Circumstance

2 years ago

Y/N paced the ornate living room of your aunt's bohemian-style house in Switzerland, her thoughts as tumultuous as the storm that raged outside.

'This is not good' Like a loop going in your head.

Your hands were sweating and your heart was pounding like how fire blazes right before it was about to be extinguished. You never liked hospitals and in all truth, you'd rather be anywhere but there. Noella's face her lovely blue eyes and blonde locks, her whimsical laughter that could enchant anyone, your memories with her flash in and out before your eyes making your heart sink further in anguish what would become of...

The pounding at the door stopped your chain of thought, rushing towards the door you almost ran into the mahogany footrest by the couch. You took a deep breath an unfruitful effort to calm the nerves, wrapping your fingers around the cold metal knob as the red and blue light filtered through the window and the words of your father echoing in your heart.

'Remember darling always hope for the best, prepare for the worst

you swing the door open and your eyes already burning, when one of the two officers starts to speak,

''Are you Y/N L/N....''

.

Y/N

Y/N...

Present Day

"Y/n wake up, darling you have been sleeping since yesterday afternoon your father and I are waiting for you to join us for breakfast, it is not like your first flight back from Switzerland''

Your eyes flashed open, and the air filled your lungs you didn't even realize for how long you'd been holding it in your sleep. The cold sweat on your forehead drying making a shiver run down your spine, one by one your senses activated taking in your surrounding, Serenity Villa, your childhood home every wall bearing witness to the life and memories you have lived and made the laughter, cries, and affection. Affection, that gentle breeze that stirs the depths of our being, is the golden thread that weaves our connections, tender and unspoken. It's the warmth that paints the world in hues of understanding, where each glance, each touch, becomes a symphony of whispered emotions—an intangible treasure that enriches the tapestry of our lives, reminding us that in its embrace, we find a sanctuary of belonging and love.

The same kind of love that you felt blooming in your heart when you first looked into his eyes when he sat across from you and Noella on the first day of your second semester in the business psychology course. Pushing down the wave of nostalgia that rose from the depths of your memory, you took a deep breath and pushed off the blankets off your body the scrunched-up satin pajamas riding down as you got off the bed. Your mother was busy peering down at the garden view from your window as her peach-manicured fingers tied the curtains with their strings turning to look at you she began,

''About time you made an appointment with Antonio, Darling I am sure he can tame that unruly mane of yours''

'home sweet home' you signed to yourself and shut the bathroom door behind you with a slam.

...

...

As you moved towards the dining area, you can't help but linger a little on the stairs, the quiet descent through the heart of grandeur, your hands gliding through the railings. The railings, polished and timeless offering a steady guide. The soft rustling noise of feet and clicks and clatter of pots and dishes. Most probably Mathew and Martha going about their daily routine in the kitchen and the house respectively. you made a mental note to greet them after breakfast.

Your footsteps painted a rhythm on the marble, a soft cadence that harmonized with the surroundings, At the final step the chandelier overhead although unlit, swayed due to the rustling of the wind due to the open windows when you spotted your parents sitting in the patio dining. In their natural habitat, your father going through his work pad and your mother talking about anything and everything and your father listens or at least pretending to which his occasional nods and hums. You turned your direction and walked towards them. Swishing past your picture wall which contained the portal to a world once lived, each photograph, a fragment of eternity, stands as a testament to the beauty of life's moments captured, Every place bearing witness to your mother's artistry and intention and hard work in making this mansion home with her touch and love for those cherished moments, a sanctuary where the past dances with the present. Your eyes caught in your graduation picture, how long was it, 7 years or 8? A nostalgic smile played on your lips while looking at the picture of you, Noella, and Joshua, standing side by side, and Joshua's hands around Noella's waist and on your shoulders. In the embrace of friendship and love. Heart filling with reminiscence, the taste of victory, the scent of accomplishment lingering in the air like a sweet fragrance. Eyes, alight with hope and anticipation. The smiles are as radiant as the sun was on that day. A Nice day, you thought to yourself. And you made your way towards your parents.

...

...

Halfway through the breakfast and giving your father a little summarization of the Swiz branch, he gave you some tips and you asked him about the current scene with the resort project your father is about to start when your mother excitedly interjected,

‘Enough of you both and your business,’ she chided  ‘You daughter and father always about data and strategies.’ turning her body towards you ‘ Y/N darling you won't believe who we met at the country club last week’

‘Another aspiring painter’

Making your father chuckle behind his coffee mug

your mother rolled her eyes and said,

‘No, Jeon Wooshik.’

‘And whom that would be?’

‘Your mother's childhood admirer’, your father quipped. 

‘Enough of that James, I told you we were just friends.’

Now it was your father's turn to roll his eye and shake his head.

So anyway as I was saying, Wooshi was there

‘Wooshi’ your father huffed and followed by a small pout.

‘Hush James!’

‘We were golfing and as you know your father and his partner as always hooting like pigeons in the corner about any slight inconvenience in the office in call or person. I see this man constantly staring at me even though there was a woman next to him,’ shifting in her seat she reached for the coffee. Her eyes gleamed with excitement making your heart squeeze a little at her cuteness. ‘I thought why does he look so familiar? So I dismiss it and go back to my swinging practice and from the corner of my eye, I see him making his way towards me.’

‘Just get to the point kitty.’ 

‘And miss the best part where you almost grabbed his collar in the fit of your jealousy.’ She teased. 

‘He was standing too close’, Your father defended. 

‘we've been married for 35 years Jamie, It is very unbecoming if you act like a newlywed.’

It still baffles you no matter how your father tries to suppress the nickname still making his lips twitch in a smile.

‘As I was saying before I was very rudely interrupted, she shot a small glare towards your father, Wooshi and I were childhood friends he used to live next to my grandmother's house and we used to play together every summer. Fun times, So, Wooshi and His wife have a son around your age…’

‘oh No,’ The real motive of this conversation finally settling in. 

‘oh yes, maybe around 3-4 years your senior’, she waved her hand in dismissal. ‘But that doesn't matter. We started talking about you, then Wooshi suggested why don’t we introduce both the kids. So your father and I invited them for dinner here at our residence this weekend, Y/n stop shaking your head. And I am warning you Before you find yourself in any unavoidable engagement for that particular time and date. I am just asking for a little acquaintance building on your side and a reunion on mine. it's not like we want you both to get married on that day itself, just get to know each other’

‘Ma this is not the Victorian era…’

‘Y/N you're about to be thirty,’ she interrupted ‘and I am not saying you need a man to establish your worth. You're a fine established and successful businesswoman. And your father and I are very proud of you, But Darling the world we live in.  There are always people trying to overpower the other and we don't want the legacy that our family has built over the years with their blood, sweat, and tears to be forgotten. Times are changing but not the foundational rules of society. Marriage and its institution are and always will be a prospering proposition and there is no denying that.’

You turned to look at your father for some assistance but before your dad sadly Jamie is Kitty's husband and Before her husband, he was James L/N a businessman of the third generation. Today that point was further proven.

‘Your Mother is right, Jeon Wooshik is the owner of the JJ Group’ He informed. 

‘The Same JJ's Line of Hotel and Society Housing?’

‘Yes, and right now they are eyeing the same property that I had brought under your name for their next project.’ 

‘But haven't you already started gathering investors for the resort project in the same land?’ 

‘Yes, but they are making offers that seem tempting, Their interest in the land is making the investors reluctant as JJ's have a reputation of getting the things they have set their eyes on. I hope you understand what I am trying to say, princess.’

Your parents looking at you expectantly when your mother began,

''Y/N, darling if you don't want it or are interested in someone else then we can forget this conversation and have the dinner like any other dinner we host for our friends..''

The words your mother spoke trailed off as you gathered your thoughts, the pros and cons. When the patio's door opened and Martha entered the area with a warm smile which you reciprocated, setting down your coffee in front of you, her presence offering a temporary interruption you were about to ask about her health when she handed you your phone.

‘It was continuously ringing in your room’

you looked down at the name flashing on your phone screen, sparking a quickened heartbeat, taking the phone from her hands you excused yourself from the table and went inside the house to take the call

your mother looked at your retrieving figure with curiosity and then sighed.

Isn't it a bit late there? I hope nothing happens to him,

you stood in the living area opposite the picture wall, standing beneath the chandelier, your phone cradled in your hand as you answered the call --

‘Hello’

‘Tante’ a soft small voice whimpered. 

...

...

Savoring the delicate warmth of the teacup cradled in his hands, Wonwoo's gaze danced over the report once more, each line etching itself into his mind. The glasses perched upon his nose were adjusted with a slight push, bridging the gap between his thoughts and the words on the screen. Amidst this solitary communion with data, a gentle knock rapped upon his office door, drawing his attention from the illuminated screen.

With practiced grace, the teacup found its place, and he beckoned the visitor in. "Come in," his voice, a tone of measured authority wrapped in politeness, echoed through the room. A figure stepped inside, the interplay of light and shadow casting a cloak of maturity over his features.

"Sir, they are waiting for you in the conference room," the young man intoned, respectful deference present in his demeanor.

"Thank you, Chan. I'll be right with you," Wonwoo responded, his voice a blend of warmth and efficiency. As the door closed behind the assistant, his thoughts momentarily wandered to the past. Chan, his assistant for three years, had entered his world amidst a tempestuous encounter that had left a lasting imprint. The timidness in Chan's manner was a poignant reminder of that initial encounter—a dance between authority and trepidation.

Adjusting his attire, sleeves drawn down from his elbows and jacket secured, Wonwoo strode across the expanse of his office, a fusion of confidence and determination in every step. The coat stand yielded his navy suit jacket, and the act of buttoning it up felt like donning a shield—armor for the challenges that awaited. With purposeful strides, he approached the door, swinging it open to reveal Chan, ever the attentive shadow, iPad in hand and gaze pinned to the doorplate bearing his title.

"President, Jeon Wonwoo," it read, a reminder of the mantle he carried.

Chan, swift in his response to the door's movement, snapped to attention. His unwavering commitment to his role was evident in every gesture. The pair began their descent, elevator doors closing behind them, transporting them from the lofty heights of Wonwoo's office to the eleventh-floor realm of conferences.

Through muted corridors, they journeyed, the murmurs of voices growing clearer as they approached the conference room. "Why do we have a meeting at 8:30 in the morning?" a voice drifted from within, a question marked by a hint of exasperation.

The room's threshold was reached, and Chan orchestrated the opening, granting passage to the company's head. As Wonwoo entered, a silence fell like a tapestry settling, every gaze gravitating toward him. The resolute tap of his footsteps rang in the chamber, his presence commanding attention as he settled into his designated seat at the head of the table.

A contemplative hush was punctuated by his voice—a baritone note that resonated through the room's hush. "Because I said so," he declared, the words woven with authority and finality, the brushstrokes of a leader. "Anyone having a problem with that?" he inquired, his brows arching as if to challenge dissent.

A quick, collective response from the head manager—no defiance, only allegiance. "No sir!"

He shook his head, the subtlest of gestures to mark his acknowledgment. A silent cue and the room shifted, a choreography of souls finding seats, the conference table now their stage.

"Very well," he began, his tone a melody of tempered purpose, "Now shall we begin?" In that question, he set in motion a symphony of discussions, The air held the weight of responsibility. At the head of the table, a screen illuminated with graphs and numbers. As his eyes absorbed the lines and curves, Amidst the tide of successes a shadow emerged- A loss marked by the stark line of red that intersected the charts. The room's collective breath seemed to still as the spotlight of attention fell upon the disheartening point of descent.

A voice, poised yet tinged with a note of irate, broke the stillness,'' Can someone care to explain what exactly happened in the Westeria Society Complex" The answer to the question already known to Wonwoo, but making sure that every single person in this room is also aware of the gravity of the situation and what is this costing them and their reputation.

Wonwoo leaned forward and tilted his head, trying to catch the eye of the managing director of the Wisteria department project. ''Chan please read out the article again'' voice controlled but commanding. 

