#there are shorter versions too;; i find it quite difficult to find one that would match what im searching for rn

[viijaya]

[rooftopbeliver]

‘dangerously yours’ .ೃ࿐ ❝masquerade❞

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° cillian murphy x f! reader

. . .

AFTER A FEW WEEKS, everything on set was done. these weeks were very exhausting because all she was doing for a few days was searching with her assistant for the most vintage and breathtaking hotel that could exist. the first episode they were about to make was also the first episode in the original broadcast that was called ‘masquerade’. the whole action takes place in a hotel, so they needed to find the perfect one. it was a hard decision to make because all the places were booked or too expensive to rent. but after visiting a lot of old hotels, she found the most luminous one.

it was a hotel on the outskirts of a small city, which was very atmospheric because it felt like she was really in an old city. she knew that it wasn’t the last time she would have to search for a location like this because every episode would have a different plot, etc., but she liked it. she wanted everything to be like it was in her teenage head. you could tell that she was enjoying putting all that effort into that project by seeing a big smile on her face all the time. she knew that maybe people would hate this series, but she didn’t care; she was doing it mostly for herself.

the ‘masquerade’ episode was a story about the beautiful but tragic love between rudolph & catherine. it was beautifully written, full of amazing quotes, and even more amazing characters. but in broadcast, they showed a shorter version of a tale, so it was quite difficult to do this on the movie set. she wanted to do it in an old-fashioned style; she was inspired by theater performances, and she loved this overplayed expression.

. . .

these days she also spent talking with the cast to get to know them better. she wanted everyone to feel comfortable with each other because they were going to spend time together for a year or longer. y/n got to like all of her teammates, but she liked cillian the most. maybe it was cliché, but she was his fan for eight years, and now she had him in her production, so it was obvious that he got her attention the most. she was mesmerized by his charisma and charm. he was a good listener who preferred listening to her talk about her story or this project than talking about himself. he was very fascinated by her investment and her knowledge about everything that they needed for their roles. he had been an actor for a long time, but it was the first time he met a young soul who was that professional and helpful in this career. she was doing everything by herself, with a little help from her assistant. cillian was ambitious, but he would never be able to do this many things at once, and she doesn’t look tired at all.

now he was sitting on the couch in the hotel hallway, rereading the script just in case. he saw y/n coming toward him with a smile on her face; she was in catherine’s white dress, looking just like women in 20s. if you ask cillian, he thought that she was perfect for this role.

“you like this place?” she sat next to him and admired how good he looked in this kind of suit.

“yes, it is gorgeous; you can feel like you are stepping back in time when you are here.” he smiled at her. he was being honest with her, he found not only this hotel but also the city beautiful; he has always been a fan of small towns.

“i’m happy you like it; i’m in love with this hotel; it’s just as i imagined it while listening to this.”

“and you look just as i imagined catherine, classy and beautiful,” cillian said confidently. she blushed and said a polite ‘thank you’.

“you are perfect-looking too, mister.” she felt good doing a bit of flirting with him because she excused herself by saying that it was only preparation for the roles.

“see you on set, darling,” cillian said, standing up from the couch and making his way to his wardrobe. maybe he will like this production even more than he thinks.

. . .

“okay, so we are ready for the first scene, in the catherine’s room. are we ready?" the director said, looking at y/n and cillian. they just nodded and smiled at each other. she smoothed her dress and sat down in the chair as cillian made his way behind the mahogany doors. it was a middle scene from broadcast, but it isn’t new that on set nothing is done chronologically.

“and action!"

cillian knocked on the door and she walked, her hips overplaying moves, just as she imagined the women in the past. she opened and smiled at him, resting her head on the door.

“madam, you have made a mistake. my name is not lougi. i’ve not seen you or these jewels before,” he said, changing his accent to something more american, at this moment, y/n knew she made the right decision by putting him into this role.

“i know. won’t you come in, count estefan?” she smiled sweetly. she also sounds a little differently than when she speaks normally.

"you- you know who i am?” he said, walking into ‘her apartment’ as she closed the door.

“well of course! you were the most handsome man in dining room and i was very lonely, so i thought tonight i will have an adventure. i will make an acquaintance of the distinguished count estefan.” y/n felt like she could say those words to cillian not only in those circumstances, but in reality as well.

“how do you know my name?” he asked, surprised, raising his eyebrows.

“it was not difficult to find out” she smiled, pushing back a wisp of her hair from her face.

“how did you know i wouldn’t run off with your jewels?”

“i took that chance. besides they’re insured. are you angry?”

cillian chuckled, his laugh was prettier in real life, y/n though. “no, i’m not angry. if some kind fate wishes to send a beautiful lady to dine with me, i can only be grateful. you will do me the honor, won’t you, madam?” he said it so convincingly that people could think that he wasn’t acting.

“i shall be delighted” she said blushing.

“and cut!” the director said with a big smile, and clapped loudly. “everything is done in one take; you two are the best; if this is what it would looks like, i would be the happiest director on earth,” he laughed as an all-staff.

“it’s getting late, but it’s perfect; we can do a shooting star scene, and we are done for today,” y/n’s assistant said, as cillian nodded, agreeing with that plan.

. . .

“so. . . how do you like it so far?” y/n asked cillian, while going to the location next to the hotel, where they were going to record a next scene.

“i love it; actually, you are a great actress, so it makes it easier. really, i have never done a whole scene in one take,” he said, being surprised at how good an actress y/n is. he has never seen her in any movies, so he was skeptical about her being the main character at first, but he was more than happy to work with her.

“thank you; i’m flattered to hear this from an actor like you. my great-grandmother would be proud that someone as great as you played in her comfort show” she didn’t know why, but talking with cillian was smooth and very entertaining. he was almost twice her age, but she didn’t care about things like this, and she hoped that he didn’t either.

“well. . . i’m sure, she is happy that you play her roles, it really suits you.”

. . .

“the sky is perfect for this; we’re lucky,” adam — the director — said happily, turning the camera on again. “cillian and y/n. you two sit down right here,” he said, pointing out the vintage bench as they sat next to each other. “great. and now, cillian you put your arm around y/n shoulder; it’s a romantic scene after all.” when y/n felt cillian’s touch on her skin, she tried not to tens her muscles; she didn’t even know why she reacted like this, but she ignored it.

“and action!”

“look catherine! a shooting star! did you wish?” he asked, pointed up to the sky.

“oh. . . i didn’t have time”

“and there is something you’d wish for?” he asked curiously, looking at her.

“yes. . .”

“what did you wish?”

“i was wishing that- we were two other people. two people who need not say goodbye. . .” she said with sadness in her voice.

“perhaps it can be that way” he looked at her, squeezing her arm.

“cut!” adam ended the recording. “thank you guys so much; you were incredible. i never had people who could do scenes that fast. tomorrow is a day off, so see you in two days!” everyone started to make their way to wardrobes, but when y/n stood up from the bench, she felt cillian touch her hand. she looked at him with a smile as he asked:

“would you like to go for lunch with me tomorrow?”

“i would love to see you at two, rudolph” she chuckled. she couldn’t hide how excited she was at this moment.

. . .

taglist: @xxsp3llb0undxx

. . .

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ thank you for attention!! ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

note: it is a loong chapter but i liked it! and i hope you guys will like it too! share with your opinion, on comments or even my dm’s. it’s so important to me.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Shuichi, Kokichi & Kyoko

[in a silly convo about Kokichi]

Kai: detectives want him

Checkers: kyoko [skull emoji] detectives want him (behind bars)

Sini: Kyoko is sus of him “Yeah, she wants me….In jail”

Kai: Kyoko also finds him quite cute but in platonic way. she's like "yes, cute ittle guy, not going to touch that with a ten foot pole tho"

Fast: He's like a stray cat to her

Checkers: “Shuichi is dating him? Well, good for them. Still not going near him”

Kai: that's his boyfriend's senpai, they've agreed on a respectable truce due to both frequently being in close proximity to Shuichi i imagine Shuichi and Kyoko share a lab if we imagine HPA aus have labs mixed in. Kokichi likes hanging out with Shuichi while he works in the lab, but has agreed with Kyoko that when she comes in to work as well, Kokichi either needs to quiet down or leave

Sini: “Annoying? Yes. But I can’t go anywhere with Shuichi without him tagging along. I trust him enough” She’s like, “Damn, he quiets down just to stay with him? He must really like him….” He’ll leave if Shuichi needs time to himself

Kai: yee or of they're discussing a highly classifyed case

Checkers: He’s there to make sure Shuichi doesn’t overdose on coffee

Kai: also funfact: i like to imagine in hpa aus that Kyoko's tallent is slightly different. kinda in the same vein as how some talents are really broad topics and then there's someone with a more specific version of that topic- i think while Shuichi is the ult detective (broad topic), Kyoko is the ult homicde investigator (specific version)

Sini: YES Cause honestly, that’s how UTDP and DRS make it sound like I’m pretty sure that’s basically canon

Kai: Shuichi has a wider variety of cases he can do, but isn't as good at any specific one as Kyoko is at homicide investigation he sees her as his senpai cause she's so insanely good at that one speficic and very difficult type of case, and she has to remind him that he can do several case types she's never even touched before in her life she wouldn't even know where to begin with half of the case types he can do

Me: I mean, looks at Naegi purely physically he do be kind of her type shorter than her? check baby face? check all wrapped up (multiple layers/baggy clothes)? check silly looking creature? check actually smart? check she would not be able to stand him for long, but like, all I'm saying is she would hit it once to get it out of her system /j?(maybe)

Sini: Oh no….He’s like if Makoto was a unhinged clown- She sees Shuichi’s vision I’m sorry, she is not tapping that- She’s not going that far Unless you mean she’d actually hit him lmao

Me: it is unlikely, yeah, prolly ooc for her to just go for it like that they're both too closed off for something like that, but I was having a silly moment

[this is me, waving a flag "I'm interested in cross-game rarepairs", hello]

[jeannereames]

There is this question/idea that has always kinda fascinated me and I wanted an opinion of a historian on this.

Imagine someone wanted to makes a tv series/movie about a historical person/event/time period/..., and they wanted to make it as historically accurate as possible while still keeping it interesting and captivating enough for modern, non-historian audiances. I feel like getting the costumes, events and characters 99% historically correct can be possible. However one thing might be a lot more difficult: choosing what language(s) to use.

Do you go for

A) The actual historical languages that were used (but nobody speaks anymore today). Which would be both the hardest to implement and to reach modern audiences.

B) The modern versions of the historical languages. Which would be easier and more accessible but still a bit limiting.

C) Just do it in English. Which is the least accurate but might reach the widest audience.

Which one would you recommend and which one would you personally prefer (if these are not the same)?

Several issues face anybody writing historical novels, or making films. I’ve talked about some of these in the following posts:

Writing Historical Fiction (Well): a 5-part series that discusses the challenges and pitfalls of historical fiction. This link takes you to part 1 with subsequent parts linked within.

A shorter post on common ways to approach historicals in film (or narration).

What (I think) needs to be shown about Alexander in an documentary and/or historical film to approach realism. I talk here about some of the attendant issues especially for making a film.

 Now, to your comment about costumes and events 99% accurate…you’d face two very real hurdles:

Funding…that was possibly the #1 problem for the Netflix docudrama. They didn’t have anywhere near the funding they really needed. Just because Netflix funded it, that didn’t make it “big budget.”

Not confusing your audience with a lot of unfamiliar names and seemingly repeating events. It would require judicious “weeding.”

Oliver Stone’s Alexander did quite well, for the most part, on costuming and sets. Yet it failed for two big reasons. First, he couldn’t resist throwing in too much, and a repetitive script, even while skipping material necessary to help an audience understand why the army followed Alexander to the ends of the earth. Second, he didn’t understand the basic mindset of the ancient world, and so imposed a bunch of modern ideas and attitudes. I wrote a fairly in-depth review not long after it came out. It’s still up on my website.

As for languages…

It would be an enormous mistake to try to use ancient Greek, or rather Attic and Doric Greek, Old Persian, Aramaic, Demotic Coptic, Prakrit, eastern Akkadian … etc., etc. That’s what you’re looking at. First, finding somebody able to write a script in all those languages is impossible. No single person reads them all, even among historians. We specialize for a reason. You’d be paying multiple experts to write a script that nobody living could understand—and would take a lot of coaching for the actors even to pronounce properly. Additionally, you’d narrow your audience to those willing to put up with subtitles.

The founding-of-Rome Italian TV series Romulus used Latin. This worked only because it was one language and was marketed originally to an Italian audience. Latin isn’t Italian by a long shot, but it wasn’t wholly unfamiliar in sound. That said, it was more of an “art film” type. I (an ancient historian) quit watching it after the second episode because it was too much work, tbh. (It was also a lot bloodier than I was in the mood for, in the midst of Covid.)

But if you want to see a (good) example of what you’re suggesting, that’s one. Another, similar, is The Fast Runner, which is entirely written and performed in Inuktitut, an Alaskan language (albeit not ancient), and set in the mythical past. Despite its awards, it’s virtually unknown outside indigenous and art-film circles. I did watch all of that one (and liked it), but it was a single movie, not a series.

(Yes, I’m aware of Apocalypto, but I consider that more an example of why you don’t make a film in a language people can’t understand. It’s in Yacatec Mayan, which is actually modern. In that, it’s not unlike the Inuktitut in The Fast Runner, but the latter works better, imo.)

If you want to make a movie that will be watched and understood by non-specialist, non-art-house audiences, you will have to use English (or whatever language of the country it’s being marketed to). And you’ll need to think some about dialogue. How “archaic” do you want to get? Too much authenticity can send viewers into fits of giggles…probably not the approach one is going for. 😊

That’s why, in Dancing with the Lion, I opted to utilize fairly modern dialogue, then pepper it with a bit of Greek here and there. 1) Words easy to figure out. (“Idou!” = “Look!” as in, “Look, I know you think I’m…”.) OR 2) words difficult to render into English without it sounding silly or overly Christianized. (“Oimoi!” = “Woe!” but equivalent to “Damn!” which evokes Christian ideas.) Not every reader liked my choice, mind, but that’s why I made it.

Other writers, such as several in the newly popular “modern takes on Greek myths” employ something more akin to Mary Renault’s slightly archaizing approach. It’s also been used by Judy Tarr and Jo Graham in their historical fantasies. I like that option too, it’s just not mine.

But I wouldn’t get too complicated, or you’ll confuse (and thus lose) your audience.

But coming back to the number one hurdle to film authenticity in costumes, sets, quality actors, and crew … MONEY. To do it especially well, it doesn’t just take a commitment to authenticity, but an enormous budget. Oliver Stone’s Alexander cost 155 million dollars. I expect you could to it for less than that, but everything from good costumes to rentals of multiple sets used once (like a theatre for Philip’s murder), to horses and stunt actors, to quality CGI…to decent (if not A-list) actors, writers, historical consultants (more than just one as none of us can do it ALL)—that costs. You’ve got to be the likes of Stone to get investors to pony up for that. He started talking about making it way back in the early ‘90s, and it took him to the early 2000s to get the money.

Unfortunately, absolute authenticity is expensive in a story as far-flung as Alexander’s. It’s what a lot of the critique of the Netflix show really doesn’t get. There are still issues with it that doesn’t owe to money, but multiple compromises were made due to a lack of funds.

If you wanted to do Alexander, it might make more sense NOT to try to do it all. Do a portion of his life. See how that sells, then investors might be willing to kick in more money. Inevitably, I think showrunners want to do too much at once.

[noperopesaredope]

Jacob & Coco Across the Universe (Post-Canon Collector AU): My OCs

Due to the fact that my other Collector-centric AU is practically MADE of OCs, I decided to not make too many OCs for this particular AU (also, I’m lazy). However, I did make two to serve an important role in the story. These are the bounty hunters.

Worm:

(he/him) A hardened bounty hunter trying to capture the Collector with the help of his trusted partner, Worm is a legend amongst the intergalactic community. Despite being a magic-less mortal from a not particularly advanced planet, he has managed to cement himself as a dangerous foe, and is not to be taken lightly. He does have a small advantage that has helped him along the way: he is able to make enchanted weapons. Similar to Luz, he has no magic, but he has found ways to manipulate it, though rather than using written language, he primarily uses the spoken language of the stars. This allows him to make certain enchanted weapons, though it is a relatively difficult process, and can take a couple of hours, especially since most of them must be made of special materials. But he is nevertheless excellent at his craft.

However, the enchanted weapons aren’t exactly what makes Worm a terrifying foe. He’s just extremely skilled at figuring out exactly how to defeat his enemies. He is more of a long term planner than anything, tracking down his opponent and observing them for a period of time before deciding on the best attack strategy.

Worm is serious and reserved, with a closed off personality. He’s definitely the gruff guy who's been mostly disillusioned with the world, but he doesn’t have too tragic of a backstory, so he doesn’t angst all that much. He also keeps his word, as he finds promises to be extremely important, and it can take a lot for him to break one.

The only person who has any true sway over Worm is Lacta, and though he won’t admit it, he does care deeply for her. He almost never gets close to anyone, but she somehow managed to worm (hehe, worm) her way into his heart. They don’t have romantic feelings towards each other, but they are basically platonic soulmates.

We don’t get to know too much about him over the course of the story, especially since I don’t have too many ideas for his personality, but he’s hopefully gonna be pretty cool.

At first I was planning for him to be relatively big and buff, but then I decided against that. He’ll probably actually look like a slightly more muscular (and masculine presenting) version of Double Trouble from She-ra, but with purple skin, a very different outfit, a special pattern on his face, a different outfit, and much shorter hair. I’ll draw him and Lacta at some other time, but this is just a basic visual description for now.

Lacta:

(she/her around close friends and family, but they/them around everyone else. Gender-fluid either way) As Worm’s bounty-hunting partner and longtime (platonic) companion, Lacta knows her stuff. She may not exactly be a prodigy like him, but she is very good at her job. They prefer to take on multiple smaller bounties rather than one big one, as they are less about the planning and observing and such, and more about the “thrill” and “the chase.” She prefers to burst in ready for a brawl, and unlike Worm, she prefers it when her “prey” knows that she is after them, kinda like a wolf. They’re not evil, I promise.

They are what is called a “sub-celestial” or “mega-mortal”. Basically, they aren’t quite as powerful as a celestial, and they definitely aren’t immortal, but they are quite strong, and you don’t want to mess with one. Honestly, Titans would likely be categorized as a “mega-mortal” species. Lacta herself is a Zethspheri, a species that we gradually learn more about through subtle hints as Lacta occasionally mentions things about her species that cause her to act a certain way.

What we immediately find out about Zethspheries is that they are very difficult to hurt or kill, have an extended lifespan, and possess various magical abilities, though it is hard to determine their limits. Lacta is noted to be a particularly strong Zethspheri, with a lot more energy and endurance than most. They seem virtually unkillable, as many of their (mortal) targets have tried to end them, but they always get back up again. They can most definitely be defeated by, say, a fully grown Collector or adult celestial (though they would still put up at least a bit of a fight), and if they are battling someone with better abilities/a lot more experience than them, then Lacta will likely be defeated. However, in this case, she is facing off against a human and a very young celestial, and she has access to a few weapons capable of combating Coco, so she has an advantage over the duo.

Lacta has what seems like two sides to her personality, though they don’t have a split personality or anything. One side is the one that most people have heard of: a ruthless, determined bounty hunter who will track you down and capture you no matter what you throw at them. They enjoy chasing people down and fighting, which is why they sometimes can be seen with a slightly unhinged smile whilst “on the hunt.” She is a feral person, and almost ruthless. She has probably killed at least one person at some point. She cannot be broken by anyone, no matter what they say or do. However, though not everyone knows it, Lacta does have a strong moral compass. They are fine with capturing adults of all sorts (though they will hesitate to capture someone who is wanted dead for non-violent crimes), but they refuse to hurt children. This is partially because of their personality, and partially because of their species/culture.

The other side of their personality is a little bit like Scorpia from She-ra, but if Scorpia was the mom-friend. Lacta is surprisingly friendly and enthusiastic, and can be very gentle when she wants to be. They definitely give off chill mom vibes, and though they won’t allow their “children” to do anything too stupid, they aren’t afraid to join in a few shenanigans and be playful and fun. They absolutely adore children and are great with them.

They actually have the space equivalent of a degree in childcare, and planned to become the intergalactic equivalent of a social worker/member of CPS. Unfortunately, due to pressure from her broader community and even some on the intergalactic stage, she became a bounty-hunter instead. She does legitimately like the job, as she has choice over what jobs they want to take on, and, being a Zethspheri, they enjoy “hunting” and stuff. But the idea of working with and helping kids also deeply appeals to them.

The reason they accepted the offer to track down Coco is because they were told that Coco is a runaway kid whose family wants them to return home. But since Coco is “rebellious” and Lacta’s employers don’t want to make too much of a scene, she needs to track him down and carefully capture him without hurting him. The story was made to be realistic enough for Lacta to believe it, but she had a few small doubts in the back of her head.

