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wet-and-wedgied · 8 months

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Rhys’ Diarrhea Disaster

(This is a fictional desperation story)

Rhys was a performer at the local Renaissance Fair and this year they gone all out, managing to book it on a vast estate of some wealthy history buff who’d recreated a medieval castle, complete with a most and a garden maze. Rhys, a good-looking young man in his twenties with green eyes and blond hair had been tasked with acting as a noble seneschal, greeting guests and introducing other performers. It was easy enough and fun, and he got to wear a cool recreation of a 16th century outfit, old fashion shoes complete with white tights, short black and gold pantaloons and a tight fitting matching doublet with puffy sleeves and a feathered cape. The clothing was tight and hard to get in, and even harder to get out of, but not particularly uncomfortable.

Rhys, thus toon his break in his get-up, slipping into the back of one of the vendors and grabbed for himself a turkey leg. He joined a few other guys in chowing down, before it was time for him to back work.

“Greetings lords and ladies,” said Rhys with bravado as the latest wave of guests arrived. It was the afternoon and the sun was beating down on him, but it was one of the popular times. “Prepare thyself for feats most great and glorious, as ye King’s tournament draw near,” Rhys said, much to the delight of a family as he point to a mom where to find the jousting field. He was directing another guest to the exhibit on dungeon equipment when suddenly Rhys felt a low grumble in his stomach. He wrinkled his nose, confused. He had just eaten, he couldn’t be hungry. In fact he felt really full. Then he stiffened as a cramp struck him.

Rhys let out a low moan as he held his stomach, bending over. BBBRRBBPT! A short hot fart blasted out of Rhys. A guy walking by dressed like a jester laughed at him. Rhys’ face went red. His stomach growled again. He didn’t need to eat, he needed—PPPBRTRRT!—Uh— to expel something. A lot of something. Rhys groaned as his guts twisted and churned beneath the tight fabric of the doublet. God, he needed to take a dump, right this minute!

BBBRRRT! Rhys cradled his stomach, doubling over as another hot fart escaped him. This was loud, booming a it came out. People started to notice the costumed nobleman wasn’t looking quite so noble. But Rhys had just finished his break and he knew his boss would blow a gasket if he took another. BBBRRTNBBBPPPRTT! Oh that was a big one. He should think about anything having to blow! PPrRRT! Not to mention he was suppose to be staying in character

“Greetings lords and—“ Rhys grabbed his stomach again as another cramp struck him like a hammer. It felt like a battering ram of shot had just slammed into his asshole and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it back. His knees felt wobbly as he bent at the middle, more farts attacks hitting him, each growing louder and louder.

“eEEEW!” Yelled a boy covering his nose and pointing at Rhys. “He’s stinky!”

Bbpprt

PPRTT

BppPPPRT!

Rhys shifted uncomfortably. His stomach roiled he felt bloated and gassy against the tight fit of his doublet, and refusing to budge it press’s into his bubbling guys forcing out a series of farts.

“Oh man,” Rhys muttered, “that turkey leg really isn’t agreeing with me.” He pressed his legs together, but it was no use. He was going to shit, and it was up to him on if that was in a toilet or his pants. “Screw it!” He gasped, and made a mad dash into the fair, bee-lining for the outhouses— Port-A-Potties decorated to look medieval— but was greeted a long line of other desperate fair goers. A line of other men who had eaten the turkey legs were clamoring for a spot, the sound of wet explosions disgustingly loud and clear to Rhys.

GRRearawwallRRL

Rhys whimpered as he held his stomach, shifting again and again in the line. Next to him another man let out a short gasp of relief and began pissing himself right then and there. The sight of the ever growing wet stain on the man’s shorts seem to have a reactionary effect on Rhys’ bladder which suddenly felt twice full.

BBBRRPPPBBBTTSHSWT!

Rhys grabbed his ass through the short pantaloons as another fart burst out of him, turning alarming wet at the end. He clenched his cheeks. “Oh God, there is no way I’m gonna make it!” Rhys groaned as he looked at the outhouses. He need somewhere else to go. He turned, desperately scanning for anything. His eyes focused on the maze. It looked most empty.

Rhys, one hand planted on his round ass and the other pressed between his legs and gripping his crotch ran across the commons and into the maze, stumbling through the many twist and turns, farting with each step. He finally came to a stop in a secluded corner as another cramp hit him and he doubled over.

“fuck it!” Rhys gasped as he resolved to pop a squat in the maze. He looked down at the pantaloons and began to work on the laces that went up the front against the bulge of his pulsing crotch. He moved as fast as he could, but there were so many, and the laces were done so tight. Panic started to set in as he tried to move faster. But the laces wouldn’t budge and the battering ram of hot loose shit was ready to breathe through.

“No! No, no, no, come on!” Rhys begged as he tried in vain to tug down the pantaloons of the white tights as his stomach chained like an angry volcano. “Please— please don’t make me shit myself!” He shook and squirmed, but it was no use as the battering ram of shit slammed against his hole and broke through.

“Aahhh… can’t hold it! AaaaAAHH!” Rhys moaned as a a thick wet turd the size of a soft ball burst through his hole and into his white tights. He gasped as the tights were instantly stained a muddy brown, the stench so thick it made him gag. And it was only the begging. He left out another moan as, the gates broken through, a tidal wave of soft diarrhea poured out of him in an uncontrollable burst into his pantaloons. It quickly filled them, Rhys left doubled over as he lost complete control of his bowls, soiling his costume. As he continued shitting himself , Rhys’ bladder too gave in. His eyes fluttered as he began peeing his pants, flooding the front as a golden waterfall fell over his fingers, frozen where they were still on his laces, streaming down his thigh and legs, mixing with the mudslide going down the back of his tights.

BLABBBBDGFFFBBBFFFFRT!

PLLOPPOPPOKLRRRBBBRRT!

SSPOOSSSLAAT!

Rhys whimpered as his pantaloons were filled, till his ass was swimming in the tidal wave of diarrhea, which came out in explosive blasts that Rhys helpless. The smell was toxic, the raw sewage his body was producing horribly rip as it started to mush up his back and onto his doublet as his guts bubbled and forced out more rancid fart into the growing mess. Rhys fell to his hands and knees, landing the massive puddle of his own shit and piss.

He breathed heavily as the diarrhea pouring out of him slowed. His entire outfit was ruined. His tights soaked, his shoes flooded with still hit urine sewage. He let out a small sob at his embarrassment, though despite it all a part of him was happy to have the release, though his gut still felt funny.

Rhys was finally able to strip out of his soiled clothes, wiping himself off as best he could. He was left entirely in the nude expect for his hat, which he held over his privates as he made his way through the maze. He figured everyone would be watching for the joust, so he could make a quick dash to the employee’s tent and grab his civilian cloths and book it. And he might have made it too.

But just as Rhys was reaching the maze entrance, not a soul in sight, he was hit with a second wave of explosive diarrhea. He let out a sharp, embarrassed gasp as he felt his bowels loose and he froze. Instinctively he grabbed the hat he’d been using to cover himself and placed it beneath him as he squatted. “Oh god, not an Again — UUaghhhAaaAAHH!”

BBBBRRRSSPLLAAATTT!

Rhys moaned loudly, his cheeks red as his ass erupted like a poop volcano beneath him into his hat. He gasped and groaned as wave after wave of explosive diarrhea blasted out of him hot as lava and disgustingly thick, filling the poor unfortunately hat till it was overflowing.

It was in the middle of this, Rhys shitting uncontrollably, emptying his bowels into his own hat when the joust ended and everyone came flooding back into the the commons. Suddenly all eyes were set squarely on Rhys and his diarrhea disaster.

#male piss #male omorashi #malediarrhea #diarrhea #omorashi #pantspissing #pants wetting #pants shitting #soiling #pooppants #male pee desperation #malepoop #male poop desperation

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the-lavender-room · 1 year

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La squadra headcannons I have

Risotto

Suffered a head injury when he was little. It caused some blood vessels in his eyes to burst and making his Scleras to appear black. He would have suffered visions lost if he got older.

He was raised by his aunt and uncle, and his cousin was more like his brother. (lost contact with the former two)

Had a lot of piercings though he wears them less after getting his stand.

Because of his stand; he has a constant feeling of bugs under his skin. It doesn’t bother him that much, but he still get very itchy sometimes.

Was pretty thin and lanky when he first joined and felt awkward when he walked with others.

Illuso

Second tallest of the team(6’6)

His dad’s vanilla ice, he was there in Egypt during those four years. (where he got his stand, boy in the mirror) the longer they stay, the more obsessed Ice became of DIO; to the point that he almost completely stopped interacting with his son and didn’t notice he got a stand. (Even DIO was disappointed in Ice)

He watched the fight between Vanilla Ice and Polnareff (form the safety of the mirror realm) but still blames DIO for his dad’s death more than polnareff. (Would still throw hands with him tho)

Joined Passione at 13, tho he was an escort before he was reassigned as an assassin.

Spent a lot of time alone at first.

Formaggio

collects cars (actual cars) he keeps them in a box under his bed.

Got his cat during his first “solo” hit. (She was catnapped)

Made his apartment accessible for when he’s tiny. (Small ropes and ladders to get to high places, mini Hammocks to lounge in e.t.)

Tries to get along with the others

Loves shity B movie slashers (the ones with the bad cgi) but he also makes fun of them.

Likes bugs and know a lot about them.

Melone

Naturally blonde but dyes his hair purple.

A bit squeamish and doesn’t do well with gore or bloody scenes.

Youngest of seven and was mostly raised (and bullied) by his siblings since his dad was a dead beat and his mom committed when he was three.

The only member of La squadra to go to college (he didn’t finish)

Has a chemical burn on the side of his face; making him partially blind in one eye (he covers it with his hair)

Risotto was going to take him to get their nips pierced.

Prosciutto

Born into mafia (a different gang that merged Passione)

smoker (he smoke da weed)

Uses his stand to get senior discounts.

Spends most of his paycheck on expensive clothes. unfortunately, he insists on wearing them on missions were they get torn often.

Collects books, he doesn’t read them, but he collects them.

Pesci

Youngest member (19)

His mom and prosciutto’s knew each other, unfortunately both died in a gang related incident.

Begged prosciutto to let him join. He finally let him (at 17) but Pesci severely underestimated what he was getting into.

Everyone’s little brother.

Ghiaccio

Autistic.

Is resistant to the cold (not immune) but can’t handle hot temperatures. Learned to use his stand to cool himself off.

Has uncomfortably cold (to others) skin (this is why he wears more clothes)

Born stand user. Had poor temperature regulation and was sick often do to overheating.

Can use the “helmet” of white album to see if he doesn’t have his glasses.

Ran away from home.

Lived with sorbet and gelato since he was 12 (he tried to steal sorbet’s wallet) and didn’t know they were assassins until he was 16.

Didn’t really interact with or get to know the others until he was 19 (when sorbet and gelato die) except for Risotto and sometimes formaggio.

Likes video games (sonic, Pokémon, e.t)

Trans.

Sorbet and gelato (together)

Both in mid to early 40s.

Did a lot of crime all around Europe before joining Passione.

Were originally hired to train new stand user assassins, not to be full time ones. Though, they were expecting mature and experienced adults, instead they got people who were barely adults (18 at the oldest)

Really want a more normal and domestic life and know they can’t get one; no matter how hard they try.

Sorbet

Mild pyrophobia (has panic attacks when near anything big than a campfire)

Has burn scars on his back and arms.

French

3rd tallest (6’5) but can lift Risotto pretty easily.

Pretty quiet, mostly because he doesn’t like his own voice (very raspy voice, sometimes hurts when he shouts) is good for intimidation tho.

Cannibal (happened by accident)

Gelato

Doesn’t eat most meats except fish (he’s fine eggs, dairy, e.t)

Ex-military (got discharged for being gay💅)

Has ADHD and gets very talkative (sorbet loves his voice)

Has a younger brother (it’s someone:) who was also mentally ill. His parents made him help take care of him. He didn’t hate his brother, but he also left as soon as he could. Sometimes he wonders how he’s doing.

Pretty much second in command of La squadra.

Has a big scar on the side of his face.

