#I actually have more palettes saved than these but I wanted to narrow it down a little bit lol

[shima-draws]

Finally made my own palette challenge 🤧 Feel free to use! Credit is appreciated but not necessary as long as you don’t crop out the top part ;)

#I MADE THESE FOR A REASON ACTUALLY. JUST WAIT. #Also please don't send me anything from this lol #Palettes #Color palette #Color palette challenge #Palette challenge #Colors #Palette meme #Palette challenge meme #I actually have more palettes saved than these but I wanted to narrow it down a little bit lol #Shima speaks

[steveroger]

Colouring rainbow gifs

The lovely @buckiecap​ and @djarsdin​​ requested a tutorial of some gifs from this TFATWS rainbow set.

My colouring process is kinda chaotic and it always depends on the gif itself. These three gifs will highlight the similarities and differences in how I colour my rainbow gifs.

You’ll need some understanding of basic gif making and adjustments. I use Photoshop 2021 but I imagine these processes will still work in other versions.

Some basic tips:

When doing rainbow sets, once I've got my base gif ready, I always make a hue/saturation layer on saturation +100 so I can see what colours I'm working with. I just keep it hidden so i can check how my colours are doing throughout the editing process.

Also something to stick at the back of your mind: you want your final gif to be as “monochromatic” as possible - make sure your final palette will be only black + shades of whatever colour you're targeting. This is not only to make the gif as colour-focussed as possible, but it also helps with saving your gif under 10mb. That saturation +100 layer I always keep hidden at the bottom of my gif so I can keep an eye on what colours are present.

It’s also helpful to understand how RGB and CMYK colours work and what to add/subtract when you want to bring out a certain colour. A good example of this is with Colour Balance:

You’ll notice the colours on the left are Cyan, Magenta and Yellow (CMYK), while the other side is Red, Green and Blue (RBG). So if you want more cyan in your image, you’d push the bar towards cyan, but then you’re compromising the reds. In Selective Colour adjustments, the panel is reversed.

This knowledge is absolutely necessary when you’re doing any adjustment, so keep this in the back of your mind as I work through the tutorial.

Green gif - Eli's door

So I start with my hue/saturation on saturation +100 to check what I’m working with here. This gif of Isaiah's grandson opening the door has green, yellow and red as the dominant colours, and I can see a bit of cyan on the right. I’ll keep that hue/saturation layer hidden as a reference.

Normally when I make gifs I start with a curve or levels layer to get any unwanted hues or create a more visible scene. But in this gif, I'm pretty happy with the colours, so I'm just using a simple curves adjustment, because I want to have whatever is behind the door as the ‘background’ and the door frame is the ‘foreground’, so only a slight adjustment is needed here.

Since the colours are already prominent, I'm going to make the green more visible and vibrant. I do this by using selective colour in the green colour to make the green stand out. When thinking of CMYK adjustments, you might think that Magenta -100 would work, as that normally pushes the greens, but I find that this makes things grainy and patchy looking, as you can see here:

Instead, I’m enhancing cyans and yellows, and only pushing the magenta back just a little bit towards green. I’m not sure why green specifically does this, but it’s useful to know this when you’re colouring.

With the yellows, I want to push those more as well, since the amount of yellow usually influences the green-ness of the gif.. I'm also going to max yellow too since that will also make the green pop, but I also have to be careful not to distort the skin colour too much. I also want to balance the skin tone with a little redness so he doesn’t look like he has jaundice (skin tone will be explored later in the gif process)

I've added another selective colour layer on top of that, only adjusting the greens just to make it pop a little more. Don’t be afraid to use more than one selective layer, this can really bring out vibrant colours if you use it right.

Just to get some more depth, I add a colour balance layer, again just subtly pushing the cyan and yellow up and not playing with the green too much. Then my usual last layers are with a vibrance and brightness/contrast - I’m usually quite generous with contrast so I can bring out the different shades and it makes things a little more vibrant too.

This next step is really important when colouring people with dark skin - you want to lower the redness from their skin so they don't look unnaturally orange, as you can see here:

There is a fantastic tutorial here about colouring dark skin tones and avoiding the orange-washed look, and I recommend all gif makers to take note! It's difficult especially when doing rainbow gifs, and it takes some practice. I do this with a hue/saturation layer, and specifically targeting red and yellow and reducing saturation. I might need to play with selective colour or colour balance to get it right. Luckily Eli doesn’t move around too much, so I can use a mask to adjust only his face. 

And that’s the end product! now just ignore me as I re-upload the green gif in my set so you don’t see such a horrible jaudiced skin tone sldkfjsldkf

Yellow gif - Karli vs Sam

I'm gonna be completely honest here - this gif was very tricky to do. I actually have about three different versions of it. At first I thought "this is the yellow gif so I'm only going to have yellow tones", and did selective colour to get rid of any traces of green AND red, because I didn't want any orange at all. It ended up looking quite dull:

I mean.. yeah it’s yellow........... but it’s kinda boring. So I deleted all adjustments and watched the raw gif, and noted the orange light contrasting with the pale light. The raw gif itself already had some beautiful lighting - why get rid of it? It depends on what you want, but I like my rainbow gifs to have a different colour there to contrast with the main colour. 

Starting off with a hue/saturation layer with saturation 100+, I can see there are clearly yellows and reds and a bit of green on the ceiling. 

I thought the contrast of the orange and pale lighting was too good to mess up so I started with that. My first layers are vibrance and brightness/contrast to exaggerate the silhouettes and bring out the colours that are already there. 

I added a channel mixer layer to narrow down the colours. I wanted to fill the white bits with yellow, and with channel mixer I’m able to manipulate colours into something else while still looking natural and blended. I won’t be doing too much colour manipulating here so the settings are very minimal. I don’t know how to explain it but it just takes a little fiddling to figure out what works for your gif. You’ll notice the white reflections on the ceiling are now a solid yellow colour:

Next is a colour balance layer. I'm basically trying to bring out the yellow out. This is really just trial and error. I added a bit of magenta to bring the depth of the orange colours in the darker shades:

Now for selective colour. I'm often adjusting all of these while hiding/showing the hue/saturation layer I have kept at the bottom. This time, I’m aiming to subtract the reds and bring it down to a warm orange, and I do that by bringing it towards cyan/away from red, and away from magenta/towards green. 

Then I max out the yellows so it becomes the most dominant colour. I've also manipulated the green to make sure it is excluded from the gif - again, checking with the hue/saturation layer at the bottom, while keeping my eye on the ceiling and other places where I’ve noticed green lurking about. I don’t want any unwanted shades ending up in the final colour table.

Finally, I finish with yet another vibrance and brightness/contrast layer, just because I like things bright and vibrant!