Lacta looks a lot like Zethrid from Voltron, but with a different outfit and four arms instead of two. She’s also a bit more buff around the arms, and might have slightly different legs depending on my mood. But they both look very similar.

~~~~~~~~~~~

So that’s all I have to say about these two! Hope you find them at least somewhat interesting. I’m pretty sure you can guess what I might do with Lacta at the very least, but I won’t confirm anything for now until I get my full outline of the AU out!

Feel free to send me asks or whatever about these two. I’ll admit, I have a lot more to say about Lacta than I do about Worm, but I’m working to make him at least a bit more interesting. So ask away, since it might honestly help me flesh these two out more!

[tacit-semantics]

Crochet shadow infodump under the cut I cannot promise that it will be coherent but I can attest to overenthusiasm, which is just as well I think

Sooo I’ve basically figured out how I want to finish off the head, and am currently working towards that- the base was super simple, just your average sphere. I think I increased up to 42 though I’m not entirely sure it very well could’ve been 36 and I very much should’ve written this down but hindsight etc. anyways from there I had to figure out how to do the nose. I’ve been working from his boom model because it’s a) 3D and b) I do like the designs for that show they’re nice and also easy to find and reference. I also googled shadow plush to see how other people interpreted him in plush form which is a super helpful trick by the way if you ever want to make your own amigurumi patterns.

Anyways, the nose/mouth area. This got a little difficult because I couldn’t figure out how far I wanted the nose to extend at first- an actual hedgehog nose goes out much farther, of course, but the models seemed to stick largely to a stylized version that effectively kept the actual length of the nose very close to the rest of the face. That said I wanted there to be SOME variation in the length at least- as in, while embroidering the nose directly onto a muzzle-type piece as I might for a dog or bear plush would WORK, it’s not exactly the look I was going for- so I did some screwing around with HDC DC TC DC HDC in sequence to sort of have it jut out a bit. It’s amigurumi, so small hook for relatively thicker yarn, which means I didn’t have to do any other rows to even it out. Now the most annoying thing is that I made the rest of that piece by chaining and then working circular around that, which means one side is slightly more rounded than the other to which I have to say: whoops.

The eyes good LORD the eyes. On the model they’re connected at the white part that I can’t remember the name of right now, and I wanted to keep that- one big, backing piece that I am just now realizing I forgot to do the eyelid-eyeshadow thing on before sewing it on. Fuck. Might try to do some surface SC to fix that, but I’ve done eyeshadow-type thing before and I usually work in the back loops of the eye piece. Regardless, where there’s a will etc. so moving on: from there I just made smaller circular pieces for the iris and embroidered on top of those, and I’ll sew em to the back eye piece when I get there. Nothing too exciting. I made the backing piece by making to ovalish pieces (crocheted around a chain again) and then using a tail to connect them with some of the worst shaping techniques the world has ever seen, the (many) mistakes of which I proceeded to cover up with the mouth/nose. This is a metaphor for American politics. Godspeed.

Bad jokes aside: the spikes. Flat triangular pieces done in one color, another flat triangular piece made slightly shorter and sewn to the back, and then the both of them joined to the head, the difference in length allowing them to slope. I haven’t quite figured out the ratio on these yet, and it might come at the cost of a spike or two but the process works and because of that I can screw with it a bit to get the results I want.

Anyways, I might do more once I make the body. Depends. As always, if you’re curious or have any questions PLEASE ask please I love talking about my work

[mitamicah]

Spoilers from both Trollhunters the book and Trollhunters the series!

While reading the book I was really impressed with how many differences there were between the character so I have worked on giving my take on six characters from both media, book vs series, and how they differ from each other :3 

I should mention that while there was illustrations in the book I tried for the challenge not to copy those but follow along the describtions in the book - when possible - to give my own interpretation of the characters ^v^ 

Steve

First up we have Steve. Starting out as the stereotypical bully in both version their paths seperates quickly resulting in two different ending for the musuclar blond Jorgensen-Warner is the book version of Steve. Here's how he is described from our first encounter with him: "He was handsome but in the oddest way- He eyes were too small and his nose piggish: he had a ridiculous amount of hair and a couple of teeth that looked like fangs. Yet somehow in combination these features were sort of mesmerising. His unnatural muscular bulk and odd way of speaking -crisply, politely, as if he were a foreign student who had learned English in class - completed the strange package." page 21-22 For his outfit I went with the description of him on page 224 "[my clothes] ... didn't cast me in the best light when compared to Steve Jorgensen-Warner, who looked rather rakish in blue jeans and a shirt - definitely not a blouse - opened to the third button. He dribbled the ball casually with his left hand." The bold passages is added by me   This Steve is later revealed to be a changeling aka a troll   Before we go on: can any of you explain to me what a "ridiculous amount of hair" even means :'D? I had a lot of trouble with this prompt because isn't this so darn subjective :'D? and the official art look way less ridiculous than I'd figure it'll be :'D x'D Palchuk is the series version of Steve. His facial appearance being way less specific (I'd say he has normal sized eyes, a big roman nose and some more or less normal teeth) and his way of speaking is definitely not polite. Like book Steve, this Steve starts out with pushing smaller guys into lockerrooms yet after that he becomes way less of a terrifying bully and much more of a silly goose who brings a lot of the comic relief in my opinion Douxie says it best in Wizards when he calls Steve the "village idiot" x'D I do not recall seeing Steve being that sporty in the show, he is much more interested in becoming homecoming king  no basketballs around x'D While book Steve is revealed to be the enemy (a troll) series Steve joins the "good guys" creating the creepslayerz with the character Eli Pepperjack

Blinky

Blinky is just called Blinky in the book  Here's a bit of description of him "The third [troll] had scarlet eyes, eight of them on long stems. (...) The thing from my house glided toward me with a surprising grace for something with an indetermined number of legs, all of which were hidden behind a patched kilt scaled with layers of medals, prizes and trophies and award ribbons. An incalculable tangle of tentacles twined around one another as if dying to squeese something to death. As it passed the oven, the firelight revealed olive-green skin, reptilian texture, and lacquer of slime lubricating its undulating appendages Its moth a horizontal gash.. " The bold passages is added by me   So yeah this Blinky is quite something :'D I stopped caring to draw tentacles after a while but overall this was silly but fun to draw  since his teeth later is described as big as traffic cones I believe he must be very tall :'D Also he's close to blind   Has a bit of a dirty mouth but in a very "read" way if it makes sense :'D cannot seem to stop calling Jim dimwitted and tiny and Tobias big :'D Blinky's full name in the series is Blinkus Galadrigal  he has six eyes instead of eight and they are all working just fine, thank you very much x'D His tons of tentacles and legs has been replaced by four arms and two legs and while he is still olive-green he is now made of tone like texture just like the other trolls  the kilt turned into shorts and he is quite a bit smaller now not even as tall as Jim  He still has this very academic way of speaking yet he is way nicer to Jim calling him "Master Jim" instead of "the short one" x'D

ARRRGH!!!

Book ARRGHHH!!!s full name is Johannah Mmmm ARRRGH!!! and she is a pretty big deal warrior among the trolls in the book - she's so badass in fact Blinky has decided to call her by her last name to honor her for her deeds for trollkind   Here's a qoute from the book describing her appearance   "The goliath emerged from the tunnel as comfortably as a dog from a doghouse, coarse black fur pouring into the chamber before I could make out any actual arms or legs (...) Even beneath the fur I could see loops of muscles flexing. (...) ARRRGH!!! was built like a gorilla but three times larger: Two arms, two legs, and, thankfully, just two eyes. Horns, curled like those of a ram (...) The thing's orange eyes cast about with animal perceptiveness, and it used its snout and sniffed. Its jaws fell open to reveal a purple, slavering mouth armed with haphazard daggers of teeth." Page 75-76 The bold passages is added by me   (Also worth mentioning: the qoute is from before the protagonist knows of ARRRGH!!!'s gender which is why he calls her an 'it') At other times in the story we learn that ARRRGH! has quite scarred arms and really wishes for better tooth hygeine; so much so that Tobias actually end up making her a brace out of chicken wire :'D Idk I find it quite adorable :'D Now unto the serie's ARRRGH!!! - first up he is male, his name is Arghaumont and he is famous for another reason than Johannah: he was a general of Gunmar but retreated from the war making him a traitor to his people yet a hero for the good trolls in the series. Series ARRRGH!!! is likewise built like a gorilla but made of stone and having a mane long and green like it is moss  his horns is way smaller and less curvy and his teeth hygeine is never brought up  also his face is way less dog like x'D 

Tobias 

Book Tobias' full name is Tobias M. Dershowitz yet he is going by 'Tubby' or 'Tub'. Here is a describtion of him from the book: "You could call Tobias Dershowitz chubby, if you were being cute, or husky if you were being diplomatic. The fact is he was fat, and that was only the beginning of his problems. His hair was a thick, orange, out-of-control hedge. His face spilled over with the kind of freckles that make kids like Tub look like overgrown toddlers. Worst of all were his braces, marvels of modern torment: whips of stainless steel crisscrossing each tooth seperately and lashed to a dozen silver fasteners. The braces clicked so much when he spoke, you expected sparks. At least he was tall..." page 27 The bold passages is added by me   The outfit I went with is described on page 259 like this: "He stood in the driveway decked out in his best approximation of a ninja: black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, a black hoodie, a belt made from a red curtain sash, and an oversize fanny pack holding his gear (...) It was unfortunate that the fanny pack was lime green..." To describe Tub is a bit difficult because sadly he is not much in the story as I'd liked - mostly he is being quite serious and let us know he is not happy by being sidelined not speaking troll nor being invited on hunts which I completely understand tbh :'D What I do find interesting is how Tub and series Jim has seem to have switched roles a little bit: In the series Jim is the one giving a speech about how he is insecure about his place in life and how he wants more - in the book this is Tub in more than one occassion: "We have to accept who we are. And before you ask, I'll tell you. We're nobody. We have no life. We have nothing to look forward to. We're not special. I just want it to go away. All of it. The stupid being scared. Doesn't it seem we've been scared forever?" page 37 "Jim, you're wrong. We were meant to do this. This is exactly what we've been waiting for. They've chosen us. Of all people! Us! (...) Jesus, Jim, take a look at my life! You know what I'm worth! To anyone? Zero! Nothing! I'm a fat loser and will always be a fat loser. Until this. This is like a present. Full of, man, I don't know. Hope?..." page 196 (talking about trollhunting here btw) Oh yeah and book Tobias gets this badass scene where he uses his dentist's tool to kill trolls I loved that   Now series Tobias is way different :'D first up his name is Tobias Domzalski and his nicknames are Toby and Tobes. He is way shorter and has more neat hair (what is it with the series neating up the hair :'D? x'D). He also seems way cheerier and pretty happy with his place in life more or less  Unlike Tub, Toby is in it from the start being an important player in the story   He doesn't have the same drive to be something more than he is as Tub has instead Toby is going with the flow starting out quite afraid of everything troll and ended up being as brave as the rest of the team *tbh Jim's scared out of his wits too so they mimic each other x'D* Where Tub has dentist tools Toby gets a badass hammer so I'll say its an upgrade  

Claire

First off we have Claire Fontaine, a foreign student from no other than Scotland with a taste for military clothing and liqourice   Here's how she's described in the book   "She tucked her long dark hair behind her ear and left ir with an adorable smudge of white dust. I thought she was beautiful, though she wasn't in the classic sense. The popular girl would say she wasn't skinny enough. They would also point to the fact that she didn't wear makeup or do anything to tame that hair. And her clothes -well, what could be said about her clothes? Her boots were not sexy and knee-high: in fact, they were ankle-high and rubber-soled and looked picked from military surplus racks, an array of pea-green coats and multi-coloured slacks, all of which looked as if they'd been through actual World War II combat. And that beret she wore before and after school wasn't of the look-at-me-I'm Frensh variety: it was more in the style of I'm-going-to-invade-your-country-and-be-your-new-dictator. Only one thing didn't make sense: that bright pink, exceedingly girlish backpack that inexplicably hadn't one anti-establidh patch sewn onto it (...) Oh, I forgot to mention that Claire Fontain came from the UK. That's right- the girl had an accent. I think you are starting to get the picture." page 30-1 The bold passages is added by me It is hinted at that Claire is quite tall and a great deal taller than Jim (more when I get to him) and she is actually a whole year older than Jim since they both have birthday May 2 but Claire is 16 while Jim is 15  Since Trollhunters in this story is not a "protected title" (aka the chosen hero type) Claire ends up being one herself even though nobody even herself didn't know: AND. SHE. KICKS. BUTT! She's even better than the guy that had 40+ years experience so yeah safe to say she's badass :'D Even before that she has a hilarious scene calling out Steve in the wildest shitstorm of Scottish slang I lived for it x'D She's described quite a few times with lots of bracelets, sometimes made of wire so I gave her a bit of both   She's not really a part of the popular group but has her own thing going on   Now onto Claire Nuñez the series' version of this badass   Here Claire is hispanic and pretty much one of the most popular girls seen around  her style is way more ... I've called it punk rock in purple but Idk exactly what to call it x'D she's shorter than Jim and slimmer looking than her book counterpart   She enters the story not as a trollhunter but as a victim of having her brother stolen by changelings and as time progresses she becomes a fastlearning and quite competent sorcerer dealing in shadow magic   Unlike Fontaine, Nuñes is seen wearing make up, shorter hair with dye in it and hair clips instead of bracelets  

Jim 

First up we have book Jim. His full name is James Sturges Jr. and lives with his single parent, his dad, after his mother went away the day before his birthday in start May and never returned. Sturges Sr. had been traumatized loosing his brother to trolls although none of the characters didn't know this yet - only Senior had seen the creatures making him paranoid and in turn making Jim very embarrased about his father. At the same time Jim seems to honestly worry for his father and his behavior too makes Jim very cautious and fearful a character. Book Jim is pretty much a typical teenager for the most part  He is seen to be a tad clumsy and not exactly brave really. And the author's choice of basically not describing him anywhere made my job way harder trying to be book accurate :'D So I've mostly inspired him of the official illustrations in the book   Here's what I could find about our little trollhunter   First off: he's a short fellow  that is first mentioned on page 14; "Sunshine is important for growing boys." (...) "I am not growing" I took after my dad when it came to size and was still waiting for that growth spurt everyone kept raving about. "In fact I think I'm shrinking." This is brought up most of everything Jim through the movie from him not being able to reach a point of a chalkboard (page 32) to people's dissapointing sighs taking meassurements when he is chosen as Romeo (107) and him wearing super high heels for the same reason (224) but also Blinky directly calling him a "little fellow" (page 127) On page 27 we learn that he is getting a bruise on his chin after being slammed into his locker by Steve  Lockers he has been thrown into enough to have learned to open them on the inside :'D He is a skinny fella which Tobias so politely call "lack of muscletone" due to "glandular" at page 120 He is not very good at anything describing his room full of stuff from hobbies he tried and failed at (page 63) The longest describtion about his appearance is probably page 105: "I lowered my eyes and regarded the chewed, dirty fingernails holding my script, thes scuffed shoes on my feet, and realized that these were the symbols of my pityful life: worn-out, insignificant, ready to be thrown beneath Dad's industrial mower" It pretty much says it all when this is the longest quite I could find :'D For the outfit I mostly went by the small describtion on page 89-90: "I tucked the medallion beneath my shirt. After a full day of wearing it, maybe the rest of the suffocating fear would go away too. My plan was to dart into the kitchen, grab my sweatshirt and be out of the house. " I added jeans since he is said to wear jeans on page 283 - the medallion sneak out beneath the sweatshirt/shirt on page 97 which is why I added it on top here as well   Now since there's a bit more to both versions of Jim due to their role as the protagonist I've added in a little extra features here being the medallion in the book vs the amulet in the series and the weaponry given to the characters   For Sturges we have the medallion who's described like this: "It was a bronze medallion conntected to a rusty chain. It was engraved with a foreboding crest: a hideous, snarling face; indecipherable markings of a sevage language, and a magnificent long-sword across the bottom." page 9 The medallion is treated like it is a common artefact if a bit rare in the book - its purpose is to translate trollspeak for the wearer. Jim is giving two swords in the book; a rusty longsword he calls Clairesword (do I need to explain this one?) and a cutlass he calls Cat #6 after the one cat at Tobias' house that liked Jim  x'D For Sturges' personality my feeling about him is that he is a bit more ... passive than his series counterpart. He is not really standing up for himself that much and would rather blend into the background. This qoute from Claire sums him up pretty nicely I believe   "You're a good person, Mr. Sturges. A bit gloomy, but good" page 246 I do like that Jim in this version is a Taurus  (I am a taurus too x'D) born on May 2nd so that's a plus   It is probably also worth mentioning that in this world trollhunters aren't a chosen hero type like in the series: trollhunters or paladin was once a title held by many warriors yet now there's very few left. Sturges was a proud paladin family making Jim a chosen candidate for the honor of becoming a trollhunter but he is not the only one - or even the best - in the book. In fact out of the three trollhunters we learn about I'll say Jim is the weakest (and he is not even the least trained; ouch :'D) Jim doesn't get a nice armour like his series counterpart either but is seen in the illustrations wearing a blue hoodie (like the one in the little doodle)   The full name of Jim in the series is James Lake Jr. He is the child of a single parent and lives with his mother whom Jim "mothers a lot" (Tobias' words in the first episode) This Jim is pretty "tall for his age" (Jim's own words uttered quite a few times across all three series) yet with quite skinny legs (he is called out for this by multiple characters). He is much more competent in life than his book counterpart being an exceptional cook, good at Spanish, seemingly alright in PE and at school he seems to stand pretty good if only holding himself back. Unlike book Jim, series Jim seems much more active and longing to be something more than he is - he is seen to be quite brave and protective of his friends, very kind and selfless. Also even from the start he seems much more nimble than his book counterpart being able to climb the robe (a feat book Jim didn't do before later) and with his training as trollhunter he becomes even more badass   Trollhunter status in the series is way more important since the title is given to only one chosen warrior of Merlin chosen by the amulet of daylight (the medallion in the book). This also makes the amulet way more special and important in the series which probably explains its shine up from rusty bronze thing to silver and blue. While Lake Jr doesn't have named sword he does have a magical armour and sword made of daylight   We do not know the exact birthday of Lake Jr but the creators have replied to a fanquestion saying it would be around fall especially October so by that estimate Jim is probably a scorpio  pretty far from the before mentioned taurus in the book   While Jim Lake Jr isn't seen with long lasting bruises in the original series he does get two more permanent scars in Wizards  

[maddiviner]

Do you happen to know any digital curses?

I incorporate technology into my magic quite frequently, actually! I rarely curse, though.

That isn’t because I fear a “law of return” or am against cursing. I don’t have many people in my life that deserve any kind of curse. I curse rarely, but am not opposed to it.

As luck would have it, though, I do know a method for casting a digital curse. It’s a spell I wrote and cast back in September of 2016.

The original spell targeted a Discord server. You can adapt it to cursing a single person online, too. It’s possible to use in any online interaction.

As I’m sure folks wonder, the Discord server in question no longer exists. It had exactly nothing to do with witchblr, Tumblr, or anyone on here. I doubt any of my readers would know the people involved, even in passing.

The server’s leader was a vitriolic misogynist mage. He ran the place like a cult. To make matters worse, he kept dragging young people (often underage) into his orbit.

I decided to curse the server. I was curious if it would work, and also wanted to destroy that toxic, harmful community. I did see results from my curse within a few short weeks. I wasn’t in the server at that point, so I didn’t have a front row seat for the drama.

I heard that it started with some massive arguments over trivial aspects of energy work. Soon, the owner deleted the entire server in a drug-fueled fit of pique. Someone else tried to remake it, but the new version died on the vine. So, I’d say this was an effective curse!

To begin, you will create a sigil expressing your intent. It won’t be a normal visual sigil, though - it’ll be a verbal sigil.

I can’t recommend using a regular visual sigil to curse anyone online. This is because the person might recognize the image as a sigil. If they’re a mage or witch themselves, they might take evasive action if they realize what you’re doing. A verbal sigil flies under their radar, though.

Verbal sigils are short phrases formed from a statement of intent. They usually read like complete babble to anyone but the caster, but that’s part of why they work - it’s stealthy.

Start by writing out your goal with as few words as possible. It might be something like “CONFUSION AND CHAOS” to cause strife for the person or persons.

It could be “HOPELESSNESS” or any other adjectives that sum up what you’d like to happen to the target. For this example, we’ll use the phrase “SHUT YOUR MOUTH.” This verbal sigil would be useful if your target keeps spreading rumors or something.

Take the phrase and remove all repeating letters. Some people remove all vowels, but I leave them in because it makes the results easier for me to pronounce. With “SHUT YOUR MOUTH,” you end up with the following letters: SHUTYORM.

Now, scramble it a bit, turning it into a completely different three-word phrase. The phrase should be easy to pronounce and read in your mind. It should not include any actual words in the language you’re using for this.

It should, if done right, read as if it could be real words, but at base will sound like gibberish. So, keep scrambling until all the real words are gone. Soon you’re left with something that won’t sound particularly meaningful to you (or your target).