Gets into fights a lot. Mostly with other people, sometimes with his own teammates, mostly prosciutto (they disagree a lot)

#not art #jjba #jojo bizarre adventure #golden wind #jjba vento auero #risotto nero #formaggio #illuso #prosciutto #melone #Pesci #ghiaccio #jojo sorbet #jojo gelato #sorlato #headcanon #la squadra

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soranihimawari · 1 year

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Set Up

A hangover, a pretty handsome man, and how you are the common denominator for this weekend’s adventure?

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: timeskip!kyotani kentaro x nurse!reader

Rating: 🔞—nsfw scene// finger sucking// mentions of praise

Warnings: alcohol consumption// creep at bar//protective Kyotani is a “bad boy” saint

Notes: someone’s falling in like and they don’t understand why that is.

It’s the handholding for me guys… 🫠

Your mortal enemy is the sun. It is blissfully shining through slatted blinds. There are remnants of a party where you took home precious wine sample and sake bottles from the club. Your memory is hazily drawing up what has occurred from meting up with your friends from work to the club where by hour two, a hot guy or seven, bought you and your girls shots, and by the fourth tequila sunrise you had, you were practically, “tongue fucking a total specimen of a baddie” and your friends politely and discreetly send you a photo at 9:46 in the morning.

“Oh, oh my god!” you whisper yell at the image. The man in question was someone you typically don’t seek unless you’re sternly adventurous—tall, blonde with racing stripes for hair design, all black ensemble complete with statement motorcycle jacket and pleather boots; a total punk with a kind heart.

“Fuck me you’re gorgeous,” what an opening line to yell at him in a crowded bar corner.

He leans down, his cologne is more oceanic than he is. He wears it because he came back from the mechanic, and you, no taller than his upper arm with heels on, make his inhibitions weaker the longer you undress him with your eyes.

“Could say the same thing beautiful,” and you felt invincible as his lips nip your ear lobe like he’s tellling you a secret. That’s how the first kiss started. A little luck, a lot to gamble on a flirty line, but two drinks in each, both were feeling a bit bold. Neither you nor him would have known how far that initial liplock would take you then as you senses come back to you, you realize what happened.

Surprised to see a tuft of blonde hair behind you, yes. Horrified to find out you’re involved in a one night stand with a club member of a professional team (by contextual clues of the obscene amount of lime green in the sea of grays and black in his closet), also yes. The room arrangement is weird, but you slowly pick up the color schematics is similar to a guy your age and the fact he has a lot of swag from Sendai City Frogs scattered about makes sense. Perhaps he’s a fan, your brain asks you. Your mind jumps to a plausible conclusions: He either works with the team or perhaps plays for them you figure. However, that thought does when you see his official jersey off to the side.

The hangover migraine takes over and you groan, raising a hand to cover the heat from the window against your face. Apparently, it’s enough to when you shuffle down back to rest your head, you’re too into your head to realize the movement on your left. You feel a hand slink down against the covers to pull you against his clothed chest. The black shirt is freshly laundered when your nose graze it, and from what you can feel, sweats, and for whatever god you found favor in, you realize you’re dressed in an ivory and teal shirt with the chipped design of AJ VBC on the chest.

“Stay still,” his hardened voice is harsh, yet you have every right to listen. The pounding in your brain makes you weaker in the sense of how safe you feel. Your head is safely tucked in between his chest as his morning stubble pricks your shoulders. He sighs, knowing how you tense under his touch, so with baited breath, he quells your embarrassment. “You and I didn’t do anything other than almost fuck.”

“Almost?”

You’re definitely horrified from the second hand embarrassment you feel creeping in your bones.

“Mm,” he grunts. “You and I will talk after you’re done going back to sleep. Can ya be good f’me? Hmm?”

His lips graze your temple and if you never saw them in the light before, whiskey colored eyes and smooth sharp features on this stranger actually makes you reconsider the nights you turned down one night stands in order to find a gentle bad boy looking dude in bed next to you. You ask if you can call off work and he lets you go to reach over to find your phone again. You sit up and do your best call in sick voice.

“YLN,YN,” the recording prompts you to leave a name. “Calling out sick for my shift today at Sendai Research Hospital. See you tomorrow.”

You hang up, slide back down under the covers unexpectedly hearing him introduce himself.

“Kyotani Kentarō,” his voice is more alert when you settle against his offered shoulder.

He breathes and moves a bit to have you settle against his broadly toned chest, an ear listens to how calm he is though internally he panics. Deliberate and sweet, he thinks as you thank him for giving you shelter for the night. He does eventually talk with you hours later around eleven when you are more awake than before. Two espresso shots and two bowls of cereal with toast greet you as you sort of stumble out of the room. You stifle a yawn when you perch yourself on the kitchen counter, your host sort of chuckles and you realize he’s even more handsome in the afternoon sunny background of his open kitchen flat.

“Want to talk about last night?” he’s bold in asking after taking a sip of his espresso. The machine still whirs on your left. You being the bowl down from your rosy lips, nodding shy at the thought of reliving one of the most interesting nights since college.

“Girls wanted to go out after a shift at the emergency room, we’re all in medicine, umm… I said yes, been ‘fraid to leave my place for undisclosed reasons…”

“Shitty ex?”

“If you consider the person was an on and off again ass, sure,” you hear him hum.

The barstool Kyotani(?) uses to sit scratches against the tile as he walks around to look you square in the eye. He lifts a hand to squeeze the fat of your cheeks until your lips puff out like a fish.

“You’re really got some angel lips sweets,” his voice is complimentary of the whiskey he drank last night. “An idiot’s gotta be blind to cause you headaches as wide as the trenches.”

He lets go as you feel your cheeks heat up more and more. “Y’done?” You hand him your bowl.

“So, go on, said you went to have a girls night?”

“Mm,” you take a sip of the best almost-one-night-stand doppio espresso had ever made.

The water in the sink starts to run as you go on, in illustrious detail, the events that led to whatever this situationship was or will be.

“And you thought you’d pick the roughest fucker closing his tab?”

“Either that or get Sendai’s finest to arrest a pervy creep…so yeah.”

He dries his calloused knuckles on the dish rag before walking around to the island ledge you so happily sat upon. Choosing to tap his lips with his dominant hand, you seem to be a bit embarrassed by the gesture he alludes to. You’re not at the bar/club anymore, yet knowing how your story from last night will include going on with him, you place the cup at your side when he rounds the island corner. His shirt looks good on you, is what Kyotani thinks, sort of laughing when he explains why you’re in his clothes:

“You can’t just whisper a, ‘help me out,’ to me and not expect me to follow through. Ma would kill me if I ever made a woman feel uncomfortable—said she’d take me to the butchers to use the meat slicer…”

You guffaw but you jokingly whine saying something slick: “shame really, wanted to see what else you’re good at.”

The afternoon temperatures rise on the cityscape below, but here it reaches a feverish high. It’s the only way you could reaffirm, soberly, Kyotani has permission to steadily capture your lips with his. Though brief, the resounding groan escaping his lips leaves you leaning in for one more as a kind, “thank you,” is heard against a natural frowning lip. His lips press against your forehead for a moment thereafter.

“Stay?” he’s suddenly shier than you give him credit for. You hug him, saying you would.

“We never went through with a one night stand, did we?” you asked five minutes later in between curious pecks here and there.

“Meat slicer, remember?” Kyotani shows you his hand before lacing it with yours to bring your palm to his lips.

“Y-yeah I know, but I,” you turn his face a bit more to meet your serious face. “I would have said it was ok to wait until you thought I was in the right headspace. Full offense, but you’re really, smoking hot dude.”

Kyotani must be a volatile lover because when the words leave your mouth, his brain switched a gear. He’s suddenly more hasty in terms of his hands on approach to getting to know you; he worms his way between your legs on his counter and you readily comply. Hands sneak under his-your-shirt, teasingly passing your abs and wrapping around your hips. Your hands swoop over his shoulder lazily, the other clutches his shirt by his pectoral. It’s desperate and needy, and so, so warm here now.

“You’re hesitating,” he brushes an eyelash away from your face. You stiffen, but you bury your face in his chest.

“I’m not really good at this,” he hears an innocence you thought you lost a while ago. “Not since that asshole sort of left me with a box of my stuff outside our old place.”

And he holds you there, strong, supportive, and kind. It’s been a long time since you break down after throwing yourself into work, a mask comprised of double overtime for a month to down-pay your newly acquired residence post sleeping in a spare bunk in the x-ray hall. Kyotani let’s you cry until you subside; what twenty something year old cries like a child to a complete stranger who is strong enough to start formulating a plan to show you this is part of learning more about him and you. Sometimes love is simply blooming with the actions just like now. He whispers encouraging words he thinks you need to hear, but the difference is in how he means them.

Through the waterfalls your eyes produce, Kyotani stands there, silent and stern. You lean back, covering your eyes with an arm he stops from rising higher than your chest. His hands thumb away the stray tears as you tell him you’re not sad anymore just really glad to have a bed to sleep on yesterday.

“And you,” you point to his sternum. “Kindness manifested in of all places, a bar.”

“Pretty people always need refuge,” his voice gives you hope. “Even if they need a shoulder to cry on.”

You hum, a smile honest and true splits your flushed face. Calming yourself down, a question pops into your head:

“…Are you free Tuesday?”

“I can be, got practice early on.”

“Oh, umm… can you meet me at the pike place park around six?”

Kyotani, rough hands and all, smiles a little, and to you he’s the best surprise of the outing—he agrees telling you to dress comfortably because he wants to see what a date with you entails.

“If I choose to wear jeans and shirt, can you take me on a ride?” you’ve calmed down enough and you make the JSL sign for motorcycle.

“I’ll look forward to it,” his voice gives you butterflies around your crown.

An hour or so later, you thank him for joining you in a tasteful walk, because there is no shame when you leave his flat. He walks with you, you’re still dressed in the same outfit from last night. Finding out how he came to never leave the city he grew up in, you had this nagging feeling to ask:

“I saw a jersey in your room,” you sheepishly have a grin. “Are you a fan?”

“You could say that,” god his chuckle is charming.

Kyotani’s eyes light up a bit more as you said you’re trying to catch an official game every once in a while at the nurse’s station. You keep walking a little further with him. Amused by your question, he chooses to rather change the location of your date, instructing you to meet him at the address he just sent you via text.

“I’ll be there!” You kiss his cheek as a final thank you for being hospitable toward a stranger, then you wave over your shoulder as you disappear through the rotating glass doors of your complex.

☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩

And so the day of the date finally arrives. Since you had come back to work, your colleagues are either relieved or curious about the stranger who seemed like he’s a bit…ruggedly handsome. One of the charge rn’s nudges a nervous you in the right direction. You explained about the idiot who couldn’t take no for an answer, but alas when you saw Kyotani talking to a few of his friends, your eyes met. You excuse yourself from me grabby hands, your girl friends’ words, and walk confidently toward the motorcycle jacket clad blonde:

“Help me out and I don’t have to order an Angel shot,” you use bunny quotes when describing what you said instead of introducing yourself. Sure enough, Kyotani has his arm draped around your frame as you lean back comfortably until the other dude gets the hint. You seem lost in your thoughts until Kyotani brings you out from them whispering a harsh, “think he’s gone baby.”

You continue rambling how he offered a drink, you accept on blind faith he’s a gem. Eventually, when you realize you might have been left behind, you were inebriated enough he does step up to split a ride share with you. You and him make it back to his place, a friend soberly drives his bike into the garage at the basement of his building in the suburbs. You don’t remember much after that, except you wake up in another part of town with a killer headache, moderately dressed, and with the hot blonde sleeping beside you.

“And nothing happened? YN, that’s a lie,” Rika, your med school classmate laughs. She points out how red you’re becoming. You tell them about the forehead kiss, the promise of eventually forming an amicable bond, but nothing about the breakfast nor breakdown you had. Better keep that between me and him, you think.

“But, i…erm… I have a date with him tomorrow?”

There it is. The sweet new gossip causes the ladies to squeal with delight.

“Your blonde bad boy of a knight?” Rika presses. Her eyebrows wiggle.

“Yeah.”

More squeals and active status report promises later, the hens leave you alone. Sure, they want things to work out, you want it to too.