And there it is! The orange is still there and adds a contrast, but you can tell that the main colour is the yellow. This gif seems very straightforward but I assure you, it took me quite a while to get this one right. This gif was a joy to work on because Sam was so very extra in this fight sequence lolll

Pink gif - suspicious mechanical grenade? idk

While this gif may look simple, it actually took a couple of tries before I got the colouring right. You'll notice when the ball activates, there is a bright green light that highlights the gas released and it reflects on the chair legs and carpet.

At first I tried this with the above mentioned selective colour method - which I thought turned out okay but it didn't sit with me right. Notice the reflection of the blue light on the carpet - it definitely isn't blue and more like a green-orangey kinda colour, and it doesn't look natural at all.

So I re-started from the beginning and had a look at what I’m working with, starting with hue/saturation at saturation +100. I can see that the original gif has red and green as the dominant colours, with yellow bits blending the two on the carpet. That’s what I was having issues with the selective colour - so I’ll be doing it differently. 

Enter: channel mixer. I’m gonna be honest............. I have ZERO idea how the channel mixer really works! It’s all a matter of trial and error, but I’ll try and explain my process step by step. 

I normally start in the blue channel (again - no idea why, it just works for me). I start with the reds, and I know if I go over 0, it will push the reds towards cyan, which will get it more purple-y:

Ooooh looking good!!! then I want to push the greens towards magenta, so that needs to go over 0 as well:

Woohoo! It’s already starting to look good. The green light and the way it blends into the red/pinks have all been completely changed into the cyan hues, so there’s a perfect reflection you can see on the carpet! Yay! I had a fiddle with the green and red channels but nothing too drastic. Here are the settings:

Even with just the single adjustment, I was already pretty happy with it and only did a few touch ups: I added a selective colour layer to bring out a more pinky-purpley colour, then a levels layer to brighten things up. It might seem very backwards to add a brightening tool at the end, but I didn’t want to mess up the original colour shades because I liked having the dark shadows lit up by the ball’s light.

And that’s it! Only three adjustment layers, but it took some time to play with the different adjustments and what worked best. Channel mixer can be really intimidating but it works like a charm when you manage to figure it out.

the end!

Finally I have to give credit to some amazing content creators and their brilliant colouring tutorials that have made such a huge impact in the way I edit. Some brilliant guides include:

this colouring tutorial by @favreaus​​ 

this colouring tutorial by @inejz-ghafa​​ 

this colouring tutorial by @meliorn​​

​I hope this tutorial has been helpful! I’ve tried to explain myself as best I can, but let me know if you’d like any clarification or have any questions. I’m still learning how to do things, and honestly most times it’s just randomly clicking things until something works out! 

#gif tutorial #coloring tutorial #rainbow gif tutorial #gif editing #completeresources #dailyresources #chaoticresources #allresources #photoshop tutorial #fyeahps #dailypsd #**mytutorial

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Six

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.3k

The next day, you purposely run a little later than you normally would. You don’t know if you could endure another session of Taehyung being an actual menace at 9 o’clock in the morning. So, you take extra time to add some light makeup and pick out a pink checkered dress with a cream cardigan, and step out feeling cute, caffeinated, thanks to your morning coffee, and ready to tackle Calculus.

As you walk into the mostly full classroom, you naturally head to the spot you’ve stayed the last couple classes. This time however, you keep an eye out for Seokjin. Spotting him on the far side of the room, you send him a quick smile. Once he sees, he’s quick to send you one back with a nod.

He seems like a bit of a loner, you notice, with all of the other students engaged in hushed conversations around him, but with him seemingly content to lean on his head on his hand and stare off until class starts. He is strikingly handsome in a classical way that’s impossible to deny, which you suppose is intimidating. Coupled with him also being an older student in the class, it seems he creates a bubble around him that he himself is oblivious to.

You make eye contact with Hoseok as you head to your seat, to which he gives you a large toothy smile and a cute wave. You couldn’t hold the smile off of your own face if you tried, so you gave him a beaming grin with your own wave to accompany it.

Two seats behind Hoseok was the before-mentioned menace. His smile towards you was significantly less innocent. He was leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out far enough to be underneath your own seat, with his arms crossed. He seemed to be saying, “I’m too cool to be here.” After doing a judgmental scan of his posture, you raise an eyebrow and take your seat, and set your back firmly to him in hopes he’d get the message you didn’t want to be messed with today.

By some stroke of luck, your professor walks in almost immediately after your butt hits the seat. Pulling out your notebook, you steel yourself for the next hour of lecture in which you were refusing to let yourself get distracted. Even if Hoseok offered to study with you, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by being clueless and then being a complete dead weight.

----

After another grueling class, you have to admit your fears about being dead weight feel closer to reality than what you’d want. In hindsight, you were really glad you took Hoseok’s offer to study. Well, if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way you’d turn that down even if you were a complete master at calculus. Hoseok is so bright and charming, and you feel drawn to him in the way flowers face the sun. He had such a happy and kind energy, that you have no doubt makes people from all walks of life love him.

Regardless of the boy’s personality, you are thankful for the fact that you had someone willing to help you with your least favorite subject. You need it.

You stand, and Hoseok soon follows. He turns to both you and Taehyung, “Are you both still good to study tonight? I know I need a review!” He lets out a laugh.

Taehyung answers before you get the chance. “Yeah, me too. Cafe Persona, right?”

You were a little surprised at his serious attitude. You hadn’t seen him act like he cared about anything, including his calculus grade, in the short time you’ve known him.

“Yep! Does that work? Y/n, are you still free tonight?” Hoseok answers, now looking at you expectantly.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, that works!”

“Great! Does seven sound okay?” Hoseok looks between you and Taehyung, causing you to glance at the other boy too. Taehyung was leaning with his hip to the edge of the chair, and ankles crossed with a straight look on his face. He balances relaxed and focused, and you can’t help but be intrigued by his attitude shift. He almost seemed like a different person from yesterday.

“Yep!”

“That works.”

You and Taehyung answer at the same time, causing Hoseok to grin at both of you. “Great! See you guys then!” Hoseok waves at you both before making his way out of the classroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

You give him an apprehensive look, waiting for him to say something flirty. Seeing the look, he gives you an understanding smile, seemingly not in the mood to mess with you. Slightly relieved, but honestly a little worried for him, you grab your back and go to leave. You pause, and look over your shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” You surprise yourself as you speak. He has managed to worm himself into your heart at least slightly, it appears.

He looks up from his bent over position and gives you a small look of surprise, apparently just as bewildered by your words as you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well after working on a project last night,” he explains.

You tilt your head to the side, now curious. You’ve never really thought about his life --- his major, year, anything. “What is the project for?” you ask.

“A sculpture class. It fulfills a requirement for art history majors.”

You aren’t going to lie, him being artistic and into history made you more attracted to him. That major fit him well, from what you have seen. He dresses in baggy clothes, usually in neutral palettes, and instead of him looking messy, he makes everything he wears look sophisticated in a way that not many people are able to do.