Rising from his seat, in practiced efficiency he started reading out the report from his work pad, ‘1 Dead after level-4 fire broke at the 60-storey residential building  Westeria Towers, at Cranberry Rd, Around noon. The fire and rescue department reached the spot soon as they received the news about the incident..’

Wonwoo raised his hand as a gesture to stop. 

‘So,  Mr. Kim care to explain, just after 4 months of its handing over and inauguration why was there a lack of proper fire prevention measures and equipment?’  Pushing his glasses up his nose with the forefinger and thumb ‘The JJ groups stocks have taken a hit because of this’ 

‘Sir’ Mr. Kim started hesitantly, ‘the police and insurance department is still investigating the situation we dont know for certain if the death was due to fire or something else’ 

Wonwoo was silent, the boardroom like a chamber of disappointment. Everyone looking at each other in contemplation and trying to seek a resolution. 

…

…

By the time the meeting ended, Wonwoo felt a headache emerging when Chan walked two steps behind and quipped, ‘Your father called’ 

‘And?’

‘To conform with you for the dinner at the L/N’s’ 

‘The Diamond merchants ones?’ 

‘And Iron’ Chan added. 

‘Aren't these the same ones under whom the Burbone Road property is’

‘Actually, it's their daughter who is the owner of that land’ 

‘The one my father can’t stop talking about’

‘Actually, it’s Mrs. L/N that he can’t stop talking about’ Chan mused 

Wonwoon chuckled and unbutton the suit jacket, ‘much to Mama’s dismay’

‘Interesting’  leaning back in his chair, mind entertaining the idea and what can he gain from this possible union. He nodded in Chan’s direction and said ‘You know the drill’ 

‘I’ll have the file ready by tomorrow morning’ Chan affirmed and made his way out of the office, to make the calls and go on with the day and the additional task in hand. 

…

…

The echo of approaching steps, the cadence of heels against the marble floor of the second floor of the silent mansion where your study is situated can be heard across the shut door. In a swift accord, there were two subtle knocks on your door. 

Closing the laptop, you leaned back on your chair.

‘Enter’ 

The door opened and with fluid grace Rema in her 5’6ft glory entered the room, brown big doe eyes filled with anticipation. The olive suit pant complimenting her honey skin, Shoulder length golden bob adorning her heart-shaped face. With a camaraderie smile and purposeful step, she crossed the threshold and sat on the chair across from you. 

‘It's been a while Ms. L/N.’

‘So as it has been Ms. Sinha’ 

Both of you breaking into a laugh, shaking her head she began, 

‘Welcome back doll, I missed you so much! I hope you’re back for good’ 

‘Well that depends on how things far in Swiss you know’ 

‘I came as quickly as I could after your call, what's going on?’ Her eyebrows scrunch when she activates her serious mode. 

You brief her about the call and the notice that arrived at your apartment in Switzerland and your mail, which you showed to your most trusted lawyer and greatest friend.  She listened to every word attentively all while formulating a plan on how to kick-start the case in put the ball in your court. Considering your history Rema has been by your side at your lowest and helped you navigate your new situation after Noella and Joshua. Although you were certain that the secret that bore between you, her, and Jeonghan is still safe, one can only be assured till the time their fears become their realities and make them face the truth, the answers of which are hiding deep within them. 

You were about to mention the claims Noella’s family are making when a rapt on the door interrupted, 

‘Come in’ 

The door made a small creek noise and your assistant entered with a brown Color file and informed, 

‘This is everything available about Jeon Wonwoo’ 

Rema who was busy eyeing  Reachal snapped her gaze in your direction and mused softly. 

‘Jeon Wonwoo… hmm if  I am not very wrong then it’s the JJ groups Prince we’re talking about’ 

‘Prince’ you huffed and rolled your eyes. 

Opening the file you took out the papers and pictures and skimmed through the information...You were halfway through when Rachael quipped ‘You should look at page no. 14’ her eyes gleaming with impish, a smirk playing on her pink lips. 

Skipping to the page, you couldn’t help but raise your brow and a knowing smile graced your lips, 

‘Well well well, what do we have here’ 

Rachel settled Down on the seat next to Rema, shoulders squared. 

‘Good job Rachael’ Giving her a nod of acknowledgment, she gave a little bow and the smirk transformed into a proud smile. Making Rema chuckle as well, she extended her hand to learn the object of amusement. You passed her the papers, interlacing your fingers you drew a quick deep breath. When your eyes locked with Rema, you could feel the wheels turning in her head. You tilted your head slightly a dialogue going between you and her telepathically

 don’t even think about it and

 at cue, she raised her left brow as if saying

 worth a shot. 

You turned to look at Rachel and said 

‘well Rach, confirm the dinner with my mother, let’s see what this Wooshi’s Woowoo is about’ 

The three of you share a laugh.

Yet little did you know, What Jeon Wonwoo is really about.  

…

…

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the day of the long-awaited dinner arrived, casting a golden hue that painted the world in warm tones. The minimalist opulence of the dining room, adorned with intricate golden ornate designs, exuded an air of elegance. A chandelier, a cascade of crystalline stars, hung suspended, its golden glow shimmering in symphony with the gleaming decor. The room held a sense of anticipation, a canvas where stories were poised to unfold.

Earlier, Jeon Wooshik and his wife, Jeon Sunmi, graced the room with their presence, punctual in their arrival. The polished ambiance seemed to harmonize with their presence, a fitting backdrop for figures of influence. Yet, there was a noticeable absence—the JJ Group's prince, Jeon Wonwoo. Lately, he had been a touch delayed, a hint of disruption in his otherwise punctual routine.

The backdrop of the day painted a different canvas for you. Typically ensconced within the walls of the mansion's home office, today's demands necessitated your presence elsewhere. The on-site inspection of Bourbon Road loomed, accompanied by a meeting with Rema's firm's partner—a case that carried its weight of concern. A cloak of worry draped your heart, its weight a testament to the responsibilities you bore. The facade of calm you presented was a necessity, for many facets of your life remained veiled from your parents—a symphony of secrets echoing in the chambers of your heart.

Descending the stairs, your thoughts wove intricate patterns, a tapestry of worries and hidden anxieties. The doorbell's chime pierced the air, drawing your attention. Mathew, the ever-attentive presence, greeted the guest who had arrived—a man of confident stature, around 6 or 6'1 feet tall. His strides bore practiced grace, each footfall a note of purpose. Jeon Wonwoo, the embodiment of a regal presence, entered with an air of authority that whispered of his heritage. His hair, neatly combed back, revealed a single strand that resisted the arrangement, lending him an air of both maturity and defiance. The glasses perched on his nose amplified his features, a detail that underscored his experience and poise.

Mathew, the courteous guide, led him towards the sitting area where your parents were seated. But as he traversed the room, his gaze caught upon you—the woman standing at the stairs' threshold. A pause, a moment frozen in time, marked his recognition of your presence. The gleam of the chandelier cast a luminous reflection upon the room, illuminating your presence like a hidden gem unveiled.

As he veered towards you, each step seemed to be orchestrated by destiny itself. His confident demeanor bore a charming smile, an invitation extended through his expression. The practiced politeness your mother had advised for the evening found its form as you extended your hand, meeting his for a handshake. A mere whisper of pressure conveyed acknowledgment, a ritual of introduction performed with grace.

His voice, a symphony of introductions, resonated. "Jeon Wonwoo, Jeon Wooshik's son, or as your mother calls him, Wooshi." A playful lilt danced upon his lips as he spoke, and you couldn't help but allow a subtle smile to grace your own. Your introduction, delivered with a touch of humor, mirrored the familiar banter. "Y/N, L/N Kiaori's daughter, or as your father calls her, Kiki." His chuckle echoed the shared jest, a dance of camaraderie that bridged the gap between unfamiliarity and rapport.

The brief exchange of hands lingered in memory as he offered you an assessing gaze—an appraisal that extended beyond the surface. As his eyes traced your form, it felt as if layers were being unwound, your essence laid bare to his scrutiny. With a discerning tone, he remarked, "The shade blue never looked so good Ms.L/n. But as a businesswoman yourself, I am certain you must have done your research on me." The edge of cockiness in his words was met with a tone brimming with amusement. "Thank you for the compliment Mr.Jeon, Yes I like to test the waters before jumping in. And if I am not very wrong, then I can expect that you have done the same."

Your exchange brimmed with unspoken nuances, the tension of the upcoming engagement palpable. "You're aware why we're gathered here, right?" he inquired. The understanding between you two was an undercurrent, one that held layers beyond the surface. "Yes," you affirmed, a touch of solemnity in your voice, "and I have no intention of entertaining it beyond this evening. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Ouch, that's a bit harsh, Ms. L/N," his words held a hint of challenge, a subtle invitation to spar in the arena of words. Yet, you moved away, your steps graceful, your resolve unswayed. Walking towards the seating area, you glanced back, your head tilting in mock acknowledgment, "I don't want to be a hurdle between you and your darling Mrs. Eleanor Calder. I'm pretty sure she's doing a shoddy job hiding your NDA, or rather, PDA." The contours of his smile shifted, a change in demeanor that was imperceptible to most.

And then, he moved—a calculated approach that brought him within intimate proximity. The air around him carried an intoxicating allure, the magnetism of his presence weaving an enchanting spell. His voice, a low rumble, reached your ears as his lips grazed the air near your ear, his words meant only for you. "We all have our vices, Ms. L/N. Just like your bastard you hide in Switzerland… away from everyone. What's his name, ah, Noel Hong?" The world seemed to slow, your heart's rhythm matching the staccato of your thoughts. How could he know? The revelation stirred a tempest of emotions within you, each wave crashing against the fortress you had built.

His words continued each syllable a calculated echo that resonated within you. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me… at least, for the time being." As he resumed his path towards the seating area, his steps seemingly unaffected, your mind whirred with realization. A single word, a symphony of emotions—fuck. The weight of his knowledge lay heavy upon your shoulders, a shadow that loomed even amidst the golden opulence of the room.

tbc...

[sombrashe]

stupid fucking slut

this is a repost because my original blog was deleted

relationship(s) valeria x reader

content afab gender neutral reader, chubby reader, dom valeria x brat reader, cunnilingus, scissoring, fuck machines, toy usage, triple penetration, slapping, degradation, praise

note(s) I love this woman with my entire being and I want her to smack me around

Your eyes are closed as you shake like the first autumn leaf, leaving your familiarity and allowing the wind to take full control. The anticipation leaking from your prepped holes filled your flesh with goosebumps as the cool air of the underground room washed over you.

"If you make even the tiniest noise I will have you wailing on the fucking floor, do you understand me?"

Her voice is a growled hiss against the shell of your ear and you flinch at the implication.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good."

You lick your bottom lip as your mind wanders to when the sunlight filtered through the high glass windows.

She's been nothing but a tease all day, working you up in front of her men as you became a pathetic mess for her. Her fingers would work you over during meetings, you like royalty sitting pretty on her lap as she refused to allow you to cover your lower half. One hand would pull lewd sounds from your soaking cunt while the other would slam down on the desk as she argued passionately with her right hand man.

"What the fuck do you mean he's dead, you were supposed to keep him alive until I could see him."

You struggled to keep up as the heel of her palm ground into your clit while she added another finger stretching you painfully. Your head lulls back as you clench around her perfectly manicured fingers, the man trying to explain what happened which caused an insignificant member of her crew to bleed out.

"I don't want to hear your god damn excuses, Diego! ¡Mierda! Sal de mi vista y limpia tu desorden. Un inútil hijo de puta."

The slam of the door syncs with the feeling of emptiness as she practically shoved you off her leg. You crumple to the ground beside her and she scoffs at the sight.

"What? You're useless now too? Get up." You stare at her, slack jawed and eyes wide. The fog invading your mind slowly leaks out and surrounds you both before disappearing into the vents above. She leans down and wipes your slick from her fingers onto the oversized hoodie you wore for modesty, as much as you can get as she fucks you in front of the cartel. You feel embarrassed as she treats you like a burden.

"Go clean yourself up and don't even think about touching yourself. Report to me in the main room when you're finished."