The day of the date rolls around. You come dressed comfortably in a light blue (almost teal v-neck) graphic tee with a moon embroidered on the upper left part and dark black jeans. Your don some black Air Force ones, the most comfortable practical shoes you own. Glancing at your phone, you had to the address after stepping off the train, after all, your date said he’d gladly give you a lift home. Walking the street, you see the stadium where many volleyball dreams are either made out played; the lime green walls are getting ready for the season opener. There were a lot of fans and the families of players came to go cheer on their favorite athlete. Practice was open to the public and though some of the older players had kids as old as six running around, you are suddenly introduced to the Tsukishimas (Akiteru and his wife go every once in a while to cheer for his brother, Kei) and perhaps the captain’s kids are the ones who pique your interest after they introduce themselves.

The pair asks a lot of questions but what you didn’t expect was for them to grab a hold of your hand and drag you inside; you were waved at by Akiteru who just laughed as you mouth an apology.

“Look who we found uncle kyo-kyo!”

Kyotani wipes his face with the towel over his shoulder. Your mouth is slightly agape with awe. There was a reason why you liked him, why you’re unsure how his name sounded so familiar, and when the epiphany happens, the offspring go find their father who just waits for a little more of a clue as to who his outside hitter ran up to greet.

“You play for the Sendai Frogs?” you muse, your lips curving into a smile. “Professionally?”

Kyotani nods. His suddenly serious demeanor changes when Koganegawa whistles at your presence and the one who looks a little more like Akiteru slaps the dual-toned setter on the shoulder, thus ensuring Kyotani doesn’t lose his temper.

Slinging his arms around you, Kyotani hugs you, whispers a very breathy, “help a guy out?”

You nuzzle yourself into his pectorals, hugging him back. Eyes wide like the doe he’s seen in the woods as a child, you beckon him to “really sell who I am to you.” Kyotani raises an arm to swoop behind your neck to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Practice ends in twenty, wait for me, ok baby?”

“Hai,” you turn him around abruptly wishing him luck as the kids from earlier excitedly run up to you. They’re little and kind like their father, but boy do they love their uncles. Together you listen intently as they explain who they are and how they loved watching their dad and adoptive uncles play. Before you know it, practice is officially over with the players heading toward the locker rooms to shower and change. Eventually, the team exits two or three at a time. The talk in the locker room among the second season players centered around you of all people. You who they had seen their teammate be really chummy with at the bar, who really didn’t seem to know who the blonde was, nor did you make a big deal about him being a sports celeb.

“YN is nice,” their captain compliments. “Kids seems to like ‘er, what more do ya want guys? Leave Kyotani alone. Who knows? Perhaps he’ll have more to say next practice.”

The boys all oo’d and awe’d at that as the lockers were closing left right and center. Once dressed in almost the same outfit as before, Kyotani realized he looked more like a beat-nick than an athlete. Though, when you call out to him with a raised arm, he could feel a warmth twice the heat of whiskey run through his heart.

“Ready to go?”

He slings his bag up and over his shoulder to have it rest diagonally across his chest. You stand on the opposite side, holding his hand. The callouses make sense now, your fingers are much softer than before, a lighter than a cloud sensation is felt when you grip his palm with yours. Fingers, wide and sturdy lace gently around yours, as you listen to him explain how his day went. Practice was a bit harsh, but it was conditioning day from what you can gather. There is a practice match or two lined up before the season opener, both of which you are invited to.

“I can come? Really?”

“Sure. It would help either team out to have another set of medical eyes,” Kyotani teases.

You stick your tongue out at him before poking your canines with it.

“If you say so.”

Slowing to a stop outside a restaurant across the park you were meant to meet up in, Kyotani leads you inside. An elderly regular flags down her ‘grandson,’ and when you see the two shyly exchange a few words, you notice the respect in his demeanor suddenly change. The older woman, with his help, uses her cane to inch closer to you as if to inspect (really guess) if you are good enough for her boy.

“You are stunning,” she concludes. Her hands withered with spots and age taps your arm. “It’s about time little Kentaro brings home someone he likes.”

He sort of whines at her comment, raising an arm behind his neck to look away from your curious stare, a light pink rosy blush alights his cheeks.

“Sorry to keep you waiting granny,” you tilt your head to one side, a warm smile reaches your eyes.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” she says. Her laugh is bright and airy, like spun sugar. “Come, come child. I’ll make you some tea.”

She walks back to the kitchen with your help this time as Kyotani takes a seat at the corner table by the double kitchen doors. You return not a moment too soon to join him.

“She’s a spry one,” you say as you pull the chair out and make yourself comfortable.

Kyotani agrees. “Hard to believe she covered for me when I was about to be jumped around the corner from here.”

That took a turn.

“You really are a naughty boy,” you rest your head in your palm whilst imaging a punk younger version of him.

“Weren’t you?”

“Mm, you could say that I was more of a social pariah.”

“That was not what I was expecting for a medical professional…”

“Well, when your parents get divorced and your aunt pays for an apartment thrice the size a student in northern Osaka needs, then sure, social pariah is a label often used since bitches would bully me into angry submission–ever been part of a rumor you were caught fucking a teacher?”

“Jesus.”

“Exactly what my aunt said…No proof, no jail time.”

You move on to lighter topics from there. A little truth came out, but not much. Together, with the tea almost being done, Kyotani asks if you’d like some sesame balls.

“The old lady makes a mean ume version,” his reasoning makes you buy and split a dozen.

The tea compliments the snack and as you settle into a quiet afternoon with the athlete, you start to notice how kind he is to those who have helped him in the past. It’s a redeeming quality, one you’d like to see more of–there is a day you might have had a little argument in your early courtship, but when he returns to your door at three in the morning with an embarrassing large arrangement of wild flowers, you forgive his missing a dinner date: “it’ll never happen again.” And true to his word, he never does. Unless it’s postponed for away matches.

Currently, you are still at the precipice of asking the old lady if she needs help closing up the shop, she declines saying who is she to stop you two from enjoying the rest of the night. Hanging out with Kyotani at the park comes next. Here you walk around the mile long track. You tell him how you were ‘born to run,’ because your mother was one. You fill his head with stories of a younger you, wicked smart, with the speed of Hermes on your heels. Grandeur illusions came at the price of a car accident when you were fifteen. It’s why you wear pants or leggings. The pins and needles used to correct your bones made you the height you were now,so without ever missing a moment to remind you how fair you really are, Kyotani snaps his fingers.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but is that why,” he takes two and half steps forward to stand in front of you. He pulls you into him a bit more sternly, and you realize he’s got a pondering look of amusement on his face. “Is that why you’re the perfect height for these things?”

If your life was a movie in the Americana 1950s, you'd have been a lead in another life because in case you didn’t know you did this, you feel yourself dip to one side with a soft bend of your knee as your date securely holds you never doubting you fall. His nose teases your cheek, hot breath exhaling nervously over your mouth. And those shocked eyes of yours spark something within which makes him want to wipe that extra gloss away–and you know what? Kyotani, the fearless athlete, your date, follows through with it. Perhaps all first kisses were just that: firsts. This gesture of romance, the way he leaves you gasping as his face lingers close to you after breaking a way, this is the time you let your emotions guide you.

So, you wake up in bed again after this date. The sun is barely up, the night sky is still here. Your mind replays the memories of last night: the pizza you ordered from down the block after riding on the back of Kyotani’s motorbike made the adrenaline pump more blood through your veins. Your hands wrapped tightly against his waist, your pressing your face into the back of his shoulder made him see stars. However, he did want to make you see physical ones–the beginning of it was when you reached your home. You should invite him inside, your brain says. You listen; you ask; he accepts. In the span of moments after wrapping up the leftover pizza, you find yourself in a situation of sorts. Kyotani falls asleep on your couch, tired from the day, yet when you go to wake him up a third time, his hand snatches yours and pulls you flush against his seated self. It ends with you straddling the guy, breathing in a sharp breath.

“K-Kyo, are you awake?”

“No.”

In a dreary voice, he asks if you’re comfortable a second later. From there, things pick up both emotionally and physically–his kisses are harsher, more demanding. You comply, wondering how long you can keep it together with him. Hormones, you’re a nurse practitioner, you know what’s going to happen if you keep–Kyotani finds the spot on your neck by your clavicle that makes you moan a little louder. His lips pull and suck the skin there as you become more like putty in his hands. His hands tempt your skin under the shirt you’re wearing until in a swift series of moments, you lift it up and over your head. The scars from the accident weren’t too bad, but when he esaxperatedly calls you beautiful nicknames, you tug his shirt with a pout.

“Okay, okay,” he has a wolfish grin as you help him out of his clothes.

Resting a palm on his tattooed shoulder, you wonder why if the ink there is the reason he wears the jacket.

Clothes scattered every which way, because when you turn in bed to see the remnants of a tumble in the sheets with a blonde man with a buzz cut, you say a quiet, “good morning kenta.”

As he inhales deeply, you let his arms drag you closer to him. You’re practically halfway sprawled above him resting your knee against his hip; whatever clothing you wore or whether you preferred to sleep in the nude after last night’s activities, you feel the remnants of a kiss lulling you back to sleep.

“What’s the story my morning glory?” You peck at his lips, a grin on your face. Cracking open an eye, Kyotani swiftly lifts the rest of you up and over so you know have him below you, straddling him a bit more efficiently in a pin of sorts at the moment. “Eager to start the day like this are we, doll face ?”

You lean down to slowly miss him awake. Hands travel to steady yourself from falling over, fingers toying with the ends of your hair.

“Could get used to this,” you share a secret when you pull away slightly. Kyotani’s eyes are wide awake now and there is a mirthful bashfulness in the way your hands scratch the slight stubble on his cheek. A puff of air from his chortle grazes your parting lips.

“Careful sweetheart,” the drag of his tongue over your lips. “I might not want to leave you unsatisfied…”

You help him sit up as his lips press harder against yours and you whine his name when he rolls his hips against yours; the sensation causes you to let out a soft, needy mewl — your hands beckon to bring him forward, resting easily on his neck. Good lord he made you feel glorious several times the night prior, but it was fast and rough the more you enchanted this man into your bed.

Perhaps allowing him to help release some sexual tension after agreeing every step of the way neither of you had wanted to stop, he learns how to appease you—the face you made when he’s above you is burned by the broken sound of your voice asking, begging, to be ruined for anyone else that isn’t him. It’s both a command and praise which caused Kyotani to hopelessly jump off the deep end to tether his soul to you; an invisible chord has your name and his wrapped in a chokehold, so when you lean up to change positions, you feel his amusement tense. Your hands look around his shoulders and though you’re legs comply with his movements, Kyotani makes sure you take all of him just fine; he doesn’t mean to call you harsh names when he moves with you in fluid motions, they just tumble out with every breath he knocks out of your lungs. Sure, he finally sees and hears how his praises are taken, yet alas, you hear how fucked he is when you ride him. Half way through this round, you switch and though you’re on top, you bite your lip when he holds your hips, having your sex constrict and relax the more he assisted setting the pace to just reach you deeper. You lean back a bit before his hips buck you forward and you inhale sharply, the proverbial edge for both can be heard in the way the headboard slaps against the wall.

“Don’t let me go,” you whisper a plea in your lover’s ear as you lace your fingers though one of his hands. The bruises on your hips on the morning are still a harsh purple, but in the moment, that bruising hold kept you steady as you feel Kyotani tense both inside and around his torso. His eyes are lustfully blown wide as you slower your stride—your free hand doesn’t clutch the sheets by his inked arm, no. Your fingers bully their way past his lips and a stern, “suck,” is demanded from you.

“Good boy,” you whisper. The nickname was the final straw and though he had your fingers in his mouth, he bucks up harder than before, groaning and growling like a blissful broken man. Sex, for all the times he’s had it, never had felt this rudimentary pleasing. You are full of surprises: bold and domineering, praising him for taking your fingers so well in the same breathy tone as when he prepped you to take all of him.

You feel the sticky mess between your thighs and his, removing your hand from holes lips with a resplendent ‘pop’. There, below you is a man who breathes like he ran a marathon just now. You slump over, caressing his cheek, the moment you hide your face in the crook of his neck. You too are breathing unevenly, breasts ache from the lack of support and his kisses on the side of them. Kyotani hugs your back, whispering apologies into your hair saying it’s been a while since he had someone to match his energy in bed. You nod saying it was the same for you too.