You say with complete honesty, “That’s actually really cool. It makes sense for you.”

Now standing, he gives you a genuine smile. “Thanks, I really enjoy it. What about you, then?”

You divert your eyes, not wanting to admit you hadn’t chosen yet. “I actually am undecided…” you admit.

“Ah, well, life is long. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.” His eyes hold yours as you speak, shining with sincerity.

You couldn’t help the blood rushing to your cheeks. You could tell that he really meant what he had said, not just saying it to be polite.

“Thank you, Taehyung… I hope you're right.” You glance down to your phone, breaking eye contact. It was a bit too intense for you. When you saw the time, you nearly jumped. You were close to being late for your next class.

“I’m running late, I’ll see you later!” you call over your shoulder, already hustling to leave the room. You hear him call out a bye as you leave, and feel his eyes following you until you get out of sight. He definitely left you with more complicated feelings towards him than what you had anticipated. But, that’s to think about another time --- you need to haul ass to get to Intro to Comp.

You make your way across campus surprisingly fast, dodging dozens of students who seemed to be less rushed than you. Nearly winded, you arrive just as the clock reaches the hour and the professor seems ready to begin. Embarrassed at the eyes on you as you walk in, you make your way to Jimin who you see sitting near the back as fast as you can without looking strange. You knew your face was red from the exertion and the embarrassment.

He laughed at your predicament as soon as you got close, and cleared the stuff of the seat he was saving for you.

“Shut up!” you whisper yell at him, but a smile breaks out on your face at his wide smile that showcased a just slightly crooked tooth. His eyes disappeared into crescent shapes at the force of his full cheeks lifting.

Once he calms down, and the lecture begins in relative peace, he leans over to you to speak without being overheard. “The LA was staring at you when you walked in, you know? His eyes never left you until you sat down.” He gives a conspiratorial grin.

“What? No way.” You give him an incredulous look. The LA seemed broadly disinterested --- disinterested in the class, disinterested in people, disinterested in you.

“I only noticed because I was watching him before you walked in,” Jimin admits with a giggle.

“He probably was just looking at me since I came in late, that’s all,” you justified.

Jimin raises a brow at you. “I guess we’ll see then, won’t we.” His eyes travel down the length of your torso and back up again, before giving you a smirk.

“Oh God. Whatever you are thinking, please don’t,” you whine.

He just widens his grin in response. Between Taehyung and Jimin, you felt that you’ve reached your mischief quota for the year already. You let your eyes slide shut and groan quietly.

----

“Come on y/n, don’t worry. I just have to ask him a question!” Jimin giggles, failing to hide his evil intentions. He wants to drag you up to have a quick chat with your broody LA, currently standing idle at the front of the room, watching the students filter out of the lecture hall.

“Sunbae if you do something embarrassing you owe me a drink,” you groan out. “Please, please be normal.”

“Don’t worry,” he draws out with a smile. A villainous smile, may you add. And with that, he drags you down the rows of chairs to the front of the room, stopping just short of Yoongi.

You hover slightly behind Jimin’s shoulder, wanting to leave but not wanting to abandon your friend. Yoongi looks back and forth between you and Jimin, and settles back on you, making you bristle slightly. It didn’t help that he had a delicate frown marring his features.

Jimin’s cheery voice quickly penetrates the awkward silence. “Hi, Yoongi right? My name’s Jimin! I was wondering if for the first project, we had to have a bridge structure? Or if we could use a double chorus maybe? Doctor Choi didn’t specify in class today.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “For the first project, use the traditional structure. Choi will grade you harsher if he thinks you’re a try-hard,” he gruffly answers.

“Hm, I see. I can be a bit overzealous at times, when I’m interested in something,” Jimin replies, this time in a much lower pitch. You watch his eyes roam Yoongi’s figure as he speaks, not bothering to disguise his interest.

“Can’t we all.” Yoongi’s voice is somehow even gruffer than before. And this time, he is staring straight at you as he replies.

Jimin notices, and gives a knowing smirk your direction. “Thanks Yoongi, see you next class!” Jimin sing-songs with a smile. He grabs your wrist, leading you out of the auditorium.

It’s a good thing he does, because your brain was short-circuiting after that interaction. You feel like a deer in the headlights, and nearly stumble as you try to keep pace with Jimin.

As soon as you walk out of the building, Jimin lets out a cackle, bending over from it’s force. “I told you! He definitely thinks you're hot, I mean, did you see the way he was looking at you? He looked like he wanted to eat you right there and then!” He lets out another loud laugh at his words.

You could feel your cheeks flaming. “Ugh, what the hell was that! Why’d you even say that to him! YOU were the one trying to eat HIM!” you yell slightly, waving your arms like a crazy person.

His laughter only gets louder at your response. “I wanted to test a theory! While I wish I was wrong and he wanted a piece of me, he only had eyes for you, darling.” His laughter died down slightly. “You look really pretty today, I don’t blame him,” he adds. His gaze turns slightly wistful, but it only lasts a second before he skips over to you and links your arms.

“That’s no reason to do all of that! You’re so embarrassing, sunbae!” You look up at him, giving him your best pout.

He pulls you closer, forcing your face to rest against his shoulder slightly. “Ah, the hot LA thinks you're cute! This is a win, my dear.” He gives a smirk down at you.

“I don’t know if that’s it. He seems kind of mean… maybe he’s just socially awkward or something,” you guess.

Jimin tilts his head, and says, “Maybe. Either way I know I had fun, your blush is too cute.” He gives you another mischievous grin.

You roll your eyes, and reach in your bag to check your phone. You needed to get some work done before your meeting with Hoseok and Taehyung.

Seeing the time, you quickly unlink your arms from Jimin’s and go to say goodbye. You want to have enough time to run though some practice problems before you go later, and you knew it was going to take you a while. It seems the time was causing you to have to cut all your conversations short today, unfortunately.

“Bye sunbae, I have to go. Oh, and you owe me a drink!” you declare.

He gives you a pout of his own at your leaving, but is quick to transform into a wide grin at your reminder.

“This weekend!” he calls as you start backing up. You roll your eyes in response, and turn around to walk in the direction of your apartment. It was time to grind out some work, and not think of the weird interactions with boys that had happened today.

#BTS #ot7 #ot7 x reader #poly ot7 #houseofddaeng

[bookishofalder]

Celebrity Swingers Club

Request: @bbarton -hi!! could i request adam driver x reader <3 they are dating and one night they go out or something and someone starts hitting on the reader aggressively and he gets very protective and jealous :)

A/N: Honestly the idea for this stemmed from a random and hilarious conversation I was having with my friend the other day. I wanted to keep this one light and silly, so I hope it makes you smile!  🥰

Warnings: Dash of SMUT, language. 