Anyways, back to SHUTYORM. If we play with the remaining letters a bit, we can create something like “SOTH MYRU.” That’s two “words” and not too difficult to sound out in your head.

A single “word” version might be “THUMYOS.” Other possibilities include “THYS MOU” or “TY HOS MU.” Any of these suffice, but we’ll pick “THUMYOS” as our example.

So, in this example, “THUMYOS” will be your verbal sigil. You’ve culled it from your initial statement of intent. The time and effort you put into this will imbue the sigil with power.

I recommend this spell for witches who’ve a strong energy-sensing ability. Sense the way your energy fluctuates when you read the sigil out loud.

If the sigil seems weak or you can’t sense a change, you might want to backtrack and redo it, to create one that works better.

Now, the time comes to cast this digital curse in the form of a verbal sigil. You can do this in several ways, depending on how you’ll be interacting with your target.

If you’re cursing an individual person, all you need to do is fire off the sigil into your communications with them.

For example, if you’re talking to them in DMs or another messenger, type the verbal sigil into the chat. If the person asks what the hell “THUMYOS”, means, make up some nonsense about your cat walking on the keyboard.

Never let the target know that this is a spell, particularly if your target is a mage or witch themselves. If the target realizes what you’re trying to do, they might be able to dismantle the curse or deflect it.

If you’re amenable to voice chat on Discord or elsewhere, you’ll find a far less conspicuous way to cast this curse. Turn on your microphone and whisper the verbal sigil a couple times.

Do this when other people are active on voice chat, or when your target is speaking. That will lessen the chances of anyone noticing that you’re spouting gibberish.

If someone asks what the hell you meant by “THUMYOS,” try to steer the conversation away from it. If possible, make up some kind of excuse (like the stereotypical cat on your keyboard).

You could even say, “Sorry, wrong window,” or “Oops, didn’t know my microphone was on.” Then, pass the sigil off as a video game reference of whatever else you can come up with.

It’s imperative that you disconnect from your target after this. If you’re targeting an entire chat server, that means you’d leave said server. If it’s only one target, stop talking to that person.

Don’t make a giant flounce-y exit. Drift away. You may want to stay in touch to see if your curse worked. Resist that temptation and rely on other people to relay information to you.

You can also adapt this form of sigil for other purposes, like blessing or attraction. Follow the same steps (albeit with a more positive statement of intent). You can even bless websites and blogs using this type of sigil.

I’ll be writing another (shorter) article soon about how to do that. In the meantime, stay safe! Make sure that you’ve thought through possible consequences before casting this spell! Don’t do it on impulse. Blessed be, and I hope this article was helpful!

[sweetdejun]

someday // l.t.y.

summary: several years after high school, when you and your peers have all established careers, you get invited to your graduating class reunion.

pairing: lee taeyong x gn!reader

word count: 2.4k

genre: exes!au, angst, some closure.

a/n: mentions of alcohol, UNEDITED

You knew this day would come, but not this soon.

It feels like it came fast when in reality it’s been almost seven years since you graduated from high school. It took a handful of odd jobs after receiving your bachelor’s degree, but you were able to land a position as an accountant. With your hard work, you’ve slowly climbed up the ladder to where you now serve as the finance director of the firm you work for. Your salary is handsome, as per your standards, and you were recently able to afford a nice apartment. It was only after your move that you visited your parents on the other side of the city where they handed you the envelope in your hands. It was an invitation to your high school reunion.

That's how, fast forward a week later, you found yourself standing in front of your old high school gymnasium. You see people walking towards the entrance and feel stupid because most of them seem to be going with another person, maybe a friend they would keep in touch with or a significant other. Maybe you should have coaxed one of your co-workers and bribed them with drinks or something afterward. Too late now, you thought, as you sighed and made your way to the entrance. Upon arrival, the first thing you notice is the reasonably large group of people scattered throughout the room. It’s dark and the only light sources are the few disco ball lamps projecting multicolored circles throughout the perimeter of the room. You squint to try to make out people when seconds later, your thoughts are interrupted by a shrill, “Y/N!” You turn your head towards the sound and find an adult Jisoo approaching you. Jisoo was one of your closest friends you kept in touch with for a while but lost contact with a couple of years into college. “Jisoo, is that you? Oh my god, it’s been ages! How are you?” you hugged her, and she began to share how shortly after graduating college, she applied for a job as a photographer at a fashion agency, but she ended up landing a job as a model. Long story short, Jisoo was now a thriving model. “I’m so happy for you!” you gush with sincerity and she gets shy, combing her fingers through her hair. She tells you that she may have just landed her big break, about to fill you in on details when an oh-so-familiar voice cuts her off. “Hey guys,” you turn around and your eyes meet Lee Taeyong.

Taeyong and Y/N: the “dream team” as they used to call you back in high school. You shared a long and valuable relationship with him, dating almost throughout all of high school. That's why when people heard that you split up, they were more shocked than they would have liked to admit. it was a rather nasty breakup that was not mutual at first; he had gotten into his dream university located across the country while you chose to stay in your home city for college. You didn't want to stop him from achieving his dreams of becoming a pediatric dietitian; you would have hated yourself for acting that selfish. Therefore, you thought things could work via long-distance and they did for a while, but the harsh realities like not being able to hold each other in your hard times set in faster than you wanted to admit. Your schedules were becoming increasingly incompatible, and it became difficult for either one of you to grasp onto the relationship. You both watched as it slowly slipped away from your hands. Taeyong was the one to pull the trigger, and with heavy hearts, the two of you officially parted ways.

You have not contacted each other since then. Now, the two of you stand face to face, and you see an emotion in his eyes that you don’t recognize. Perhaps it’s because you successfully managed to forget the negative memories from all the ones you still have of him. Or maybe you just forgot how to read him. “Uh, Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” he awkwardly rubs his hands together as he slowly shifts his gaze around the room. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to come, but I decided to come just for the fun of it. Bit of a last-minute decision, actually.” Jisoo could sense the tension in the air and playfully scoffed, “really? Y/N, I thought you weren’t the type of person to make last-minute decisions. You used to grill me for doing that all the time.” You notice the surprise looming on Taeyong's face; he must’ve been taken aback by your statement too. You turn away from his careful gaze before coldly replying, “people change over time, I guess.”

After Jisoo finds someone else to catch up with, you quickly excuse yourself to the bar to grab a glass of punch because there is no way in hell that you want to be left alone with Taeyong right now. The walk over to the bar is a little difficult, mainly due to the lack of light, but you manage to make it without bumping into anyone else. as you pour your punch in a cup, someone clears their throat in front of you. “Johnny Suh!” you gasp, a smile forming on your face. Johnny and you used to be neighbors in high school but right after graduation, he and his family moved to Chicago. You were very sad at the departure of one of your only friends, so you were beyond thrilled to see him again. You shuffle around the table to give him a hug that he gladly reciprocated. “I thought I saw you walk in. how are you, Y/N?”

“I’ve been well. Busy, but well. When did you get back?” He tells you that he recently got a job at an accounting firm, right here in the city. When you ask him where he says the name of your firm. “No way! I work there, too!” Johnny lights up at this, you talk about the work-life, how the people are, and share your experiences.

You fail to notice that across the room, a pair of eyes have been following you ever since you left them alone a few moments ago. Taeyong watches, with a pained gaze, as you reciprocate what is obvious flirtatious behavior from Johnny. Truthfully, when Johnny moved away, Taeyong remembers being a little happy on the inside, because he wouldn’t have to hear you talk about him so much. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Johnny harbored a small crush on you. When he brought it up, you used to throw your head back in laughter, before pinching his cheeks and calling him cute. That same feeling begs to ignite again, but his head is quicker than his heart, as it forces him to look down at the thin silver band wrapped around the ring finger of his right hand. You’ve moved on, he hears, and he tucks his hand into his pocket. Someone walks over to him and captures his attention, pushing the thoughts of you and what could have been to the back of his head.

Johnny gets a call from someone, so he excuses himself from your company, leaving you standing amidst the terrible background music and a half-full cup of punch in your hand. You figure you can go grab some fresh air right about now, so you meander off to the door, before stepping out onto the concrete outside. The cool summer breeze is comfortable against your arms but out of habit you fold them together, the cup of punch firmly held in your palm. You close your eyes and exhale the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Care if I join you?” Taeyong’s voice rings, shattering the silence you developed briefly. Opening your eyes, you clear your throat before saying, “be my guest.” Taeyong stands next to you, and once he’s in the light you’re able to get a better look at him. The last time you saw Taeyong, his hair was much shorter and cleanly trimmed. He had innocence in his eyes that twinkled with every step. The version of him standing next to you was definitely more mature; there’s a shadow of smile lines and crow’s feet on the side of his face you see, his hair has grown out quite a bit and you can make out the sharpness of his cheekbone and jaw naturally contouring his face.

“Some things never change, right?” He says out of the blue and you cough to offset the growing embarrassment you feel. He’s referring to how you used to zone out into your thoughts when you stared at him, usually from the side. He would always be able to pick up on it, teasing you relentlessly. “Have you been well?” “Did you move back here?” The both of you asked at the same time to one another, awkwardly laughing off the collision of your questions before you said, “you first.” Taeyong nodded, “I moved back here almost a year ago actually. I was transferred to a small hospital and they knew I was from here, so they figured it was easier to send someone who had a feel for the demographic.” You bit your lip, and he continued, “I didn’t realize how much I missed this city. It was only after I moved back that I felt like this is where home was all along. How about you, did you ever leave?” You shook your head, “I had all my opportunities here, so I never felt the need to go anywhere. I have been perfectly happy and I never felt better,” and as you speak, you notice Taeyong pull his hand out of his pocket to scratch his ear and light reflects the ring resting nicely on his ring finger. You try not to let your eyes widen too much, but you can’t help it if your heart shatters in your chest. “You’re engaged.” Taeyong winced at the change in your tone; he wanted to avoid this topic. “Uh, yeah. Yes, I am.” You attempt to play it off, looking away from his analyzing gaze. “Who’s the lucky person?” Taeyong looks outward with a certain fondness as he recalls details of his significant other. He says they met in one of his classes, saying they “were the best friend he never had”. You listened on as your walls started to break.

“I proposed shortly after I found out I was transferred here. They moved here with me, actually.” You nodded, recognizing all too well this feeling growing in you. It was reminiscent of how you felt when you broke up with him, but this was much more intense. You painfully exhaled and you knew he could sense it. “Happy for you. I really am,” you managed to say without letting your voice crack. Taeyong was always very straightforward with you, and it didn’t surprise you when he said, “Y/N, I was in the darkest place when we broke up. They helped me get out of that. I know it was not an easy decision to make, which is why I want you to know that you will always have a place in my heart. We spent so many years together, it’s natural that you and I will always be something special.” You turn the other way, and this time, you can’t stop the tears from falling. You couldn’t face him anymore because you don’t want to reveal to him that a big part of you still wanted him. Seeing that ring on his finger and hearing him gush about his partner reaffirmed all that. Now, all you wanted to do was to get out of there. “I’ll be honest, sometimes it still feels like I haven’t gotten over you. Even if I did. Know that I will always love you and that you’ll always have a piece of me.” Taeyong says, and a small whimper leaves you. “I’m a mess, Taeyong,” you croak. “I built this strong wall and convinced myself that I was okay. Tonight you’ve proved me wrong. I tried time and time again to find someone else to introduce into my life but no one comes close.” You finally wipe your eyes and turn back to face Taeyong to find silent tears trailing down his face. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight if I’m being honest. I needed to get this off my chest. I’m sorry for everything, Y/N.”

You breathe, the final bit of teardrops sitting at your waterline. “Thank you, Taeyong. For everything, but especially the memories. I know I can’t fall out of love with you overnight, and I certainly will not ask you to do anything selfish. You know that I just want you to be happy, and if they make you happy, that’s all that matters.” Taeyong wants to reach out to wipe your tears, but he’s afraid he’ll cross a line he set for himself. “Would you still want to be friends? For old times’ sake,” Taeyong asks, hoping you’ll say yes. You feel conflicted but you say, “you’re going to need to give me time, Taeyong. I need to sort things out in terms of relationships, and right now, I don’t think I can take being your friend. That’s going to lead to me wishing terrible things on you two, and I don’t want to jeopardize a relationship that is strong enough as it is. Please, don’t force me to befriend you when I’m broken.” Taeyong is hurt, but the rational voice in his head is telling him that you are doing the right thing. “It’s getting late,” you muster the courage to say, “I should head out but I’m glad you got the closure you needed.” Taeyong offered to walk you to your car, and you don’t know if you can take any more heartbreak, but you let him walk you anyway. The tears are gone for now, but they’ll come back. Taeyong hesitates, “Do you want to meet up for lunch or something anytime soon?” You unlock your door and open it before turning to him. There’s a glint of hope in his eye, and you smile meekly, “maybe but not soon, Taeyong. When I’m ready. I hope you can understand.” He nods almost instantly, and you’re grateful for his reaction. “I’ll see you someday,” you tell him and he nods, waving to you as you start your car and leave, whispering under his breath “someday.”

a/n: AHHH my first ever long scenario. this was much easier to do than a series lol but I’m nervous! I would appreciate any and all feedback you guys have for me, and thank you for reading it!

[kaibutsushidousha]

Danganronpa 2 artbook - Nagito Komaeda

Happy Komaeda birthday, everyone. (UPDATE: I typed the wrong number when queueing and this got posted 2 before Komaeda’s birthday. Pretend this didn’t happen and wait for the right day to read it.)

Seiyuu’s comment: Megumi Ogata

Nagito Komaeda is a very complex character, with a lot more layers to him than simply an evil villain. He was extremely difficult to record for until I got a good grasp of his psychology. But he was very fun to voice once I found my way to interpret his character. This game has a lot of surprising events, mostly thanks to our Komaeda being a main character. Please enjoy Danganronpa’s unique brand of subversion of expectations.

Kodaka’s comment: The twisted rival

Komaeda was made to be a threatening rival, a role we didn’t have in DR1. However, if I simply made him a villain, he’d overlap with the mastermind, and if I made him an underling of the mastermind, he wouldn’t be all that threatening of a rival. My solution to that was making him into what he turned out to be, a person with a perverted hope, conceived by contradictions and the horrors of people incapable of empathy. Writing a contradictory character takes courage, but once I committed to it, he was, surprisingly enough, the most fun to portray. Another concept for him was a Makoto Naegi who took a step down the wrong path. He’s one of DR2′s main themes (hope taken too far turns into despair) taken to its logical extremes. Naegi and Komaeda are complete opposites and, at the same time, amazingly similar. It’s just like how the front of a Mobius ring connects to its own back and vice-versa. He exists because this was a theme I wanted to make really memorable. The physical similarities between the two might have happened for the same reason. If they have similar ideologies, one would inevitable think they should look similar. By the way, despite his quite meaningful name, I was just trying to come up with a name that was both cool and suspicious, and end up finding an anagram to you-know-who’s name by complete accident!

Komatsuzaki’s comment: Blank beauty

The earliest version of Komaeda was a Naegi turned evil. Literally just Naegi but shorter, with glasses and a black devil parka. Much later, when we had to balance out the 16 characters, I changed his height and redrew him as an anti-hero instead of a villain, burdening him with the role of classic pretty man. The hints of social anxiety in his appearance are remnants of his beta design, and the spiky edges on the hem of his jacket are based on the tail part of the aforementioned devil parka. Also, Komaeda has a lot expressions with complex nuances, and I believe those got exponentially more enjoyable after multiple re-adjusts inspired by Ogata’s voicework. My favorite part is how his hair goes blanker the more it rises up, ultimately shiningly like a flickering flame.

[millie-ionaire05]

A Shadow’s Light

Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fae AU ♕ Monarch Yoongi ♕ Fantasy AU ♕ CEO Yoongi ♕ Soulmate AU

Summary: The approaching solstice reminds Yoongi that his time for remaining Monarch without a kindred soul is running out. As each day goes by, the shadows around him become more unruly, and his emotions become harder to control. Even as his right hand, he’d never considered you as someone to court, not until he realized your light could tame the shadows. Oh, but your light brought more than that, it brought a burn that had desire curling deep within him. A desire that he won’t allow to slip away. 

Word Count: 4,130

Rating/Warnings: M for Mature (+18); Monarch Yoongi; Confidant Reader; Female Reader; CEO Yoongi; Slightly Dom Yoongi(?); Office Sex; Unprotected Sex (wrap the schlong before you sit on the dong); Oral (f receiving); Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Bottom Yoongi; Top Reader; Squirting

Author’s Note: I’ve dreamed of this Yoongi quite a few times over the last few years, and so I finally decided to write it. Albeit, this is a completely shorter version than the original one I started years ago, but I think it’s fine as I ease my way back into the writing scene. Thank you so much to @dee-ehn​ for the amazingly beautiful banner; it’s absolutely stunning! Hope you guys like it 😊

   The feel of cold paper against his fingertips is almost a welcomed reprieve compared to the monotonous drone of the head of marketing, an older man with a pinch in between his eyebrows and a smug expression. Yoongi’s mind is filled with a million other incessant thoughts, ones that are far more pressing than the steps on appealing to the board of directors. 

   For one, the solstice was tomorrow, and the primal hunger for a kindred soul to be at his side was becoming even more difficult to deny. He knew if he was unable to find someone this year, the Elders would begin to question whether he truly should be the Monarch for their kind. His kind. Just the notion has his wings twitching in anger before it is dwindling to a burning frustration, his fingers reflexively crumpling the edges of the paper he held.

   “Sir?”

   He turns merely a centimeter towards you, his eyes forcefully focusing as they make contact with your own. You seem almost taken aback by his gaze, your lips having parted and your eyes wide. He must not have realized how hard his expression had been, but he quickly softens it, a rumble of an apology carrying its way to your ears only. Your gentle eyes turn sympathetic, your mouth curling up to show a bright smile, and it almost blinds him. 

   It was no secret within the world of Fae that he was the first shadow chosen as Monarch, much to his surprising dismay. It was not so much a surprise that he was chosen per se, as he had been groomed for it during most of his childhood, but it was the fact that he was groomed at all that surprised him. Even as Monarch, the Fae were wary of those ‘cursed’ by the shadow. It was not only uncommon amongst their kind, but it was also dangerous if not controlled properly, and it could rarely be controlled. Before his ruling, parents would often tell stories of shadow monarchs who grew out of control, their shadow swallowing the settlement whole. 

   Whether parents continue to tell their children such stories is lost on him, as he very rarely is included in conversation when the settlement gets together. He wouldn’t be surprised though, as he, too, worried for the safety of everyone around him. 

   You on the other hand, he was the least worried about. You were the complete opposite of him, as you were blessed with the light. A rare gift. It was always said that the light could tame the shadows, but he only feared you would make his grow, like how an increase in light source could cast a stronger shadow of a human figure. Especially if it got too close. 

   But regardless, you were also groomed similarly to himself as a child, so that you would be by his side. A loyal….assistant….if he had to title it. You were his confidant, his right hand man (or technically woman), so to speak. The Elders had thought it wise to have you close to him, and while the thought had initially made him uncomfortable - the shadows around him twitching in disgust at the light you brought - he had grown fond of your company within the last several years. The shadows around him had ceased their fury long ago when you were near, and he was grateful for at least that respite. 

   “It’s quite alright, sir,” you carry on, oblivious to his internal torment. “Would you like me to escort you out of here?”

   He can’t help the twitch of his lips, an eyebrow raising as he allows his body to turn towards you, his chair barely squeaking at the action. He watches the way your cheeks flushed at his stare, your eyes casting down to your lap as your fingers fiddle with non-existent lint. His eyes roam to your wings, watching how the beautiful white seems to shimmer as they fluttered slightly. He knew he could fluster you - he often found it entertaining - and quite frankly he also found it adorable. The shadows around him groan. 

   With a tsk, his lips twitch down, and you immediately sense his shift in emotion. You were so perceptive to him, and yet still so obliviously unaware of how his shadows reacted when you shined so bright. In those moments it was very painful, and while he could usually muster through the pain, he found that it was actually difficult for him in that second. 

   Fear zings through his body as his shadows laugh, their forms swiftly quivering in excitement at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to stop them, that he wouldn’t be able to prevent them from consuming what was around him. His body becomes rigid, his eyes closing as he works to compose his emotions, his mind fighting with itself as his heart thuds within his ears. He can faintly hear you calling out to him, but he is too busy focused on his task. 

   A sharp sting envelops his hand, and his eyes snap open to find your own hand against his, the shadows retreating to the furthest recesses opposite of your shine, and his heart stutters. Never have the shadows withdrawn so quickly, no matter how many lessons the Elder’s had given him, he has never been able to control them. Not to say they are controlled per se, because he knew they could never be controlled, but they were tamed for the moment. Your hand continues to burn against his, and he slowly pulls back from your touch, his eyes meeting yours once again. 