A few moments of silence is shared as you shuffle around still joined before you hear him say he’s going to slip himself out of you lest you want to act as cocksleeve all night. You laugh saying it’s not the fabled weekend just yet, so together, you watch the satisfied pinched of his brows as you push off your mattress, closing your eyes as you whine at the hallow feeling between your legs.

As you open your eyes slightly, you make eye contact with the ripped foil package from an hour and a half ago. You recall you had a conversation with him before leading up to this point during dinner—for him, professional athlete and all, sex is all about placing. For you? It’s not a competition to see who can last the longest or be the loudest, it’s about the fun in actively loving someone who fit a fixed point in time loved you wholly. Though kyotani discards the used condom and it’s foiled counterpart, he turns his attention to you. Your back is toward him and through no fault but his own, when he slides himself back under the covers, his voice is absurdly gruff with coercing you to use the bathroom first mentioning he’ll clean you better in your shower. You barely are able to stand, mentioning it’s been a minute since you had been dicked down so well. Kyotani, wicked smile and all, steadies your hand as you wince a little when you walk into the door by your closet.

Kyotani, when he hears the running water collects his thoughts before joining you—rest assured, the tantric nature of his love is coming. He just wanted to see how you could handle him and seeing your smile rise above the steam in your shower when a damp cloths runs against the inside of your love bitten thighs as he makes good on his promise to care for you and your head tilt to one side as you utter a soft thanks. Both of you linger in the bathroom far more than what you had expected, yet when you exit first, you aptly find a set of pajamas laid out for you by the sink and his underneath yours. Glancing over your shoulder, you swear you hear the washer go off and notice the sheets were changed. You smirk as you wipe the steam off the mirror, uttering he’s a keeper under your breath as you continue your nightly routine.

The comfortability after falling asleep next to him again was blissful. Almost like the present.

And now? Now Kyotani tries to calm himself down the longer you fall compliant to his whims, thus allowing him to kiss you slower like to savor this memory. You like this, taking time to savor how he feels against you, how mornings should always start with him, assured and kind. If you do meet his ma, you tell her her son is one of the best people you’ve met—sans meat slicer. If he ever meets your father, he tells him he’d sacrifice the world to make sure you’re always smiling at the simplicity of a love built up on a quirky set up.

Kyotani moves to guide you against his lips with a soft hand on the back of your head as he burns scarlet when you reply with an aggressively hotter answer:

“Then don’t leave until you do, Kentarō.”

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #🔞—kyotani kentaro #kyotani x reader #suggestive ending

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 8 months

Text

tta episode 9

“Last time, on Total Takes Action: our remaining players competed in an all-out chick flick extravaganza, complete with the infamous makeover scene and a climatic test of intelligence and cunning- in the end, Scary subverted the trope expectations and won immunity, but not without throwing a world-class tantrum first. Sha-Mod ended up voting himself out to protect his identity, leaving only six players behind. Who will be walking the plank today? And who will be taking one step closer to the grand prize of one million dollars? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

Thunder rumbles overhead Toronto, and this season, it’s not the result of Chris’ scientific tampering. A thick fleet of rain pours down over the film lot, casting everything in a filter of gray.

As per usual, Scruffy is up bright and early (though it’s not very bright today) for their daily pre-challenge training. It’s hardly five in the morning and they’re already dressed, stretching in the boys and such trailer and jogging in place as they brush their teeth in the communal bathrooms.

As they spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, a loud shriek makes them jump.

“Oh, no! The challenge is starting already?” They throw their toothbrush carelessly and run outside. “I didn’t even run my 85 laps around the set yet!”

They throw open the bathroom door and step into the rain to see… a pile of suitcases, clothes, and furnishings on the grass.

A microwave flies out of the girls’ and such trailer and lands on the mountain of things. Peter pokes his head out of the adjacent mobile home and he ducks just in time for a fork to go flying overhead.

“What on earth?” Scruffy scratches their chin.

Their question answers itself, though, as Scary storms out, tugging at their blonde hair with a wild expression on their face. “CHRIS!”

The intercom crackles to life, the feedback making everyone cover their ears for protection as it squeals. “Yeeeees?”

“I KNOW YOU’RE BEHIND THIS!”

Scruffy jogs over to the doorway and hovers in front of Scary. “What’s up?”

“That weasel took my notes- all of the notes I’ve been taking since we got here!” she groans. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were pulling your weight around here!”

“Hey, I’m staying in the game. Isn’t that enough?”

“No!”

“Well, this has been heartwarming,” Chris’ voice blares. “But you’re not so special, Scary- if everyone would please check their belongings...”

Scruffy thinks for a moment, and then pats their pockets. “My whistle!”

Peter digs around his shirt. “My girlfriend!”

A piercing shriek, louder than both Scary and the intercom feedback, makes everyone wince. Fren dashes out of the trailer, dumping an empty drawer on the ground. “My clothes! That sadist took my clothes!” he drops to his knees and cries out to the heavens as the rain pours down. “THAT MONSTER!”

Max stands in the doorway of the trailer, rolling his eyes.

---

MAX: “So, Chris took some stuff. Big deal. This is probably some dumb pirate treasure hunt episode, and at the end of the challenge he’ll reveal he actually burned all of our things and the grand prize is a bag of chips,” he sighs. “Still, it’d be nice if he chose something other than my shoes to take.”

---

The rain continues pouring down on camp, the water pooling on the top of the craft services tent and weighing down on it. O watches the rain indent the fabric and grits his teeth nervously.

No one else seems to notice, though, as they’re all busy dealing with the recoil from their missing necessities. Scary is hurriedly leafing through a physics book, surrounded by other open editions, Fren has had to substitute his usual flair for plain black clothes lended by the interns, and Max is wearing a pair of O’s sneakers.

Only Scruffy still seems chipper, hurriedly weaving something out of grass.

---

SCRUFFY: “In preparation for Total Takes Island, I took a weaving class, a spinning class, a sewing class, and swim aerobics. That last one was free,”

---

They finish their creation, and hold up a tiny horn as a whistle substitute. “Alright, I’m up! If I'm fast, I'll get 30 in before the challenge!” they shout, standing and jogging outside for their laps.

Fren nervously twirls a strand of hair around his finger at one end of the long table. He looks down at his outfit, then back up around the room, then to the camera. “Please tell me the cameras are still capturing my colors?”

The camera man shakes his head. Fren sighs.

Peter walks over and sets his breakfast tray on the table next to Fren. “Everything okay?”

He puts on a smile and looks up. “Great!”

Peter doesn’t look quite convinced, but doesn’t push, anyway. “Hey, wait, didn’t you once design a whole fashion line out of palm leaves and dental floss?”

“This is different!"

Max raises an eyebrow from across the table. The intercom crackles to life and Chris’ voice blares over the sound of the rain.

“Good morning, victims! Get your butts outside the craft services tent, ASAP!”

Scruffy groans from afar.

---

The small group of campers huddles outside the trailers, looking between each other as they’re drenched in rain. Chris, decked out in a raincoat and holding an umbrella, smiles warmly.

“Great weather we’re having, huh?”

“Cut to the chase,” Scary’s eyes narrow.

He chuckles. “Alright, alright. Today’s challenge is simple- or is it? This episode is all about mystery, suspense, and the unknown,”

Max pipes up from the back, eyes wide. “You don’t mean?”

“Oh, I do. Today’s theme is detective noir!”

Scary rolls their eyes and no one else really reacts to the news, though everyone turns around after a high-pitched squeal comes from the back of the group. Max stares back, then clears his throat and straightens his tie.

“Alright then,” Chris chuckles. “I’m sure a few of you have noticed you’re missing a few meaningless souvenirs-”

“MEANINGLESS?!” Fren shrieks. This time, it’s him everyone stares at. He chuckles nervously. “I’m just saying!”

“I hate to admit that he’s right, but…” Scary sighs. “I need my notes back.”

“…And I’m sure you’re all wondering how you’re going to get them back,” Chris smiles. “All these questions and more will be answered… by YOU! Here's the deal: one of you was paid six hundred dollars by moi to swipe from your fellow contestants- who? That’s for everyone else to decide! You'll have the day to hunt for clues, collect evidence, and then when your time is up, you'll all vote on the suspect.”

“Wow!” Peter says. “Kind of like Am-”

“COPYRIGHT!” Chris shouts. “And it’s nothing like that! You have until the end of the day to catch the culprit and recover the missing goods. There’ll be some fun surprises along the way, too.”

“Define fun,” O asks.

Chris chuckles. “Oh, you’ll know. Ciao!”

The host walks off, leaving the last six competitors behind.

---

SCARY: “One of these rats stole the weeks worth of notes I’ve been building my case with. If I can’t get them back, goodbye lawsuit, goodbye Chris McLean lifetime prison sentence!”

---

PETER: “I’m not too worried about the missing goods,” he pulls another picture out of his back pocket. “I always carry a spare! But I am worried about everyone turning on each other. I don't want to pick sides...”

---

SCRUFFY: “Yes! Okay- so not only is this a totally chill, laid-back, relaxed, super fun easy fun challenge, it’s also got something to do with physical harm- based on Chris’ tone! I can ace this!” their eye twitches.

---

Fren wails in the confessional.

---

MAX: “What? Why should I care about this challenge?” he pauses and then grins. “Okay, fine- I love mysteries! Capers, cold cases, riddles, puzzles- I even have a detective alter-ego named Raleigh Dubois-” he pauses and turns red. “I’ve said too much.”

---

O: “I’m just hoping nobody figures out that nothing was stolen from me. I don’t know why, but Chris put a massive target on my back- I don’t even have a fighting chance, and I'm a terrible liar...”

---

The remaining players sit around the table in the craft services tent, looking between each other in silence. The air is thick with electricity- either from the rising tensions, or from the lightning outside.

Finally, Peter breaks. “I can’t stand this! Why can’t we just work together?!”

“That’s not how this works,” Scary snaps. “Now, we just have to wait until the culprit snaps under the pressure, I can get my notes back, and they’ll be sent home- with a broken spine!”

“That’s it!” Max stands, slamming his fists on the table. “If you all want to take the easy way out, that’s fine- but I respect the sanctity of an open case, and I’m going to solve this on my own!”

He storms out. Scary rolls her eyes.

---

MAX: “I came back for Michela. And to get out of that terrible peanut gallery, but mostly for Chel. Now, she’s gone, and until today, I had nothing left to keep going for- but now I have a purpose! I have a motive! I have a case!” he pauses, then pulls a fedora out from under the counter, fixing it on his head. “Raleigh Dubois is on it!”

---

Max sits in a dark room, adjusting a lamp light. He angles it upwards and shines it in someone’s face. They wince.

“Is that really necessary?” Peter asks.

“Very,” Max says. “I find the blinding light to be… calming. Makes a liar nervous and an innocent man blind.”

“How is that fair?”

“It works for me,” he shrugs, then pulls out a notepad. “Run me through your day. Take your time.”

---

“Well…” Scruffy says. “I got up at 5:00 AM sharp, got dressed, brushed my teeth, then I heard this terrible banshee scream…”

---

Scary rolls her eyes. “I went to add the weather for my daily log and my notes were missing. My notes. My notes! For idiots like you, that’d be like waking up and missing a leg!”

---

“Where to start?” Fren thinks. “Well, as per usual, I went to Chef to see if I received any fan mail…”

Max looks up from his notepad, eyebrow raised. “Did you?”

“Ahaha!” he grins. “Of course! Tons!”

---

O quivers. “I-I-I um.. I- I- where’s my lawyer?!”

Max stares back. “I just asked you to state your name,”

---

“It was obviously targeted. So whoever did it must’ve known these notes are important to you,” Max says, clicking his ballpoint pen. “I would ask if you have any enemies, but that’d be a rhetorical question.”

Scary bares her teeth. “How am I supposed to know that you’re not the sellout?”

“I might be. What're you gonna do?”

---

Fren smiles confidently. “After an hour lost on the streets of New Delhi, we found our way to the river-”

“This has nothing to do with the question,”

“It does so! You asked what I was missing, and I’m giving you a detailed account of each item,” he crosses his arms. “You should be thanking me. Anyway, let’s talk about my cashmere scarf. It was winter in the Swiss Alps…”

Max massages his temples and groans.

---

“My whistle,” Scruffy thinks. “An odd choice, considering I have my own notes in the trailer… maybe the thief only cares about Fren and Scary!”