Adam was missing you today, even though he’d seen you mere hours ago, wrapped in his arms in bed at the hotel. And you were on set today as well, even. But this happened towards the end of filming, for a lot of actors. The inevitable mixture of melancholy, pride, restlessness and exhaustion. It was exacerbated by being on location, though he had to admit of all the locations he’d been to for a film, he had little to complain about here in Hawaii.

But nearing the end of filming meant that time became more constrained, and you and he saw less of one another. He supposed it was part of the honeymoon phase, after all, you’d only been married about 5 months before production started on this latest project.

Today, he just wanted to see you, even if just for a short while.

So when they called lunch, he was quick to depart the set and make a beeline for the cafe, where he had two orders of lunch preordered for pickup. He thanked the staff, having a brief conversation with the cafe crew about how much he had to bribe them for the recipe to his favourite meal (seriously, it was one of the best dishes he’d ever encountered, but they wouldn’t give it up!). With a laugh and a shrug of defeat, he said his goodbyes and started toward the makeup trailers.

He figured you’d be working with your assistant to tidy up from the morning, as many fake injuries were needed for the scenes they were filming. You complained that these left your workstations a disaster. But he knew you loved creating the wounds, a macabre alternative to the glamour or ‘regular’ looks you specialized in. It had been alarming the first time he’d walked in on you in the bedroom you shared at home to find you looking at horrifically graphic photos and making notes.

As he approached your trailer, your assistant, Bailey, was making her way hurriedly down the steps. Adam greeted her with a wide grin. “Hey Bailey, sneaking away?”

“Sneaking away is accurate, Carter is in there,” She replied, her lips set in a thin line, “Seriously, I know he means well, but he really is a bit much.”

Adam nodded in understanding, as he too found the young actor a little...obnoxious. And while Adam had no illusions to his idiosyncrasies and perpetual ‘asshole’ persona; he still made a point of not falling into conversation with Carter. It was tiring, as the kid would speak non-stop, jumping from topic to topic so quickly it gave his listeners whiplash, and when he’d finish, he’d merely take a breath and launch into another speech unless he was cut off.

But he was a good enough kid and a great actor. Someone that, professionally, Adam was happy to work with. Just like Bailey, however, he had his limits when it came to patience in dealing with Carter offset. And Adam knew his wife all too well, he knew you were in the trailer, abandoned by Bailey, being an absolute gem to the kid. Letting him talk your ear off while you no doubt worked to get your station fully tidied before being called to set after lunch for touch-ups.

“Well, I’d better go rescue her, I’ll see you later.” He sighed, and Bailey gave him a sympathetic, knowing smiling before running off.

You kept your trailer especially cool, which Adam had always appreciated. You said it was for your art, but he also knew you did it for him, as he always ran a lot warmer than most. Stepping inside, he first turned left toward the dining area and set the food boxes down on the table. When he glanced around and didn’t see you in the main room, he made his way to the door that led into the meeting room, which had a large sink that you used for cleaning off your palettes and brushes. The door was halfway cracked and as Adam stepped up, he heard Carter’s voice.

“Honestly, totally no big deal, (y/n). Married, single, divorced-whatever,” Adam was right at the door now, looking in he saw your back, shoulders rigid in a way that he knew meant you were uncomfortable, and pointedly washing off a palette with determined vigour. “You’re fit, and I’m an honest person, so I just wanted to put it out there. You could even ask Adam if you-“

Leaning against the door frame, Adam slid the pocket door the rest of the way open, his eyes focused on Carter. “Ask Adam what?” His voice low, he was trying to control his temper-he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Carter had broken off the moment he saw Adam in the doorway, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Oh, hey Adam!” He quickly rearranged his expression to a more pleasant one.

But when you spun around and Adam saw the genuine relief flush across your face, his heart rate increased. He crossed his arms, inwardly happy that he was still wearing only a t-shirt, his muscles flexing slightly.

“Ask me what, Carter.”

The kids’ eyes widened, “I was, well, I mean I was saying to (y/n)-“

Adam cut him off again, “My wife. You were saying to my wife.” Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see you biting back a smile.

Carter stuttered, “Yes! Of course, I was saying-to your wife-that I’d be down for a, you know,” He shrugged, though his tense posture and wide eyes gave away how utterly not calm he was, “Some fun, Hollywood style, uh, fun.”

At this, Adam frowned with confusion, glancing between Carter and you, and you rolled your eyes, “He means sex. You know, like how all celebrities are here for a good time, so we can swap partners and have sex parties and all that fun stuff we do on weekends.”

Adam’s eyes snapped to Carter, who visibly paled. Gulping he watched as Adam stepped away from the door and into the room, his eyes narrowed. “You asked my wife to fuck? Are you kidding me?” Moving nearer to you, Adam pointed at the door, “Get the fuck out of here, stay the fuck away from my wife, and expect a call from my manager.”

Though his voice had been quiet, the message and severity of his words were all too clear to Carter, who uttered a quick apology before running out of the trailer at full speed. When the door slammed closed behind him, you burst out laughing, peals of giggles that brought a smile to Adam’s face despite his anger.

“Oh god, that poor kid actually thought we had like, celebrity swingers clubs,” You broke down in another fit of giggles, one hand clutching your stomach, and Adam couldn’t help but join in.

After a few minutes, he stepped closer to you and pulled you into his arms, where you rested your head on his chest, your arms snaking around his waist. It hadn’t been the first time he’d encountered someone unabashedly hitting on you, though this was the most unique proposition he thinks you'd been offered.

“That was the first time that one could interpret that I was included in the deal,” He considered aloud, causing you to laugh loudly again. “I’m not sure if I should be more, or less, offended.”

“Carter is a gullible fantasist. I’d put money down that someone told him there was a sex club he was missing out on.”

“If that’s the case,” Adam replied, pulling back slightly to look down at you, “Then whoever told him that is going to get a piece of my mind when I find out who they are. I fucking hate when men hit on you.”

Your gaze softened, a small hand reaching up to stroke his jaw in a soothing motion that always seemed to work on him. “I know, babe,” You whispered, your hand sliding from his jaw to grab the back of his neck, pulling him closer. With your mouth a breath away from his, you added, “I missed you today.” And then your lips pressed to his.

Without hesitation, Adam deepened the kiss, his blood rushing as your mouth opened for him and then he was licking into you, tasting you. A small moan escaped you as you pressed yourself against him, returning his fervour. One of the things he adored about you was the energy that you saved just for him. Every kiss, every touch, they were always fire, always intense and needy. You kissed him like it was the first time, every time, no matter how tired you might be, how hard you might have worked that day.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, each of you panting. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“Love you too, big.” You murmured, your lips wrapping seductively around the nickname you had for him. He smiled, reaching his hands up to cup your face, thumbs stroking the soft skin.