With that you're left alone as the door clicks closed for a second time except this time the fog invading your senses is fury. In retaliation you rooted through the box of toys you kept hidden pushed underneath your shared bed. Finding the deep purple c-shaped vibrater hidden amongst you test it in your hands until you find a setting which won't interfere with your plan.

"Perfect."

You grin wildly as you happily slip it between your lips to settle against your g-spot, the front pulsates as it rests against your clit and you take a moment to catch your breath. Finally standing you slip a pair of plain panties on keeping the toy snug as a skirt follows suit, an unassuming piece of fabric which laid against your thighs. Your chin raised as you entered the main room, a group of dozen or so men and women filtered in and out of the room as you walked through. The buzz of your toy was muffled by your thighs. Placing a hand on the back of Valeria's bicep you're annoyed at her quick side glance before she goes back to her conversation. Not even an introduction is spared for her favorite person.

"Valeria."

Nothing. You pinch at the skin where your hand rests and she's quick to smack you away the heat of the impact ignored as your ego is wounded.

You lean in close, "I have that new toy you got me last week in, if you don't pay attention to me I'll cum in front of everyone here."

She shoulders you away your threat nothing more than a nuisance to her conversation with her head dealer from the streets. Your eyebrows knitted together in annoyance as Valeria continued to ignore your advances. Taking a deep breath you close your eyes and pay attention to the toy which massaged your nerves the perfect amount. Letting out a soft warning moan only for her to hear, you feel small half moons form on the soft of your forearm as Valeria sinks her nails into you.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

You match her eye contact, your defiance meeting the fire which burned deep in her everlong eyes. Opening your mouth the next moan is immediately cut off as she yanks you back to where you first entered. Your arm is twisted and you're forced to walk backwards for a moment to keep from falling flat on your back again.

"Go downstairs, now. I will deal with you after this meeting."

You want to argue back, explain that you wouldn't act like this is she wasn't being such a pain in your ass and denying you your hard earned release.

"Don't fuck with me right now, and do as I say!"

The memories float around your head like a cartoon. You flex your toes as you shift uncomfortably your knees hurting from the position you're forced to keep. You rest your forehead on the edge of the cot as you listen to the sounds of metal rings clinking against machinery. concupiscence fills the whole of your belly and the eagerness from before slowly invades you once again.

"Eres una maldita puta estúpida, ¿lo sabías?"

Your blistering cunt flexes around the air and Valeria's laugh cuts through you. Jumping you feel cool glass press against your weeping entrances. You hold your breath as Valeria coos, the click of the machine being turned on send shivers down the bumps of your spine. She always starts off slow allowing your body a moment to to adjust to the penetration. The steady pace of lube covered dildos has your entire body ablaze with hunger. You keep your breathing steady as per her demands, the cot giving you no relief from the burn.

"Open your eyes."

You blink and straighten yourself as you rest on your palms instead on your elbows. Looking up at her she tilts her head, your pupils were blown wide and soft as they stared into hers. She places a gentle hand on your cheek using her thumb to rub across before a crack echos throughout the tiny room. You're looking to your right and blinking back the salt which threatened to leak from your eyes. Keeping your word you give a shaky breath instead of your usual whimper.

"Look at me."

You do and she rubs at the bulge which strained against the luxury fabric of her slacks.

"Now why can't you follow directions like this normally?"

You wet your lips waiting for permission to speak. She raises her hand and gestures permission.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

She grins at your words and you feel the eager urge to please her, say whatever it takes to feel her reward for falling in line.

"My stupid slut, say it. Tell me who you belong to."

You chew at the corner of your bottom lip as she slowly unzips her slacks.

"You, ma'am. I belong to you, only you."

"Good."

She hums as she removes and folds her slacks painstakingly slow, walking around you to click at the machine. You grunt and grip at the edge of the cot as the speed increases. The thrusts timed but the speed has you bouncing slightly against it. She stays in place watching as the faux cocks disappears in and out of your holes.

"Disgusting."

She spits out watching as you shake softly.

"God you love this shit, my disgusting little slut loves it when I degrade them."

She kneels beside you and pulls a handful of your hair. You make wavering eye contact and you nod. You're panting as you dig your nails into the rough nylon below. She licks a stripe up your cheek and you jerk as she flicks her nail bed against your nipple. Removing herself from you she takes her place back in front of you. Your mouth waters as as taps the cock against your lips.

"Be a good whore for me and open up."

You relax your jaw and stick out your tongue putting on a show just for her. She hums and rubs the length of it against your awaiting lips. Without any prep she's shoving the whole of it down your throat staying still as you gag around her. Slowly pulling out she gives you a moment to breath before repeating her actions. She continues to painfully stretch your jaw and constrict your throat as she fucks your mouth.

"You are always so much more obedient when I stuff your mouth full."

You shake as you fight against the orgasm that was slowly ebbing. She notices your commitment to doing as she says, her thrusts bruising your palate. You drag one of your hands down her exposed thigh as she cums with a whine, the cock fully covered by your saliva. When she pulls away you're dropping your head and she grins at the sight of you fighting off another orgasm.

"Did you learn your lesson?"

You look up at her confused. She normally enjoyed pushing you close and over the edge for hours. Her eyes were frantic as she calmly removed the shiny leather from her exposed hips. Your mouth feels dry at the thought of you orgasm, the soft sweet feelings of her scarred hands against your skin.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry."

You knew she loved it when you acted like this, a brat for her to put in their place. Something you take pride in. Getting under her skin in such a way she needed to take you immediately. She doesn't seem to care if you were genuine or not. She's behind you once again. The metal sounds stop and you're left empty and twitching.

"Valeria... please."

You voice is soft and teasing as you wiggle your lower half. She shoves you over the edge and you gasp as you plant the palms of your hands on the rough concrete. The grip she has on your waist is bruising and you can feel her strength in it. She shoves her tongue into your puffy sore cunt and your toes curl against the sides of her knees. You bite your lip still being the perfect little pet. She hums into the heat she couldn't get enough of. You whimper and you feel your muscles contract against her tongue. She's pushing her face deeper into your cunt and you have to plant your palms to keep from falling over. You feel her nails scratch their way down your thighs. The sharp addicting pain finally causes you to crash as you give a sharp shout. Your orgasm washes over you like a wave and you collapse. She's yanking you back and hoisting you until you could rest on your stomach. You pant as you continue to twitch below her burning gaze.

"I'm sorry." Your voice is raspy and you don't move until you hear her voice

"God you're fucking useless. I give you simple instructions and you can't even follow them."

You nod and struggle onto your hands and knees.

"On your back. Can't fuck this one up, hopefully."

You slide onto the rough nylon and grimace at the feeling against your sweaty skin.

"Legs open."

You let them fall to the side as you watch her move to the corner of the room. She's pulling something out from a small bag she kept on her person at all times. You feel heat rush up your neck as she exposes the small black vibrater to you with a grin.

"Going to be good for me and keep your slutty hands to yourself?"

You nod eagerly and pull yourself apart for her to have access to your sensitive clit. She barks out a laugh and shakes her head. You whimper at the look in her eyes, your hips dragging themselves against the air in anticipation. She slings a leg over your waist and straddles you for the moment.

"Going to be extra good for me? A pretty little pet with good manners?"

You suck in a breath as the still vibrator jumps to life against your nipple.

"Yes, please. I will, I promise."

She tsks and shakes her head, "that's what you said last time, pretty, and look at you. Soaking the bed."

You twist your head to the side trying desperately to stay calm. You practiced so many times but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't keep your orgasm at bay with her. Panting you dig your nails into the meaty part of your palms. She giggles and pulls at your perked nipple.

"God you love this filthy shit. You're so perfect for me, so easy to tease."

She grinds herself against your abdomen and you can feel the warm slick of her cunt. You have to draw blood, taste the bitter metal to calm yourself.

"Doing so good. Being such a good little pet. Do you want to cum?"

Her lips are a hot whisper against the shell of your ear and you cringe at the whine that covers your words.

"Valeria, please. God yes, I want to cum for you so badly."

She licks the outline of your ear before pulling away from you.

"You need to keep yourself calm, can you do that for me? Wait to cum until I'm ready?"

You blink at her and nod your head, pieces of hair stick to your face and you peel your nails out of your flesh to fix them.

"The messy hair shows that I'm doing a good job."

She grins as she places the vibrator against your heated clit and your arching your back.

"Calm." Her voice is soft unlike earlier.

You know she needs this as badly as you: you can see it in the way her chest rises, how her tongue wets her lips every few seconds, the way her fingers flex against the skin of your stomach. Finally after teasing all she can take she settles herself against your cunt. You feel feverish as she rubs her clit against the vibrator. You can feel her heat radiating into yours and you roll your eyes back at the feeling. Such soft skin rubbing against yours as her moans start to pick up.

"Oh god."

Your voice is shaky. You feel your chest swell as she coos.

"You feel so good lovely, want to cum with you."

You shake your head a few times as you grind your cunts together. Your thrusts cause her to bounce and each time her clit grinds against the toy harder than the last.

"I'm close."

Her voice is nothing more than a needy whine as her shirt rides up. You grip at one if her clothed breast. She nods as her head falls forwards. Black hair obstructs your view of her face but the way her thighs twitch against yours gives you all the confirmation you need. You grip painfully at her bicep as your orgasm causes your thighs to clench and the tips of your fingers to tingle. Your name is moaned out in such sweet melody. With one last twitch your yanking her by the collar against you. She's eager against your lips and you start to wonder if she was ever going to move the vibrating toy from you.

Almost like reading your mind she clicks the toy off before tucking it into her bag. Her movement away from you leaves you cold and you want to pull her in for another warm kiss. Picking through the discarded clothing she separates your outfits. Her first move is to get you both dressed and somewhere warm so she can inspect you. Tugging her clothes on in a hurry she's moving back to your blissed out smile. With gentle hands she's helping your tired limbs tug your clothes on, you were glad you choose a skirt today.

"We really need to finish this room."

"I know lovely, but it's hard to get someone down here without a bunch of questions."

You sigh and snuggle into her side, but she's pulling you away.

"No snuggling, not until I get you upstairs and into a bath."

You frown and yawn feeling exhausted, "I just want a nap, Valeria. Cuddles and a nap first."

She frowns, she hates the idea of not taking care of you after a rough night. These moments so intimate for her however far between they may be.

"You have to eat something first then."

You groan and allow her to lead you out of the room.

"Fine, but I get to choose what. None of that crackers and water shit."

She huffs, "Fine. No crackers, but you're drinking a cup of water. No arguments."

[genericpuff]

I wanted to share the s with you because you talk about the art of Lo sometimes

These panels in the newest episode are genuinely making me loose my damn mind

It's not as noticeable in the first panel because Apollo is blurred, but in the second one you can literally SEE THE BACKGROUND around Zeus's arm in front of Apollo. WHY IS THERE A GAP BETWEEN HIS ARM AND APOLLO😭😭

How the actual fuck does this even happen???????? I am so beyond confused. Genuinely what was the process of making this panel that made it end up like this?????

Luckily for you I have 10+ years in drawing comics digitally and I can tell you EXACTLY what happened!

So when you set something up for gaussian blur (i.e. the camera focus/unfocus blur that's happening here) you typically want the thing you're blurring to be on a separate layer so you can just blur it on its own separate of other characters and assets in the shot.

BUT the problem with gaussian blur is that, at least in Clip Studio, it will ONLY let you blur what's on that individual layer (so you can't blur multiple layers together), and it doesn't apply the filter by being 100% original solid color + 20% blur added on top, instead it reduces the solid original color's coverage down to 80% and makes the 20% remainder that's left over the part that blurs, if that makes sense. So essentially the filter tends to pull those colors "inwards" before blurring it back outwards to make up for the original shape, resulting in the original sizing looking sliiightly minimized to our eyes. In this case what you see of the solid color in Zeus' arm before it starts to blur away appears a lot smaller than its original size in the first panel.

Now where did Rachel and her team mess up here?

Apollo isn't colored in underneath Zeus.