   A small nod of his head is all you need, your body instantly moving as you announce their departure, your figure guiding him back towards his office. His eyes never waver from your wings, watching how they are so delicately beautiful and white, a complete contrast to his sharp black wings. Your wings were round, many swirls intricately woven in various degrees of white, sparkling no matter what time of day. While his wings were sharp edged, and of the deepest of blacks, a color that portrayed an endless void. He’d been told, more often than not, that his wings seemed invisible if he flew around the city at night. It didn’t just stop there though, as the shadows also allowed him to blend in to the darkest corners, keeping him out of sight if he wanted. 

   He was such a contrast to you, not just in wing shape and color. It was normal for women’s wings to be larger than men’s, just like a female bird was larger than a male, but your wing size complimented you so well. Everything about you and your gift suited you. Your gift gave you the ability to travel at the speed of light, not that he’d ever seen you use it. He supposed there hadn’t exactly been any reason to use it, so of course he wouldn’t have seen you. Or maybe he hadn’t seen you because you were simply too quick for him to catch, he wasn’t entirely sure. He made a mental note to ask you one day. 

   “Would you like me to clear the rest of your day, sir?” you ask, watching him as he moves around his desk to his chair, your eyes wide with concern. 

   “Yes, please,” he murmurs, his eyes closing as you rattle off into your phone for all of his meetings to be cancelled. 

   The shadows are still in the corner of his mind, having shifted so they were completely opposite of your presence. Yoongi’s heart races with the speeds of a thousand mustangs, the beat traveling up his neck and into his ears, and he isn’t sure what to do. You had stopped the darkness, which had seemed to be even more out of control lately, but you had done it. His eyes can’t help but open to stare at you, your body now resting on the chair across his desk, completely oblivious to his gaze as you scroll through your phone.

   With a simple command, he orders the shadows to close his office door and lock it, and he watches as they are quick to avert your presence and complete his task. He wonders if they fear the torture of the light again, and whether that is why they are so compliant. Nevertheless, he has an image in his mind that couldn’t be wiped, and that image was you. In all his years of life he had not looked at you in any way more than a friend, a confidant...until today. 

   He smirks at the way your body jumps, your head turning to see the office door closed before your gaze whips back around to look at him. He knew how you felt about him, because while he was quiet for the most part, you were like an open book. Your emotions were as plain on your eyes as your heart was on your sleeve, open and bared for him. You didn’t cower from your feelings towards him, but you also weren’t jealousy possessive when the Elders ordered him on many courtships with other women. No...you stayed by his side and supported him, even as each of them failed to subdue his darkest demons. 

   Slinking from his spot, he slowly makes his way around the desk, stopping until he has leaned against it in front of you. Your body instinctively shifts back against your chair as your gaze lowers, though he knows this was out of respect as the Monarch, he doesn’t want you to pull further away from him. His hand still burned at your contact, and a deep part of him begged to feel it again, begged to feel the pain. 

   “Stand up,” he orders, and watches with satisfaction as you instantly comply, your body a mere few inches from his. 

   The shadows quiver at the proximity, which only brings a shaky breath from his lips, his hand reaching forward until the tips of his fingers graze your cheek. Your eyes rise to meet his, confusion trying to mask the culmination of fear and desire he knew you felt, but the words of your open book practically scream at him. Beg him. 

   In one swift movement his hand grips the back of your neck, his fingers burning, but he doesn’t care as his lips meet yours. And oh, how soft your lips were against his, it had to be a crime. He had been with sparingly few people in his life, but nothing compared to how you felt against him, how your light seared him in magnificent ways. A moan escapes from your velvety lips and it can only be accompanied by the groan from his own as he shifts his head, taking advantage of the new angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

   Oh, had he known how compliant you would be under his touch, he would have tried this ages ago. So soft and supple, yet you burn hotter than a thousand suns as the shadows practically whimper at the onslaught, yet the pain was quickly becoming something he relished. Something he needed. An addiction that he wasn’t sure he would be able to fulfill. Your pretty moans only further the tingles in his body, their assault almost unnecessary since his pulsing cock was tightly confined to his work slacks, but it only furthered his need for you. 

   Pulling back swiftly, he practically melts at the whine that escapes from you, your gaze hazy as you stare at him in a mixture of confusion and disappointment. It almost makes him lose it. Almost. 

   “Please tell me you want this,” he states, his breathing heavy as his chest heaves to allow more air in, but it seems almost futile. 

   Your face contorts into an expression he can’t seem to understand until it shifts into understanding, a soft smile falling on your lips. Your hand comes up, cupping his cheek and his heart jumps at the contact, the burn intensifying. Your eyes silently consent, but he wants to hear you say it. No…he needs to hear you say it, and he can see it in your eyes that you know that. 

   “I want this,” you whisper, and that’s all he needs. 

   The room envelopes in a darkness like no other, the pure desperation in your eyes as he swiftly swipes his hand across his desk, items clattering onto the floor. You squeal in a mixture of delight and surprise as he unexpectedly throws you onto the now cleared desk, the chill of the wood bringing goosebumps onto your skin, and he doesn’t miss it. No, he sees you so clearly, it is as if all the noise in the world has cleared away to provide the perfect picture that is you. He can’t keep calm as your back arches, your chest practically begging for him to come closer, to ravage you. 

   Reaching forward with trembling hands, his fingers deftly unbutton your blouse, his eyebrows rising when he’s met with the most complimentary color of silk that cups your breasts. Your skin is illuminated with a flush as he continues to stare, his moves slow and methodical, and he takes note of the clench of your thighs as you attempt to relieve the pressure. He doesn’t speed up in his ministrations though, slowing even more as he allows his fingertips to trace from your neck down to your hips, stopping right above the barrier of your tight pencil skirt. He relishes in the way you quiver as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of the skirt, finding the clasp and button with ease and opening it before you can even comprehend what’s happening. 

   He thanks the Heavens that you hadn’t chosen to wear pantyhose this day, because he would feel guilty having to tear them off your body. Well...only slightly guilty. He can’t continue the thought process though, because a deep groan is pouring from his lips at the sight of your matching underwear, his cock now at full attention and already weeping through his pants. His teeth grips at his lower lip as he forces his body to remain at a glacial pace, but with every second that passes, he’s finding it utterly difficult. Your panting did nothing to calm him, your breaths coming quick as your blown out pupils stare at his hands, your tongue coming out to moisten your reddened lips. 

   Oh he needed something on his mouth, and he needed something on them now. Discarding your skirt to some unknown spot across the room, his hands grip right behind your knees, fingers tightening so he can forcefully spread your legs. He can feel the muscles in your legs resist as you try to snap them together again, but he doesn’t allow it, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of you. So pretty, so beautifully created, and the burn against his hands strengthens. Grunting at the pain, he is practically salivating as it mixes with the pleasure, the shadows quivering around him, but they remain compliant. 

   And you remain compliant, too, your wide eyes moving to meet his own. A smirk claims the corners of his lips before he leans forward, allowing his hot breath to seep through your underwear. Your legs are trembling within his grip, and you try with all your might to bring his mouth closer to where you want it. Where he knew you needed it. And he is content on giving it to you. Moving his hands from their spot, he uses the angle to spread your legs further apart, his hands coming to your hips. The cry of pleasure that escapes your mouth is pure bliss, your body clearly stiff with shock at the sudden action of his fingers having pushed your underwear to the side so that they could flick your clit. 

   Yoongi’s mouth salivates at the sight of your entrance, completely wet and dripping. He wants to ask if it’s because of him, but his body is working faster than his mind. His mouth begins to suck at your juices, his nose bumping into your clit and you jump, his hands swiftly moving to hold your hips down. Oh how sweet you were. Like the sweetest of treats, but a rapidly addicting taste that he isn’t sure he can stop. He is sure you don’t want him to stop either, considering how your hand has desperately moved to his hair, fingers gripping at his locks. You tug when he purposely licks your nub, a mumbled whine of his name falling from your lips, and he can’t help but groan. 

   With all thoughts of a glacial pace flying from his thoughts, he allows himself the pleasure of wrapping his lips around your clit, alternating between sucking and licking in hopes he could hear you call his name once more. At least once more. 

   Oh but he doesn’t have to wait for long, his name practically pours from your lips in rapid succession as he continues his actions, the tremble in your legs intensifying. Shifting in his spot, he blocks your leg with his shoulder so that he can free a hand, the tips of his fingers promptly prodding at your entrance. Earning an anguished whine from you as he leans away from your pretty pussy, his heart thrums at the way your eyes roll back when he shoves a finger inside of you, quickly following it up with another. 

   There isn’t much he is proud of, but his fingers are one of them. He doesn’t miss the way your back instantly bows off the desk when he curls them and finds your sweet spot.

   “Y-yoongi,” you cry out, beginning a new song of his name with explicit curses that sound so sinfully sweet, his jaw is aching. 

   Desperate to see how quick he could get you off on his fingers, he leans forward again to provide unabated licks to your clit. The light behind his eyes is almost blinding as your bodies remain connected, the shadows sticking to the far walls away from your shine, but quaking at the pleasure they feel through him. He wasn’t even undressed, and he felt as if he could cum on the spot, just on the feel of you against him. Of the mix of pleasure and pain as he refuses to lose any form of contact with you. And you must have felt the same, because you basically wail your impending orgasm a mere second before it comes crashing. 

   But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. He continues sucking at you and savors the battle your body has, conflicted on whether you should withdraw from the overstimulation, or stay under his tongue as the pain rolls into renewed pleasure. All Yoongi can think about is pleasing you, devouring you in every way he can because this is nothing he has ever felt before. 

   Your grip in his hair tightens painfully, and he moans at the way you try to stop him. Finally caving in to your demands, he pulls back from your clit and looks you in the eyes, a growl tearing from his chest at the look on your face. You had to be as far gone as he, possibly further gone considering your pupils had practically consumed the iris, your wings spread taut across the desk. His own wings twitch at the sight, and it only takes him a mere five seconds to pull his clothes off and throw them across the room with yours. 

   Five seconds seem like too much to him, and possibly to you too, because you are standing in front of him by the time he finishes. You have managed to remove your bra and panties on your ascent, your hands coming forward to grab his shoulders, a flash of your wings switching your positions. His vision all but careens at the intensely quick motion, unable to keep up with the change as the room spins. When his eyes are finally able to focus, you have him lying against the desk, scrambling to climb on top of him. 

   His cock twitches at your juices dripping onto him, each drop tingling against his skin until your flesh makes contact with his once again, the sheer pleasure of pain zinging through him. Reaching forward, his hands grab hold of your hips, desperate to bring your entrance against his member. Your mind seems to be in sync with his, as your hand shoots down to grip his cock, bringing his head to your dripping core. He growls at the onslaught, his thighs tensing for fear that he would lose if before he could get himself in you. 

   You waste no time in letting his thick cock slide in, your neck becoming exposed as you throw your head back, a cry echoing in the office. The shadow’s tighten their position, absorbing your moans as you beg him to release his grip on your hips, desperate to move so as to allow the tip of his dick to rub over your spot. But his grip is ruthless, the onslaught of pleasure and pain putting him at the edge, and he was not going to lose it now. 

   Tears are trailing down your cheeks as you meet his gaze, your eyes widening as you observe the slithering shadows wrapping around his neck, quivering in hopes he would lose control in this moment of fragility. Your hands move towards the shadows, the tips of your fingers connecting with the skin at his neck as they retreat, the thrum of his pulse accelerating beneath your fingertips. All control flees from him as his hands grab yours, your fingers intertwining before he thrusts, a silent command to move. 

   Oh, how you felt above him. Pure bliss. Your hips snap as you grind against his cock, your back arching as you try and move faster. He can feel the shake of your thighs, the shivers as goosebumps travel down your body, turning your nipples into hardened nubs. He lifts himself slightly to take one of those buds into his mouth, groaning against your skin as you practically cry his name. A constant tune of his name on your lips, collective curses intertwining between your bodies as your grip on his hands tighten. 

   He forces his eyes to remain open, unwilling to lose contact with your body above his, his eyes flitting to all parts of you. He never wanted to forget how beautiful you look above him, how well you balance him as your skin made his burn in all the best ways. Your walls tighten around him, signaling your fast approaching release, and your cries of pleasure grow in volume. Digging his feet into the desk, he lifts his lower half in hopes it will give you more leverage against him, but it was also his desperate way to be closer to you in all the ways he could be. 

   Your back curves as you halt above him, your walls spasming against him as your juices gush out, the push of your orgasm almost causing him to slip out. He grits his teeth as he forces himself to stay inside of you, his grip unmerciful as you continue to squirt on his cock, soaking his lower abdomen. 

   Desperation consumes his body as he watches you unravel above him, and his grip on your fingers release, his hands moving to your hips as he adjusts his stance. He revels at your cry of surprise when he begins to slam himself up into you, your chest coming forward to rest against his own, changing the angle in which he enters you. Your lips rest against the thick vein in his neck, your teeth nibbling at his skin as your hands run up his arms before slipping through his hair. If the pain was intense before, his body was practically aflame as your fingers grip at his hair, your walls remaining clenched around him. His thigh muscles scream as he chases his high, frantically speeding up further when he feels the end near. His wings twitch, pitching forward as they comfortably make contact with yours, the bond of a thousand lifetimes pushing him over the edge. 

   It takes him a moment to realize you’re both in the air, his wings having carried you both off the desk, and you both softly float back towards it. You remain on top of him, your eyes searching his own as your wings stay connected, cocooning your bodies as the bond is finalized. 

   “I found you,” he whispers. 

   A small smile claims your lips as you stare back at him, his heart swelling at your reply. 

   “I found you.”

[a-froger-epic]

About the Interview

Since I posted the interview with J - a woman who has described herself to me as one of Queen’s first “groupies” - there has naturally been a lot of discussion about the veracity of the interview, the source, and my own motivations in posting it. I fully expected that, and I will say once more that nobody (apart from a small handful of anonymous trolls) has behaved inappropriately in these discussions. I have not received any “hate” because of this. There is no “drama”. Nobody is wrong, or a party-pooper, or attacking me by expressing their doubts. I have seen some awful bile spat at people anonymously recently, and that kind of behaviour has got to stop.

Now, if you don't think I am genuine, there is obviously nothing I can do about that. 

However, what I am hoping to do here is add as much transparency as I can in regard to how and why the interview happened, and also share my own full thoughts on it with you. 

First things first. No unverified, anonymous source can be seen as definitive proof of anything, ever. That is my stance. I have myself been criticised for so much as suggesting that other anonymous sources tied in with Freddie’s history are not 100% proof of one thing or another. But for me, an anonymous source can never mean more than at best: this seems very likely, but we can’t be 100% certain.

Perhaps I was naive to think that what I considered to be enough of a disclaimer at the beginning of the interview, was enough. My intention was to express that while I, personally, believe J to be a) the person she says she is and b) genuine about what she remembers, that does not mean I believe everything she has told me is fact or happened in that exact way. I thought this was obvious. Perhaps I was unclear, and I apologise for that. 

So let me be clear. There is nobody in the world who has perfect, factual recollections of what happened to them almost 50 years ago. Not even J herself claims for one moment that this is the case. She mentions several times that these are old memories from when she was very young, that she indulged in recreational drugs at the time, and that her views - of course - carry a personal bias. All this, I thought, would be enough for readers to know not to take everything they read at face value.

All of the above is why I kept my own thoughts and notes to a minimum within the interview, why I didn’t correct or point out obvious mistakes. I simply assumed that everybody would go away and read the interview against all the sources and information they already have, as I have done myself.

But maybe that was somewhat irresponsible of me, and I should have been the first person to dig into how J’s memories fit in (or don’t) with the information which is already out there, and how to put the two together. While I refrained from sharing all my thoughts alongside the interview (although I have fragmentally done so in response to other people since), others like @quirkysubject​ (here), @iwilltrytobereasonable​ (here), @emmaandorlando​ (here), @sarinataylor​ and @talkingismylifewrites​ (here) all had some very good things to say. All of them make excellent points. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SEND THEM NASTY MESSAGES. I frankly can’t believe I have to say this at all.

I found myself in a difficult position, because as the person who had spoken to J and asked her all these questions, I did not feel as though I could dissect her words as freely as anybody else. She has put a lot of trust in me, and I do not want her to think that I question her honesty and intentions. Because I don’t. If I hadn’t felt as sure as I reasonably can be that she is the person she says she is, and that her story is genuine from her perspective, if I had been in any doubt about that, I would not have made it public.

Here's the thing:

Even if you don't believe J knew the boys, her recollections of the time period alone are still valuable and incredibly interesting, giving us a glimpse of early 1970s London. 

But I do believe J. Why?

Before I answer that, let me just say: I fully realise that of course the fact that it was my story J happened across, and me she decided to speak to because of it, makes me more inclined to want to believe her. However, other authors I'm friends with, as well as myself, have received messages from older people several times before. It does trigger nostalgia when a story is very strongly rooted in a time somebody has lived through. There are older people in the fandom. (I recently ran a poll and all age groups were represented even here on Tumblr.) 

Now, on to the reasons why my communication with J has felt nothing but authentic to me.

1. She was never in any rush to get in touch with me or relate information to me. It took her a few days to email me after she first spoke to me in the comment section, where I begged her to please get in touch. She then sent me the same email five times, over two days, because she couldn’t quite work my email address out at first. 

I ended up asking several questions more than once to get an answer because they were overlooked. The conversation went off on tangents, and we chatted about her weekend at her friend’s house (and I was presented with a beautiful snapshot of the beach), the memory box her daughter made for her, her work and other things. There were stretches of days at a time when J simply didn’t find the time to get back to me. And I may have badgered her with a few too many emails asking her to please remember to answer my questions when she has a moment. In short, it was the opposite of somebody rushing to share their story. I was doing all the rushing. (I realise that I am asking you to take my word for this, but this did not all happen in a vacuum. @plainxte​, @quirkysubject​, @fingersfallingupwards​, @onegoldenglance​ and @freddieofhearts​ witnessed the process first-hand, as well as my excitement and some of J’s original emails.)

2. J was very trusting. I know her full name, where she lives and her place of work. She sent me current pictures of herself and her husband unprompted. At no point did she ask me not to reveal her identity, that is a call I made because I did not want to expose her to any possible harassment.

3. There were a few things in her account of what she remembered which were so obviously at odds with what we know to be true - it’s well-known John is a bit taller than Roger, for example, but J remembered him shorter, Queen went to Sydney in ‘85, J remember it as ‘84 - that I couldn’t help but think, if I was somebody who was trying to convince others of a made up story, the first thing I would surely do is make absolutely certain to get the facts which are easily findable right. Instead, J always lead with: this was all a long time ago, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best trying to remember.

I realise that a very clever hoaxer could do all this and convince me. But here the question has to be, to what end? This would be quite an act for someone to arrange, to make it seem quite so naturalistic. Nobody would go through the trouble of doing that for nothing. There’s no monetary gain. Scandal? There is nothing scandalous in the interview. Attention? J is barely an active member of the fandom. She has managed to create a Tumblr though: @since72​. There is one post currently. 

It also took her a couple of days to get back to me after I posted the interview.

In brief, I have no logical explanation for why somebody would go to these lengths and fool me so cleverly, with such attention to detail, when there seems to be nothing in it for them. Why then did J bother to talk to me at all? What was her motivation? Well, after I thanked her profusely for doing this, she simply said that she felt she owed me as reading my story had brought back so many memories for her.

All of the above is why I strongly feel that J is very much real and genuine. But I completely understand that it all hinges on the fact that in order to believe everything I say is true, you would have to trust me. And I know that as I am just another person on the internet, you have no reason to do that. But I’ll get to me in a moment.

Here are a few more doubts which I have seen come up with regard to J.

Why would she be reading fanfiction about people she knew? That’s weird.

To be perfectly honest, exactly that was my first reaction, too. But then I thought about it and talked to friends about it. 