“I brought lunch, by the way.”

You pulled back further, leaning around him to look toward the dining table. Eyes lighting up upon seeing the take out containers that held your favourite meal, you glanced between Adam and the food a few times.

“Seeing you get all jealous worked me up,” Your words were thoughtful, brows furrowed in mock consideration, “I think we have time for a quickie before we ea-AH!”

You shrieked a giggle as Adam lifted you up, pressing his lips to yours before seating you on the table. He reached toward the door and quickly shut it, turning the lock, before looking back down at you.

With a dark look in his eyes, he stepped between your legs, hands gripping your shoulders gently, “Might need to leave a mark or two, remind everyone who you belong to.” And then his lips were on your collarbone, biting possessively before his tongue would lave out to soothe the mark. Your hands found his hair, fingers carding through the raven locks as you moaned in delight.

“All yours, big.” You sighed, and Adam smiled against the skin of your chest, his hands dropping to your hips so that he could ease your leggings off and bring your bodies together.

The food would go cold, but the trailer had a microwave. And really, neither of you were all that hungry at the moment, anyway.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

#reader insert #fanfic #adam driver x reader #adam driver #adam driver x you #angst #adam driver fanfiction #just for fun #requested #love

[tickle-bugs]

Extraordinary

Summary: Makoto’s a bit haunted by the lack of normalcy in Hope’s Peak--at least, whatever shreds of normalcy could survive in a place like that. Hina, Sakura, and Kyoko bring him some measure of peace. 

@naegiristan Here’s your TOC fic! I apologize for it being so late, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :) Thanks to the lovely @peachytickles for hosting this with me. I had a blast. @ticklesofcolor 

There’s a lengthy conversation about food/healthy eating in the beginning, so TW/CW for food. 

Living at Hope’s Peak had forced Makoto to severely recategorize the way he viewed himself. Being ordinary was just...who he was. There was no word for it before. Makoto was himself, and that’s all that he ever needed to be. School life, if he could even call it that, had wrenched that comfort away from him. 

How was he supposed to be ordinary amongst the world’s foremost geniuses? What was the point of being ‘just Makoto’ when everyone else was so much more? 

“Heads up!” The call snapped Makoto out of his thoughts. He turned and caught a facefull of frosting and sprinkles. He narrowed his eyes at Hina, not exactly annoyed but not exactly happy either. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Hina wheezed, not even bothering to hide her giggles.

“I’m fine.” Makoto wiped a bit of frosting from his nose and popped it in his mouth. Hm. Strawberry.

“You looked like you could use a donut. I take my friends’ donut deficiencies very seriously.” Hina took a seat by his left, sliding the dozen box to sit between them. Sakura sat on his other side, graceful as always, and took a glazed donut from the box. 

“Sakura!”

“Hmm?” She looked up, donut in mouth, and Makoto stifled a chuckle. 

“You’re...having a donut?” Hina stared in open-mouthed wonder. 

“I can have cheat meals sometimes.” Sakura averted her eyes, uncharacteristically bashful. 

“I thought you hated donuts! I feel betrayed!”

“It’s reverse psychology, Hina. It makes cravings easier.” 

“Next you’re gonna tell me you actually love cake.” Hina huffed, and when Sakura stayed quiet, she threw her hands up in exasperation.

“We’re soulmates! I’m supposed to know these things about you! My whole life is a lie!” Hina whined, dropping her head in her hands. Sakura leaned around Makoto to pat her back, chuckling at her dramatics. 

Kyoko drifted over with perfect timing, taking a graceful seat before Hina could declare a divorce. 

“Hey, Kyoko.” Makoto smiled. Her eyes lingered on his face for a while, longer than usual, and it occurred to him that he still had frosting on his face. He pulled napkins from the dispenser on the table and dipped them in his water glass, choosing speed over discretion as he scrubbed at his face. 

“Hina. Sakura. Makoto.” Her lips quirked up on his name. 

“Do you have plans, Kyoko?” Hina slid the box to Kyoko, but she didn’t take a donut.

“Why do you ask?”

“Sakura and I were gonna go up to the art room. Wanna come?” 

“I suppose.” Kyoko smiled.

……………..

“Guys, look!” Hina gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“Is that...Celeste?” Sakura wrinkled her nose, slipping past Hina to get a better look. Nearly every surface in the room was covered in images of Celeste, from paintings to sketches--even a sculpture or two sat at the back of the room.

“Hifumi must have drawn these,” Kyoko sighed, thumbing through a discarded sketchbook--unfortunately, also filled with drawings of Celeste. 

“What makes you say that?” Makoto looked over Kyoko’s shoulder. The drawings were good--no, great, actually, if one could get past the creepiness of it all. Did Celeste know about all of this?

“He’s obsessed with her.” Kyoko held up a more tame drawing of Celeste looking out a window. Something at the back of Makoto’s mind stirred upon seeing it, but the feeling fled as quickly as it came. 

“I think he’s a little more than obsessed.” Sakura gestured at an easel with an Elizabethan-style portrait of Celeste on a throne, revelling in excessive jewels and finery. Celeste had to know, then. This was the kind of thing she’d force Hifumi to make, anyhow. 

“I want a creepy portrait now! Let’s make them for each other!” Hina giggled, appraising the portrait of Celeste with open amusement. 

“I’m not an artist, Hina.” 

“Who cares? It’ll be fun! You and I can do each other. I won’t judge you. Makoto and Kyoko, why don’t you guys swap as well?” Hina shoved brushes and palettes into everyone’s hands, leaving no room for argument. Though Makoto really wanted to argue. There was no way Kyoko would--

“Alright.”

“Y-Yeah. Sounds good.” He coughed, dumping his supplies at the nearest station. Sakura came around with canvases for them, delicately setting them on the easels. 

Painting was rather relaxing, once Makoto got into it. Some of his anxieties melted away as he meticulously blended the paint, trying to capture the lavender undertones of Kyoko’s hair. He cut the line of her easel across the canvas with a thick brush, and in one fell swoop, outlined the curve of her head peeking out behind it. The creepy piece of the activity was lost on Makoto from the moment he started--he had to do Kyoko justice. 

He leaned in close for the most important part: Kyoko’s eyes. They both weren’t visible, but her right eye peeked out just enough for him to capture the gentle violet. He dabbed tiny reflections into the iris, giving her eyes the shining life that he’d always admired. He wondered if his eyes looked like that. Probably not, anymore. 

The sensation of something light and fluffy sweeping across his nape rudely interrupted his musings and nearly sent him onto the floor. The feeling zipped along the side of his neck and hopped up to his ears--he tilted out of his chair at that point, and Sakura’s sharp reflexes were the only thing saving him from an untimely demise. She righted his chair with him still in it and smiled.