So when Zeus gets blurred and his base colors get slightly pulled in to make room for the blur, there's nothing behind him to fill in the gap where the transparency blur is applied. Thus we end up seeing the background "through" him.

So yeah, take this as a pointer for those of you learning to mess with camera focus and blur filters, always remember to fill the space behind the character that it's getting applied to!!! I know it feels like a "waste of time" to fill in something that's technically not gonna be seen but it WILL be seen as soon as you apply gaussian blur. Plan ahead so you can know exactly when to spend extra time filling the base. Better to have even just a splotch of unrendered base fill color to fill in the gaps when you gotta blur than to have nothing there at all and end up with your characters becoming see through 🤣

[ephemerensis]

It’s Cold // Joel Miller x GN! Reader

you steal something important from joel and he gets a little (lot) angry // platonic ; maybe its bc its 2 am and i’ve been listening to pheobe bridgers but the ending has me open mouthed sobbing !! not proofread

song rec: day after tomorrow— phoebe bridgers

—

You’d been in the bedroom for a couple hours now, with the same three thoughts aimlessly looping through your brain; up until the front door crowed as it opened.

The sound of the door closing soon followed accompanied by heavy footsteps thumping against creaky floors on their way in.

“Did you find it?” That familiar gruff timbre filtered through the walls of your shitty QZ apartment.

“No,” Tess was quick to respond. You’d thought she’d left already. She usually wasn’t home at this time, off running an errand or something of the sort after her work detail. But she stayed today.

You couldn’t see him, but you could feel the tension in the air thicken then. Of course, you knew exactly where “it” was. And up until you got caught by Tess sneaking back into the apartment, you were happy to get rid of it.

I can talk to him. I didn’t know. He’ll understand.

At least that’s what you told yourself. It’s not like you didn’t mess up before, but Joel always came around; albeit in his own callous way. After all these years living together— all these years of him raising you, it was like a silent promise. Joel would be there for you. He loved you.

But this was different. You’d never messed up this bad. As soon as you confessed your undertakings, the look of creeping dread on Tess’s face was testament enough to how royally you fucked up.

You took his watch.

It was broken. Before he found you it was broken, and long after he never fixed it. Between fighting infected and scavenging for survival; there wasn’t exactly time for him to figure it out, you’d assumed. But now that you were safe enough, and life was almost domestic, and the man you considered a father had a birthday coming up— it was high time he got a working one.

So you stole it; with the intention of fixing it. But no one in the QZ had the tools or knowledge. You ended up trading it with a couple ration cards for a smaller, gold one that actually told time. And you were proud that for the first time ever you actually got to do something for him.

All of which came crashing down when Tess fed you the details of its origins.

Sarah.

The floorboards creaked as he got up, rummaging through the counters and shelves in a desperation to find it. Drawers were violently rammed shut in his frustration.

“Joel.” She said it gently. It made your brows furrow; Tess promised to let you resolve it on your own. It didn’t deter him though, hands still rummaging through whatever he hadn’t looked through yet.

“It doesn’t make sense, I take it off for thirty seconds and it just vanishes?” Panic bled in to his usually pessimistic tone. You couldn’t see him but you could picture it; his face stayed stony but in his eyes the anxiety that was starting to bubble up was prominent.

“Joel.” It was sterner this time. Louder. You had your ear pressed to do the paint chipped door at that point, leaning on it to try and gauge the situation.

“What?” The sound of things being shifted around stopped.

“It’s not here. You’re not gonna find it.”

Your eyes widened, and in panic you acted before you could properly comprehend what you were doing. Pushing the bedroom door open, you burst out pointing an accusing finger at the woman.

“You said I could fucking tell him!” Chest heaving, eyes wide as you turned and looked at Joel like a deer trapped in headlights.

“You do not talk to her like that,” he said sternly. Good. If he was still in a position to lecture you that meant he still cared.

Joel looked increasingly confused, looking between the two of you until his eyes latched on the glimmer of gold you had clutched in your hand. His gaze hardened, the change in his demeanor sent waves around the room.

Your breath hitched as you quickly pulled your arm back to hide it behind you, but he saw it. You knew that.

Tess had gotten up from where she was sitting, inching in your direction to try and mitigate the oncoming damage.

“What is that?” He spoke lowly, dangerously so. Everyone stood silent for a spell before you slowly unconcealed your arm and managed to pry your unwilling fingers open in front of him, the watch resting on your palm.

“Well- I-“ You didn’t usually stammer but with the bile rising in your throat and that sinking stomach feeling stomach sick striking your core it was too much. Your mouth opened and closed but the words didn’t come. You fucked up.

“What the fuck is that?” You’d seen him angry before. It wasn’t something he ever tried to hide from you, but you’d never seen him look at you like that. Like you were sidewalk gum.

“It’s your birthday and-“ He took a step forward and you took a step back, heel making contact with the wall behind you. The watch in your hand was too heavy and the thoughts in your head were too loud.

Why didn’t you let Tess do the talking? What were you thinking? Getting the watch? Intervening? Joel was right to be mad. How could he ever look at you like he hated you?

“How’d you get it?” He cut you off. But you were too muddled to comprehend him.

“The other one didn’t even work!” Words fell out before you could know what you were saying, “you just kept looking at it and I know and I—“

The thoughts got louder. Your throat got tighter.

“And I just thought that if I-I— Dad—“

The word slipped from you like a plea. You’d only called him that a handful of times, when desperation felt so thick you could taste it. Your first thunderstorm. Your first clicker. Colder nights.

His eyes would soften. He’d call to you and comfort you and you could burrow in his embrace and then, everything would dissipate.

“You’re not my daughter.”

You blinked. Every nerve you had froze over. The thoughts in your head silenced. The walls in the room started closing in. And the worst part was the way he looked at you. Straight into your eyes with a hate you’d never known to see. Then the world was too quiet.

“I’m not your fucking dad. I’m never gonna be your fucking dad. Your dad is six feet under with mushrooms crawling up his throat and thats what he deserves for bringing a fucker like you into the world!” He spat it at you and all you knew you could feel were the tears pooling in your eyes. You couldn’t breathe and it hurt because he had never hurt you.

“Joel!” Tess interjected, staring at the man in disbelief.

“Fuck you!” You choked it out, pushing past the two of them and bolting out the door.

The creeping feeling in your throat magnified, tasting something like betrayal. But it pained you more to know that it was true. He never belonged to you, he just volunteered to be there for you. And it was unfair and anger inducing and all so real.

You didn’t know where you were going, you just ran. Feet pounding against the wooden floors until you made it out of the building. You felt the knobs of the watch face indent your skin as you gripped it in your flight. Even then you didn’t stop; you needed to get away.

The apartment felt frozen, locked in a stunned silence. Tess had her mouth agape, staring at the still open door you’d just burst out of. She was first to break the stupor, “Joel what the fuck was that?”

His gaze was hardened, turned towards the floor. But he said nothing.

“I know you’re upset, but we could’ve talked about it!”

“What, Tess? Talk about what? They’re not Sarah and they ain’t ever gonna fucking be Sarah!” He’d only raised his voice at her once before, when he thought she was going to be mauled by an Infected, but never more than that. And for the first time in a long time, she couldn’t read him.

“They never needed to be.” Tess knew he hurt. How could he not? Before everything, Sarah was all he had. But you were alive now. And you were a person, and not a replacement. You weren’t a ghost, or a symbol, or a chance of redemption. You were a, albeit stupid, kid.

“It’s curfew,” she said, going to sling a bag over her shoulders, “we have to go after Y/N before Fedra throws their ass in lockup. I don’t think they could’ve gotten far so if we—“

“I don’t care.” He cut her off. So she left without another word.

If he continued not caring, he had a shitty way of showing it. When Tess pushed the door open a couple hours later, he perked up to crane his neck at the door. Silently crestfallen when you didn’t follow her in.

The next couple days were the same. He asked around on work duty, radioed Bill and Frank when he could, searched on his off time. They both did, but you never turned up.

And then it was two weeks.

And almost a month.

There was a window in the bedroom with a broken latch. It can’t stay closed. So, most days, especially in summer, you all just kept it open. But, as you scaled the fire escape, you found that tonight it was pushed shut.

Inside it was dark, but the moonlit let in enough for you to see that no one occupied the bed. Placing a hand on the glass, you pressed it open with relative ease. Slipping your hand in your pocket you pulled out Joel’s watch. You ran a thumb over the cracked face, watching the glow in the dark numbers fluoresce in the night.

You clambered in slowly, getting half way through before hearing an all too familiar creak. You forgot to check the armchair.

Your head whipped in the direction of the sound, heart pounding as your eyes made contact with the ones that looked at you with such malice a few weeks prior.

“Y/N?”

Dropping the watch on the nightstand, you immediately moved to climb back out but he was faster.

Before you’d made it one rung down, your wrist was caught in the palm of his calloused hand.

The tears sprung before you could stop them. You gave your arm a sharp tug, but he held fast. So you gave up, the both of you just opting to stare instead.

He looked tired, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. But his gaze wasn’t the one you left him with. You saw a warmth that made it hurt worse than before.

You were worse for wear, but you’d sen darker days. A bruise bloomed over your left eye, and your clothes had a few more holes than they did to start. He studied you, cupping your face with his free hand. It was so gentle you cried.

“I thought you were mad at me.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. Of course that’s the first thing you think to say. Shaking his head, he released you, gesturing for you to come back in. You did.

“Of course I was mad at you, I’m still mad at you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Your bottom lip quivered. He’d never said that before. Yelling and nagging, he could do but he never told you he loved you. Or that he cared.

“I brought it back. Your old one.” Your hands were balled at your side, trying to fight the tears you knew were inevitable.

“I didn’t— if I knew I never would’ve—“ You gasped as he pulled you into a tight embrace. You missed it, the way his arms around you felt more secure than any walls erected on earth. The way it was warm, and so familiar and it was just so unbearably cold outside in the middle of June. You couldn’t help but sob.

“I know, baby. I know.” He almost whispered it, the words felt so secret. They were yours.

You shoulders shook, “I’m so so sorry, Joel.”

“Dad, will do just fine.”

[iwaoiness]

Tooru's love life

Oikawa has become a public figure whose name has gone around the world. He has been featured in a multitude of magazines, both sports and fashion. He has appeared on various talk shows and participated in some entertainment programmes. He is the new face of Nike and every week he promotes world-renowned brands on his Instagram account (with almost 9M followers). On TikTok (with more than 6M followers) he usually shows his daily life and joins the funniest and most extravagant trends.

He is charismatic, intelligent, flirtatious and charming, and journalists are dying to get the tiniest tidbit of information about his private life, especially his love life, because Oikawa Tooru, despite everything, has learned very well (too well, in fact) how to dodge questions about his non-professional life, which he wants to keep under lock and key. The only thing that is known for sure is that he is originally from Miyagi and studied at Aoba Johsai, otherwise everything is a mystery (in fact, they tried to interview some of his former classmates, unfortunately running into Mattsun and Makki whose answers were a repertoire of "maybe yes", "maybe no", "I don't know", "who knows", "will this go live?", "Oikawa likes milk bread although he doesn't tolerate lactose, isn't it funny?"

But one day everything explodes.

Oikawa's name becomes a worldwide trending topic for weeks, millions of his fans flood the social networks with screenshots and kilometric threads, gossip magazine journalists go crazy camping outside the luxury flat block where Oikawa lives to corner him and bombard him with questions, his manager (who is torn between asking for a pay rise or an early retirement despite his 30 years old) tries to control and defuse the situation.

And the reason is his new TikTok video, with the black and white filter, where he appears lying face down on his king-size bed, recording his reflection in the room's wide mirror. Behind him, with his head resting on his bare back, is Iwaizumi Hajime, gently and slowly caressing his back, alternating those caresses with small kisses on his skin.

A song plays in the background for the first seven seconds until Tooru speaks and a soft Hajime comes from his lips. Iwaizumi lifts his head and, when he sees Oikawa with his mobile pointed at the mirror, he looks at the reflection of both and smiles (the playful, lopsided smile that turns on Oikawa as fuck) before winking. His hand, always firm and warm against Tooru's skin, slowly descends further down, his fingers tracing over the bare skin until they reach his nike sports shorts, caressing the fabric of the garment before his hand opens and wraps around his ass.