Firstly, J says herself that she was never a close friend. I agree that it would be far weirder to read fanfiction about somebody you knew very well. Having said that, John Deacon’s son has been known to read Queen fanfic about his father (and read it out on his YouTube channel). But I think given that it’s been half a century and J has been watching Queen in the public eye ever since, it isn’t really all that strange to read about fictional versions of them.

Secondly, a friend of mine noticed that it seems as though older people in the fandom find J overall more credible than younger people. I’m 35, and it is true that the older we get, the more we look for the things which remind us of our younger years. There is an urge to remember and re-live. You can trust me on this, or you can ask anyone over the age of 30 or 40. Nostalgia is real, and it only comes to you with age. Why would somebody who had briefly brushed shoulders with people who later became celebrities not take an interest in them later? It seems natural that she would. As J says, she never stopped being a fan of Queen’s music and came across fanfic when she looked up Adam Lambert. Is it really so strange that she would find fanfic about them entertaining? Having given it all this thought, I really don’t think so.

It’s unrealistic that she was so young.

This is something I have to disagree with. Times were different. Pete Townshend entered Ealing Art School at age 16, according to Wikipedia. My mother (currently 62) moved 600km away from home at the age of 15 to study piano at music college. I myself moved out from home at 17 (no tragic reasons whatsoever), but that’s beside the point. I have seen it framed in a way where it was said that “It isn’t realistic that a 16-year-old was hanging out with Queen who were all in their 20s”. I agree, it would be a little strange if the story was that one 16-year-old girl was hanging out with Queen by herself as their good buddy. But that is not the story. (Even though it is well-known that during the 60s and 70s, young teenaged groupies did in fact hang out with rock groups very frequently. Of course, J was not that kind of groupie.) She was simply part of a large circle of friends, by her own admission not a close friend of the band. Personally, I struggle to see how this is unrealistic in any way. 

It seems super suspicious that she lost her photos in a flood.

Yes, it does. I agree. J realises that, too. 

Like @quirkysubject​ said in her post, I don’t blame anyone who is too sceptical at this point. But there actually was a pretty bad flood in Australia in 1988.

There are mistakes in J’s story!

Yes, there are! Let me point them out to you. I already mentioned John’s height and Queen being in Australia in ‘85, not ‘84. I also think that her perception that Freddie was taller than Roger in ‘72, but no longer in the 80s, had everything to do with platform shoes. I have to say that I did ask J some questions which I knew were things which are almost impossible to remember about people you weren’t particularly close to. I knew there was no way she would be able to accurately recall their heights, but I still wanted to know what the impression was which she had come away with. I don’t for one moment think she could possibly know why and if Freddie’s nickname was really ‘Freddie Baby’ at EAS well before she went there. But I still wanted to hear what she thought of that. This is why I stated specifically that this entire interview consists of one woman’s subjective opinions and memories. That alone means you can absolutely not take any of it as definitive fact. That just isn’t how memory works.

Kensington Market and the stall:

J’s answers on this one thoroughly confused me. Not only did she say that while she saw Freddie at the market a lot, Roger was hardly ever there, but there was also some Indian man working at the stall during the week (who I don’t think could have been Freddie’s father). She saw Freddie at multiple stalls, a girl named Jill also worked at the stall… and J was under the impression that Roger and Freddie hadn’t even started the stall. None of this made a whole lot of sense to me, until somebody pointed out that the original stall owned by Roger and Freddie must have closed in the second half of 1971. (Sources: Queen in Cornwall & Queen: As it Began)

It is confirmed (same sources as above) that Freddie worked at the market until as late as 1974. I think it is therefore entirely possible that J would have seen him working at Alan’s stall, or helping out at other stalls, and the likelihood that Roger would have come to hang out with him on a weekend is fairly high, in my opinion. Later, reading about Freddie and Roger running a stall, J would have had no reason to think that this wasn’t the same stall she had seen them at. And yes, this is of course only a theory.

The gay pride march:

@rushingheadlong​, who has recently done a lot of fantastic research about Tim, confirms that there’s no chance (as far as we know) that Tim could have been at the march. Did any of them really go? Is J misremembering entirely? Could it be that one of them or two of them went, and looking back, J remembers it as all of them (minus John, however) because she was used to mostly seeing them all together? Does she remember them from another protest march and got it mixed up with the gay rights march? I can’t say. The march and who exactly went is a big question mark. Even J herself is only “pretty sure” that they were all there, and I have to say, I can’t tell you who was where exactly when I think back to when I was 16. Certainly not when there was a big group of people around. And that was only 20 years ago for me.

Lastly, I’m going to try and use the guide our awesome local historian @emmaandorlando​ provided on how to analyse new sources. Of course, I’m not a historian (and I’m also partly the source by being the interviewer, so I can perhaps only do this impertectly), but let’s give it a go.

1. Who wrote this document? 

‘Written historical records were created by individuals in a specific historical setting for a particular purpose. Until you know who created the document you have read, you cannot know why it was created or what meanings its author intended to impart by creating it’.

In this case, the answer is two-fold because essentially I wrote the interview, in as far as that I asked the questions, I gave it shape and presented it in the form in which it came, but the answers are J’s. I completely understand that this is already a big stumbling block for many, because not only am I presenting her as an anonymous source, but many of you don’t know anything about me. If you follow me on Tumblr, you will know that I have shared more with the internet than is probably wise. But still, I am somebody you know little about, presenting to you a person you know even less about. Whether you trust me or not is entirely down to your own judgement and instinct, and that will be different for everybody.

(I’ve seen it said that I’m plugging my own work through this interview. If that was my plan, I’m afraid it’s failed miserably. I looked, and DoA has gained a whopping 2 or 3 kudos.)

2. Who is the intended audience?

‘The relationship between author and audience is one of the most basic elements of communication and one that will tell you much about the purpose of the document. Think of the difference between the audience for a novel and that for a diary, or for a law and for a secret treaty. Knowing the audience allows you to begin to ask important questions, such as; “Should I believe what I am being told?”’

The intended audience is the Queen fandom on Tumblr and AO3. I have no interest in sharing this anywhere else because I’m not familiar with the other fan communities (Facebook? Instagram?) and wouldn’t know how to go about it. For J, the intended audience was mostly me, an author she likes who was very interested in her memories.

3. Why was this document written?

‘Everything is written for a reason. Understanding the purpose of a historical document is critical to analysing the strategies that the author employs within it. A document intended to convince will employ logic; a document intended to entertain will employ fancy; a document attempting to motivate will employ emotional appeals. In order to find these strategies, you must know what purpose the document was intended to serve.’

I got really, really excited. That is the reason. When J got in touch with me, I had a decision to make. I could ask her all the questions I wanted privately and share her answers only with my "inner circle” of fandom friends, or I could share everything with the fandom spaces where I’ve been very active in the last two years. I wanted to share the excitement and decided to do the latter.

I also wanted to present the interview in a way where it would be an engaging, well-structured read and not simply all of her emails to me dumped here with a quick ‘there you go’. So I tried to wrap it in a beautiful “package”, which is why I asked her for her art, for example.

4. What type of document is this?

‘The form of a document is vital to its purpose. The form or genre in which a document appears is always carefully chosen. Genre contains its own conventions, which fulfil the expectations of author and audience.’

An interview, written by somebody who has never interviewed anyone before.

5. Can I believe this document?

‘To be successful, a document designed to persuade, to recount events, or to motivate people to action must be believable to its audience. For the critical historical reader, it is that very believability that must be examined. Every author has a point of view, and exposing the assumptions of the document is an essential task for the reader. 

You must treat all claims sceptically (even while admiring audacity, rhetorical tricks, and clever comparisons). One question you certainly want to ask is, “is this a likely story?” Testing the credibility of a document means looking at it from the other side.’

This is for all of you to decide for yourselves, and that was always the case. Far be it from me to be upset with anyone who straight up doesn’t believe a word I say, doesn’t believe J is real or any other scepticism. I’ll say it again, DO NOT harass anyone for expressing their opinions on this! It is NOT WRONG to discuss a new source! It’s wonderful that people are doing it!

And so, we come to that last question: Is this a likely story? 

Personally, I can firmly answer that with: Yes. In my personal opinion, it is. I find J’s story very likely and there is close to nothing that makes me question that these are indeed her real memories. But given the nature of human memory, they are just as imperfect as anybody else’s and do not, and should not, supersede any factual, verified information we already have.

With that, I hope to have provided a bit more clarity and transparency, and leave you - as before - to make up your own minds.

[mihorapendeja]

happier than ever | tsukishima x you

the one shot in which tsukishima basically falls for a female version of everyone's favorite sunny tangerine.

genre: fluff/soft core smut lmao i haven't done this in years i feel silly but here you go

pairing(s): kei tsukishima x you (referred to as "ria kihira" in part 1 bc this was originally going to be an OC thing but nvm a/n's: show this some love and interaction pls.

PART 1: THE PAST

❝Again?❞ Even though Tsukishima complained again, this time he made it easier for her as he even stood completely still. Such a good boy.

❝Let her beat your face!❞ Shoyo exclaimed as she smiled in delight, then moving on to pat the powder puff on his stupid face. Of course she only took a few seconds for him, but all the time in the world for Hinata.

While the two chirped about the new reboot trailer for Dexter, Kuroo's sleazy self slid beside his lanky child with an extra smug look on his face. That man was a menace.

❝Say, don't you think they look related?❞

Tsukishima was a difficult man to catch off guard, but right then and there, a mini existential crisis kicked in. His eyes darted back and forth between Shoyo and Ria Kihira, the makeup artist on set for the commercial filming day.

Kei knew Kuroo was a slut for all the pretty things in life — he constantly had a trope of hot women surrounding him.

But this time, he'd really outdone himself.

Not a stupid man entirely, a huge shit-eating grin formed on Tetsuro's face. He followed Kei's eyes who desperately wandered back and forth their matching hair, skin tone, lack of height... "please let it be a mere coincidence because it's bad enough that—" Kei shut his own intrusive mind from further thinking as he slapped his hand over Kuroo's mouth shut. Tight.

That hyena laugh was not being unleashed today.

THE STORY OF HOW YOU MET:

ca. 2019, on set of a commercial for one of Kuroo's production companies. After Tetsuro had defeated Kei in a game of beer pong, he had to comply with the loser's bet -- be part of the damn commercial along with Shoyo, for a viewership boost. So he said. Ria was the makeup artist on set that day, and it pretty much went from Tsuki acting like a feral cat who didn't want to be touched by any makeup tools, to blissfully passing out in a chair while she gently stroked his face with a soft powder brush.

Near the end of the day when he'd no longer back away from her with animosity, it was Kuroo's stupidly astute observation that left him rattled. The boy was put into a choke hold because he refused to like someone with the same orange hair and milky skin tone as Hinata. Someone equally bright, bubbly, and stupid ... yeah that refusal didn't last long. Ria spoke her mind so freely, being direct but never pleading because she respected herself in that regard. He liked that and before Kei knew it, he found himself admitting to her that he was, "actually quite fond of you." She understood it was his way of saying those pesky 3 words, 8 letters.

PART 2: THE PRESENT, 3 YEARS LATER.

THE ALARM CLOCK rang it’s deathly siren like tone, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. Although he defensively stretched an arm out over your chest as if ready to protect, Kei did not get up.

Of course he wouldn't.

Like every morning at 4am, it was you who suffered the most when getting out of bed to grab the phone to silence that torture down. As you had deeply sighed and turned to face the bed, Tssuki was now face up with the covers all the way up to his nose.

Even in your groggy state, you could tell he was smirking. That smug bastard stared at you intently, dead still. While Kei typically minded his own business and was at times thought of as quiet, the boy was definitely not shy. You wouldn't call him a total flirt, but he could so hold onto a gaze without so little as batting a long eyelash.

Kei was, extremely competitive. Lightning would have to strike his literal eyes to keep them from staring at you, specifically at your curvy thighs.

The way your soft cotton shorts rode up them was always a very pleasant sight, so he just kept staring, happily.

He loved that little penguin walk you busted into every morning when shutting the alarm off.

It’s like you couldn’t balance properly, and he swore that you were always shorter looking in the early hours of the day. He didn’t know how you could lack more height than you already did at barely 5 feet 2, but it always seemed that way.

It was especially cute, like he could just grab you and keep you in the palm of his hand.

Tired, you sat back down on the bed. You scooted until meeting the headboard, and then just let her head dip back.

It was so incredibly peaceful until you could no longer ignore his obvious glaring. “If you’re awake already, why don’t you get up?”

“It’s barely 4:05,

we don’t go in till 5am.”

He said so factually that you just deeply exhaled. Tssuki was definitely not a morning person, and neither were you.

Even though you were much more energetic, it was a Friday and you could not wait for the end of the workday already.

While Tssuki could be late to practice because let's be honest, few would even confront him, you could not pull off the same irresponsibility.

You cared way too much, and in general, hated the feeling of being late to anything. "Come on." You murmured, nudging Kei as he completely ignored you and kept on sleeping.

You waited for another minute before climbing out of bed, grabbing his attention once again. This time, your black shorts were scrunched further up. So far up that your ample ass cheeks were out in all their glory.

“Arigato, thank you god.”

Nishinoya would say.

“Well I’m not as naturally good looking as you so I’m gonna go shower and start getting ready.”

You huffed, truly riling Kei up inside. Hearing you say that genuinely made something inside of his stomach stir, so he instinctively reached out towards your wrist.

Even in the dark room, he could see your face clearly and tell you weren’t joking. "The fuck is wrong with her?" He thought, not angry, but extremely concerned because you weren't fishing for a compliment.

The two of you had been together for over 3 years now, and so he more than knew that you were not that kind of girl.

Yes, you lacked height at 5’2, but you were physically strong. Literally, you could carry all the grocery bags in one go with no issues. Lifting abilities? Check.

Even though Tssuki cruelly chose the apartment with extra high kitchen shelves, you would never ask for help to reach for stuff. "Help I can't reach" was not a phrase that existed in your world.

Literally, he’d sometimes walk in for some juice and find you on top of a chair reaching for something, if not on the literal counter tops to store items.

Independent? Check.

Resourceful? Check.

On top of all that, you had a voluptuous body he thought was fucking scrumptious. He understood that the norms for women in Japan could be vicious, especially if you weren’t a slender door like he was, but despite your insecurities, you still wore it all so well. You didn’t let it stop you from wearing whatever you wanted (as you should).

At times he did think you were a little bit stupid for fretting over such body image issues, but Tssuki was okay with that.

He didn’t want a know it all like himself, that be beyond insufferable.

Before he knew it, you were teaching him a thing or two as well. So Tssuki then knew you were not a vapid pick me girl, and that was honestly a pretty big turn on for him.

SPEAKING OF TURN ons, Kei found it incredibly hot to have you pinned beneath him, like you currently were.

It wasn’t an ingenue kink, to have you below him so submissively and weak, no. It was the way you fought to assert yourself, and the way you writhed. The way you tried to break free was no half assed attempt either.

Sometimes you'd even throw in a few knees into it, and Tssuki didn't mind it one bit. Two dominate personalities, things were always bound to be feisty in bed.

This time however, he sensed some a defeat in your soul.

Convinced to rekindle your spirits, his brows furrowed as he lowered himself closer to your pretty face.

“Take that back.” Tssuki growled in a low, oh so sexy deepened morning voice.

“I can’t, It’s true.” You protested, sighing as he pulled himself away only to then wrap his arms around your waist and throw you over his shoulders.

Misreading the situation, you first protested before breaking into full on laughter as he stormed into the shower with you still dangling, kicking your short legs in the air.

You had thought this was playful Tssuki, the version no one was too familiar with.

Except you … and Yamaguchi. You and Yams lived to exchange Tssuki-isms.

You were mistaken when trying to approach him as he had stripped entirely. God, you so badly wanted to touch his defined chest and close the space between —and that’s when your favorite salt mine smirked as he instinctively reached back to swivel the shower handle on.

Grabbing the detachable shower heard, Tssuki sprayed you down.

"That son of a bitch." You thought, having jumped back in shock, literally. The water was so fucking cold.

Tssuki raised a brow, testing you. On one hand, he thought you looked like a helpless kitten that was abandoned on some random parking lot on a rainy day.

He was an asshole, but if he ever came across a lonely stray cat, he'd so scoop it up and take home for some warm milk.

On the other hand, he thought you looked even more hot with the way your baggy shirt now clung onto every part of your curvaceous body.

Tssuki had to exhale as he saw your nipples peaking through your smaller but perfect chest. He just wanted to cup your perky tits, squeeze them and hear you moan in delight—your hot breath on his ear as you rested a side of your face on his.

“Can’t touch me till you take that back.”

He warned as you tried to take a step forward.

“Tssu— you whined, sighing as you crossed your arms, cold.

“Admit it, you’re beautiful. Say it.” He insisted as you tossed your head back. "I’m beautiful … kinda, I mean” you trailed off, too distracted by your own cruel thoughts to notice when he raised the shower head again to spray you down.

“Ouch!” You gasped this time, burned by the super hot water. Tssuki turned, realizing that instead of increasing the water’s pressure, he had turned it to the hot side.

Steaming hot.

He rubbed them back of his neck, sheepishly trying to play off. That stupidly cool bathroom is literally what had sold him into choosing that apartment.

After a long day of training, having a large bathtub to soak in, or large walk in shower that doubled as a sauna to rest in was a treat. Not only that, but curative. You swore that this man's epsom salt baths were the reason his long limbs were always good to go, pain free.

Tssuki rushed to place the shower head back on, pushing a few buttons on the digital control panel to get some therapeutic steam going.

On a good morning, he'd already have you pinned to the wall. Your face buried into his neck as Tssuki spread your ass apart, drilling his every inch into you.

But sadly, this wasn't a good morning ... yet. When you waved a hand out in defeat, eyes swelling with tears, Kei grabbed you right before you could step away.

You slammed into his chest with a light thump as he then grabbed your shoulders to keep you balanced. "My clumsy pumpkin." He thought as you raised your head to meet his warm eyes.

Tssuki lowered his face, gently planting a kiss on your forehead. Pulling away, he grabbed your arm & extended it out as he begin to plant a trail of kisses over the burned-pink area. His kisses deepened the closer he got to your neck, stopping only when at your jawline.

Now, the two of you were staring directly at each other, his eyes radiating all the comfort you wanted to see: love, adoration, lust. It was so quiet, but your heartbeat was so damn loud.

His actions were doing all the talking. Now completely soaked, you looked down at the hem of your shirt as Tssuki grabbed both ends and begin to lift the blouse up and away from you.

Left in nothing but shorts, he kept his eyes locked on you as you nodded while he lowered himself to help you out of them.

Now, completely naked, he just stared at you in awe.

You were his goddess, and he was going to happily worship, service, respect, love.

ARIGATO GOD.

“I don’t know why you hesitate” he softly whispered as you took in a deep breath, suddenly feeling overly emotional. Near tears kind of overwhelmed.

To keep yourself from actually sobbing, you cleared your throat to speak up, “I love my job, but I guess sometimes working with so many beautiful models, I can’t help but to compare my—

Tssuki had heard enough about your delusions. His hands flew the sides of your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You felt such a thrill surging through your body as he so easily hoisted you up.

It was your favorite thing in the world, to wrap your legs around his long torso, and it was Tssuki’s favorite thing to dig his hands into your firm ass, your soft thighs.

Pulling away, he takes slow steps forward so your back gently meets the wall. With one hand, he caressed your face , thumb gliding over your cheek before connecting his forehead with yours.

“As I was saying, - I don’t know why you hesitate to say it, but I think you’re the most beautiful person in this whole goddamn world.”

A pesky tear escaped onto your cheek, and Tssuki blotted it away with a kiss, burying his face closer to yours. So close your noses are now touching.

When he wanted to, Tssuki could be so completely soft.

“You don’t know every single person in this world.”

You laughed, still touched by his bold declaration.

“I mean it. Waking up to you every morning I think wow, I’m so lucky.”

He admits as you then break into another chuckle. “You’re so full of shit, that’s not the first thing you think of.”

Tssuki pulls on your lower lip down with his thumb, chuckling back. “You idiot sandwich I didn’t say it was the first thing, but it’s a close second.”

You find yourself laughing out loud, his frisky smile fully plastered on his face as your nose scrunches in that way he finds so fucking adorable.

“Begone negativity.” He both teases and shudders at the thought of how Suga burned that in the back of his mind.

“Do I have to sing that stupid One Direction song to you?” Tssuki then jokingly added as your eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t!”

“You’re right that’s disgusting.” He scoffed, hoisting you further up as he took your breath away with another kiss, this time, his hands running through your hair.

It was always a mystery with him, never knowing if he was going to pull on your hair, or caress it.

This time however, as his tongue slipped into your mouth, eager, you couldn’t help but to squeal. You had to give it to him, the man was great at multitasking. While he deepened the kiss, Tssuki tapped the melody of that dumb song on your thighs as if drumming.