“Hina!” Makoto slapped a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks blazing red. Hina’s grin told him all he needed to know, but the paintbrush dangling between her fingers told him more. 

“Sorry! Had to snap you out of it. We’re going to go get dinner, if you want to join us.” Hina squeezed his shoulder and it only tickled worse. He tried to discreetly pry her hand off of his shoulder but there was no room left for playing natural. 

“You guys go ahead. I’m not hungry.” He cursed himself for the way his voice cracked. He saw Kyoko glance at him from the corner of his eye and he cleared his throat. Real smooth, Makoto. 

“I’ll pass as well.”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” Hina looped her arm through Sakura’s and dragged her out of the art room, leaving Makoto and Kyoko silent and alone. 

“I finished your painting.” Kyoko turned her easel to face him. What’d she painted certainly looked like him, if he squinted. The colors were all there, and she’d perfectly captured the one tuft of hair on his head that would never lie down. His face was a little lopsided, looking more like an emoticon than anything else. He adored it more than words could describe.

He needed words, though, because Kyoko was staring expectantly. 

“I….it’s…” Would cute sound patronizing? Maybe endearing was alright. No, that would be worse. 

“You can say it’s horrible.”

“It’s perfect, Kyoko.” He ran his thumb over her signature in the bottom corner. 

“Can I see yours?”

“Oh, uh. Sure.” He turned his easel towards her, eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Makoto.” He looked up, expression neutral. 

“This is wonderful,” She whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes, threatening to fall, and Makoto frantically passed her tissues from his pocket. 

“Kyoko, hey--”

“I’m just grateful, that’s all. Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing to me. Thank you.” She took the painting from the easel and held it protectively. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

………………………………..

“I want what they have. Sakura and Hina, I mean.” Makoto unlocked his door and held it open for her. 

“A lesbian relationship?”

“Wh--no, of course not. Wait. They’re together?” Makoto’s jaw dropped. 

“Makoto, your lack of perception worries me sometimes,” Kyoko huffed, slipping past him with the paintings. She rested them against the wall near the door as Makoto worked his jaw, trying to remember how to speak. It made sense,  but how could he not notice?

“Listen, my point is that I want normalcy. I want to laugh with someone who means something to me. As messed up as it is that we’re trapped here--” He gestured to his room-- “I’d like to at least have friends like everyone else.” He flopped on his bed. She sat more gracefully beside him. 

“I’m not very funny.” Kyoko shrugged. He squinted confusedly at her for a moment. 

“That’s okay, Kyoko. You don’t have to be. I’m just complaining about something stupid.” He sighed deeply and fiddled with his jacket sleeves.

“I may have a different way of making you laugh, though.”

“Oh?” He looked up. 

“You might hate it. Just...tell me to stop if you do.” She made eye contact with him, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was...nervous? He’d never seen her like this. It was equally endearing and unsettling.

The skittering of nails around his collarbones stopped his train of thought dead in its tracks. 

“K-Kyoko! Wait!” He squealed, giggles bursting from him before he could even think to hold them back. She withdrew her hands as if she’d been burned, watching him intently. 

“You didn’t have to...I mean...I-It’s okay if you…” Makoto waved his hands around, well-aware that the stammering was losing him any cool points he may have had with her. 

“You like this.” A statement, not a question. 

“I think so? Y-Yeah, I do. It’s fun, and you’re fun, and--”

“Makoto.” Kyoko silenced him with the tenderness of his name. “It’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She smiled--smiled!--at him, and his heart flipped in his chest. They gazed at each other for a moment, warm and inviting, and it would’ve been great if Kyoko didn’t ruin it by tickling his ribs. Makoto squawked and fell backwards on the bed, giggling at machine-gun speed. He grabbed at her arms to have something to hold and she chuckled at him, sliding her hands down to his sides. She moved languidly, calculating every move before Makoto could react to her last one. 

“Just so you know, Makoto, you mean something to me, too. So in a way, we’re both getting normalcy.” She hummed and scribbled curiously at his stomach, laughing softly at his attempts to curl up. He wondered if she knew how awful her nails were, even through his shirt. His survival instincts advised against telling her, though--she’d likely never leave him alone. 

If Makoto could see through his mirth-squinted eyes, he might’ve seen Kyoko staring down at him fondly, smiling wider than she had since they’d arrived at Hope’s Peak. Instead, he cycled between swatting at her hands and hiding his face, absolutely overwhelmed on all fronts. 

“Yeah,” she whispered softly, applying enough pressure to make Makoto shriek, “Ordinary is just what I needed.”

If he wasn’t giggling so hard, he’d’ve told her that she was what he needed, too. 

#danganronpa #ticklish!makoto #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #hope you like it <3

[nikosomething]

Thought it might be fun to share my concepts for my Beautiful Sacrifice Series

My Concepts

The women of The Untamed are so amazing ughhh

This whole series happened thanks to @mdzswomen​ s event to honour the women of MDZS. When I read about it I noticed I had never tried to draw any of these amazing women and I knew I needed to change something about that.

My idea was to create a tribute to these strong women and their decision to sacrifice everything. My choice of characters was based on the week one prompts: Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, Mian Mian and A-Qing. There were more prompts and women, but at that time I didn’t even think I’d manage to draw more than two of them let alone a conceptual series.

It all started with Wen Qing, actually, even though she was the prompt for day two. I knew I wanted a really tall format like a banner hanging from a ceiling (as they are often used in an honorary context) and parts of the character to stick out of its boundaries.

As you can see at first I experimented with Wen Qing fiercely staring into the distance. I tried another sketch with her eyes closed and that’s what inspired all other elements, really.

I decided that I wanted to depict one of the saddest, but also most beautiful and strongest aspects of their journey: the end. I’d call it their final moment, but that doesn’t quite cut it. Jiang Yanli saving Wei Wuxian might have been instinctive, but it wasn’t done to her, she chose to push him away, whatever it may cost her. Which is why I want to go for the phrasing of it having been their final decision. It was an action. And a strong one at that. MianMian chose to end her career, unwilling to tolerate those close-minded people. Wen Qing chose to face the Lanling Jin clan, knowing death was a very likely result. A-Qing chose to signal Xue Yang’s position knowing how dangerous he was.

I didn’t want to portray the scene too realistically, but rather in a symbolic way. For the Beautiful Sacrifice Series I wanted to focus on ease/liberation, sadness and beauty. I chose to portray the deceased with closed eyes and a peaceful expression (as they don’t regret their final act), which is why Mian Mian’s eyes are wide open with her determinedly looking ahead. I also included the last sentence we hear each of these women speak in the show before their (old) life ends.

WEN QING

The first character I had a concept for was Wen Qing. I knew immediately that I wanted to include fire as the cause of her death, but I also wanted to simplify it, to turn it more into a symbol than the actual scene of her being burnt alive.