And there the video cuts off and starts again. In the caption, it reads: upss hehe (ノ≧▽° )ノ

Days later, when everything is still on fire, Matsukawa and Hanamaki are (surprisingly) called again to be interviewed by a young intern (judging by his dark circles under his eyes, the dried coffee stain on his pants and the endearing stammering in his questions) for a program about celebrity scandals to be aired later. This time, however, they decide to be more benevolent and Issei and Hiro look directly into the camera, with an aura of mystery and secrecy.

"Well, Tsubaki-kun"

"I-it's Subaru, Matsukawa-san."

"Well, Subaru-kun, you're in luck, we actually came with the intention of bringing a very, very important exclusive."

"R-Really?" Subaru blinks, incredulous as Makki nods energetically.

"It's something that even Oikawa himself isn't aware of, right, Issei?"

"Totally, Hiro. Are you ready, Subaru-kun, ready to know the truth and only the truth?"

Both, Subaru and the silent cameraman, nod their heads, totally expectant of what two of the people closest to Oikawa-senshu may finally reveal.

"Well, here we go, Hiro. Do the honors, you're the best at this."

"You flatter me, honey, it will be my pleasure." Makki clears his throat, cricks his fingers, exhales and inhales deeply, squares his shoulders, settles back on his seat and finally opens his mouth to say "Did you know that Oikawa Tooru is dating Iwaizumi Hajime and, exactly five days ago, Oikawa uploaded a TikTok (very un-family-friendy if you ask me) where he confirms their relationship? It's scandalous, right? I'm sure no one saw that video, but know that it exists."

That same night, during the weekly video call shared by the four former Seijoh members, Tooru's ramen comes out of his nose in a fit of laughter and Iwaizumi is unable to control his when Mattsun and Makki recount how they were banned again for the rest of their lives from (now) eight TV stations and two radio stations.

[vocaliveparty]

Your Diva - Design, Effects, and Extra Notes.

Design

This one was truly a collaborative effort. Modeled by Maydayfireball, but designed by jjinomu, maydayfireball, and Zen. (Yes, I did the croptop part, sue me.)

This design is suppose to encompass both the feeling of summer, as well as still heavily pointing back to Piko's roots / default. In a sense, it's both his "future" and his "past". He has exactly 12 wings - 6 on his back and three on each shoe. Unlike last year's finale piko, who had 10 wings because he was 10 years old. As of this concert airing, Piko is 12 years old.

Effects

The effects I used for this one were relatively simple. The pictures were physical objects, while the video parts in the first chorus were just MMD's screen capture AVI system.

I went mostly minimalist, because it's the final song and it's suppose to feel simplistic.

Takoyaki Donuts recorded Piko's box for me and managed to get it exactly how I was envisioning. I added a few filters / color changes over it to make it feel like a memory. Like looking back on the first moment you got Piko.

Zen recorded the V2 editor section for me. I literally went "Hey can you open up any ol project you have in V2 and record like 12 seconds of you fucking around on it." and he went out of his way to actually use a VSQ of "Your Diva" and is editing the section of the song that he's currently singing LSDKFJLSDF KEEP IN MIND ZEN DID NOT TUNE THIS COVER. HE JUST WENT ABOVE AND BEYOND. (Also i think this cover is actually tuned in vocaloid 5?? So this is fake news Zen.)

Extra Notes

This is a Piko who's learned to look at the past fondly, and hopefully step into the future. In a sense he's reminiscing with all of you, and thank you for your support all this time.

「I have something I want to tell you - 」 「Thank you for choosing me.」 「I won't ever forget the joy of meeting you on that day.」

It was important to me to specifically highly art of the first Piko Live Party, as oppose to art of Piko in general. Mostly because this concert would never have happened without the people who supported the first concert.

「I'm not satisfied yet」 「and I won't be, until I've sung all of your songs...」

Admittedly, it was a bit cheeky of me to put the fanart during THOSE lyrics. The actual intention for those lines is to say "Please use me to sing the songs you want to write," but with the concert being made of covers it's almost like he's speaking to other vocaloids. Like "I'm not gonna be satisfied until I've covered and stolen ALL the songs you had written for you. >:)"

But just like before, its your support and hard work that gave him his wings. Because he's your one and only diva <3 He slowly transitions back into Default piko at the very end, coming full circle.

I'm SO grateful that Pablo Bablo was able to step in and cover this song at the last minute. Our original finale song didn't work out, and he pulled out this absolutely amazing cover at lightning speeds in the matter of like? A week I think? Insane. I think things ended up working out well in the end.

[bettercostume]

NEYMESSI STAR WARS PART 2 LETS FUCKING GOOOO

previously pt 1 leo and padawan neymar meet and are going to test neymar's force sensitivity.

some cliff notes for the sw universe i am fucking with here:

i cannot bring myself to be like, here's sith lord cristiano ronaldo, so please brace yourself for characters that may be familiar but are not necessarily one to one copies. many are just originals that fill out the story, but Zlatan and ronaldinho get a pass because c'mon man

anakin skywalker and obi wan are somewhere else fighting the clone wars, and will not feature because for similar reasons i can't honestly have neymar and darth vader in the same sentence

this is set at the beginning of the clone wars but it's not important to know anything about anything, really. i sure don't. basically the republic hasn't fallen to sith rule, we're in the dog days of the jedi order before the fall of anakin and the galaxy-wide reach of the emperor. that's all!

Fresh off those disturbing words, offered so easily, Leo leaps from the marbled walkway onto one of the floating training platforms.

The center of the temple is carved out, many stories tall, illuminated by shafts of light that filter down between the rock slabs floating at different levels. At the far end is the mother rock itself, a massive black cliff face where the temple was first carved out of the earth, before Coruscant was a city, before there was a federation. Or so that’s what Leo has been told. A place so old and so present in the force that it can easily support a dozen floating tons of rock, circulate water in an endless loop, keep the lamps lit in unearthly white, call to force users in the deepest depths of space with a luring come home, come home.

Neymar pauses at the edge, one of the railingless spaces where the hall opens into a three-meter drop back down to the first floor. 

“Come on,” Leo says. “It’s just a jump. Here.” 

He twitches his hand, catches him by the belt and pulls Neymar over the space with the force. Neymar’s eyes are wide, but Leo doesn’t sense fear. Just a pulsing excitement. Leo checks around them; so few people are out training, preferring to kit out their new quarters, take part in the long, luxurious banquet in the dining hall, one of the only times food is available in excess. Wartime it may be in the rest of the galaxy but not on the thriving center planet; despite their ascetic existence, even the jedi are blessed with foods Leo hasn't seen in over a decade.  

Neymar is unreadable, so Leo will start small. If there’s nothing there, despite Be’Karr’s kind words, then the kid will be safe.

“This is really high up,” Ney says, peering over the edge. He whistles. 

“We’ll start with a basic breathing exercise,” Leo says, catching his attention. He holds his hands out, palms down. He gestures for Neymar to put his palms up. “You try to push against me. It might be difficult to channel the force at first, so I’ll start with a gentle–”

There’s the warmth of Neymar’s palms, but it barely registers before Leo is slammed upwards into the air, the geyser of power sending him tumbling backwards over his own heels as he whips upwards. He’s only stopped in his flight by colliding with the platform a story above them, smacking into it hard, ringing his head clear like a bell. 

He tastes blood. The force against him is cheerful, bright, overwhelming, flowing through him like sunlight and powerful as a gale. Below him, Neymar has one hand outstretched, braid whipping in the sudden wind. 

Then it’s gone and Leo is plummeting back, just catching himself in time to land neatly, staggering only slightly. 

Neymar is beaming. 

“So?” he asks. 

Leo eyes him, wipes his mouth.

“Oh man,” Neymar says, smile evaporating. “Shit, sorry, here–” and then the second most surprising thing: Ney passes a thin-fingered hand over his mouth, the crown of his head, and the pain abates. 

“So,” Neymar says, leaning back. “Was that ok?” 

He looks like he already knows the answer. Leo had done something similar to Dinho, during their first meeting. Dinho had laughed, his first introduction to his master’s infectious cheer. Excellent work, padawan, he’d said, ten out of ten. Leo remembers very clearly the joy on his master's face, which is much better than whatever he's doing with his own, judging by Neymar's fading smile.

Leo manages, “Fine."

"Oh," Neymar says. "Well, Master Be'Karr was impressed.

To soften things, Leo grabs Neymar’s hand. 

“Don’t do that too much,” he says, looking at Neymar’s hand, and the stone beyond it, instead of his face. “It’ll drain your energy quickly, healing.” 

“Oh,” Ney says. “Sorry–”

“It’s fine,” Leo says again, repeating himself. He drops Neymar’s hand. “Now you know. I had to be told too."

"You're strong, too, huh?" 

Neymar looks like he swallowed the sun.

"Some say that," Leo says.

“So what now?” Ney says, flexing his fingers. He drops into what Leo supposes is a fighting stance. “Are we gonna spar?”

“I have to go to the medic,” Leo says. 

Neymar’s face falls.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Leo says.

“Right,” Neymar says. Leo bites back on his own sudden guilt.  

 “I have an appointment. I didn’t think this would take long. We can train later.” 

Leo is already halfway off the platform, springing over the space. He expects the conversation to end there, but Ney springs after him, previous nerves forgotten.

“But we’ll spar, right?”

“Yes,” Leo says, picking up his pace. “I’ll see you later.” 

On the way to the bowels of the temple, Leo’s headache returns. He feels a little lighter, but a little sadder. This absence is what drives it home, so much so that he stops dead in the middle of the third stairway. The mystery of Neymar’s seeming lack of force sensitivity.

Neymar’s force presence was so huge that it had blended into the background, so synchornymous with Leo’s that he’d accepted it. As ubiquitous as air. Leo stuffs his hands into his sleeves and tries to smash down whatever this feeling is, because the jedi aren't all that stupid: if they know Neymar is as strong as he is, they surely won't let him stay with Leo.

The medic Leo sees is not in the halls of healing, but in the dead and bleak bowels of the temple that work as ad-hoc prison cells. He drops his weapon outside the door. This was part of the requirements of his summoning. 

“You should have come earlier,” the healer says. They’re humanoid, white-eyed, fidgety. "It's freezing down here."

“There was a ceremony,” Leo says, and stubbornly lifts his chin. The healer is backed by three other jedi, one of whom Leo vaguely recognizes from back before he was exiled. They have lightsabers and armor, glinting ominously in the dull light.

“Here,” the healer says, and gestures to a stool. Leo sits down and does not help the healer undo the heavy, wrapping on his left arm, shimmering with kyber infusions and usually hidden under his long sleeves. His robes look especially dingy, a very dark blue faded from wash and wear, in contrast to the healer’s pale, faintly luminous hands. 

“Zeden,” Leo says. That’s the name of the jedi in the center of the guards, the one with the shaved head. His force presence is sharp and sour, touched with fear. 

“Leo,” Zeden mutters, after a moment. He remembers Leo, it’s clear on his face, which is warped for a short moment with hatred. 

“How are you?” Leo asks, petty. There is no response, just an increase in that sour feeling. Leo looks away first. 

The healer seems smart enough to realize the guards are out of their depth, and after a minute drops the careful unwinding and just strips the end of the wrap off his arm with a rough gesture. They’re not wrong: if Leo really wanted out of here, there’s a spare handful of other jedi in the galaxy who could stop him, and two of them are waging war in the outer rim right now. 

Really the only thing stopping him is the artefact now exposed to the light of the dungeon. It may not be him that’s putting the guards on edge, Leo reflects, as he’s had ten years to get used to the oily, hateful energy that leaks from the thing, but they’re getting the full brunt of it with no possible reference point, no familiar handle for this particular knife.