"You're insecure, don't know what for, you're turning heads when you walk through the door / don't need makeup to cover up, being the way that you are is enough --

Everyone else in the room can see it

Everyone else but you

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed

But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell

You don't know, oh, oh, you don't know you're beautiful."

Tssuki had really taken SMACK MY ASS LIKE A DRUM to a whole other level, and you couldn't even be mad about it.

"Having fun, ya happy doing that?" You teased as he now gave himself a quick rub, fully erect. Your man was so well endowed and that was both exciting and terrifying at times. While you loved dominant Tssuki, today he was a bit more mellow and less gimp man.

"Fuck, Kei-" You moaned as he slowly entered you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, the pressure just right. "I'm definitely having fun, in fact" he smirked as you moved down to slam yourself further into him, begging for more, "I'm happier than ever."

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 4: Baby Badger-Viper

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

I actually updated on AO3 yesterday, but I was too lazy to post the new chapter here.  So here’s the new chapter now.  Chapter 5 won’t go up until after I move next week, though, because I’m going to have to focus on packing and whatnot.

Again, this fic is inspired by @muffinlance‘s fic Salvage and fanart that @agent-jaselin did of it.  A component of this chapter is thanks to this art that jaselin did.

——————————————————————————————

              Hakoda should have known that whatever Tuluk had to say was trouble. The crewman had come into his cabin while he was responding to letters from the Northern Fleet – without knocking.

              “Chief?”  Hakoda set his pen down.

              “Yes?” he asked.

              “The kid’s up the mast again.”

              “The-” Hakoda’s eyes widened.  “Zuko climbed the mast?”  Tuluk nodded.  “He’s four!” Though, now that Hakoda thought about it, Zuko’s current age wasn’t as much of an impediment as it would have been to someone else.  This was, after all, the boy that had managed to bruise multiple crewmen while battling hypothermia.  Hakoda got up from his desk and followed Tuluk onto the deck.

              “You need to wear something!” Toklo called.  True enough, Hakoda could just make out a very young boy, sitting on the crossbeam of the main mast.

              “Tui and La, how did he get up there?” Hakoda breathed.  Much of the crew had stopped to watch the spectacle of a toddler up very high, in a very precarious, very dangerous situation. Even those who were taking longer to warm up to Zuko were visibly concerned for his safety.  The crewmen that had bonded with him, like Toklo, looked like they might have heart attacks.

              “No!” Zuko shouted down to Toklo.  His voice was petulant, but not in the way a prince would speak.  He sounded every bit the toddler he was.  “I won’t wear it!”

              “It’s the only thing in your size, Zuko,” Bato argued.  Hakoda walked to his second-in-command’s side.

              “What happened?” Hakoda asked.  Bato sighed and uncrossed his arms.

              “The little brat won’t put on a coat.”  Bato looked up the mast to shout again.  “Do you want to get sick again?”

              “Yes!” shrieked the small firebender.

              “Son of a-”  Bato rubbed his forehead.

              “Why won’t he put on a coat?” Hakoda asked.

              “The one he likes is still drying,” Toklo said.  “We had to wash it earlier.”  Washing it was the right move.  The last Hakoda had seen of the coat, it was covered in messes that only a clumsy toddler could make.

              “We got him another coat last time we docked,” Hakoda pointed out. Panuk snorted softly.

              “Yeah, and he hates it.”

              “Are you talking about me?” Zuko shouted.  “That’s not nice!”  Scattered snickers came from the crewmen.

              “I’ll get him,” Hakoda said wearily.

              For the second time, he climbed up the mast to retrieve a stubborn firebender. When he arrived at the crossbeam, Zuko glared at him.

              “Zuko, you can’t stay up here.”

              “Yes, I can!”

              “No, you can’t.”

              “Yes, I can!” Zuko said stubbornly.  Hakoda sighed.  He’d forgotten how difficult toddlers could be.  After all, it had been a while since his children were this young, and up until now, Zuko had been on his best behavior.

              “It’s not safe for you,” Hakoda said, forcing calm.  Zuko glanced down at the deck uncertainly, then met his eyes again with that distinctive glower.  But Hakoda had seen the brief flash of fear across the boy’s face. Zuko didn’t want to be up here any more than Hakoda wanted it.  “You’re coming down with me.”

              “No.”  Zuko fidgeted.  On a crossbeam.  That a fall from would cause serious injuries.  Hakoda fought the instinctual urge to grab the boy.  He waited.  Zuko clearly had more to say.  “…I’m scared,” Zuko finally whimpered.  “It’s taller than before.”

              “Well, you’re shorter than before,” Hakoda pointed out.  Zuko fidgeted again.  “I’ll carry you down, okay?”  After a moment, Zuko bobbed his head.  He scooted closer to Hakoda, who scooped him into one arm, stifling a sigh of relief.  Zuko buried his face into Hakoda’s shirt, hiding from the height or the eyes of the crewmen, Hakoda wasn’t sure.

              Once back on the deck, Hakoda set the boy down.  This incident with the mast was vastly different from the first; for one, the boy shivering in the cold wind looked nothing like the proud prince they’d fished from the sea.  With his blue clothes drying, Zuko was in his green Earth Kingdom attire again.  His hair, which Hakoda felt certain grew faster than normal, was tied back in the traditional wolf’s tail.  It took the shortest amount of time of any hairstyles the crew knew, and Zuko was too fidgety to sit still for a longer one.

              No, Zuko didn’t look like a prince.  He looked like a refugee.  Like one of the orphans that picked up a heritage from any adult willing to help them, and as a result, blended many backgrounds into one.

              It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, Hakoda considered, to think of the former Fire Nation Prince as a refugee.

              “Put on your coat,” Hakoda instructed Zuko, pushing away his musings. Zuko scowled.

              “N-n-no,” he said, his teeth chattering from the cold.

              “Wearing a coat you dislike is preferable to catching your death,” Hakoda said shortly.  Zuko opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but closed it again.  He nodded reluctantly.  Toklo, who had been standing nearby with said detested coat in his hands, moved forward and draped it over Zuko’s shoulders.

              “I can put it on myself,” Zuko whined as Toklo busily dressed him.

              “I’m just helping you with the buttons,” Toklo chirped, buttoning up the coat. He pulled the hood over Zuko’s head. “There!  Now you can stop shivering.”  Now that the coat was on, Hakoda could see why the boy hated it.

              “It looks even better than I thought it would,” Bato said, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice.  “We’d better keep you away from the birds.  They might think you’re a predator.”  Zuko scowled.

              “Of course you like it, you bought it,” he mumbled.  Bato grinned.  The coat was one made for children that enjoyed dressing up in costumes. It had ears on the hood and a tail on the back.  Overall, it brought to mind a simplified version of an animal Hakoda had heard of, but had not seen.

              “You make quite the fierce pygmy puma,” Hakoda remarked.

              Zuko pulled the hood further down his face, pouting.

----- 

              “He’s here, Chief,” Aake rumbled as he walked onto the deck, carrying Zuko over his shoulder.

              “Put me down, put me down!” Zuko shrieked, kicking his legs ineffectually. “I don’t need a nap!”

              “You sound just like Sitka when he gets overtired,” Aake said.  “That’s a sign that you do need a nap.”

              “No!” Zuko whined.  Aake handed the squirming toddler to Hakoda.

              “Zuko, we’ve been over this,” Hakoda said wearily.  Zuko wriggled fiercely in Hakoda’s arms.  A few sparks burst into life, meeting Hakoda’s skin and causing him to instinctively drop the toddler.  Unlike the first time he’d fallen to the deck, Zuko didn’t stay quiet. He burst into tears.

              “What is going on with him lately?” Panuk muttered.

              “He’s overtired, for one thing,” Aake said.  Hakoda picked Zuko up again and brought him to the infirmary, ignoring the boy’s crying.  “Toddlers always get worse when they need a nap.”

              “Yeah, but he’s been acting out even when he’s not tired,” Toklo pointed out. Aake shrugged.

              “Maybe he’s given up on pretending to be a teenager.”

----- 

              It took a long time for Zuko to calm down.  The moment he did, he fell asleep, exhausted from his temper tantrum. Kustaa shook his head.

              “It’s back to being the baby badger-viper you were when you first joined us, huh?” he asked the sleeping boy.  Zuko snored in response.  A thin line of drool dribbled down his cheek.  “At least you’re too small to bruise us every time you throw a fit.”  Zuko snored again.

              Satisfied that his young charge wouldn’t wake up for some time, Kustaa took out the book he’d been given by Healer Yugoda.  It was a record of every known instance the Northern Water Tribe had of someone being spirit touched.  Hopefully, he could find something in it to illuminate what had happened to Zuko. He sat down at his desk and began to read.

              Yugoda’s book was very, very detailed.  It included names that Kustaa half-remembered and others that he had never heard before, tales from both poles, ancient legends, and even recent instances, such as the Moon Spirit saving the life of a Northern Tribe Princess.

              The reasons spirits intervened in mortal affairs were varied, but a common one was for personal growth.  Spirits, despite being immortal, could be impatient with the pace of human development. Any human that had been marked as having a significant destiny was watched closely.  Should that human dawdle on their journey, a spirit might intervene.

              Kustaa wasn’t too familiar with Fire Nation customs, but he had heard that the royal family were thought of as being blessed by the Sun Spirit, Agni. Zuko, a Fire Nation Prince, would undoubtedly have a destiny the spirits might take interest in.  It seemed most likely that Zuko had been reverted to a child as some manner of speeding his journey.  After all, the other frequent cause of a spirit intervening – to save a life – didn’t apply.  Zuko had been hale and hearty the day before he woke up as a toddler.

              Unfortunately, there were no records that Kustaa could find of spirits returning someone’s youth.  Which dashed the hope that he might be able to figure out whether Zuko’s change in behavior was as troubling as it seemed.  Zuko didn’t seem to notice, but the rest of the crew had picked up on the firebender’s increasingly frequent meltdowns, immature speech patterns, and juvenile reactions.

              He could be upset about something, and slipping into more age-appropriate behavior as a coping mechanism.  It could be a delayed effect of this specific spiritual intervention. Or even an effect that only happens after being in a spirit touched state for an extended period of time. Maybe it’s as some crew are suggesting, that he’s given up hope of returning to his proper age, and as such, opted to give up acting as if he were that age.

              With a soft sigh, Kustaa closed the book.  There were too many possibilities, and he wouldn’t be able to narrow them down unless Zuko opened up.

              Fat chance of that happening.  There was faint stirring from Zuko’s furs.  Kustaa looked over.  A small face popped up.

              “Did you enjoy your nap, nephew?” Kustaa asked pleasantly.  Zuko yawned widely and stretched.  He nodded.  “Good.” A sudden stricken look crossed Zuko’s face.

              “Um…”  Zuko fidgeted.  “Can- can I stay in here for a while?” he asked sheepishly.  Kustaa raised an eyebrow.  “I…I behaved poorly earlier,” Zuko mumbled.  After he’d let Zuko wallow for a moment, Kustaa nodded.

              “I have some herbs that need sorting.  If you’d like, you can do that.”  Zuko beamed.  Kustaa fought back a smile in return.

              The kid was a beast when he was upset, but far more endearing than he had any right being.

              Like most young children.

----- 

              Hakoda browsed the selection of the store, in his peripheral, keeping an eye on Zuko.  The first few towns, he hadn’t been the only golden-eyed child, but as they progressed down the coast, his obvious Fire Nation heritage turned more and more heads. Luckily, any glares sent Zuko’s way were replaced by sheepish looks once they saw his scar.  The fact that Zuko preferred warm clothing, and thus dressed in Water Tribe attire more often, helped as well.  But Hakoda remained on edge.

              Someone tapped on Hakoda’s shoulder.  He turned.

              “Excuse me, sir, but is he your son?” asked the woman who had approached him. She pointed at Zuko, who was ogling a display of exotic spices.  Hakoda nodded.  “Ah.” A sympathetic expression settled on the woman’s face.  “It was very kind of you to keep him.”

              Hakoda knew what the woman was implying.  It was the lie he’d given over and over, that Zuko was a war bastard. But the lie suddenly tasted bitter. He’d seen the golden-eyed street urchins.  He knew that war bastards weren’t always kept.  Still, Hakoda couldn’t shake loose the dirty feeling that had come over him, at the suggestion that a mixed-blood child growing up in a home was an anomaly, not the norm.

              “Of course I kept him,” Hakoda said softly.  “He’s my son, regardless of his parentage.”  The woman smiled.  Zuko stood on his tiptoes, reaching for a bright red spice.  “Nuktuk.”  Zuko spun around.  The woman Hakoda was talking to let out a soft gasp.  “If you want to get a closer look at something, ask and I’ll get it for you.”  Zuko scowled. “We can’t have you knocking things over again.”  Zuko nodded reluctantly.  Hakoda walked over.  “What did you want to look at?”

              “That,” Zuko mumbled, pointing out the red spice.  Hakoda handed it to him.

              “This?”

              “Yeah.”  Zuko stared intently at the small bottle.  According to the label, it contained ground chilis and fire flakes. “I like this.”

              “Do you want it?” Hakoda probed.  After a moment, Zuko nodded.  “Then ask.”

              “Can I have it?” Zuko asked quietly.  Hakoda raised an eyebrow.  “Please?” Hakoda nodded.

              “Since you asked so nicely…”  Zuko handed Hakoda the bottle, already brimming with excitement.  “You can keep looking around, but remember to be careful.” Zuko nodded.  He toddled over to a wall of jars containing pickled vegetables. Hakoda turned to the woman he’d been speaking with.  Horror filled her eyes.

              “I’ve seen burns on refugees before, but never something that bad on someone so young,” she whispered.  “I’m so sorry.”  Hakoda paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond.

              “Thank you.  But it’s something we’ve done our best to move past.  Dwelling on it only makes it worse,” he said diplomatically.  The woman shook her head, still visibly disturbed. She walked over to Zuko and crouched next to him, speaking to him in a low voice.

              Hakoda watched for a few moments, nervous that Zuko might say or do something that made it obvious he wasn’t a regular toddler.  But the woman didn’t seem perturbed, so he resumed shopping. The woman eventually left Zuko’s side and went up to the register.  She stopped by Zuko again on her way out of the shop.

              Hakoda brought the supplies up to the register.  Zuko sidled over to him, a large stuffed animal turtle duck in his arms.

              “That thing’s almost as big as you,” Hakoda remarked.  Zuko scowled and hugged the toy tighter.  “I can’t buy it for you, you know.”

              “Not a problem, sir,” said the cashier, counting out Hakoda’s change. “Lily got it for him.”

              “The woman that was in here earlier?” Hakoda asked.  The cashier nodded.

              “Yup.  She’s got a soft spot for refugee kids.”  The cashier shook his head.  “It’s a shame what good people like you and your family have to deal with.  Leaving your life behind, taking only the barest of necessities…”

              “It’s war,” Hakoda said dryly.  The cashier handed Hakoda his change.

              “That it is.”

----- 

              Zuko’s poor behavior began to die down after that stop.  His stuffed turtle duck came with him almost everywhere.  It reminded Hakoda of the blanket Sokka had been overly attached to as a child.

              “Who would’ve thought the kid just needed a toy?” Bato remarked.  Some of the men were training on the deck. Zuko was watching, heckling those he thought could do better.  His sharp words were undercut by how tightly he hugged his stuffed animal.

              “A complete stranger in a store,” Hakoda said softly.

              “You mean the woman that bought it for him?”

              “Yes.  She was under the impression we were refugees whose only real possessions were the clothes on our backs.”

              “Huh.  Well, with Zuko, that’s actually pretty accurate.”

              “Exactly.”  Hakoda watched Zuko tease Ranalok for losing a sparring match.  “I don’t think Zuko qualifies as a refugee, but he’s pretty close to one.  His world’s been turned upside down multiple times.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of giving him a toy or blanket or-”

              “Hakoda, he’s been trying to act like a teenager for most of his time as a kid,” Bato pointed out.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.  The good news is that the kid’s finally calming down again.”

              “We never did find out why he started acting up.”

              “Don’t look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth,” Bato said with a shrug. Hakoda didn’t respond.  Zuko yawned widely.  Hakoda walked over.

              “Zuko, would you come with me?” Hakoda asked softly.  Zuko nodded.  He followed Hakoda into his cabin.  Hakoda lifted the boy onto the chair opposite his desk, then sat down.  Zuko looked at him, his eyes getting slightly bleary from tiredness.

              “What is it, Chief?” Zuko asked.  Hakoda steepled his fingers.

              “I want to talk about your behavior.”  That shocked him out of any sleepiness he might have had.  Zuko straightened, eyes wide with fear.  “Before you say anything, I’m not punishing you.  You’ve been very well-behaved since we last docked.” Zuko relaxed slightly.  “But for a rather long time, you were not.”

              “I’m sorry,” Zuko mumbled.

              “I don’t want an apology.  I’m just wondering if you could share with me the reason,” Hakoda said.  Zuko squeezed his stuffed turtle duck.  “After we parted ways with the Northerners, you began acting in ways you hadn’t before.  Why?”

              “Why are you asking me now?” Zuko mumbled.  “You should have asked while I was misbehaving.”

              “Do you remember how you refused to cooperate with something as simple as taking a nap?” Hakoda asked.  Zuko reddened.  He nodded. “That’s why I didn’t ask then.  I’m not going to judge you.  But if you know why you were behaving so poorly-”

              “I was upset,” Zuko blurted out.  Hakoda waited.  The boy didn’t say anything else.

              “Why were you upset?” Hakoda prodded gently.

              “Uncle,” Zuko mumbled.  He squeezed his toy again.  “I…miss him.”

              “Do you want to see him?”

              “Yes.  No. I-”  Zuko looked away.  “The spirits cursed me, and I don’t know why, and Uncle cares too much, and he’d ask questions I don’t know how to answer, and-”  Hakoda held up a hand.  Zuko fell silent.

              “You were conflicted,” he said.  Zuko nodded.  “You want to see your uncle, but you’re worried how the reunion might go.”  Zuko nodded again.  “You could have told us.”

              “No.  I’m already four.  I don’t need any more indignities thrust upon me.”

              “Zuko, when something troubles you so much that it affects your behavior, it’s something you need to share,” Hakoda said patiently.  Zuko scowled.  Hakoda felt like he was back in time, trying to convince Sokka to talk things out before escalating to a fight.  “Are you better now?”  The young firebender blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the apparent change in topic.

              “Sort of.  I mean, I still miss Uncle and feel…conflicted,” Zuko confessed.  “But it’s not as bad now.”  He looked down at his stuffed animal.  “I had one like this before.  Lu Ten gave it to me.”

              “Lu Ten?”

              “My cousin.  He- he died during the Siege of Ba Sing Se.”

              “Ah,” Hakoda said softly.  Zuko looked at him expectantly.  Hakoda raised an eyebrow.  “Yes?”

              “Am I excused?” Zuko asked.  Hakoda nodded.  Zuko hopped off the chair and rushed out of the cabin.  Hakoda leaned back.

              Despite all his protests to the contrary, he’s just a boy.  A boy that feels a bit safer when he has something of his own to cuddle.  Hakoda grimaced.  I can’t tell Toklo and Panuk that toys are apparently the key to getting Zuko to open up. They’ll bury him in stuffed animals.

----- 

              “Zuko.”  Zuko sat bolt upright.  He looked over at Kustaa.  The healer was still fast asleep.  Wondering if he’d imagined it, Zuko laid back down.  “Zuko.”

              Who’s saying that?  Zuko fought free of his pile of furs.  He slipped on a coat to protect himself against the night wind and snuck onto the deck as quietly as possible.  The night shift did their chores, not paying any attention to the toddler padding past them. Something guided Zuko’s feet to the edge of the ship.  He clambered onto the railing, ignoring Hakoda’s voice in the back of his head telling him to stop climbing things.

              The full moon shone in the sky.  Its mirror image on the still ocean was just as bright.  Zuko cocked his head curiously at it.  Normally, he could feel the influence of the moon decreasing his bending capability.  But tonight, he didn’t feel stifled.

              It’s probably because my bending is even weaker than usual right now. Zuko tilted his head back to look up at the stars.  A memory flashed in his mind: the first time he’d seen the spirit lights in the South Pole.  Uncle had been thrilled and dragged Zuko out of bed to watch.  He blinked, and the memory faded.  No colorful ribbons split the sky in two.  Stars scattered across the heavens like they had been spilled from a jar. The moon hung heavy.  Zuko sighed.  I should go back to bed.

              “Not yet, Prince Zuko.”

              “Just Zuko,” Zuko said instinctively.  His eyes widened.  A figure began to form out of the moon.  A young woman, about the age he’d been before the spirits cursed him.  She smiled sweetly.

              “Not cursed, Prince Zuko.  Blessed,” she said.  Her voice echoed across the waves.  She floated closer.  “And why would I not call you Prince?  It is your title.”

              “Not- not anymore,” Zuko stammered.  He resisted the urge to fidget.  Clearly, he was in the presence of a spirit.  He had to be on his best behavior.  The spirit settled next to him on the railing.  Zuko winced slightly; her bright glow hurt his bad eye.  Her eyes widened.  The glow surrounding her dimmed from the force of the full moon to a soft foxfire.

              “I apologize,” she said.  “This is the first time I’m really acting as a spiritual intermediary.”

              “But…you’re the moon spirit,” Zuko said, having finally recognized her. She smiled sadly.

              “Not always.  You can call me Yue.”

              “Yue.”  Zuko looked down at his hands.  “Yue, I- I can’t be the prince anymore.”

              “Why not?”

              “I just- I can’t.”

              “Hmm.”  Yue looked out across the water.  “If you want to renounce your title, it might behoove you to wait until you have a firm reason for doing so.”

              “…Maybe,” Zuko mumbled.  He took a deep breath.  “Why- why are you here?” he asked.  To his displeasure, it came out as a weak squeak.  Yue smiled fondly at him.  Her white hair billowed behind her, despite the complete lack of breezes.

              “It’s time you were told why the spirits have intervened with you.” Zuko whipped his head up to stare at Yue in shock.

              “That doesn’t happen very often.”

              “The general consensus is that you might not pick up on it on your own,” Yue confessed.  Zuko flushed in embarrassment.  “Prince Zuko, your personal journey, one that the spirits have been invested in, is unlearning what you were taught by your father.”

              “Like what?” Zuko asked.  “Give me an example.”  Yue’s mouth twitched.

              “They’re all examples.”

              “What?”

              “Children your age wear their hearts on their sleeves and don’t hide their intentions,” Yue said, changing the topic.  “They have no difficulty accessing the emotions that you grew up learning to stifle.  If you wish to be a kind, just ruler someday, you must relearn how to be vulnerable and open. You must abandon the idea that rage and fear are all that will make you strong.”