“It’s not necessarily the object, it’s the obstacle it creates,” Max mutters, taking down notes. “Your whistle helps you with your… “training”, so taking it caused you to miss your two hours this morning.”

“Ah! Right! I knew that!” they nod. "I totally knew that!"

Max rolls his eyes.

---

“What am I missing?!” O chuckles nervously, scratching his arm rapidly. “My, um… my catcher’s mitt! It was my grandpa’s, it’s a family heirloom! I take it everywhere, it’s lucky!”

“Really,” Max raises an eyebrow.

O laughs like an insane person.

---

MAX: “So far, not much. All I’m sure of is that whoever did the swiping obviously knows their way around the cast. They have a lot of observational skills, and they’re brave enough to seriously hurt someone’s feelings- or pride. That cuts out Peter,” he thinks aloud. “Scary wouldn’t take the 600 at the price she’s holding over Chris’ head, plus everyone would suspect her. O… I’m not sure.”

---

Scary sits on the steps to the trailer, munching popcorn and watching Fren and Scruffy argue over who’s missing memento is more important.

“Max said it himself! It’s not the object, it’s the symbolism!” Scruffy shouts.

Max’s voice rings out from inside the trailer. “Not what I said!”

Fren scoffs, offended. “As if my clothes aren’t symbolic! I’m not some cheap whore, I have goals, you know!”

“Outside of clothes?” Scary chuckles. “Please.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised. I mean- I did charity work in the Himalayas!” Fren shrieks. “I am a person of substance and interest!”

Max pokes his head out of the trailer, holding a few plastic bags. “Can you keep it down out here? I’m trying to focus,”

“On what? Role-playing?" Scary rolls her eyes. “Please. We all know you’re the thief, anyway.”

“In your dreams,”

“You are most certainly not a part of my dreams,” she scoffs. “Unless you’re dead or in prison.”

Max rolls his eyes and goes back inside the cabin, Scruffy following as he and Fren disperse. Scary rolls her eyes.

---

SCARY: “What do I think? It was O. Obviously. He’s been avoiding us all day- not exactly a great secret-keeper. But I want to drag this out as long as possible, to teach a certain green-haired traitor a lesson,”

---

"So, we can all agree that it's O, right?" Scary asks, flicking a dust bunny off their lab coat.

Peter and Fren look between each other as they huddle around the table in the craft services tent.

"Why?" Peter finally asks.

"Duh. He's an observant therapy-freak so he knows all our weaknesses, he's been missing all day, and nothing of his was taken," Scary sighs. "While Max has been busy getting that stick out of his ass, I went through O's things, and nothing was out of place! I catalogue everyone's belongings at the beginning of every week, so I would know."

"You what?"

"Irrelevant. He's so obviously the culprit,"

---

SCARY: "I know nothing about detective work, or human drama, but... I feel like I'm aceing this,"

---

Scruffy rocks back and forth on the floor in the trailer, mumbling to themselves as Max digs through suitcases and looks under beds. After the trainee starts biting themselves, Max sighs and turns. “Can I help you?”

“No, no, I’m fine! I’m fine! Totally staying in the competition, I totally know what’s going on all the time! I am super chill!”

“Jesus Christ,” Max mutters under his breath.

---

MAX: “So this is pure, unbridled insanity. I can cross Scruffy off the list, unless they're secretly an A-list actor. No... but that is an interesting thought, isn't it? Someone who acts overwhelming as a cover...”

---

He peers out of the doorway and watches as Fren paces around the grass, throwing his hands up and kicking his legs out and groaning.

---

"It's gotta be five o'clock by now," Scary murmurs, pacing around the craft services tent. "Where is he? Where could he hide?"

No one responds. Peter is busy twirling his thumbs, Fren is picking at the scratchy, unflattering sweater he was given, and Scruffy- recently relocated from the trailer- is scribbling nonsense in the dirt.

"Pete, go check the bathrooms," Scary instructs, pointing outside into the dark, pouring rain.

He winces, but doesn't push back, standing and disappearing into the dark.

Scary puts her hands on her hips and huffs, looking around. "Where's the pipsqueak?"

---

The emerald green equipment tent provides adequate cover from the rain- although the wind blows in a few drops as Max opens one of the flaps and sneaks inside.

He surveys the area for interns, and once the coast is clear, he sets up a PC and enters a few passwords before cracking into the system with “chrisisawesome1”. He pulls up a search engine and takes a deep breath.

---

Peter, holding O's hand, coaxes him back into the craft services tent with the promise that no harm will come to him.

"It'll be fine, there are witnesses!"

"That's not helpful!" O whisper-shouts back.

Sure enough, as soon as he's inside, Scary pounces on him and drags him to the table, handcuffing him to the leg while he shrieks and struggles.

"Can it, limp noodle!" he snaps. "We know you did it- and as soon as the shrimp is back, we're voting you out. Bye-bye!"

"Hey, hey, we haven't reached a consensus yet," Peter says, trying to mediate.

"Can it!"

Scruffy holds up a finger. "No- he's right- we need evidence! We need-"

"You're next, jellybean," Scary narrows her eyes. "In fact, you're my next choice- trying to make everyone's lives harder so you get an easy ride to the finale, huh?"

"I don't even want to go to the finale, I just want to know how this game works!"

Scary drops O and storms over to the corner Scruffy is in. "Here's how this works: you don't abandon your lab partner for a stupid rigged game show just because it hurts your frail little ego! Not everything is about Total Drama!"

"You're wrong!" Scruffy sobs, holding their head in their hands. "Total Drama is life!"

"Oh my God- How am I not the craziest person on this island!"

Fren scratches his arm. "You'll all have your time,"

"What was that?"

"Nothing,"

The tent flap suddenly flies open and Chris walks in, carried in a throne with a roof by four struggling interns. They set his chair down at the end of the table and scamper away.

"Good evening, campers. Have we reached a verdict?”

Everyone falls silent. Scruffy hangs their head. O says a prayer. Finally, Scary speaks: "I think we have,"

The players look between each other.

“Only one of us had nothing stolen- only one of us could be stupidly pressured into taking $600 over a million- only one of us was gone almost all day,” Scary claps her hands for emphasis. “O is the thief!”

O protests. “No! I don’t know why nothing was stolen from me! I’m innocent!”

“Lies!”

The campers break out into argument- as they do, the tent flap opens again and Max walks in, grinning. Scary pauses from yelling at Scruffy to scoff. “What’re you so smug about?”

“You’re wrong,”

“Excuse me, shortstack?”

“You’re wrong. And a shoddy detective,” he stands, pacing the room. “I’ll admit, even I was fooled for a while- O has the motive, the know-how, and a shoddy alibi- he’s a smart guy. But not as smart as a certain someone in this room.”

“No need to pat your own back,” Scary rolls her eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” Max says, pulling a stack of papers from his blazer and slamming them down on the table. The players, and Chris, crowd around them.

The top of the stack is a picture of a familiar face, standing on a stage- the headline reading “Teen Theatre Prodigy Awarded in London”.

“From the start, I was suspicious. We all knew he was lying in one way or another, but... what if he wasn't?" Max says, pacing. "What if Fren really has done all those things... as characters?"

The table goes silent, looking between each other. The silence holds until it’s pierced by a delightful, almost cheerful laugh. Fren chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Oh, God, it took you all so long!”

“What?” Scary demands, staring at him. “What are you talking about?!”

He sighs and leans forward, balancing his head in his palms. “It was almost too easy! A movie-based season? For an auteur? An artiste? A free exercise in my skills, with a monetary prize?” he grins. “The “Frendom”? My fans from back home. I have a lot, after all. All my elaborate stories, my impeccable personality? ‘Fren’ was a fascinating character to play, almost corny in how over-exaggerated he is. Alas, that kind of swagger is brushed off in this show.”

Max smiles triumphantly as Fren pulls off his baggy sweater, revealing a black shirt underneath with everyone's items strapped to his torso.

“At some point, I just began seeing how far I could push this before someone started suspecting something,” he chuckles, tossing everyone their things. “I salute you, Maxwell.”

“It’s just Max, actually,”

“Whatever,” Fren says. “Congratulations on out-smarting Miss Poser.” he jabs his thumb in Scary’s direction. She growls. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’ll get your due. Most of you will.”

“Well,” Chris grins. “I think it’s safe to say that Max has won immunity today- the rest of you, I’ll see later!”

Chris walks off and Scary growls, storming after him. Fren grins.

---

FREN: "Was it manipulative? Yes. Was it deceptive, scheming, conniving? Absolutely. But I served, and if anything- I wasn't boring. After my character- the beta Fren from Island- failed right off the bat, I realized I was going to have to add some extra spice to my performance. And oh, did it flourish from there! I could've made such an excellent antagonist, if I hadn't gone for the "insecurities revealed" plot... alas, there's always the next season,"

---

Fren leans against the boy's trailer, Peter next to him. The rain has finally cleared up and the late afternoon sun is beaming down on the set. “So it was all a character?” the shorter brunet asks.

“More or less- I like to give all my characters a little sprinkle of myself. Fren is me, I am Fren, but we’re different. Understand?”

Peter rubs his head. “I think. Are we still friends?”

“Mmm… no. But we can be,” Fren holds out his hand for a shake. “My legal name is Alistair.”

“Peter!” he eagerly accepts the gesture.

A loud scream emanates from the communal bathrooms and Scary runs out in a towel, clutching their head- their perfect blonde hair changed to a deep, midnight black.

Peter and Fren watch him run to the trailers to attack Max with a large stick.

“Was that you?” Peter asks.

Fren shrugs. “Hey, the hair dye in the confessionals is free. Now she can be a proper emo, and maybe get some acting lessons- her character last season was so dull!”

---

“Well, players… much to talk about today,” Chris chuckles. “Fren pulled a Scary on us and revealed Fren-ception… mostly thanks to Max’s expert detective skills. Or should I say Raleigh’s?” Max turns red and glares. “Nonetheless, it won him immunity, and put the rest of the cast on the chopping block.”

“Our first Gilded Chris goes to… Scruffy,”

“Peter,”

“Scary,”

“O- you unintentionally mislead everyone by acting weird… by trying not to act weird. And you cost Scary the immunity- great work, dude! And Fren- though your acting skills and secret villainy are admired, you also mislead… everyone!” Chris grins. “And the last Gilded Chris… goes to…”

“…O. Sorry, Fren. Maybe next time!”

Fren grins and stands, waving goodbye to the cast as he walks the red carpet. “Don’t worry about me, friends! I’ll be on a real red carpet soon!”

The cast watches him disappear into the Lame-o-Sine and drive off.

“Riveting! Is anyone who they say they are? Will Scary stay emo? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Action!”

#tta #total takes action

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lala1267 · 1 year

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The girl down the road. (Part 1)

Summary:you were a bitchy, mentally unstable girl that found a man, an older man.

Warnings: mention of suicide, bad mental health, age gap (reader 17, Elvis 35) lmk if I missed anything xoxo.

My name was Dahlia Jean. I was born into a middle-class family. My home life was decent, and I had a lot of friends. I was adored by all of the boys and girls. But I was a bitch that got what I wanted, when I wanted. I was only seventeen, yet I walked the streets so mean. I was sexy and hot. Every guy would be drooling over me, and every girl would be jealous. I was a blonde, I had the perfect body, and I had the prettiest face. I would go out clubbing, drinking, smoking and even doing drugs. I did everything that a seventeen year old girl shouldn't be doing. The families that lived on my street thought that I was some hooker or prostitute since I wore revealing clothing. I would walk around in short shorts and the smallest crop tops, I liked to show off what I was proud of. Everybody knew who I was. I was the most known girl in town. But having a sexy body wasn't all easy. Boys would touch me inappropriately and whistle at me whilst I walked down the street. I had been sexually assaulted and r4ped more than once. I loved boys, but they only loved my body. I was constantly used for my body, especially when I was under the influence. No seventeen year old should have to go through that. I was the sex icon of the town. A lot of rumours spread about me, such as,

"Dahlia is pregnant!"

"Dahlia sleeps with everyone!"

"Dahlia is a slut!"

The rumours never ended. My mental health wasn't the best either. Since I was only used for sex I thought I had no worth, no point in being alive. I hated to admit it, but I was suicidal. I didn't think I belonged in this world, and my parents were disappointed in my reputation. I was known as the sassy slut next door.