“Sith fucking hells,” the healer says, and Leo has to agree. There are two bands around his lower arm, pitch black metal scratched with faint characters that slink out of focus if you look too hard. This isn’t what the healer is looking at, however; they’re examining the raised, shiny scar that connects the two bands. 

“How?” the healer asks. The scar dead ends in slight grooves on either band, raised and bulging keloids overlapping what used to be the entry ports for a thin, glittering wire. The wire is no longer visible; the ports have swollen and healed over, so now the power source or whatever the fuck was is now entombed in Leo’s arm. 

“I thought you were the expert,” Leo says. He tries not to look at his arm. 

“I’m a mediocre scholar of Kittât,” the healer says. “And a slightly better trauma healer. I wasn't expecting a muzzling brace from Darthomir legend.""

They hover a cautious hand over the lower band, other hand fumbling for something in their pocket. It’s some kind of jewler’s louche set with cracked and faceted crystal. They pop it into one blind eye.

The artifact does not like to be under scrutiny with jedi tools. Leo feels the build up of power and grabs the healer’s wrist. The guards step forward.

“Only a little force intent,” he says. “It doesn’t like to be touched.” 

The healer waves a shaky hand at the guards. Leo’s arm goes silent. 

“Right,” they say. “I’ve masked my presence. This glass freezes the runes into a readable script, so I’ll just see what you’ve been saddled with, here. Make sure it's still functioning.”

“I can’t have it uncovered for too long,” Leo says, because even quiet, the think leaks whispers and a sluggish, weighty paranoia.  

“Oh, I don’t want it out for longer than necessary,” the healer says, with a hoarse laugh. “I knew there was a reason Windu chose me for this.”

Leo huffs.

“Not a fan?”

“He’s not a fan of me, more like,” the healer says. Their nose is missing any cartilage and blends into their skin, giving them an owlish, flat face. “You know what we usually do with Sith artefacts like this?”

Leo doesn't care, but this doesn't stop the healer. 

“We destroy them. Interacting with Sith text and language is ontologically fraught, you see. Any recognition or understanding gives it life and power. It clings a bit to the brain, finds a foothold and then starts to draw the Dark. It’s cancerous.”

“Sorry for you, then,” Leo says, though he’s not, really. The healer gives him a hard smile. 

“Oh, I’ll be fine. My connection to the force is manufactured, so I’m immune–that’s why most of my race are Sith hunters. And collectors. It's deadly to everyone else. Eventually.”

The healer goes silent, tilting their head back and forth, muttering something Leo can’t hear. They straighten up.

“At least, that’s the working theory. This is…odd.”

“Odd?”

“How long have you had this?”

“Ten years.”

“I see,” the healer says, distracted. They pop out the louche and rub the corners of their eyes. “Well. Let’s cover up the bands and look at that scar.” 

Covering the bands, even loosely, cuts the awful cold in the room. Leo sees the guards relax incrementally. 

“I saw in your file that you cut this channel yourself?” the healer asks. They’re prodding the scar with careful fingers. 

“Yes.”

“Good job. No signs of rejection, though that’s more of an issue of Sith witchcraft than bacterial resistance.”

"Are we done?"

The healer presses down, hard, on the center of Leo's scar. Leo has had this in his arm for ten years and has experienced the worst that the artefact has to offer, but it still takes him all of his available power to prevent himself from visibly recoiling.

The healer meets Leo’s eyes with that same cold smile.

“I’d ask you if you feel any discomfort, but even if you did, I can’t do anything about it. And based on the guards and the writing I saw on these cuffs, I’d say that’s kind of the point when it comes to you.” 

Leo clenches his teeth together. One of the wall sconces behind the guards snaps in half.

“That’s all for today,” the healer says, deftly backing away. “Be seeing you.” 

Leo re-wraps his arm alone, in the dark, and thinks about Neymar's hand passing moth-like over his mouth.

[starry-blue-echoes]

I was checking your AU list a little while ago, because i was bored and wanted to refresh some of them in my mind, and during that i came across a AU that has just one post and i would like to change that

Poison Of The Past (the one Fugo goes back in time) was one the first AUs i have seen when i found your blog and boy, did it got me by the throat and stayed for a while (but then i forgot it's existence times later :D)

But anyway, i really love AUs with time travel and i don't think i've ever saw one with Fugo going back in time and with his personality, his role on the original plot and the aftermath can give a very interesting AU

I have already though a lot of things that can happen in it but i would love to see your own thoughts on it (if its not to much to ask)

:DDDDD 💖💖💖💖💖💖

I’ll admit, I don’t have too many specific thoughts for how this one goes, just a small cluster of possible thoughts Rotating in the brain, y’know?

possibly playing around with the idea that the first few days Fugo’s “back” he doesn’t think it’s real. He has no reason to think the Stand was a time-traveling one, and assumes that it’s more something that messes with his perspective of reality or shows him what he desires most. He’s a little surprised Giorno isn’t here, but just chalks that up to the fact that the “hallucination” seems to be taking place before a shit went sideways and there hadn't been any time for slower, laid back moments with the blonde teen because of how quickly things spiraled out of control

as I mentioned briefly in the original post, the Bucci Gang all live together

logically Fugo knows that he should probably be trying to break the hallucination and escape but….. he just can’t bring himself to do it. He missed this. Narancia’s energy, Bucciarati’s parental affection, Abbaccio’s snark, Mista’s easy laughter, he missed all of it so badly that he doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost it a second time

the nostalgia and how much he missed his family is enough to override almost any anger he’d normally be feeling. He just. Can’t find the anger that usually sparks and he’s fine with that. He’s also way more open with them and tells them stuff he’d never dare say if he thought they were real. It’s not quite that there’s no filter, he’s just kinda using this as a way to work through everything he wished he could’ve said before Shit Hit The Fan, and a lot of it happens to have been really sappy affectionate things and other such stuff

meanwhile the rest of the gang are So Fucking Concerned. Fugo has never been this calm for this long and it’s kinda starting to freak them out because some of the stuff Fugo’s saying makes it sound like either a) he’s going to leave or die or b) they’re going to leave or die

The whole “this is real life and the past” realization probably comes to head when someone(probably Narancia) FINALLY gets Fugo angry…… only for him to immediately backpedal and almost have a panic attack because no fucking shit no no he can’t fuck this up too no no no-

So yeah. Not great. Bucciarati probably tries to calm him down, only for Fugo to vaguely spill what he thinks is going on. That this isn’t real, it’s a Stand hallucination, that they all died, that he’s responsible, how he’s fucking things up again, etc etc

I don’t think they’d draw the connection of time travel, but instead the possibility that whatever life Fugo has seen where they’d all died was the hallucination instead, which brings to head a whole SLEW of other issues because from their perspective Fugo had woken up like this a few days ago and nothing seemed wrong before that so did this all happen in a dream? Does that mean an enemy Stand User got into the house??? Has this happened before and Fugo didn’t say anything??????

fun times all around :D

Admittedly still debating when Fugo “wakes up.” Could be a few weeks before Part 5, or it could be years, I’m not really sure yet

[ss-shitstorm]

Okay okay the ratchet first fp au was equally heartrending but also perfect and thank you so much for going into so much detail to expound on my silly little fantasy, I love it! But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna poke you with one more question that’s bugged me ever since MC woke up and ratch op and bee had to catch her up on the last 30 years: they mentioned unicron and Optimus’ amnesia (which is another au you’re portraying marvelously well btw! I love shiny and new to pieces!), as well as a couple of the other tfp eps, but I don’t recall them mentioning synth-en? Like, at all? (Unless I totally missed it?) Between ratchet’s problems and op’s withdrawal, I figured that the tension between them like the scene where they fight and ratchet accuses op of being too soft to take out megatron and that’s why they lost cliff jumper, combined with MC’s unconsciousness, op’s guilt about it, and ratchet’s (partial?) blame for op putting her in that condition to start with and envy knowing he would’ve had more restraint and cared for her more in his mind (and them both missing her terribly and being lost without her), would kind of cause a boiling point between them? (Fun fact if you didn’t know it but the tfp writers had tossed around the idea of ratchet blaming op for elita one’s death instead of cliffjumper, but they had the Orion pax arc coming up and they didn’t want to add anymore characters or smth so they nixed it) So if ratchet spews about mc (and elita??) to op, does op snap too in this case? Do they actually come to blows? Does op even get mad and rise to the bait or does it just break his heart bc now ratchet is turning on him too and pointing out every mistake he’s made and ratchets never been that mean to him before and wouldn’t dream of saying any of it under normal circumstances but is so hyped up he no longer has a filter? I am reeling here at the possibilities! I am so fricken curious bc your unique individual characterizations of them as well as their mutual adoration for mc would give so many delicious untapped layers to that episode - and again you don’t have to answer this at all but I would love to hear your thoughts! :) thank you so much for your time!

(dude I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond to this AND that it's nowhere near as long as that other ask)

A : anon thank you for the praise about everything esp. shiny n new like goddamn I love that little thing so much, B : I had no idea about Elita in TFP until you mentioned that and I'm very glad they left that out bc I would absolutely have not fucking survived that my heart's in pieces just from reading that, and C :

I think they would have started fighting. As in, Ratchet, with 0 filter, would start laying it out how mad he is about what happened to you. He would blame it on Optimus, and at the time, he would feel totally justified in saying it.

-Optimus would be barely able to hold back his rage, but manages to restrain himself. Tells Ratchet he needs to go home, let that crap work through his system, and recharge before talking to him again.

-Ratchet would then suggest Optimus frag him because that tends to knock people unconscious for indefinite periods of time.

-Optimus looses it. Lunges for him, grabs him and fucking throttles him.

-And the second his servos wrap around his throat, freezes. Because he touched someone. He touched someone he cared about, and he did it with the intent to hurt them.

-He goes catatonic.

-Ratchet, slightly sobered, has to pry his servos off of him, digit by digit.

-Once he does, he leaves in a huff, runs off to punch Megatron in the face like he originally intended.

-But not before ducking out of sight and having the quickest, filthiest guilty-wank of his life. Doesn’t matter how mad you are. Angrier-than-god-Optimus touching you will make you cream your jeans, and marching through deception territory with a spontaneous overload looming on the horizon probably isn’t a great strategy.

-Once he gets the shit kicked out of him and finally sobers up, and realizes that entire exchange not only happened, but happened in front of Bumblebee, he decides this was, in fact, the second worst thing he’s ever fucking done. He calculates the damage done to his filters, finds that the synth-en was mostly processed by other organs, chugs the rough hi-grade equivalent of 2 handles of bourbon, and blacks out for 72 hours straight.

-Neither of them ever speak about it again.

-To each other.

-They both tell you at different times after you’ve woken up

-shock, sadness, understanding, and reason no# 234382643 for feeling guilty about coma time.jpg.

-you bring it up to Bee eventually after a loooooong-ass time.

-He’s just like “wow that sucked but I figured it was par for the course having two(2) reincarnated gods and the universe’s most overpowered 3rd wheel as a family.”

-Thank you for putting things into perspective Baybee boy.

-Reader eventually relays this to both of them.

-Everyone feels marginally less shitty.

[77angelnumbers77]

more asks!! 4 and 17 >:3c

Sorry for taking so long to reply!! I got busy 😭

4. What was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

I'm really a block first, ask questions later kind of person to just avoid long-term conflict and to curate my space. I guess on my last account, I did end up blocking some of my mutuals just because I needed a fresh start . . . even if I didn't really use the account after that.

Let's see . . . I'm willing to tolerate basically anything in moderation, short of bigotry and weird thirst stuff. I've blocked a lot of people who show up in my for you page just for posting x reader fanfiction. Not my cup of tea. I know that's weird for someone who spends so much time writing in the second person, but when that second person is supposed to be me that's harder -- and on top of that, I don't particularly want to fuck the Spiderverse guy.

Tags, on the other hand? I blocked dozens of them on my old account. I don't watch much of anything, so I typically block shows and movies when they start trending.

Sometimes a mutual will start posting a bunch of characters from a show/book/whatever that I can't see myself getting into. Sometimes it's just thirst for some particular guy, or really weird discourse that I'm getting on my feed for some reason. Into the tag filter!