              “But that’s where firebending comes from.  Anger.”

              “Is it?” Yue asked, cocking her head.  Zuko blinked.  “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

              “It sounds like you want me to stop being Fire Nation.”  Zuko rubbed the back of his neck.  “Which…I sort of already have.”

              “No.  The Fire Nation is no more inherently bad than any other creed.”  Yue put a hand on Zuko’s back.  “It has a rich culture whose good aspects have been masked by the bad ones for a hundred years.”  She began to fade.  “Our time is coming to an end.”

              “What?  But you didn’t- you didn’t tell me anything!” Zuko protested.  Yue began to float away.

              “I did.”

              “No, you-”  Zuko huffed. “What am I supposed to do?  Am I even going to return to my proper age?”

              “That’s something only you can control,” Yue said softly.

              “Wait!” Zuko shouted at the spirit.  She was growing smaller, moving away from him, back to the moon hanging in the sky. “Wait!”  He got to his feet clumsily.  “That’s not a real answer, it’s-”  His already precarious balance on the rail failed as the ship hit a rough wave. Zuko toppled forward, falling overboard.

              Again.

              At least he was rescued quicker this time.  Ranalok had seen him lose his balance and fished him out of the ocean immediately.  Tuluk stood ready nearby with a towel.

              “Kid, you have to think of some new ways to drive us up the wall,” Tuluk said as he removed Zuko’s dripping outerwear.  Thankfully, he didn’t take off all of Zuko’s clothes, even though every stitch was drenched.  The crewman allowed Zuko some of the piddling amount of dignity the former prince had left. He wrapped Zuko tightly in the towel and dragged him to the infirmary.

              When Kustaa awoke and saw the soaked boy, he merely raised a silent eyebrow.

              “The baby badger-viper fell overboard,” Tuluk explained.  Kustaa sighed.  “Hopefully he won’t get sick this time.”

              “Hopefully,” Kustaa repeated.  Tuluk left.  Kustaa turned so that Zuko could undress and dry off.  “You realize what this means, right?”

              “…No,” Zuko said warily, scrubbing his hair with the towel.

              “Your clothes need to dry again.”  Zuko froze.  “Including your favorite coat.  So…” Zuko scowled as the coat he did not like one bit was tossed at him.  “Time to dress up like a pygmy puma.”

[lowkeyjustvibing]

Fic time again

Pairing: Truce poly + Reaper and Epic

Prompt: Just some chaos

Also! We have:

Enby Nightmare, Reaper, and Horror

Neopronoun Error (string,strings,stringself)

aro/ace Ink and ace Reaper

Also human versions ‘cuz    y e s

*CRASH*

“YOU BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN ONE OF MY VASES INK!”

“You’re legit dead, bruh.”

“Shut up and run before they see us!”

Nightmare stormed down the hall, their tentacles thrashing wildly and just barely avoiding breaking some things themselves. Things like this (Which were once a rarity) had become quite common ever since the truce and the events that occurred as a result. In short, after peace was finally brought to the multiverse, both the Star Sanses and the Bad Sanses both realized just how dull life was without the other group present in their lives. 

The solution? Get everyone to live in the same house.

And since Nightmare was the only one in possession of a building big enough for all of them to live in, the Star Sanses just moved in. It was difficult to get used to the sudden change in living arrangements. Fights would break out on a daily basis over small things and it would be up to someone else to keep the peace. However, once they all managed to get used to each other, things went a lot smoother.

Or rather, smoother than before.

Nightmare finally reached the living room, sighing as they saw the shards of porcelain covering the floor.

“And this was one of my favorites too.” They muttered, picking up the shards.

Thankfully, one of the nice things about being covered in sentient sludge is that it works as great glue. In a few seconds, the vase looked back to normal (If you ignored the subtle cracks covering it).

“Now where’s that clumsy squid?” They mused, scanning the room.

At that moment Dust walked in, probably having heard all the commotion as well and coming to see what happened. When he saw Nightmare, he gave a small wave before flopping onto the couch and curling up under the blankets.

“Hey!”

Nightmare jumped and Dust practically flew off the couch, immediately grabbing the pocket knife he carried, manifesting a few blasters, and pointing them at the now wriggling blankets.

Nightmare just sighed, signaling Dust to calm down, “Ink, come out from under the blankets.”

After a few minutes of silence, the artist was heard quietly cursing before sheepishly poking his head out from under the blankets, “Um, hey Nightmare?”

Suddenly, another person emerged from the blanket as well, “It’s his fault, bruh!”

Nightmare just sighed again, pinching their eyebrows, “What have I told you about roughhousing outside of the gym and your own rooms?”

“Not to...” Epic and Ink responded simultaneously, both staring at the floor.

Dust just snickered, de-summoning the blaster and putting away his knife, “What is this, the seventh time you guys have broken something just this week?”

Ink stuck his tongue out at the other, getting rewarded with a similar action. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Nightmare said, “Ink, Epic, you two are doing extra chores this week.”

“What?!” Epic cried, “I didn’t even do anything, bruh!”

“Yes, because Ink decided to break the vase with no prompting.”

Epic just huffed and folded his arms, grumbling something unintelligible. Ink looked equally annoyed but seemed to accept what Nightmare said. 

“Oh yeah, Nightmare.” Dust suddenly piped up, “I think Error wanted you. Heard string say something about Reaper harassing strings.”

“Not again...” Nightmare muttered, walking off and leaving the other three to do their own thing.

On the way to where they believed Error was, Nightmare passed Dream’s room where he was helping Horror read a story Killer had gotten them for their birthday. It had taken a while for Horror to be comfortable asking anyone to help them read. They felt embarrassed that they couldn’t read on their own due to not only being slightly dyslexic, but also having poor vision. It always Nightmare happy to see somebody helping them. After a few moments, Dream looked up and saw Nightmare. He waved, smiling brightly and Horror glanced up, waving as well. Nightmare returned the gesture before continuing down the hall, they had a job to do.

“HI NIGHTMARE!”

Nightmare jumped, their tentacles instinctively sharpening and pointing towards whoever scared them.

“OH!” Blue cried before lowering his voice, “Sorry, I forget how loud I can be sometimes.”

After recovering from the shock Nightmare smiled, ruffling Blue’s hair, “It’s fine, you just surprised me.”

Blue beamed, giving them a hug, “OK!”

They returned the hug, giving the shorter and giving him a peck on the cheek before letting go, “Forgive me for my abruptness, but I have something to take care of at the moment. See you again later.”

And with that, they left a very flustered Blue standing in the middle of the hallway. Now, to finally find Error. They thought, a determined glint in their eyes. No more distractions.

“Sup Boss.”

Nightmare just barely suppressed a groan, “Damn it.”

Killer scoffed, “Well, I didn’t realize how little you liked my presence.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” Nightmare responded, continuing down the hall with Killer now practically skipping along behind them.

“Then what’s got ya’ so riled up?” Killer asked.

“I’m trying to find Error but I keep getting distracted by people.”

“Why ‘re ya’ trying to find strings?”

“Dust said something about Reaper harassing strings and I want to make sure Error doesn’t kill them.”

At that, Killer instantly tensed up, though he quickly hid his reaction, “Oh, you got any idea where string is?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Killer didn’t respond, only speeding up and quickly overtaking Nightmare. In turn, Nightmare began speeding up as well to keep up with him. They expected Killer to become worried once he found out Error was even mildly inconvenienced. Dust and Horror were also very protective of the glitch. They all saw strings as a parental figure of sorts (Along with Nightmare). 

“Calm down Killer.” Nightmare said, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.

Killer flinched and seemed to calm down a bit but he still radiated worry and anger, “Sorry, I’m just worried about strings.”

“I am too but you just need to calm down.” They responded, “It’ll be OK.”

Killer grumbled something but agreed following right alongside Nightmare.

“I wonder where-” Nightmare was cut off by a glitched out shout of frustration followed by a surprised yelp, “Found them.”

Killer broke into a run and Nightmare just walked along after him.

“Killer! Get away before I touch you!” Reaper cried, instantly stumbling backwards upon seeing the other.

Killer just scoffed in response and turned to Error who was still glitching slightly. It was obvious string was just frustrated with the pesky god, passive aggressively turning away from them.

Reaper finally steadied, brushing themselves off, “Well, that was an unexpected turn of events.” after regaining their composure, they turned to Error and did a dramatic bow, “Forgive me for my insolence my sweet cherry blossom.”

Error ignored strings blush and the fact that parts of strings were pixelating in and out of existence, “ץєคђ ฬђคՇєשєг, ןยรՇ ๒คςк ๏ŦŦ ๒єŦ๏гє เ ๔๏ ร๏๓єՇђเภﻮ ฬє ๒๏Շђ гєﻮгєՇ.”

Reaper took that as a win and grinned, spinning on their heel and walking down the hall, “I look forward to our next encounter beautiful~!”

“Sƚυριԃ ϝʅιɾƚყ Ⴆαʂƚαɾԃ.” Error muttered, though string wouldn’t deny the smile that tugged at the corners of strings mouth.

“You OK Error?” Killer asked, careful not to be too close without permission.

String nodded, “Yҽαԋ, αʅʅ Շђєץ ԃιԃ ɯαʂ ριʂʂ ɱҽ σϝϝ. Nσƚԋιɳɠ Ⴆιɠ.”

“They’re lucky I can’t touch them or else they’d be in danger right about now.” Was all he said, scowling at the floor.

Nightmare finally stepped forward, having just been watching the interaction, “Well, I’m glad nothing too bad happened.”

“Eαʂყ ϝσɾ ყσυ ƚσ ʂαყ σƈƚσρυʂ.” String responded.

Nightmare rolled their eyes, “My goodness, I thought we were over the whole octopus ordeal.”

“Never will be goop lord!” Killer said, instantly going from brooding to playful.

They sighed in disappointment before picking Killer up with a tentacle and motioning for Error to follow, “Anyways, it’s movie night.”

“Is it my turn?!” Killer asked, swinging his legs though being careful not to kick Nightmare.

“No, Cross.” 

Killer groaned loudly, “Oh come ON! You know full well he and Epic are gonna’ make us watch the Bee Movie again.”

Nightmare just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

“YES YOU DO!”

“Irrelevant.” 

Error snickered quietly at their debate, “ʏօʊ ȶաօ ʄɨɢɦȶ ʟɨӄɛ ǟռ օʟɖ ʍǟʀʀɨɛɖ ƈօʊքʟɛ.”

“Bold of you to assume we aren’t.” Killer retorted.

“I’m pretty sure we all are.”

“Whatever.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Nightmare turned and rapped loudly on a nearby door, “Epic, Cross, stop making out and come to the living room. It’s movie night.”

After a few moments of frantic shuffling from inside the room, Cross opened the door, looking quite disheveled, “H-hey Nightmare, we’ll be out in a minute.”

Somewhere inside the dimly lit bedroom a frantic voice whispered, “Close the damn door, bruh!”

Killer burst out laughing, Error barely kept stringself from glitching out from laughter, and Nightmare chuckled before closing the door in Cross’s flushed face. 

“Oh they are NEVER living this down!” Killer wheezed and barely managed to pat the tentacle holding him, “H-here, just put me d-down, I need to go tell the other two.” he wheezed out.

Nightmare set him down and after a few moments of trying to catch his breath, he was off, jogging down the halls and calling for Horror and Dust. After he was out of sight, Nightmare turned to Error.

“So,” They started, “Are you SURE you’re OK?”

Error looked at them in confusion for a moment before nodding, “Yҽαԋ, ʝυʂƚ ɠσƚ ƈαυɠԋƚ σϝϝ Ⴆყ Rҽαρҽɾ. I'ɱ ϝιɳҽ ɳσɯ.”

“Alright,” Nightmare responded, giving strings a soft kiss on the forehead, “but if they ever make you uncomfortable just tell them to back off. They’re a clingy flirt but they know to respect boundaries.”

String was now a blushing mess and Nightmare reveled in that fact, deciding to fluster strings more. 

“I hope you know I love you.” They mumbled, moving closer to Error (Who thankfully didn’t move back)

String was glitching hard, not from how close the other was, but from how flustered strings was.

Nightmare decided to continue, embracing strings in a loose hug, “You’re so wonderful, I could never live without you.”

“₦-₦ł₲Ⱨ₮₥₳ⱤɆ...” Error responded and upon hearing how bad string was glitching, Nightmare backed off slightly.

After a few moments, string pulled them back into another hug, burying strings head into their shoulder. Nightmare was caught off guard but smiled and proceeded to hum quietly while holding the other. They occasionally gave more compliments just to see Error get flustered again while they both stood there in the empty hallway. After some time, Nightmare found themself wanting to make the other all the more flustered, just to see what would happen. They lifted a hand to strings cheek and moved strings so that they were face to face. The only warning Error got was a mischievous look in Nightmare’s eyes before their lips met. It was brief, nothing too long so as to not cause Error to crash, but Nightmare savored the brief moment.

After a few minutes of stunned silence, Error’s cheeks began to burn. String glitched sharply, trying not to crash as Nightmare began to regret the impulsive decision.

“Are you O-” Nightmare started but was stopped as Error, in a similar moment of impulsivity, kissed them again.

Now it was Nightmare’s turn to be caught off guard but they weren’t about to waste this. They kissed back and absentmindedly began fiddling with strings hair. 

That was until they heard the sound of a phone camera clicking and snickering from a bit down the hall. They both instantly looked over and saw Cross and Epic snickering as Epic pointed his phone at them. The effect was instantaneous. Error crashed, scratchy dial up noise filling the hall and Nightmare’s tentacles sharpened and pointed towards the other two as their cheeks turned bright red.

“Go.” Was all they said and Cross instantly grabbed Epic and sprinted down the hall, cursing as he ran.

Nightmare uttered a few curses themself and turned back to Error who was still rebooting. It took a minute but string eventually finished, blinking a few times to clear the lingering pixels and error signs.

“₮ⱧØ₴Ɇ Ⱡł₮₮ⱠɆ ₳**ⱧØⱠɆ₴!” String cried, the glitches returning for a moment before calming down.

“Calm down Error.” Nightmare said, barely retaining their own composure, “It’s not like they can even do much with that picture anyways.”

String muttered something incomprehensible before just groaning and resting strings head on Nightmares shoulder, “ƈǟռ ʏօʊ ǟȶ ʟɛǟֆȶ ƈǟʀʀʏ ʍɛ? ɨ'ʍ ȶɨʀɛɖ ռօա.”

“Of course.” They responded, doing something similar to what they did with Killer and carrying strings in their tentacles.

They had discovered that while physical contact still caused strings to glitch occasionally, somehow their tentacles didn’t seem to trigger it. So, of course, whenever Error crashed and was too tired to walk much, they would always carry strings in his tentacles. As they walked, Error sighed contentedly and buried strings head in the mass of pure negativity. Nightmare couldn’t help feeling proud that they found a way to practically smother Error while not hurting strings, something very few could accomplish. They eventually got to the theatre room where everyone was either chatting amongst themselves or engaged in the giant pillow fight occurring in the middle of the room.

“Are we watching a movie or...?” Nightmare said, their voice seeming to magically project to every corner of the room and quelling all the chaos.

“I’ll get popcorn!” Dream said, jumping to his feet and running to the kitchen as Blue and Horror followed. 

Nightmare sat Error down gently on the couch, making sure string was comfortable before moving around the scattered cushions and sitting next to strings. It took a few minutes for the other three to get back and by then, the movie was already chosen. As expected, it was the Bee Movie. Everyone was either howling with laughter or completely enraged by this development. The popcorn bowls were distributed across the couch and floor where everyone was sitting and the movie started. No one was watching the movie. Instead, they were all either talking or cuddling with the nearest person. Nightmare did the same and cradled Error in their tentacles along with Blue, who just happened to be sitting nearby, and reading a book.

The thing that snapped them out of the world of the thick novel was loud snickers coming from one side of the room. Killer, Horror, Cross, and Epic were all just barely keeping from bursting out laughing at something Ink was showing them. Out of curiosity, Nightmare reached out with a spare tentacle and snatched the sketch book, earning an indignant shout from Ink. They ignored it and opened the sketchbook, skipping past a few other, incredibly well done, drawing to what the other four were looking at. 

So to say that they were shocked upon going from a drawing of a forest the looked like it was a picture and not hand drawn to some horrible amalgamation of Barry B. Benson and Shrek was an understatement.

Error (Who just recently woke up) and Blue saw the drawing and started snickering as well. Nightmare just stared at it in disgust and confusion.

“I don’t understand why you waste your incredible talent on such horrendous things.” Was all they said before giving the sketchbook back.

“Whatever Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Ink huffed, holding the book close to his chest as if someone else was about to take it as well.

After the laughter died down they all returned to what they had been doing. It was still odd to many of them. The fact that some were sitting side by side with who used to be their mortal enemies was still a foreign concept but it wasn’t unwelcome. 

“Love you guys.” Dust whispered and everyone in the room looked at him in surprise.

After a few moments of Dust feeling incredibly self conscious about the fact that everyone was staring him down, Error responded.

“ʟօʋɛ ʏօʊ ɢʊʏֆ ȶօօ.” String said, cuddling closer into Nightmare.

A chorus of “Love you”s Rose from around the room as they all relaxed, enjoying the feeling of peaceful quiet. Well, at least until tomorrow when they were all reenergized and ready to cause more trouble.

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

I FINALLY FISHING FINISHED OH MY GOSH

This took SO long to do (Almost completely because I procrastinated so long-) and I’m glad I finally finished it! 

I hope this makes yalls as happy as it made me while I wrote it :)

[pain-somnia]

A Rhythm That Guides

Rated: M Pairing: SasuSaku Disclaimer Day’s Notes: This fic is an exclusive on Patreon. At least Part 2 and the soon to be posted Part 3 are. I wanted to surprise everyone by releasing the first part if Biden won the election. A Rhythm That Guides is my Incubus AU which has art created by ceejss that you can find in this links: part 1 & part 2 Part 2 is only a sneak peek but you can find the High Res versions on her Patreon and also in PDFs on mine for special tiers.

I hope you enjoy my Incubus AU. Part 1 can be read as is with no continuation if you like...but there are more parts of it if you want to follow Sakura and Incubus!Sasuke’s journey.

Part One

It was happening again.

Lately, in his afternoon lecture class, he was getting a painful empty feeling in his lower stomach. He wasn’t eating as much as he used to during his lunch break so that could have explained the empty feeling.

But the throbbing between his legs was making Sasuke consider that perhaps, something else was going on.

The lecture would barely be halfway through the hour and Sasuke was finding himself adjusting himself in his seat to discreetly hide the rising tent in his pants.

Luckily he sat in the back row, but it was getting ridiculous how often it was happening.

Nearing twenty and in the beginning stages of adulthood, Sasuke realized—a little later than he should have considering how obvious it was—what exactly was to blame for his predicament.

Or more specifically, who.

Turning in his seat, Sasuke created more space between himself and the girl sitting just a single space down the row from him.

Sasuke had been affectionately labeled a late bloomer by his mother when his father had expressed concern in his disinterest in humans of either gender.

“He’s going to have to feed eventually,” his father had grunted, not at all pleased when his mother pointed out the decrease in his consumption of human food she regularly made to feed him and herself.

“Meal times will be lonely once I’m the only one that needs to eat,” she had grumbled, taking his half eaten dishes away.

Sasuke wished he took after his human lineage instead. It would have been so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to be getting his meals for the rest of his life on top of all of his course work.

Sighing to himself, he turned a page in his notebook and continued taking notes. He would just have to suffer through the ache.

.

.

Bending over slightly, Sasuke picked up his sports drink from the bottom of the vending machine. He could do without the sweetness of it but he desperately needed to replenish his electrolytes.

As soon as his class had ended he fled the lecture hall and put as much distance as possible between him and the source of his problems. He knew he would start to hunger for a different energy source but it made it all the worse that temptation sat with only a space between them.

When the new semester had started, Sasuke did what he always did: he found the seat farthest away from other students. It wasn’t that he disliked other people. He just didn’t want any distractions.

Sasuke had always been like that, studious to a fault. At first it was to impress his father, but he learned later on that he quite enjoyed having his name at the top of the board with all of the exam scores. He moved away from trying to make his father pay more attention to him and worked to make himself happy.

And his road to happiness required a degree in engineering.

He knew he could have picked another school, one that catered more to those of his kind, but he didn’t want to go to just any school he wanted to go to the school. Even if that meant attending a school with a high human population.

I have so many regrets now, he thought as he took a big swig of his sports drink.

Sasuke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. He was going to have to stop by a canteen for snacks if he was going to survive the rest of his day.

Eating usually sustained him for a few hours. It did nothing to fill the empty feeling in stomach but it allowed him to focus more on his lectures and labs until he could get home and try to sleep away the ache.

At least that’s what he hoped would happen. It was getting harder and harder to quell the hunger.

.

.

Sakura buried her nose into her textbook, pretending to be deep into her reading. Peering over the top she caught hold of heated dark brown eyes and quickly averted her gaze back to her textbook.

What did I do? She wailed inwardly and mentally flipped through the past few days searching for the offensive thing she may have done.

She couldn’t recall a single moment that she had even spoken to her classmate. Why was he so angry with her?

He probably figured me out…

Although she had never spoken to him, Sakura couldn’t help how smitten she had become over her classmate.

Uchiha Sasuke was a quiet boy. He didn’t seem to be a part of any of the circles and mostly kept to himself and his studies. If she didn’t see him in class, she would usually find him in the library or in the computer labs.

Sakura mostly made her own lunches and snuck them into her bag when she went to the library but when she visited the cafeteria she would find him grabbing some onigiri to go. She wondered how he kept going with their long days if he only ate rice and snacks. Humans couldn’t live off of sports drinks.

Sakura had been considering joining a study group but had been procrastinating. She had started to drift from a circle she had joined in a previous semester because of an extremely flirtatious upperclassman.

He was too touchy for her comfort but it was mostly the fact that he took any opportunity he could to complain about Uchiha Sasuke.

I guess an incubus wouldn’t like to share the attention.

Sakura shrugged off his comments and made sure there were at least two of her human upperclassmen in the same room. They were already used to the circle hopping incubi and succubi that used the campus as their hunting grounds and usually helped the underclassmen steer clear of them when they weren’t interested.

She guessed, in a way,  it made sense why the incubus upperclassman felt threatened.

Uchiha Sasuke was quiet and polite but mostly he was really attractive. And it helped that he didn’t flirt with anything that moved.

An herbivore maybe? Sakura had joked to herself once.

Well now her quiet classmate was glaring daggers at her and she had no idea why.