I was out shopping with my girls. I was wearing high waisted short shorts and a long sleeved crop top. All of my other friends were covered up, I stood out. I was the prettiest in the group but I was also the most hated. My freinds secretly hated me, they were jealous, jealous of the life that I lived. Wait till they find out what happens behind closed doors. We walked like we owned the world, well I did. I always had I smile on my face to make people believe that I was happy, I was slowly dying inside.

As we walked, we came to a stop when we saw a group of teens and grown women surrounding a tall figure. He was tall, tanned and handsome. His hair was jet-black and his sideburns perfectly shaped his masculine face. He was very handsome. I heard the crown shout out a familiar name.

"Elvis please sign my autograph!"

All of my friends ran over to the huddle of people to join in. I didn't care, I had no motivation to do anything. Of course I knew who Elvis Presley was, but I had enough men that wanted me, I wasn't the one to chase men. They chased me. I just carried my shopping bags elegantly as I strutted past the huddle. My golden hair blew in the air, my long legs stood out, my heels clicked on the floor. Elvis looked up to see my godly figure. My drop dead gorgeous figure. I looked into his blue eyes, he started back at mine. I flashed him a cheeky smile as I walked past. The man looked star struck. He was practically drooling over me like a god damn dog. As I walked away, my smile faded into a resting-bitch-face. I plastered a smile whenever I saw anyone. I didn't want anyone knowing the real me, the young ,mentally unstable girl that lived inside of me. A load memories and thoughts broke into my head all of a sudden. They weren't good thoughts either. I walked into the women's toilets. A million thoughts crowded my head, my breath quickened. I was having another mental breakdown. These happened out of no where, usually when I thought about my fucked up life. I closed the door behind me. I ran to the sink and placed my bags on to the space next to it. Tears flooded down my caked up face. Mascara escaped my eyelashes and blush ran away from my cheeks. I leaned my elbows against the counter, my head in my hands as I sobbed. I played a role for everyone. I played the happy and confident girl that did what she wanted but deep inside I was fucked up, badly. My thoughts wanted me dead. My thoughts were dark and overwhelming, I couldn't help it. I cried and cried for a good ten minutes, I was talking about my life and how i didn't want to be here, I was venting to myself, I looked like a god damn fool. I hit the counter with my fist, my nuckles turned a dark shade of red. I yelled out to the mirror,

"I don't wanna live anymore!". I let out a deep sigh, I had no tears left to cry. My breathing calmed and my nuckles bruised. I began to sort my hair out and my makeup. I couldn't let anyone see me like this, I was in a terrible state. I added my final touches to the character I was about to play in front of everyone when I stepped out of the door. Once I was finished, I grabbed my bags and made my way to the door. I pulled the handle and I was met with a tall man standing right in front of me. It was Elvis. I stepped back in slight shock as I furrowed my eyebrows. His face had a worried expression. He separated his pink lips to speak.

"Are you ok?" He asked in a soft tone. I felt my world crumble, did he really hear all of that?

"How much did you hear?" I said in a cold, stern tone. He took a breath before replying.

"All of it." My hand immediately cupped my face to hide my tears that formed. My knees weakened, and my shopping bags fell to the floor. I felt Elvis's big arms pull me into a comforting hug. I could smell his expensive cologne, and I could feel the warmth radiating off his chest. I sobbed into his arms as he whispered sweet nothings into my ears.

"It's ok, doll. I know what you're going through. I used to feel like that too." He whispered in a comforting tone that sent chills down my spine. His large hand rubbed my back, and his other hand played with my hair. I had never even met the man, but he had shown more love towards me than anyone ever did.

I pulled away from his hug when I met his icey blue eyes. His leaned in to kiss my forehead. A smile appeared on my face as he tucked my blonde hair behind my ear.

"I wanna take ya out to dinner tomorrow, I can make ya happy again." His words echoed through my ears for a few seconds before I replied.

"Of course Elvis, I would love to." I said in a much happier tone.

"Ok, just write down your address on here, and I will pick ya up at six. Does that sound good?"

He said as he handed me a pen and a peice of crinkled paper. I nodded at him before I began to write down my address. I went from the edge of reality to reality. My day was made better just by the man's words.

It was almost six and I was getting ready in my room. I had put on a short blue, sparkling dress, white knee-high boots, and a white belt that hugged my waist. I left my hair down, the ends were curled, and I had a white headband. I sprayed my favourite perfume on my neck and wrists before I started to pack my blue hand bag. I put some spare cash, pink lipstick, and some other things in my bag. I placed the bag on my shoulder as I looked at my figure in the mirror, I liked what I saw on the outside, but on the inside, I was ugly and rotten. I giggled as I skipped out of the door cheerfully. I stepped out onto the pavement, the sun was setting, and the birds sang sweet lullabies. I was shocked to see a pink cadillac outside, waiting for me. In it sat Elvis, his hair was in a 70s style, he wore a coulerfull, long sleeved, button up shirt and black flare trousers. And to top his amazing outfit off, he had an expensive gold belt rest on his manly hips. He looked at me with a smile as he got out of the car. He walked up to me and kissed my hand.

"You look beautiful, as always." I giggled before speaking.

"Thankyou Elvis, but you've only met me once."

"And I hope to meet you many more times in the future." He said cheerfully. He held onto my hand and led me into the stylish car. The interior was luxurious. It had cream lever seats and a shiny silver steering wheel. Elvis started the car, and not long after, we were driving off in the distance.

We had arrived at a diner/restaurant. It was coulerfull and had happy energy. He sat me down inside on the VIP table. We had our own little area. He sat opposite me. We both scanned through the menu's and waited for the waiter. We ordered and received our food quickly. We started to munch on the delicious food. I felt like a queen, I was being treated like one as well. Elvis was 35 and I was 17 but I liked him a lot, he was a good man. Once we were done with our food, we flirted with each other for what seemed like forever. That was until a familiar girl walked past our table and shouted.

"Slut!" And ran off giggling to her freinds. I knew who they were, they were my 'freinds' that clearly got a little jealous of me me since I was with Elvis. I let my temper get the best of me. I stood up and walked over to them with my head heald high.

"Listen if your jealous and insecure just say that, there is no need to be a child about it. Now calm yourself down and carry on eating your meal deals whilst I enjoy my expensive meal with Elvis." I said with a bitchy tone. I pushed her plate of food of the edge of the table and it fell into her brand new dress.

"Oops, my mistake." I said with a cheeky smile. She looked furious. She was about to say the most outrageous sentence when I flicked my hair in her face and walked back over to Elvis, who had a smug smile on his face. I knew that they were all watching me, so I sat on Elvis's lap and planted my lips onto his. Our tongues danced toughether as the bitchea watched in jealousy. Once I was done, I looked over to the girls who were all furious and gave them an innocent smile. I looked over to Elvis, who was smiling. He whispered in my ear,

"You're a good kisser, doll." I smiled at him as I played with his hair. We both got up and held hands. We walked straight past the pathetic losers who were staring aggressively. I felt that my job was done here.

We got back in his pink Cadillac that was luxurious. It was nighttime now. The street lights were on, and the air was cold. We sat staring at eachover with love in our eyes before speaking.

"I wanna run away with you, far away." I said with the cutest smile on my face. Elvis ran his large hand through my long, shiny hair.

"Anything that makes ya happy, doll." He said in a flirtatious tone. I was falling in love with a 35 year old man, and I was only 17. He was old enough to be my father, but I had always had a thing for older men, so it was no surprise that I had fallen for him. He was so caring, kind, and mature. He was like an angel. The man was double my age, but I didn't care. In fact, I found it sexy. But it wasn't a good look for him to be with a bitchy seventeen year old while he was a grown man.

#elvis presley #elvis the pelvis #fanfic #fan fic writing #lana del rey #70s elvis #70s vintage #flirting #first date #love story

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hes-a-rat-whisperer · 8 months

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Hey, ITS ALMOST SINDAY what is a fantasy of Alistair, Guinness, Gosgo, AND the twins starring their love interests?(PLS I BEG I MUST KNOW)

Alistair: Alistair rarely has ´inappropriate thoughts´, however, one thought that would come to his mind every now and then, was Ceb- wearing nothing but one of his black shirts, which was clearly to big for him and conveniently fully covered his nether reagions. the brunette had flowers in his hair as he was innocently sitting on their shared bed, beckoning the brit with a finger while licking his lips.

what would happen next was always different, sometimes Alistair would walk over to him and kiss him, sometimes Ceb would lie back and slip out of the big shirt, showing off his slender frame to his husband- but no matter what, the older man´s face was always a very deep shade of red when thinking about this scenario..

Guinness: the most risque thought Guinness ever had starring the pretty wendigo centered around him loosening his ponytail and letting his silky hair cascade down his shoulders before pinning the shorter redhead to a wall and running his fingers tthrough his beard. this gorgeous emerald eye of his looking deeply into his own and by that point, the fantasy would usually drift off towards a long, passionate kiss and a lot of subtle little touches all over..

Gosgo: Gosgo´s reoccuring fantasy was a whole lot more risque-

the blonde would think of Felly, sitting on their shared bed with Gosgo lying in his lap. the taller man had one of his hands on the blonde´s tummy while his other was resting on his cheek. "has my little pup been good~?" he would ask, which makes Gosgo shiver. "mmh~ what if I haven´t been~?" he´d ask in return. "well, I would have to punish you then, right~?" Gosgo smiles, already turning around in Fel´s lap "oh you should~ I have been such a baaaad boy~" he teased. Felonious would give his rear a squeeze, before sliding down his pants and without another word, he´d give him a hard slap..

by that point, Gosgo would most likely already bite his lip with a little smile on his red face.

the twins: Cornelius and Cornelia have plenty of fun fantasy starring each other, but once the pretty siren got involved into their love life, those fantasies got a whole lot more experimental, with them whispering their ideas to each other, before putting them together and eventually telling their siren about it..

one of those combined ideas was..

Cornelia in the middle of a beautiful, secluded meadow, surrounded by trees. she´s naked, the few rays of sunshine that the dense trees far above were letting through shining on her beautiful body. her hair was open, flowing down her shoulders in pretty waves. Cornelius, who was wearing a lot more than her, was pulling Ceb along, leading him to the meadow. Cornelia was batting her eyes at the two and cornelius began to undress himself as well before taking a seat next to his sister as Ceb was observing the two, red faced. in their fantasy, it was of utmost iimportance that they didn´t tell the brunette a thing! they left him completely in the dark about their scandalous little plan! the two were now beckoning Ceb over, patiently waiting for him to join and once he did, they would help him ease himself out of his own clothes. his beautiful, tan frame, they would then cover in flowers before they took turns kissing him deeply on the lips..

by that point, the two would giggle at their fantasy, excited and lovestruck and their fantasy would get more and more steamy from then on

#SINDAY!! SINDAY!! WOOOOOO!!!#steamy dreamy asdfghjkl

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hiraeth-hera · 2 years

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──・₊ OVERDOSE is the DEBUT MINI ALBUM of the fictional south korean boy group know as HIRAETH. the album was released on NOVEMBER 8th, 2020 and was later made available on most major streaming platforms within the following week. Hiraeth made their debut as Beat Inter third group; however, they stood out from the other two groups for their visuals and catchy choreography. overdose is made up of five tracks. their title track also named “OVERDOSE” was promoted for six weeks alongside their b-sides “NO MANNERS”.

──・₊ TRACKLIST

001. OVERDOSE :: title track :: INSPO

02. NO MANNERS :: promoted :: INSPO

03. GAMBLER :: INSPO

04. FIREBOMB :: INSPO

05. ANNOYED :: INSPO

──・₊ ERA NOTES

the boys promoted as a group for six weeks, making guest appearances on small realty shows and award shows.

as changyi helpfully explained to everyone the mini album was originally a scrap of demo's from other popular groups that the boys decided to adopt and turn into full tracks. soon the company hired a few professionals to mush all of it together into a real mini album.

jangyeon went through the whole promotion era repeating 'i'm so addicted. your so addicting' in his best 'broken english tone'

dead jisuk went semi-viral for making very sarcastic and 'savage' comments on their first blog episode 'long time no see: Hiraeth'.

aries received the most screen time this era!

there people were confused about their concept! in which the company and changyi commented on them not wanting to stick to a certain label or image. instead each member wants to promote a different image for themselves as individuals over time.

dongu became the meme 'just nod and smile guys, nod and smile' throughout every single award show and interview.

the boys moved into a dorm together! which they blogged about on vlive!

aries went viral for that spilt second in which he lifted his shirt up on stage to fix his head set wire.

the “dorm tour” consisted of much mocking and threatening.

people were shocked to find jisuk and jangyeon arguing over who got to sleep with aries. they were both punished with actually sleeping in their own beds.

there were a few funny and memorable moments in this era but besides them just working hard af to make an impact as rookies they didn't really stand out. oh well maybe next era <3

— STYLE LOOKBOOK

CHANGYI's had blonde hair with the roots died a pale red-ish brown that was short and styled covering his forehead.