I know it's not very tumblr-y of me, but I have different accounts for my different interests because I don't want to subject my mutuals to random guy/gal thirst™️from fandoms they're not in.

I have my first account from a good number of years ago that is effectively dead. I just spammed there. Hardly any original content.

I have my rarepair account which I use to exclusively talk about my favorite pairing from another franchise.

I had a more personal account for essays and such that I've since deleted. Frankly, I've always been a pretty private person, so I tend to keep these accounts to their defined subject and not crosspost. They're not even sideblogs 😭if I got into sideblogs we'd be here all day.

17. There should be more of this type of fic/art

VrisRezi meteorstuck

Sburb/Sgrub never happened AU (one of my favorite tropes because of the potential for angst)

I will always be so into well-done AUs. Worldbuilding is my best friend. I once read this fic with this amazing premise. It was more or less middle ages on Alternia with all sorts of details on how everything worked -- from the trolls and their physiology, to the human servants, to affairs around the castle. It's from an orphan account and the fic never went beyond 5(?) chapters. Every day I think about all the beautifully thought out fics that will never be completed. A well done fantasy AU is a real treat.

Bonus controversial take: in my opinion, we need less Humanstuck AU. It just takes a lot of the joy out for me! I used to be an avid Humanstuck writer myself, actually. I just think it's difficult to translate the trolls into understandable human characters without:

Changing them entirely or

Making them completely unsympathetic

Nothing against Humanstuck, I just think it's more fulfilling to flesh out Alternia.

[shinelikethunder]

I posted 1,893 times in 2022

That's 350 more posts than 2021!

221 posts created (12%)

1,672 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@shinelikethunder

@cuntugolino

@deadpanwalking

@amarguerite

@calvinandhobbes

I tagged 1,705 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#supernatural - 307 posts

#hannibal - 236 posts

#fanart - 84 posts

#hannigram - 71 posts

#sandman - 70 posts

#twin peaks - 62 posts

#hellsite (affectionate) - 54 posts

#art - 50 posts

#will graham - 48 posts

#laugh rule - 47 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#'average meme dies in six weeks' factoid actualy just statistical error. average meme dies in 1 week. spiders georg‚ who lives forever on tu

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

very invested in the Hannibal s4 that only exists in my head where

okay

you know how season 3a is "hannibal tries to live without will" and season 3b is "will tries to live without hannibal" and they both fail miserably

i want a season 4a that's "will tries to go full murder husbands for hannibal" and a season 4b that's "hannibal tries to lay off the gratuitous murdering for will" and it somehow goes even worse

1,242 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

#4

bold of SPN to not only give us a peek into both main characters' sex lives, but to make it a canonical characterization beat that the toughguy-projecting wannabe womanizer is a sweet earnest bottom in the sack and the babygirl-coded wannabe normie fucks like the world's kinkiest freight train

1,652 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#3

i've been going on archaeological expeditions into the depths of the SPN tags on AO3, and tonight i got drop-kicked into an out-of-body experience so cursed that it'd require LAYERS of explanations to convey to a civilian how fucking funny it was:

unfortunately, SPN fandom is as enamored of mundane AUs as every other goddamn fandom seems to be these days

noted gay angel Castiel is, as you may have heard, a celestial entity possessing some poor guy named Jimmy Novak

apparently standard practice when mundane-AUing Castiel is to just give him the surname of the guy he bodysnatched?

and since SPN angels are all referred to as siblings (and are, of course, highly normal about that) it seems pretty common to just slap the same name onto other humanverse'd angels too

in the middle seasons one of Castiel's endless procession of dickwad angelic bosses is named Naomi

now you gotta bear in mind that i was not thinking about ANY of this. my brain had to backfill it. while reeling after almost blacking out when i scrolled past this character tag:

me, sitting there with my soul about to vacate the premises, thinking this fic is doing something WAY more interestingly cursed than it really is: listen man. listen. just because it's possible to reductively summarize the origins of AO3 as "Naomi Novik wanted a site she knew would never take down her Wincest fic" doesn't mean you gotta--

2,093 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

#2

seriously though, it's incredible how much of my "maybe titties again?" goodwill tumblr torched in 30 seconds through obnoxious UX alone:

i am browsing around in the android app. i see a post about disabling some new content filter. this is the first I've heard of it, even though my version of the app does turn out to have it - they put it in place before adding any mechanism to let me know it's there. strike one.

i go to settings > dashboard, the place where all the settings about what you do and don't see are supposed to live. no sign of it.

i go back to the settings menu. squint at it. see an unremarkable entry near the bottom called "Content you see" that isn't highlighted or marked as new in any way (even though i can't even visit anyone's blog anymore without having to actively tap past an FYI tooltip that can't be turned off, every single time, shilling weeks-old gift features that I've already used)

...oh, that's where my custom tag and keyword filters went. no prior indication they'd even been moved!

i have a lot of filters set up. like. a LOT. i now have to scroll past every single one of them, tag AND keyword, uncollapsed and unabridged, just to see whether there's another setting hiding underneath. on mobile! even the desktop site is more polite than this, jesus

just to recap so far: the only reason i even know to look is that i saw a random post about new content settings, and i would never have bothered with all that scrolling if i weren't crusty and paranoid about sites that hide vital settings in the depths of Menu Hell. i mean, that'd be crazy, right? surely listing all those filters with no collapse is a signal there's nothing worthwhile underneath them.

oh no wait, there they are!

it's not just one toggle, it's FOUR new settings!

all of them are set to "hide everything and never even let me know it was there"

even though there is a "blur" option that would've let me know that stuff was being hidden from me without actually showing it

even though i have, in the past, gone into every iteration of the adult content settings that tumblr has ever rolled out and affirmatively ordered it to show me the titties

THEY ARE NOT TOGGLES. EACH ONE OPENS A SEPARATE MENU SCREEN. every single one of the FOUR new settings needs like 3+ taps in the android app just to put it back to normal.

does turning on the catchall "mature content" setting cause the three more specific ones to default to "show" and let me pick restrictions as needed like a goddamn adult? NOPE, i have to go into the stupid little menu for every single one

it's almost like you didn't want me to find them and, having found them, wanted to make me pay as high an annoyance tax as possible to opt out of being nannied

the dashboard banner that eventually shows up, btw, says nothing about having been voluntold for additional filtering, and also just dumps you out in the general settings menu and leaves you to fend for yourself, with no indication of where this shit is hidden or what "this shit" even is. and that's downright friendly next to the link in the announcement post that's apparently been kicking people out of the app and onto web.

this is not how you get a rightfully mistrustful userbase to be optimistic about putting scarlet letters on their own posts. this is not how you convince anyone that it's just a courtesy, not a scarlet letter, or that it won't be used to punish and stigmatize you the instant the wind shifts direction.

in the most practical here-and-now terms, this is also not how you get people to USE the new content warnings on their posts! artists, especially, are hardly gonna jump to flag anything as mature if it means every single one of their followers - regardless of age, previous adult content settings, or whether they're in Apple's walled garden or not - has just been silently opted out of ever knowing it was there. (this goes double if it requires more than one sentence to explain how to reverse it. which this new setting seems almost deliberately designed to do.)

look, i want the titties back, okay? i would be delighted if this turned out to be the first step towards bringing them back. i know Tumblr is under duress from Apple that affects how they can do whatever they're doing here. but the way it's being rolled out sucks needless ass, and if they wanted my hope and trust, well, those are easier to muster up when I'm not going in grouchy about the frustrating UX of an app that's just taken hostile action against my prior explicitly-affirmed preferences.

2,103 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hey you wanna see something beautiful? this is Elsevier's wikipedia page. the actual contents are even more brutal.

make enough sworn enemies out of academics, open access advocates, and freedom of information activists, and one natural consequence is: your wikipedia page will never again be a place of cozy low-profile positivity where you can drop "about us" copy directly from marketing and expect no one to care enough to challenge it

6,727 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[abeautifulblog]

here, have the opening scene of the aforementioned original-fiction monster-hunter-with-selective-mutism story:

*

It wasn't reassuring when Jack pulled out his phone to call his psychic, and found that she'd texted him forty minutes ago with a message that read, apropos of nothing, Think twice before accepting this one.

That bad? he sent back.

She must have had her phone in her hand, because not ten seconds later it came back with her reply: Or that good! :) Followed almost immediately with, Call me.

Just tell me whether I should take the job.

There was a longer pause before the phone buzzed again. I'm not a charity, Jack. Call me.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, then gave in and called her number. The phone gave a ring that cut off with a hiccup, then an automated voice cut in with the usual spiel, Completing this call may incur additional charges. If you would like to—

Yes, he would like to continue. Yes, he'll press one.

It resumed ringing, and a few seconds later Fischer picked up.

“Howdy, Jack,” she said—too jauntily, given that she knew he was only calling under duress.

There was a beat, the space in which he should have replied, and the dead air on the phone sounded pointed. He sighed, and took the phone away from his ear so he could put the call on speaker and swipe out a message.

Hi, he texted. A few moments later a chime filtered through the earpiece as her phone received it.

“Oh, so that's how it's going to be?” she asked.

I called. Do I take the job or not?

“And what if I said I won't tell you anything unless you talk to me?”

I'll hang up and flip a coin. I'm not in the mood.

“Alright, alright,” she said, placating, as if he were the one bullying her and not the other way around. “Though flipping a coin might be as good a way as any to make this decision.”

Wow, I sure am glad I decided to pay for your opinion first.

Fischer laughed. “Goddamn, friend, you're in a bitchy mood today, aren't you?”

For good reason, but he wasn't up to explaining the whole saga via text.

I ain't paying three bucks a minute to listen to you laugh at me.

I could call my momma and get that for free.

Tell me something specific or I'm hanging up.

Fischer stopped laughing, mercifully, and cleared her throat. “Regarding your employment in the immediate future: unforeseen complications,” she announced, like she was reading it off a weather forecast. “This job you're thinking of taking on—I can tell you it’s going to get messy, and it's either going to turn out real good, or real, real bad.”

How bad is real bad? he asked.

“That you're not coming back from it.”

Yeah, that was about as bad as they came.

And how good is real good?

“The Magician. Nothing less, nothing in between.”

Creation and inspiration. The manifestation of one's desires. Infinite possibility. Although he had to say, it was slightly worrying that whatever she'd sensed in the currents had led her to do a reading forty minutes before he'd even heard the job offer.

“What's the job?” she asked when he was silent.

He sighed, then laboriously tapped out: Some couple got their kid stolen by the fae. It was their own damn fault, but they want to hire me to get him back. I'd say no, but with Midwinter coming up there's no better time to try.

“You'd say no anyway. Why are you even considering it?”

Yeah, she knew him too well.

Because they're offering me twenty five grand for it.

She hummed thoughtfully “Well. I can tell you that whatever your Magician is, it isn't money.”

So does that mean I get 25k AND all my desires made manifest?

“Could be, assuming you don't die.”

Okay. So how do I not fuck it up?

She hesitated. “I’m sorry, Jack, but I don't think it's up to you. The tipping point—the decision that's going to determine whether you succeed or fail—it's someone else’s choice, not yours.”

Well, christ, wasn't that just what he wanted to hear. Jack scrunched up his face and scrubbed a hand over tired eyes. The call log kicked up another minute.

What would you do? he asked at last.

“Oh, I love it when people ask me for advice they're not going to take. I, personally, wouldn't do it, because I'm risk-averse and would rather run a psychic hotline than get into half the trouble you do. You, on the other hand, are a crazy motherfucker whose idea of a good time is jumping out of perfectly functional airplanes.”

He could correct her, but it wasn't worth it.

Alright, then what would you tell ME to do?

“Go for it. I'm curious to see what your Magician is.”

He snorted. And if I don't roll sevens?

“I'll send your momma flowers.”

Pretty sure she'd rather have gin, he shot back, and then hung up before the call could rack up another three bucks.

[clockworkcourier]

König shows up long after lights-out, a thermos in one hand and a flimsy cardboard box slowly getting crushed in the other. He has to duck under the top of the doorway, slipping into the infirmary and taking in the smell of copper and antiseptic.