And yet he is still beautiful while angry. The gods are so unfair.

Sakura kept her head down and she waited for the professor to arrive. She hoped he got there soon.

.

.

It was irritating how dangerous a blush could be.

Haruno Sakura was fair in coloring with pale skin that colored easily.

Sasuke had wondered if she was a regional dryad when he first saw her hair and eye color. Humans had a tendency to dye their hair but her eyebrows and pale, untouched lashes proved her to be a natural rose gold haired person. There was a chance of her being descended from a cherry blossom tree nymph.

But she was obviously human—or at least too far down the family tree from any possible nymph—without him having to ask.

“Is this computer taken?” Sakura asked, pink dusting the apples of her cheeks.

Glittering sea foam green eyes cast to the side shyly and the biting of a plump lower lip was just a reminder that Haruno Sakura was an above average beauty, even when compared to incubus standards.

It would be difficult to find a tastier looking meal.

What the fuck?

Disregarding that passing thought, Sasuke looked around the room for an available computer station. Even if there wasn’t one she could still switch computers with someone that wasn’t working yet.

“You should find a different computer,” he snapped when she reached for the chair. He gripped the top of the seat’s back and attempted to stare her down.

Pale green eyes went wide and the trembling of her lower lip made Sasuke’s stomach drop. He instantly regretted his behavior despite the fact that he needed her as far away from him as possible. Sasuke opened his mouth to ease the situation when, with more strength than he had expected, Sakura yanked the chair out from under his hand.

“Unfortunately for the both of us, this is the only available computer station,” she said hotly, face flushing red. She sat down and propped her textbook up so that she could reference it for notes.

A side effect of his awakening incubus nature was a heightened awareness of the emotions of different creatures. Sasuke could feel her irritation and her anger rolling off of her in hot waves. Her anger did nothing to quell the ache in his lower abdomen. Instead, heat pooled lower and a familiar twitching had him exhaling deeply through his nose.

“Shisui likes to get Izumi angry on purpose,” Itachi━who had lucked out and had taken after their human mother━━had explained once when he and his spouses were visiting. “Something about more flavoring.  He never gets me angry like that but then again, I’m more likely to withhold if angered. It affects him more.”

It was something that he had absolutely no interest in knowing about his older brother and his in-laws but it had explained a lot about Shisui’s behavior on certain days. Shisui was like his father, faithful. It was a strange trait for an incubus but it was one that ran in the Uchiha family. They married their partner━or partners like in Shisui’s case━and fed from them exclusively. It was interesting to watch how Shisui and his spouses functioned in comparison to his more traditional father.

But at the moment he was just irritated to know he shared a similarity with Shisui of all people.

The sound of fingers pounding down on the keyboard next to him lightened to a steady stream of light tapping. Sasuke chanced a glance from his peripheral vision at his neighbor.

Something glittery caught his eye when Sakura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The shorter strand curled around her ear and revealed a trio of silver studs along her lobe. His eyes trailed from her ears to her cheeks, the color had faded out as her temper cooled.

Her eyes squinted, a crease forming between pale brows as she contemplated her next keyboard strokes. Eyes drifting from the wrinkle between her eyebrows, Sasuke eyed the way she bit her lower lip at the right corner.

As she worked the scent of desire had diminished from her direction. Her anger hadn’t quelled it but her focus on her assignment had overcome the secondary feeling. It drifted to a quiet buzz, the way a few humans got when they were near someone they were innocently attracted to.

Sakura continued to work, not bothering to try and chat with him, like she always did in their shared lectures. That was the part Sasuke never understood. She never bothered him outside of handing him the exit slip for their lectures or to get around his seat.

And yet her existence was hard to ignore.

She wasn’t the only human at their university that was attracted to him. He wasn’t oblivious to the stares and to what people assumed was subtle brushing against his body.

So why exactly was she such a problem?

Sakura sighed and pushed her keyboard away from her. The action caused her propped textbook to slide upwards  against the monitor and system unit and fold in on itself.

“Oh, shoot!” Sakura hissed under her breath as the book began to fall. She fumbled with it as it slipped off of the desk.

He hadn’t intended to reach for the textbook. It was mostly reflex that had him making a grab for it. It hadn’t even occurred to him until after it was safely in his hands that catching the book would give away the fact that he had been paying far more attention than he should have been. He shouldn’t have been paying any attention at all.

“Thank you,” Sakura murmured as he handed back the book. Her face did the thing again where it colored easily, pink spreading across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

Great.

Sasuke sucked in some air to try and distract himself from the heat pooling in his groin. It wouldn’t do for his hunger to manifest itself as a lump in his jeans.

Quickly logging out, Sasuke grabbed his belongings and made a swift exit.

He needed to get as far away from her and her dangerous blushes as possible.

.

.

It was odd. He could still taste the slices of tomatoes his mother had chopped up. They slid across his tongue, still tangy and cool from having just been taken out from the refrigerator, every bit as tasty as it always was but it didn’t hit his stomach the same way.

“Is everything alright?” Mikoto stopped in her stirring as she eyed the way Sasuke’s mouth twisted and he pushed away the plate of his favorite fruit.

“I ate like three tomatoes worth of slices and I’m still hungry.”

“Oh.” Mikoto looked down at the pot on the stove and frowned. “Should I make more or…?”

“I don’t think it would matter if I ate more or not at this point.”

Sasuke’s jaw clenched as the ache in his stomach stung sharply. He was running out of time.

He had hoped he would never have to deal with this problem. His older brother Itachi never did—he turned out to be human, no matter the fact that he was almost perfect in everything he did, he was human through and through.

Sasuke had figured if his brother ended up being human then he would get passed over as well. Unfortunately, genetics weren’t on his side on this one.

Clearing his bowl and wiping down his spot at the kitchen table Sasuke bid his mother goodnight, calling it in for the night.

Without bothering to turn on the lights for his bedroom he peeled off his shirt and kicked off his house slippers before collapsing onto his bed. He yanked his duvet out from under him and pulled it over his head.

“I don’t even want to touch anyone like that,” he sighed.

As soon as he had the thought, his mind flashed him an image of pink hair and red blushes clashing with jade colored eyes.

I’m not entertaining that.

Sasuke curled into a ball and clutched a pillow to his chest. Maybe tomorrow he would be less hungry.

.

.

It was like he hadn’t eaten in days.

There was nothing that could have distracted him from the pain in his lower stomach. It was pride that had him struggling to get to class. That and an exam later on in the day that he couldn’t afford to miss.

Traveling by train was a hassle due to the amount of attention he was attracting.

“Never let yourself starve,” Shisui had warned him weeks ago when the signs of transition were revealing themselves. “Your body will go into starvation mode and release pheromones that attract nearby humans that you can feed on. That may sound helpful, but it gets chaotic in public spaces.”

Sasuke was forced to exit the train five stations away from the university station and call a taxi company that specialized in otherworldly patrons. A pair of high school girls were inching closer and one middle aged man had already brushed his back against Sasuke’s chest much too often to be blamed on the rocking of the train car.

He wouldn’t survive the rush of travelers that would hop on the train at the central station.

“You don’t look good, kid.” A single horned demon cab driver turned in his seat to look back at him. “I could drop you off somewhere you can get easy prey.”

What, did he have a sign on his forehead that read “Starving Incubus?”

“Take me to K Uni,” Sasuke growled out more forcefully.

Incubus physiological issues weren’t going to get in his way of passing the semester with top marks.

The demon gave him a disapproving look before pulling away from the curb. He muttered something derogatory that Sasuke chose to ignore.

Sasuke was dropped off as close as possible to the building he needed to get to but it still wasn’t enough. He weaved through campus, taking the least crowded hallways to get to his destination.

“Fuck.”

Sasuke ducked under a stairwell and slid down against the wall to the floor. The hunger pains were getting worse.

Exhaling deeply through his nose, Sasuke resigned himself to missing his two lectures for the day and then braving his way to his exam. He would just have to hide out. Luckily he was in a part of the building no one used, choosing instead to use the staircase and elevators on the opposite side of the building than the ones that faced the cafeteria.

Unzipping his jeans to make more room for himself without actually whipping his penis out Sasuke sighed out, grateful for the few centimeters of relief.

Sasuke rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. Unlike erections from his youth, he was having difficulty willing his current predicament away with meditation. It wasn’t arousal, it was hunger. And it wasn’t going to be going away just because he wanted it to.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke leaned his head back and tried to focus on the cool cement wall behind him.

“Uchiha-kun?”

Oh, no. No. No. No!

“Uchiha-kun are you, okay?”

Of course Haruno Sakura would be the one person that chose to walk in a secluded part of the building. Of course it would be the last person he wanted to see him in such a state.

“Do you...need assistance?”

Or maybe...she was the perfect person to find him?

“Uchiha-kun, do you need me to get someone? Or something?”

Her voice was warm and full of concern and just so inviting. The tone promised she would do anything to help him. Anything.

Opening his eyes, Sasuke let out a groan. This just wasn’t his day.

Sakura squatted so that she was eye level with him and tossed her bag on the ground. The hem of her blue button down shirt dress rode up her thigh, revealing more of her legs than he had seen before.

“You look a bit feverish…” she mumbled, placing a cool hand against his forehead before sliding the back of it against his cheek. “You’re really—“

Her sentence was caught off when she gasped. Her skin was so cool and he was so hot that he had leaned into her touch and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

“Um, Uchiha-kun?” Sakura squeaked and Sasuke took advantage of her shock to take hold of her hand and press an open mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist and dragged his lips up her palm.

He wasn’t sure of what he was doing, but something inside him was telling him to take her slim fingers into his mouth and nibble at the tips.

“Uchiha-kun…?”

Already in his presence for too long, Sakura’s green eyes glazed over and she was beginning to pant. Sliding his left hand up her thigh over her dress, Sasuke gripped her hip gently and tugged her so that she would fall on to his lap.

Sakura’s breath hitched when Sasuke pressed his forehead to hers. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and lightly tapped against her face. Nudging her nose with his, Sasuke pressed his lips against hers, guiding her into opening up for him with hesitant movements. Sakura returned his kiss, running her tongue along the seam of his mouth.

Every sigh and moan lightened the ache in his stomach. Sasuke rolled his tongue against Sakura’s and brushed the underside of her right breast, gently strumming his fingers against her ribs.

“Mmh!” Sakura made a sound of surprise as he gave a small breast an experimental squeeze.

Sasuke groped around with his thumb, circling a hardened peak through the cloth of her dress. Sakura grunted in frustration as he avoided the places she longed for him to touch.

Irritation rolled off of her in waves as she bit down on Sasuke’s lip, tugging it as she pulled away from him. Sasuke couldn’t help the upturn of his lips as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and puffed out an exhale to blow hair out of her face.

The more frustrated she got the more her arousal spiked. Her body was demanding release and as much as Sasuke’s hunger clouded mind wanted to give it to her, there was another part that wanted to prolong the moment.

Since the start of the semester, Haruno Sakura had been a nuisance. Every shared lecture she would distract him with her not so subtle glances and the smell of fresh linens and apples whenever she passed him to get to her seat.

So he wasn’t in any particular mood to just get it over with.

Slowly, as not to frighten her off, he slid his hand up her thigh under her dress. He pulled her in closer by cupping the back of her neck and thumbed smoothing circles along her jaw.

Sasuke was sure lack of experience would cause him to stumble, but apparently being an incubus did have its perks. His heightened senses guided him and he was sure he was moving exactly the way Sakura wanted him to. Not a single intake of air or moan was hidden from him.

“Oh!” Sakura buried her face in the crook of his neck as his fingers slipped into the front of her cotton boy shorts.

With two fingers he lightly traced the velvet soft nether lips and hummed in delight at the way Sakura trembled at the slight touch. He wondered how much of it was the exposure to his incubus pheromones and how much of it was her own sensitivity.

Stroking inward, Sasuke groaned at the moisture pooling between her legs. His stomach clenched, cramping with a sudden pang of pain. He slipped his middle finger inside and curled it, feeling her walls and stretching her a bit. He pumped slowly, keeping alert for any signs of distress, and then with his thumb circled around a curious, knobby bit of flesh right above her entrance.

It was almost instant the reaction he got out of Sakura. She gasped and curled inward on herself, clutching his shoulders.

“Please…” she begged, swiveling her hips hesitantly. “Please, oh, please!”

Sasuke gave in and pressed his thumb directly on her clit, massaging it and rubbing circles, adding pressure to it and listening to the change in pitches of Sakura’s moans. Slipping in his ring finger as well had Sakura letting out a strangled cry. Sasuke paused, worried that he had hurt her when she whimpered.

But then Sakura grinded her hips against his hand and he resumed pumping his fingers and twirling his thumb in the way she seemed to enjoy.

“Hm!”

Sakura caught him off guard by taking his face in her hands and lifting his face up to hers. Their teeth clanged together from her eagerness, but Sasuke allowed her to relax and settle into a languid meshing of lips all on her own.

A moan rolled into his mouth and it caused a delightful shiver to run down his spine. Sasuke increased the pace of his pumping fingers and the rubbing of his thumb, coaxing more of Sakura’s little moans. He shuddered when one particular moan of hers hit at the same time the walls of her core fluttered and clenched around his fingers.

That was good…

Sasuke pulled his fingers out, smirking at the dejected whimper that fell from Sakura’s lips. He slipped the fingers that had just been inside of her gathering her fluids and sucked on them. His stomach growled, needing more.

Sasuke laid Sakura down on the linoleum floor and tugged on her panties, dragging them down from her legs. He kept an eye on her face for any signs of protest but instead what he got was Sakura shimmying her hips to assist in helping him peel away her undergarments.

“Huh?” Sakura blinked her unfocused eyes as Sasuke adjusted their positions so that her upper body was lying on the ground and her legs were lifted onto his shoulders. “What are you━?”

She cried out in shock as he cupped the pert rounds of her backside and pulled her up to his mouth. Sasuke let out a breathy chuckle before flattening his tongue against her core and giving it one long lick upwards, flicking her clit at the end of the stroke.

Sasuke groaned, pressing open mouthed kisses to her core as Sakura covered her mouth with her hands to reign in her moans.

No matter how hard she tried to keep quiet and hide her reactions, Sasuke felt them all as they warmed his lower stomach, easing the ache he had been suffering through for weeks.

I wouldn’t have been avoiding this if I knew how good it felt to feed.

Sasuke wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves that caused the most delight and sucked on it. He adjusted his hold on her to slide his right hand around so he could slip his fingers back inside and thrust them in and out in tandem with the oral attention he was giving her clit.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tense up, thighs squeezing together around Sasuke’s head as she held on tight to her orgasm. Sasuke licked languidly at her core, letting her ride it out as long as possible.

The better she felt the less empty his stomach felt. The only problem was the throbbing between his legs.

Sasuke laid Sakura back down on the floor. Her dress bunched up around her hips, showing off her bare pale legs and the tuft of glistening pink curls at the peak of her thighs.

She was so pink everywhere. Her hair, her flushed face, even down below she was just so pink.

Sakura peered up at him from beneath wet, pale lashes. Her chest rose with each harsh pant as she tried to settle down her breathing. Sasuke was just about to call it off—perhaps he had reached the limit as to how much Sakura could take at once—when she lifted the hem of her dress further up, dragging it to bunch up at the cinched section below her breasts.

Swallowing hard, Sasuke sat up on his knees and tugged his jeans lower on his hips.

“Holy…” Sakura shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not going to fit.”

It was a part of the incubus anatomy that Sasuke hadn’t considered causing him any issues before. Sakura was petite, much smaller than he was. The size difference would be a challenge.

Especially considering incubi had much, much larger members than humans.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her, kneeling in front of her.

He spread her legs wider and pulled her up so that she was propped on his lap. It was a move that had his cock brushing the entrance of her core and he groaned at the heat radiating from her.

Sasuke pressed the head of his cock and watched Sakura’s eyes as they widened when he inched further in.

Sakura whimpered as he stretched her further. Even with all of the foreplay earlier, Sasuke was still much too big for comfort. Sasuke soothed her by stroking her thigh. Sakura reached up and took his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers.

“Keep,” She panted, “going.”

Gripping her hip with his other hand, Sasuke steadied her as he pulled out and thrust back in. He kept his thrusts shallow, hoping to get her accustomed to having him inside of her.

“Oh!” Sakura tightened her hold on his hand when he sank further in, finally able to slip past the tight passage of her core.

It’s still not much inside though…

Sakura arched her back, clearly ecstatic at the new sensation as Sasuke picked up the pace. Her face was no longer pinched in discomfort, much to Sasuke’s relief.

But maybe it would be better if I…

Sasuke slipped out and Sakura sobbed at the loss of his girth inside of her. He knew that his pheromones and body fluids acted as an aphrodisiac but he didn’t realize that humans could become so desperate once they came in contact.

Sasuke turned Sakura over so that she was lying down on her stomach. Realizing what he was up to, Sakura braced herself on her forearms and arched her back so that her ass was in the air.

Sitting up on his knees, Sasuke took his cock in his hand and guided himself back into Sakura’s wet heat.

He groaned aloud at the feeling as he sank even deeper than he was able to before. He waited for a moment as Sakura got used to the new position. A high pitched cry had gotten caught in her throat as he had stretched her out once more but it had turned into a moan as he slipped further inside.

Using a two handed grip on her hips to anchor himself, Sasuke pulled out and drove back in. His pace was slow but the thrusts were harsh and deep as he soaked in the blissful energy radiating from Sakura.

Sasuke began to increase his pace when a door opened up from a floor above them. A loud set of girls had flung the door open and were giggling to each other as they made their way down the stairs.

He instantly halted his movements and strained to listen to where the people were heading. He was reluctant to pull out; partially because he was almost well fed, partially because Sakura had turned her head to look back at him, face scrunched up in a pout, silently pleading for another release.

He was pleased to hear their voices carrying upwards, going in the opposite direction of where he and Sakura were hiding on the first level.

A sigh of relief caught in his throat and choked him as Sakura began to push back against him, grinding her hips.

“Oi,” Sasuke chastised, tightening his hold on her hips to still her grinding. They still weren’t in the clear until he heard them exit the stairwell through one of the doors.

Sakura whined low in her throat but settled when he leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her nape. She sighed dreamily as he continued to lavish her with sweet attention. He trailed more down her spine until he heard the clanging of a door shutting.

As soon as they were alone again, he pulled out and rammed back in. He couldn’t drag it out any longer or he would risk them almost getting caught again.

Snaking a hand around Sakura’s hip and down between her thighs, he reached for her clit and pinched it. Sakura squealed and the walls of her core clamped down on his cock. He rubbed it in a pace to match his thrusting.

Sakura mewled in delight as he swiveled his hips, grinding deeply. One good thrust and she came undone once again. Reluctantly, Sasuke pulled out at the last possible moment, ejaculating on the back of her thighs.

He could only compare the decision to pull out to the feeling of someone swiping away the last bite of one’s favorite dish before they could get to it but it would have been unwise to come inside of her without knowing if she were on any birth control.

He moaned softly as the last drops of cum oozed from the slit of his cock’s head. The act was so messy despite how pleasurable it was. It wasn’t going to be fun trying to clean up.

“Haruno,” Sasuke tried to get Sakura’s attention. She was face down on the linoleum, arms having finally given out from under her. “Haruno?”

Sasuke shook her shoulder and when he got no reaction he flipped her over onto her back. Her eyes were shut and her chest rose slowly with each breath she took.

Haruno Sakura had passed out right after her climax. Considering his starved state, he had drained her of more life force than was necessary.

Sighing to himself, Sasuke took out his handkerchief and got to work on wiping his ejaculant from where it was dripping on her legs.

So fucking messy.

.

.

Blinking her eyes open, Sakura yawned before turning her face into the comforting warmth she was leaning against.

A small cough drew her attention up to the face of her classmate Uchiha Sasuke.

“You missed two lecture blocks.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. He had just fucked her until she was unconscious and that was what he wanted to inform her of?

“You’re an incubus.”

If the abnormally large size of his penis wasn’t a dead giveaway, his eyes had shifted colors and glowed red when he had sucked his fingers clean of her fluids. When had they shifted back to dark brown? She had no clue. She had been knocked out by the sudden draining of energy he had consumed.

Sasuke glared at her before averting his gaze. He stared at the wall and muttered, “Unfortunately.”

Sakura took note of how he cradled her in his lap, his cardigan sweater covering her. She watched as he avoided looking at her even as his ears burned hot pink.

He was still Uchiha Sasuke despite everything.

“This might be a weird time to mention it, but I like you. A lot.” The pink on his ears spread down his neck. “And I usually have more stamina than that. I’m not kidding, Uchiha-kun. I was in my high school’s track club.”

Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply.

“How about you start with calling me by my first name and we’ll work from there?”

“I can do that.” Sakura squirmed in his lap, making herself comfortable. She was still exhausted from earlier despite taking almost a three hour nap.

Ah, shit.

“I had an exam during one of those blocks.”

“Shit. I have one in half an hour.”

Sakura burst out laughing as the color drained from his face. He really was still the same Uchiha Sasuke she had been sitting next to all semester.

“At least you won’t be hungry, huh?”

“Real funny…”