(At least I imagine that that’s what happened, I may be wrong, though. We know they got her ashes. However, she may have been killed first and burnt later. Or they made it a spectacle to watch one of the last Wen die in flames. Very cruel, but perhaps some found it satisfying).

Wen Qing’s hair is floating in the upwind of the fire’s heat. The flames point to the last thing we hear her say. The background is red for the Wen and fades to black to make the fire shine bright.

The colouring process was quite challenging. I spent days on it, it was really giving me a headache hahaha, I just wasn’t satisfied with anything, the colour palette, the shading, the lighting (it’s the first time I tried a more fancy lighting situation). In the end I put some layers on multiply, which actually helped as I now know her robes were coloured too light, which meant there wasn’t enough contrast to the bright flames in the background.

I was really insecure about the whole piece. I am still stunned that Wen Qing is the drawing with the most notes of this entire series. Thank you so much, it gave me a lot of confidence and motivation to keep trying out new stuff!

JIANG YANLI

Immediately after I had scribbled my Wen Qing concept I knew what I wanted Jiang Yanli’s tribute to look like. Soft and tender, like she is. With Wen Qing it’s the powerful flames that make her hair puff up, resembling Wen Qing’s fierce personality. For Jiang Yanli it’s a gentle breeze that lifts a strand of her hair and carries the lotus leaves with it.

Her eyes are closed as she is deceased. A lotus flower is located where she received the lethal wound in her brother's stead. The flower symbolises her sect, family and fond memories (be it playing by the water with her brothers or making lotus root soup).

Jiang Yanli is wearing my favourite outfit of hers and not her mourning robes which she died in, because I think it captures the gentleness of her personality perfectly with the pastel Jiang colour palette (and it’s actually a layer of see-through fabric in the show).

I really enjoyed colouring this piece and while it was the second design it was the first one I did the lineart and colour for.

MIAN MIAN

I wanted to include an element of disillusion since she experiences that moment of humiliation which is followed by the realisation that the Jin clan doesn’t have her back and goes against her morals.

In the caption I wrote: She spoke up, she stood her ground and then she left all these narrow-minded people behind, choosing to walk alone rather than be silenced. She was the true spark amidst plain snow and she had to realise that the white peony she served was rotten. That day she escaped these golden robes, shedding this old skin which had gotten too tight, and stepped into the future that was hers and hers alone.

The white peony is the symbol of the Lanling Jin sect and while it shines brightly on the outside Mian Mian learned to see through the façade, recognising all the rotten parts she didn’t want to tolerate any longer. With her leaving the peony sheds its petals until it vanished from her life.

In my initial sketch Mian Mian is portrayed with the simple robes she wears underneath her Lanling Jin attire. Since I didn’t give Jiang Yanli her mourning robes and didn’t plan on drawing A-Qing in her white robes either it didn’t feel quite right, though.

The phrase “shedding old skin” and the image of a snake came to my mind. First I thought about experimenting with an actual snake or the pattern of its scales. In the end I settled on the Jin robes being that old skin and showed Mian Mian’s personal robes as the shiny new skin underneath. I wanted to show that she may be stepping out of the Jin sect, but that she is starting on a new, meaningful path.

(Drawing the Jin robes was quite bothersome hahaha. I took tons of pictures of me wearing a robe, but it was so slippery that I almost pulled a muscle while trying to make it look right in the photo. I spent an hour or so on it without any satisfying result and ended up drawing it from imagination after all.)

While I loved my sketch the execution was a p-a-i-n. Colouring her personal robes almost drove me mad and the face, the face was such a struggle. I think I redrew it four to five times. I still think I could have done better, but after days of trying to fix it I decided that perhaps I need some more months of practice to get her expression right (so I might re-draw her in the future).

A-QING

I didn’t think I’d enjoy the A-Qing piece as much as I did!! After having drawn three artworks I was worried that I may have exhausted all possibilities / ideas and that it would end up being a repetition of what I had already done.

I rewatched her episodes for inspiration. I watched all significant episodes of all the women I drew for that matter haha. The last thing we hear her say is directed at Song Lan, actually, which in retrospect surprised me. I could have sworn she talked to Xiao Xingchen last. Or Xue Yang (like in the novel). But nope, it’s our poor poor Song Lan.

Given that A-Qing died the youngest (I think?) I wanted to make her look younger than the other women, so I kept her head round and used pastel colours on her face.

I like moths (unless they eat my clothes or settle down in my food). Moths seek the light and in some way Xiao Xingchen was that light in A-Qing’s life. With the glow they symbolise A-Qing’s soul leaving her body through the lethal wound Xue Yang inflicted on her.

I placed one moth on her mouth as she has been muted by Xue Yang. The new moon in the background stands for the eternal darkness Xue Yang cast on her as moonless nights are the darkest.

For A-Qing I wrote in the caption: She couldn’t protect the man who had taken her in and cared for her. But she stayed. She became a lonely guardian, watching out for the remains of her lost brother in the silence and darkness which were forced upon her. Until that fated day when she gave her life so that the culprit who had shattered this tender soul would be brought to justice.

I finished A-Qing’s artwork way quicker than expected. The robes were tricky with all the torn spots and loose thread, but the rest came easy. I had lots of fun with the moths and the moon. And the glow. I love that cool light blue glow.

THANK YOU

All in all I really loved drawing this series and I thank you for your support, for your wonderful tags which make me smile and giggle and for every reblog and like! Whenever I have a hard time I revisit your tags and find strength within them.

#fytheuntamed #mdzsnet #the untamed fanart #mdzs #mdzswomen #cql #my art #my art 2020 #concept art

[blisslilywrites]

𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠.

➵︎ You’re a fairy who accidentally wound up in this world, but with the help of a human you met, you’re hoping you’ll be able to find a way back

Pairing: Tsukkishima x Fairy!Reader Word Count: 1.6k [one-shot] Genre: fluff(?), fantasy Warnings: none

A/N: yepp this is pretty late but ive been busy lately plus i wasn’t rlly happy with how this turned out but figured might as well just post it -lily 

The ground glowed blue. Fallen leaves and loose pieces of grass started swirling around you. 

This is not good.

You saw a flash of white and suddenly fell through the ground. 

The world became dark. 

You screamed and flailed, flapping your wings out of instinct. It proved futile and you soon realized your surroundings were devoid of air. You were just… falling. 

As soon as you realized this, everything became light again and you saw the grassy ground approaching fast. You hit the ground with a thud a second later and knocked yourself out. 

When you woke up, you groaned and slowly got up. Turning around, you took in your surroundings. A few bushes sprouted here and there, grass that extended in all directions, and a smooth gray pathway that cut through the vibrant green. 

That’s odd. There aren’t any pathways like this in the fairy kingdom. 