Adler's sitting at her desk, face half-lit in washed-out white, dark circles prominent and ghoulish under her eyes. She looks up, and her exhaustion is briefly chased by something bright and warm. "Hey," she says.

"Busy?"

"I probably shouldn't be," she replies, giving a throwaway gesture toward the chair opposite of her, which he takes. "Give me an excuse to call it quits for the night."

König grins under his hood and holds up his offerings. "Glühwein and pastries?"

Adler gives him a faux-scandalized look. "Herr Operator, are you consuming alcohol on company premises?"

"It's KorTac tradition," he replies, sagely.

"I knew I adored you for a reason," she says, immediately pulling two coffee mugs and a handful of napkins out from a drawer in her desk. "Honestly, I was afraid you were going to say it was hot chocolate."

He pushes the thermos across the desk to her, then busies himself trying to reconstitute the box's original shape. Fortunately, the pastries survived relatively unscathed, aside from smears of jelly and chocolate on the roof of the box. He gives her the biggest piece of Streuselkuchen, knowing there's no way she can say no to it. In turn, he helps himself to a lopsided strudel. Adler—bless her—pours generously into each mug. Once everything's doled out appropriately, she gently taps her mug against him with a quiet, "Prost," which he returns.

He lifts the bottom part of his hood up to the arch of his nose in order to drink. If they weren't on base, he wouldn't bother with it around her. They've known each other for years now, and she's never balked at his scars. But there's far too much risk of another operator (or Doctor Nick) coming into the infirmary for any number of reasons.

Adler practically sinks into her drink, visibly relaxing in her chair and sipping it like she's rationing it out to herself. "Ohhh, you're the best," she murmurs. "You can smuggle alcohol in here whenever you want. I won't say a word to Hutch."

"That's what I thought you'd say," he replies, setting his mug down for a moment to help himself to his strudel. "You seemed, ah, stressed."

"More than usual?"

"Mhmm."

He catches it—that half-second flicker in her eyes that lets him know he's hit the mark with sniper accuracy. She doesn't say anything right away, and he knows better than to press it. Adler's like a cat in more ways than one, including her reaction to coaxing.

Two more sips of her drink and one bite of her cake, then, "What do you think of the new helicopter pilot?"

König blinks, taking another drink while considering who she's talking about. The new pilot has a very plain name—Schneider or Schiller or Schmidt—and a German accent wrapped finely around his English. König's so used to German, Austrian, and Swiss soldiers filtering in and out of PMCs that he didn't pay the new pilot much mind when he first heard him. Clearly, Adler's opinion is different. "I don't know," he finally says, honestly. "I hardly noticed him."

She nods, reaching up to crumble a piece of cake between her thumb and forefinger until it falls as dust onto her napkin. "Herr Schmidt," she says, like it's a punchline to a joke. "Paul Schmidt, to be specific. No callsign or nickname. Two incredibly common names that would never draw suspicion.."

He catches on. "You know him?"

"I do."

"Where's he from?"

"The KSK," she says, then shrugs. "Was from the KSK. Not anymore."

König's brow furrows, even though he knows she can't see it. "He left the KSK?" he asks.

"No." That confirms one suspicion. "He was ejected."

"Fuck," König says under his breath. People don't get kicked out of the Kommando Spezialkräfte unless it's under dire circumstances—truly awful behavior or war crimes even the Bundeswehr can't sweep away. "What did he do?"

He sees Adler's hands tighten on her mug, knuckles briefly going bone-white before she frowns and relaxes her grip. "I don't know," she says. "I heard so many rumors after it happened. That he detonated an explosive in a populated area. That he killed another KSK operative. That..." She swallows hard, and König thinks she's known the truth all along. "That he knowingly killed civilians."

Silence floats between them, like something perched and leering. Then, König asks, "Who is he?"

Adler gives a short, terse, fucking bitter laugh. "Depends on who you ask. He has so many aliases that I don't think there's a real person under all that," she replies. "Josef Doss, Sebastian Krueger, now Paul Schmidt. Who knows who he'll be in a month?"

König nods, and at the same time, he can see threads of a backstory fraying at the edges of her narrative. The bitterness, the black rage threatening to cut through her composed exterior. He then thinks of how close Doctor Nick's been to her lately, how this is the first day he's seen Adler without him at her side. Doctor Nick undoubtedly knows this, knows what's afflicting his wife's psyche, knows what this helicopter pilot's done.

There's no easy way to ask for the answer at the root of all this. Instead, quietly—gently—König asks, "Which one did you know?"

"I knew Sebastian Krueger," she replies. The bitterness slides into a saline melancholy—one that she immediately chases with a fortifying drink. "I don't know him anymore."

[thousandyearoldtechnomancer]

Whumptober Day 2 - Nowhere to Run

Prompt: Caged

Rated: Mature

Warnings: Abuse, abusive parent, child abuse, blood, violence

Word count: 1551

Summary: Eli, a mage-born Technomancer, is punished by his uncle for practicing magic. His cousin Primo eventually comes to his rescue.

Chapter 1 in Sacromancer, my original fiction for whumptober 2022

@whumptober-archive

Chapter 1

My toes have gone numb from the way I'm seated and the cold air filtering in from outside, by the time the keys come jingling in Primo's hands. The door of the shack creaks open and the faintest of glows spills through the wooden planks of the storage bench onto the hay and guano caked under my feet.

'Took you a while,' I croak in between two shallow breaths. The way I'm folded, with my shoulders pressed against my knees and my face twisted to face the right, there's only so much air I can draw in at once.

Primo doesn't answer. He busies himself with extracting the two nails my uncle hammered in shallowly a few hours ago to close the storage bench around me. The wood moans and whines around the iron as Primo methodically works on the first nail, wriggling it from left to right until it pulls free. Then, he starts on the second.

'Oh fuck,' he curses, and I hear the hammer being thrown onto the soil with anger. The hens huddled on the opposite corner of the coop jolt awake and squawk, half alarmed and half still asleep. 'It’s stuck.'

'I got time,' I reply, then draw in another short breath. 'Pliers, hanging on the door.'

The hens have recognized Primo and rustle around quietly to find another place to sleep. The hay shuffles under Primo’s feet as he gets up, takes the pliers from the door and sits down again. The storage bench rattles around me, the wood creaks a bit more. It’s an established ritual, by now: I do some magic, I get found out, my uncle beats me up and locks me in here. A few hours later, someone comes to get me: sometimes it’s Primo, more often Lisette. I don’t recall the first time I was put into the dog cage, but I do remember I had a lot more space to move around back then. And I have a very vivid memory of when the fake storage bench was built around it. My uncle sold it to me as an extra layer of protection, a place to hide should the White Cloaks deign to visit our shack. It made for a wonderful excuse to take away even the light.

Finally, Primo removes the square plank that closes my hideout and sets it aside. After the time in here, it takes me a bit to adjust to the light. I look at him between the eyelashes of my right eye, the one which still opens. He stares back and lets out a whistle.

'Good god, Eli.'

I grin, and the crust on my lower lip cracks open and starts bleeding again. 'I know,' I say. 'It's bad. Your father...' I stop to take a breath, and Primo finishes for me.

'You really pissed him off this time.'

And all the times before, I think, but I don't speak, and I focus on catching my breath instead. The trick not to go crazy when I’m caged and inside the storage bench is to inhale and exhale evenly, to concentrate on the present moment and to want for nothing but the little space I’m given. The closer I get to being freed, the more difficult it is to keep calm. The more impossible it becomes to ignore the burning ache in my muscles and bones. 

Primo starts unlocking the dog cage I'm trapped in. He inserts one of a bunch of keys in the padlock, sighs as the lock doesn't give, extracts the key and tries another one. I look at his face, at the first proper beard grazing his cheeks, at the databulb pendant hanging from his neck. That's where the light is coming from: an old incandescent lightbulb soldered to a first-generation heart monitor sensor, glowing just because data, as information, is being fed to it. It's one of the neatest, most practical pieces of magic I've worked on so far, and I'm particularly proud of it. As I direct my thoughts to the pendant, the light shines brighter.

'He still hasn't beaten the magic out of you, it seems,' Primo says, swinging the cage door open.

I smirk again; ‘Well, he can’t.’ Blood drips from my lips onto my chin. 'That's not how it works.'

I have so little space inside this cage, that I cannot move enough to get out of it myself. It was my uncle who pushed me in earlier today, and now I must wait for my cousin to pull me free.

'Anything broken?' Primo asks.

'Don't think so,' I answer. He grabs me with one hand under my right armpit, and one under my right knee, and gently pulls me about a dozen centimeters out. Then, he pushes his arm further to take hold of both knees, takes a step back and slides me free of the cage and the storage bench.

I can't help whimpering and whining as Primo helps me lean with my back against a wall, and stretch my legs flat onto the dirty hay. I lie there for a few minutes, face swollen, feeling feverish with pain, shivering slightly as blood rushes back into those limbs that had fallen asleep. Through the slit between my right eye's eyelids, I see Primo stand up again, open the door just about enough to look outside, then close it. He fidgets with the strap of the shoulder bag he's wearing, then rummages through it to extract an old thermos from it. He crouches down by my side and offers it to me.

'Can you stand?', he asks.

I take the thermos with trembling hands, close my left fingers on the top and put whichever strenght I have left into unscrewing it. The thermos lid doesn't budge. I shake my head and give the thermos back to Primo so he can open it for me. 'You need to give me more time,' I say. 'I was in here for so long.'

Primo screws the thermos open and pours in its lid what smells like chicken broth. He leans closer to put it in my hands, making sure I can hold it and lift it to my lips before he lets go.

'I'm sorry I didn't come earlier,' he says as I take the first heavenly sip of warm soup. I shrug and keep drinking. It’s really no biggie. Primo grimaces: 'Today's been, uh... hectic. Stuff has happened.'

I extend my arm towards him and nod at the empty thermos lid in my hand. 'Can I have more?'

Primo pours in the rest of the soup, then places the empty bottom of the thermos on the ground, nestling it into a spot of thicker hay so that it stays upright. I keep my eyes on the thermos as I sip the second serving of broth, and watch it being pushed up by the hay slowly bouncing back. Primo is rummaging again inside his shoulder bag, and all sorts of rattling noises come from it: metal against plastic, plastic against wood, the thud of something hard wrapped in fabric. Finally, he extracts an apple and a paring knife. He cuts the apple in quarters, then halves one of the slices, then cuts it again in a piece not bigger than the tip of my thumb, and offers it to me. 

I down the last of the soup in one gulp, set the lid on top of the storage bench on my left, and grab the piece of fruit. The morsel is small enough that I can slide it between swollen lips without opening my mouth too much, and it requires only minimal chewing.

'Thanks,' I tell Primo as I take the next piece he's offering. The way my hands are still trembling, I'd have to wait a few hours before I'd be able to cut the apple myself.

He slices another piece, then waits for me to be done munching, biting his lower lip. His gaze keeps jumping between me, the apple, the door, me again, the floor. I want to ask what's wrong, but he speaks first.

'Eli, stuff is... I-I just dunno how to say it.' He shakes his head, looks at the apple once more, then lifts his eyes to stare at me. 'The White Cloaks. They’re here. They’re looking for you.'

My mouth falls open. I stare back, the morsel of apple between my fingers halfway through towards my face.

'Someone said something, and they've taken my dad. He's not given them anything, but someone else...' Primo breaks eye contact and shakes his head again, brows furrowed, eyes to the floor. 'Someone else will talk, eventually, and...'

I don't let him finish. 'But why me?,' I ask, as if I didn't know the answer. There’s a million better questions on the tip of my tongue: is Lisette okay? Will your dad be alright? Will you? I knew being found was a possibility - I’ve been preparing for it. But now that it’s time, it seems I have only stupid things to say. 'What have I done?' 

Primo looks back at me with bleary eyes and a pained frown. He doesn’t open his mouth, but I can read his silent plea all across his face: don't make this more difficult than it has to be.