ARIES had dark brown hair styled so it parted tot he side neatly.

JISUK's hair was a dirty blonde that was slicked back coolly.

JANGYEON had straight beach ash-blonde coloured hair.

DONGU's hair was jet black and worn similarly to aries.

the boys sported high-fasion and loose street wear looking clothing for a duration of promotions.

loose cargo pants decoratd with chains and pins of various sizes attached to the pockets, big jackets with various pockets and features that stood out.

the main colors in their wardrobe were black, bright orange, and small hints of white and gray.

for both 'Overdose' and 'No Manners' the boys wardrobe switched between more fitted tutlenecks with leather harnesses to more loose clothing that gave off more 'youthful' vibes.

dead the styling showed a lot of inperation from big 3 groups like nct's resonance and enhypen's 'blessed-curse'.

the boys didn't wear a lot of makeup but a few coats of pretty toned brown eye-shadow was noticeable.

#aes!ocnet #deluxeocnet #fictional idol community #kpop oc #oc kpop #kpop addition #idol oc #kpop au #fake kpop idol #fake kpop group #fictional kpop idol #fictional idol group #—— sound ↻ ⌊ longing for you ⌋

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nogu-d-reamers · 1 year

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BASS OLD PAPER SKETCH

It's my way of drawing Bass/Forte + lore included from them =

•Bass was created taking several details as reference = what Wily was able to rescue from Ra Thor and the disappeared megaman killers, some old blueprints of proto man and mega man and above all; having discovered the Fortenium alloy that would function as its engine; but because Wily after the events of mmn 5 had to be on the run constantly and that in mmn6 he was imprisoned, although Bass was functionally complete; its physical finish is terrible, Wily only had time to cover the adolescent robot's face with "skin" (and in the words of Wily himself and Dr. Light, Wily has always been bad in that regard; preferring to cover a large part of the seams fake skin with extravagant helmets or that the robot's design has the minimum amount of fake skin to compensate), the scientist himself does not know the origin of the "horrific" purple marks that it has (although he believes that it is due to the fortenium nucleus, he has not found the way to make them disappear) and although he had been more thorough with Bass's hair; He had to patch up a couple of strands of black hair when the blonde robot hair he was using ran out (although it did give him the "idea" for Bass's helmet to have the colors inverted).

Bass quote= [Bass honestly didn't care about his appearance without his armor until at mmn7 events he saw rock without his helmet on a couple of occasions and met Roll and blues; something that made him somewhat envious because they looked a thousand times better finished and he generated a small complex with his unarmed appearance]

• after the last fight with megaman in mmn7 Bass gets a scar in his eyebrow area; rock on several occasions has asked to be allowed

• Bass's appearance doesn't change until after mmn8, "megaman and Bass" or in General after Bass where he was more in the public eye; Wily forces him to give him a civilian form so that the boy would go unnoticed (to the point where the scientist threatened to disarm Treble if he didn't comply). He usually wears punk-style clothes or sports sweatshirts along with a cap and a mask to go unnoticed, if he has to introduce himself, he uses his beta name as his first name, that is, "Forte".

BASS-quote: [Bass HATES how it turned out and to a certain extent feels disgusted, for a change the finish of the fake skin is horrible as the seams left by the scientist are noticeable and more purple marks generated by the bassnium became noticeable on his arms and legs; even when Wily "suggested" replacing his ear sensors with ones in the form of ears Bass was so disgusted that he blew up the skull castle without even having his Buster or Treble handy].

• BASSROCK NOTE= Rock has helped Bass a lot to stop feeling disgust for his own unarmed appearance, not enough to stop bass from complaining but at least enough to have a couple of civil dates without much trouble.

#megaman #bass megaman #megaman bass #bass #forte #forte wily #paper sketch #rockman

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crapmagak · 2 years

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Engage Drip Marketing: Alfred

Oh boy, we finally get to learn about one of the cover characters, Alfred.

They struck gold with Xander, and they struck god damn platinum with Dimitri, so it seems they’re going for round three. Perhaps in terms of the franchise's future, Dimitri has spawned a whole new character archetype, kind of like how Tharja has made the sexy goth woman a staple in this series with Camilla, Shamir, and now purple haired woman in the trailer.

As for Alfred himself, we get these tweets

Alfred (VA: Ryōhei Kimura) is the first prince of the Firenese Kingdom, a brisk young man who battles alongside the Divine Dragon. He’s a kind, disciplined and flower-loving pursuer of happiness.

Then the cutscene tweet

It seems Alfred had visited the sleeping Alear many times. He's surprised that Alear woke up.

Alear: "Alfred... of the Kingdom of Firene?"

Alfred: "You... Could it be?

The Divine Dragon Alear? You woke up?"

Alear: "Y-yes."

Alfred: "I see... This is great! You've no idea how long I've waited for this!"

So, first off, we finally have a name for the Verdant kingdom; Firene! Seems I was right on the mark about which country Firene referred to. I’m also excited to see more characters representative of this region. Though a west european base is the literal standard for fantasy, adding a flower and plant motif definitely helps. Reminds me a bit of the Tyrells from A Song of Ice and Fire.

As for Alfred himself, despite my Dimitri jokes, he actually gives me a different set of vibes. Specifically, I have a theory about the four other box art characters, the one we saw in that sequence were they fight a bunch of corrupted. They each adhere to a sort of classic Fire Emblem Archetype, especially those relating to royalty. So, while Alear is our Avatar lord, I think Alfred is meant to be more of our classical lord. Think Marth, Eliwood, or Eirika, the more gentlemanly, peace loving lord, as opposed to the more warrior esc lords like Hector, Ephraim, or Ike, who I think will be the red haired swordsman. I think the dancer will be that innocuous traveler who turns out to be royalty, like Lewyn, Joshua, or Virion. As for the goth woman… I have a strong prediction but it’s based on the leaks. And unfortunately, I can't black out text for easy spoiler warnings on tumblr. I'll just have to say it once we get her posts. I’m also certain that for the Firene arc of this game, Alfred will serve as the Deuteragonist/ focus character. Hell, there's a strong chance he’ll get a legendary weapon as well.

One thing that did surprise me is that Alfred is the first prince. Considering Celine wears a crown but he doesn’t, I assumed Alfred wasn’t even royalty. Makes sense though. Seems like we’re getting a classic Fire Emblem story of a Prince trying to defend/ reconquer his homeland. If he’s a prince, I also assume that makes Celine his younger sister.

Another big thing is that we get a good look at Etie and the fighter character early. The first thing that struck me was just how tiny Etie was. I kind of assumed she’d look older, like Chloe, but she looks younger than Framme. The fighter was also a shock, considering how small his head is compared to his body. Now, a lot of that bulk’s probably do to his clothes and armor, but it still looks off a bit. I’m fairly sure the two are Alfreds retainers, which makes me wonder if Chloe and Louis are Celine’s retainers as well, and all the major characters get a pair like in Fates. That's not the only thing that reminds me of past games, though. Etie and the fighter have pretty similar hair and eye colors, along with overall aesthetics. I kind of wonder if they’re siblings too. If they are, then that’d make them the third pair, considering the dragon guardian twins, and the Firene royals. We also see Citrinne in a map with a blond cavalier too… I wonder if we’re getting a predominantly sibling cast, like in the second half of Genealogy. Then again, the hair and eye colors are exactly the same, so perhaps I’m over thinking things. Overall, they give me Lethe and Mordecai vibes; tiny mean girl and big nice guy.

We also see this cutscene at the night bridge map, meaning you probably meet the three during or after the it. I’m guessing the attack happened on one of his visits. Perhaps after the attack, our heroes flee to Firene after the Holy Land is captured.

Next, we get another juicy, juicy crit clip…

Alfred's starting class is Noble/ Cavalry. With blood of noble royalty running through their veins, they ride a horse, and elegantly wield a lance.

So, it seems like Alfred gets a fancy flourish on his crit. Perhaps it’s exclusive to him, or just major Firene characters in general. We also get to hear more of that sweet, sweet Firene map theme. This is a new map too, taking place in a village with bushes and small forests. Alfred is level seven, so it appears to take place after the Firene castle chapter. Perhaps that wasn’t a castle, but a simple fort.

Green units are confirmed. There are six on the map, but we can only see five. We have three civilians, one presumed cleric, and a monk in the back. Seems like we’ll need to rush to their aid before it’s too late.

What really caught my eye, though, was that someone else is engaged to Sigurd. This completely obliterated my assumption that only certain pairings of characters could engage. As for the character in question, it’s hard to tell cause they face away from the camera, and because of their glowing hair. Considering who else we see, and that they’re on foot, my guess is Clan or Louis. I lean more towards Louis for one reason. Each of the engaged characters have a sort of glowing halo thing along their backs. Alear has dragon-like wings, Celine a halo, for a brief second we see wing-like ornaments of Alfred’s form on the map, and the red haired swordsman has a bunch of glowing weapons on his back. This figure has either large wings around their shoulders, or a kind of shell like pauldrons. My new theory is that the ornament is based on class categories, and armored units get the shell. If this is true, I wonder if there are limits to who can engage with who based on weapon type (as an example, SIgurd can only engage with characters who use swords or lances, and Lyn would be locked to characters who use swords or bows.)

Finally, we get a quick look at Alfreds inventory. He can use an iron lance, or a javelin. However, he can’t wield the poleaxe, meaning he really is lance locked (probably until he promotes).

As for who we see next, my bets on either Etie or Celine. If we do get Celine next, I’m curious if we’ll see her crit with a sword or magic.

#alfred #fire emblem #fire emblem engage #It's Firene time baybee!

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fox-buried-in-maple-leaves · 1 year

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sooooo about this pretty blond boy i've heard so much about..... the flowery asks please ♡

- local serafim kisser(?)

ah yes serafim destan-mixtio, my beloved oddball.

Sunflower - What name(s) were you originally thinking of calling your OC?

Serafim was the og name and the name I went with! But his name is "technically" Серафим. Though this isn't Serafim's original given name, that would be Демьян/Demyan.

Rose - What is your OC's favourite form of self-care?

...He likes buying things.. Retail therapy with papa's credit card.

Lilac - Does your OC have a comfort item? If so, what is it?

There's a ruffled black blouse that Serafim stole from Alee when he first joined the family and its his favourite item tbh.. It means a lot to him, esp since Alee let him keep it.

Orchid - What is your OC's biggest fear?

That his family will abandon him again, especially for his oddities.

Snapdragon - What is your OC's most used phrase?

His most used phrase is "I sense" due to his psychic abilities (,: he'll often preface a full sentence with that.

Daisy - What inspired you to create your OC?

Rowan and I were discussing the fact Alee and Vesper often adopt sorcerer kids in shitty situations. And I decided I wanted a Russian one, and then I wanted one with odd inexplicable abilities. So he ended up being a psychic!

Lily - What is your OC's love language?

Giving: Acts of Service, Physical Touch Receiving: Physical Touch, Gifts

Poppy - How is your OC around strangers?

He's a bit awkward. Due to acting like he's in an 1800s period piece at all times and his mannerisms he sorta puts other people off. But he's polite?? he's just.. Awkward.

Violet - Do a voice claim for your OC

His accent is really odd? He mostly speaks English for ease, but his accent is a heavy mix of obviously Russian but with some almost.. posh? british bleeding into it? Like you can tell he's tried to change how he sounds but it didn't fully work yk?

Tulip - If you could say/do one thing to your OC, what would you say/do?

I'd ruffle his hair honestly? Sera has super fluffy hair lol-

Sweet pea - What colour are your OC's eyes?

Green!

Jasmine - If your OC had a tumblr blog, what would their URL be?

the-serafimm, he's boring.

Dandelion - Does your OC get overwhelmed easily?

Yes. Its not as bad as an adult because hes learned to block out people's thoughts, but when he was younger it was especially bad. He also can't be around massive crowds for extended times. When he was younger, Alee used to give him ear plugs if they HAD to go somewhere with big crowds.

Marigold - Describe your OC in three words or less

Fiery victorian boy

Daffodil - Is your OC likeable?

I like to think so! Awkwardness aside, he's a bleeding heart, he's so genuine.

Petunia - When was the last time your OC cried?

When he was adopted. Serafim doesn't cry very easily.

Buttercup - Does your OC have any odd quirks/habits?

His entire manner of speech is a speaking quirk so there's that! He also has a habit of chewing on the tip of his pen.

Lavender - How does your OC cope with loud noises?

Covers his ears or wears ear plugs. He does not do well with them.

Snowdrop - What is something your OC loves, and what is something they hate?

He's going to school to be a social worker and he really loves it. He despises cinnamon sticks. don't ask.

Winterberry - Use one or more photos that encapsulates your OC's clothing style.

Wisteria - Does your OC have a skill they'd like to learn? What is stopping them?

He wishes he was more artistic like Fennel and Céfiro but it never came to him lol-

#☾*✲⋆. Essence of Myrrh #From The Fate ; Ash #⋆｡°✩ Serafim

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skeleton-in-a-hoodie · 1 year

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In your age swap AU, what do the gang look like?

June: Excluding Shadow, who's 9, June is the shortest of the group at around 5'0. Her hair's naturally straw blonde, but she dyes it alot. During ageswap's 4th season it's dark purple and shaved short. Very bright mutagen green eyes (they glow in the dark!). June works with Donnie in the lab building stuff, so even though she's short, she's also incredibly strong and muscular, she looks like she weight lifts in her spare time. She's also got olive skin and freckles. Likes overalls with as many pockets as possible so she can keep tools in them. Also always wears long sleeves and only rolls them up if she's working on something in the lab - she was experimented on the by Kraang when she was a baby, so has a lot of needle scars across her body with her arms getting the worst of it and she hates looking at them.

Mayday: her proportions are kinda odd, in that she changes them based on what she's feeling at the time e.g. if she's angry her nails become more like claws, and she can make exaggerated cartoon character faces. Generally tall and built like a beanpoll. She moves like she either has no knees at all or far too many. She also has two forms. The first looks human for the most part. It had bright yellow hair (like Spongebob yellow) and green eyes. She likes to wear short sleeved button ups with the most eye searing colour combinations possible. Changes her hair style daily - people at school think she's got to have an extensive wig collection. Mayday's face is very sharp and angular as well - June and Shadow both have rounder faces. Mayday is all broad grins and laughs a lot. Her second form has completely black eyes and blue skin everywhere but her face, which looks like it's covered with a pink wooden mask. The 'mask' has horns that branch off like tree branches. There are similar wooden sections around her arms and legs. Her 2nd form's exact shape changes a lot, but the 'default' is similiar to the one she uses in her first form.

Shadow: shoulder length black curly hair, freckles, and dark brown eyes, light brown skin and freckles. She wears a lot of sports shirts - she's got one of Casey's old hockey jersies that she wears everywhere. When the ageswap gang start going on missions, she's the shortest of the group, but by the end of the age she's at least 5'3. Has a tooth gap on her bottom teeth. Shadow is also like April in that the more she uses her powers, the more Utrom features she gets, although during season 4 that mostly means she starts getting purple markings on her skin. Also has a similar pair of roller skates to 2012 Casey, and she wears them pretty much all the time - she likes going fast.

Tang Shen: she's one of the tallest out of the gang, getting up to around 6'0. She has long dark hair and dark grey eyes, and her skin's a bit darker than Shadow's. Shen has vitiligo - there are patches all over her body, including her face and hands. When she's at school she uses makeup to hide the patches, but when she's with the rest of the ageswap kids she's comfortable enough to not hide them. When she sneaks out at night she wears a theatre mask to hide her face (she does not want her parents to find out what she's up to). At first the clothes she wears at night are mostly designed to keep her warm and be easier to climb in, but she gradually gets clothes that protect her more in fights. Wears a lot of sweaters and thick jackets - she gets cold really easily. Kinda slim build, with very strong legs and shoulders - her parents think she joined a martial arts club or wrestling, they can't agree on which one.

Yoshi: this boy is going to be so tall when he finished growing - by the time he's 14 he's already 6'2 and ends up having another couple growth spurts throughtout ageswap. He's also built like a string bean and doesn't start putting on muscle until he's 17. Brown fur like 2012 Splinter, with the white fur down his nose. The rest of his facial markings will eventaully look like 12! Splinter's, but whilst he's a teenager they look like a simplified version. He's also got a white patch on his torso and stomach, and black patches that are in similar places to 12 Karai's body armour. He's not got his adult coat yet, so his furs fluffy in some places and smooth in others. None of his clothes really fit - trousers are a bit short and his t-shirts tend to be baggy. During season 4 he has a coat that's at least a size too big with a hood he can pull up. Same amber-brown eyes as 12 Splinter.

Kirby: taller than June but shorter than Shen. He's got very curly ginger hair and dark blue eyes. Kirby is the same age as the rest of the ageswap kids, but he wears sweaters and cardigans. He also gets turned into a bat mutant in this au, though it looks different than in cannon - he's a lot fluffier and has a more bat-like face, but I've not pinned down what speices of bat he mutates into yet. Sort of gets cured, in that Donnie manages to make a serum that allows him to shift back and forth between human and bat-mutant. Team medic, so he's always carrying around a bag stuffed with medical supplies. He's also a very nervous person, but that disappears the moment he's got a patient.

Bonus:

Saki: he kind of has 'asshole' written all over his face when he first appears - he's very cocky and sure of himself and it shows in how he looks at the people around him. Wears similar armour to 2012 Karai's. He's got long dark hair that he ties back and hazel-brown eyes. Starts out the au taller than Yoshi, but Yoshi's second growth spurt puts Saki about chin height for him (he's not at all mad Splinter is taller than him, nope, not one bit).

Apolex also joins the ageswap gang, but I've not figured out what she looks like yet. I keep hopping between a more show accurate idea and one that looks similar to her appearance in the IDW comics. She's a bit older than the rest of the ageswap gang (June, Mayday and Kirby are 16; Saki, Yoshi and Shen are 14; and Shadow is 9), but still young, about 18-ish when she's introduced.

Thanks for asking! Sorry if this got a bit long!

#ask #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt au #tmnt ageswap au

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anestofocs · 3 months

Text

Character Intro The Bloom System

Name: Bloom System

System members and roles:

Seo-Yum: Host, Trans Femme, she/they Seong: Protector, Demi boy, He/they

Myung: Truama holder, Agender, Xe/xeir

Eun: No role, Agender, They/them Collectively the syetm goes by they/them.

Age: 29-30 depending on timeline

Race: Human

Nationality: South Korea

Appearance: The bloom System are lanky with a feminine/androgynous appearance. Their hair is mid length, with dark roots that fade into a fiery red. Their face is rounded with a mostly healed scar across their left cheek. Their right forearm is covered by a flower tattoo, a hibiscus and a rose One of their eyes is a Dark Brown with a lighter almost gold circle around the pupil. While another is red and often doesn’t follow their gaze right. On closer inspection the red "eye" is made of glass.

Each of the individual personalities also has a different sense of style. Seo-Yun prefers punkier yet feminine clothes, with a lot of patterns, differing textures and studs. Typically favouring the colours red, black and white. In their various shades and hues. When performing she will wear a long pink-red wig with curls. As well as an eyepatch to hide the Red/Damaged eye.

Myung often wears airy, flowy but practical fashions in paste colours. Lolita fashion, Typically sweet due to xeir love of softer, fluffier things. When Fronting xe’ll either leave the hair as is or wear lavender wigs of varying lengths to better coordinate with whatever outfit xe have picked out for xemself.

Seong tends towear more casual street wear in pastels, paticularly sky blues and pastel pinks. Though he doesn't front as often as Seo -Yun and Myung, Though heis the one most likely to get front stuck. As such his wardrobe is one of the larger ones. Hair wise he tends to go for shorter, black or blonde wigs.

Eun by contrast to their other headmates dresses more plainly, with just shirts and t shirts in earth tones and black trousers. They keep the natural hair and rarely try to stand out.

MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS Current Goal/Purpose: Gain Justice for themselves and all the others that escaped [redacted] Talents: Singing, Botany, Watercolor painting. Cooking. Chemistry Inabilities: Seo-Yun can barely work a computer, She’s like a boomer. Collectively the Bloom system: Have Depress/Anxiety, PTSD and OSDD(The reason they are multiples) Cannot sew. Bad at maths Fears: Forced Integration, their secrets being found out, not having enough food. Dark rooms. General Personality: To the outside word, The Jun's are siblings, Quads in fact. Who lead very busy and secluded lives. With Seo-Yun being more outgoing and adventurous. While Myung is more withdrawn and shy. Eun more anti soical, while Seong mediiates between his more head strong sibilngs.

Seo-Yun GP: Outgoing, bubbly and rather matter of fact. With a strong empathy towards others, alongside her desire to make others feel joy. Coupled with a love of memes and jokes, She is the most outgoing and people-liking of the group next to Seong. Wherever she goes, and whatever she does. She does to her fullest extent. Be it self-care or chasing her dreams. When on the stage. She mixes provocative and punk aesthetics with the typical charms and beats of Popular music.

Myung GP: Myung or My as xey are affectionately called by friends and family. Is more Reserved of the pair. Xey love botany and chemistry and often acts as the parental friend around the few treasured people xe keep close. An innocent little bean that must be protected at all costs.

Seong GP: A sarcastic but well meaning young man witha prankster's heart. Seong is the life of the party and the first to go "hey watch this!" before doing something rediucously stupid yet funny. He enjoys making other people feel joy and tends to not take things too seriously.

Eun: Anti soical and abrasive. Eun is not one to speak much and when they do, it's usually short, to the point and to make their leave. Eun isn't however mean for mean's sake. They simply struggle with forming connections and find it dificult to relate to others outside of their few interests.

Inner Personality: Seo-Yun: Under the surface she has a rather pessimistic and cynical view of the world. A result of the pain the system and she as an individual endured.

Myung: Beneath the innocence and shyness is someone born of Anger and coldness. Seeing the world as something hostile to xeir existence and apathetic to the injustice dealt to not just the system. But to the others stuck in the same situation they had found themselves in. However xey are illed anxiety. Making xeir anger more directed towards systems of power and oppression and xeir own weakness.

Seong: Under the sarcasam is a frail man who wants to be good, kind and honest about his feelings, yet fels too afraid to do so. He is self consious, espically as he feels like he isn't a "real" person.

Eun: Beneath the abrasiveness lays someone who earns for connection but is plauged with guilt. As the person who was fronting when joining [redeacted] Eun feels responabile for everything done to or by the system while there.

Secret: Their past connection to [REDACTED], That they are a system. More: HISTORICAL BACKGROUND General History: Born to Cirán and Mi-kyung Jun. The Bloom system’s lives started off as fairly normal, aside from a traumatic incident involving their maternal grandmother and a river. Things changed however during their university years when they began to truly understand themselves, both as a Plural system and Transgender. As while they were gone. Their father’s controlling and abusive nature, along with his obsession with christanity bubbled onto the surface. Both they and their mother experienced abuse by his hands. Though their mother was also guilty in neglect and emotionally manipulating them. The worst of it happening when Seo-Yun. As a pop idol was outed as a trans woman by a rival.

As a result the abuse worsened until they were thrown out onto the streets for nine years. Unable to afford rent without their parents support and having to fight rumors. It was then that they were invited to a place that styled it’s self.. ..As a Paradise and life took a darker turn.

Present Life: Having reconnected with their mother..and realising she too was plural, a textbook case of Dissociative identity disorder no less.They escaped both Cirian and the place that turned out to be no paradise, But a living hell. Both mothers and Children now lived together in a more quiet, rural part of South korea.

#A bloom on the wind: Bloom System ic #mystic messenger rp #multi fandom rp #tekken rp

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