You shrugged. Ah well who knows what projects the higher-ups are cooking up. This might just be another one of them.

You didn’t actually think it was some project the senior fairies were working on. It was just a way of trying to reassure yourself, and it wasn’t exactly working. The moment you woke up, you knew you weren’t in the Fairy Kingdom anymore

The scenery here wasn’t that different from the ones at home but there was still something that felt off about it. Maybe it was the pathway, or maybe it was the way the wind that blew in your face smelled a bit old. It didn’t seem to have the same freshness as the wind from back home. You tried your best to brush it off and come up with a plan.

Deciding the best thing would be to follow the path, you spread your wings, picked a direction, and let the path guide you.

After what must’ve been hours of flying, both wings were exhausted and you resorted to using your legs. The sky had become a palette of reds and oranges. 

It’s dusk. That means the night folk should be coming out soon.

You shuddered remembering the last time you had a run-in with one of the night folk. Not wanting something like that to happen again, you picked up the pace.

A while later, you spotted two lights in the distance. It was coming closer and closer at an alarming pace. You froze on the spot and couldn’t move until you heard a loud, blaring sound and instinctively dived out of the way. 

The lights zipped past and you could see they belonged to a shiny moving box of sorts. It wasn’t a creature you were familiar with and the fear that was inside since you fell through the portal started to grow. 

You hurriedly got up and continued walking. The further you went, the colder it became. You huddled your thin wings around your arms and continued forward, not wanting to stop until you found something, anything, that could serve as shelter. 

The pathway sloped downwards and you could make out faint lights coming from the valley below. Hurrying forward, you spotted what looked like a town and immediately uncurled your wings and flew down to it. 

Upon closer inspection, this town was nothing like the towns of the fairy kingdom. Lights came from strange places and gave off a white tang. There wasn’t any grass here, save for a few patches here and there. Instead, the ground was all smooth. There weren’t many trees either and you wondered what these creatures used for their homes. Did they live in the huge blocks that covered the area? 

You were curious to know what creatures lived here, and even more so, if they were welcoming.

-----

Practice had just ended and Tsukkishima was all ready to go home. Yamaguchi had stayed home sick so it was just him walking home today. He put on his headphones and strode out of school and onto the sidewalk leading home. 

He was well past the school when he noticed a few street lights flickering. This area of town always gave him the chills. At this time of night, no one was out and the streets were ominously empty. It was also very quiet, which didn’t exactly bother Tsukkishima but always struck him as a bit off for some reason. 

He was about to turn a corner when he bumped into someone. Looking down, he saw something, or rather someone, fumbling to get up. The force of walking into Tsukkishima had knocked them down so he begrudgingly gave them a hand. Begrudgingly because he was Tsukkishima, because he didn’t know this person, and because they were dressed head to toe in what looked like huge leaves and flower petals. 

The oddly-dressed person ignored Tsukkishima’s hand and jumped up on their own. It was then he saw the insect-like wings protruding from their back. 

Thinking this person was probably just another dedicated cosplayer, he muttered an apology and continued making his way back home.

-----

You stared at the creature you had just bumped into. This one was unlike the shiny moving box in that it had features similar to fairies. 

It had a nose, two eyes framed by something unfamiliar to you, a band that extended across its head and covered the sides of it, two arms and two legs clothed in interesting-looking garments. It didn’t have wings but was carrying a sack of sorts over its shoulder. The creature was quite tall, taller than you by much, so you had to look up towards it. 

Before you could say anything, he muttered something lost to you and turned to walk away.

“Wait,” you called out, going after it.

The creature didn’t turn around so you kept calling. It finally did and looked at you with what seemed to be extreme perplexity.

“What do you want?”

You paused, not quite understanding what this creature was saying but sensing it was somewhat annoyed. 

Ohhh we don’t speak the same language. You smacked your head, ashamed of not realizing it sooner.

In one fluent motion, you took some golden-colored dust from a pouch by your side and sprinkled it on your lips, murmuring an incantation while doing so. 

“Can you understand me now?”

The creature looked unimpressed and merely looked at you before repeating, “What do you want?”

“Umm..well you see, I’m lost. Could you tell me where we are..?”

The creature looked even more unimpressed and in a sarcastic tone he answered, “Japan.”

“J-Japan..?” 

You’ve never heard of this Japan place before and you were starting to worry more.

“What? Don’t know what Japan is?”

You nodded sheepishly regretting not paying much attention in world studies class.

Now the creature just seemed to look shocked.

“Where are you from then?” it asked.

“The Fairy Kingdom,” you replied almost instantly. 

It narrowed its eyes and scowled, “Where are you really from?”

“I told you, the Fairy Kingdom.”

-----

Tsukkishima had no idea why he was still talking to this person. They were clearly unhinged. He told them they were in Japan like the smartass he was but they seemed to have never even heard of it. 

The Fairy Kingdom? Wings? Clothes made out of plants?? Yeah, they definitely needed help. 

He was about to walk away, again, when they flew in front of him. They flew, with their insect wings that were apparently not a prop. He blinked once, twice. 

“Could you--”

“You’re an actual fairy?” he interrupted.

“Uh yeah.”

“And you’re from the..Fairy Kingdom?” 

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying,” the fairy pouted and flapped their wings in a huff.

Tsukkishima found that action a little cute but kept it to himself. He was still processing all this.

You stopped pouting and fluttered to the ground. 

“Umm, so it seems I may have gotten myself a little lost and ended up here.” Looking up at him, you asked in your most pleading voice, “Could you maybe help me find my way back… please?”

He hesitated. He’s heard stories of deceiving fairies and how people said to not get into deals with them. Or maybe that was another fictional creature… Either way he wasn’t about to risk anything without the prospect of getting anything in return.

“What do I get? In return for helping you?”

“The satisfaction of doing a good thing?”

He shook his head, “Not good enough.”

“Ummmmm… I’ll owe you?”

“Hmm interesting offer,” he said with a smirk. “We can discuss that in detail later. For now, let’s go. It’s getting late.”

“Wait so are you going to help me?”

“Possibly.”

You cracked open a wide smile and jumped up in the air, flying alongside him as he walked down the path. 

“Thank you… What was your name? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“You can call me Tsukkishima.”

“Tsukkishima..that’s kinda long. I think I’ll just call you Tsukki,” you said with a grin. “By the way, my name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

He cringed internally wondering what he had just gotten himself into. 

It’ll all be fine though. There’s no way this could be real. This was just some dream or hallucination brought on by his exhaustion from practice. Yes, that was it. He’ll gladly humor this fairy. It was just a dream anyway.

The next morning when he woke up, the first thing he saw was your face, wide-eyed curiously peering down on him.  

He let out a yelp and quickly reached for his glasses. 

Taking a deep breath, he calmed down and realized two things: he was late for school, and you were still here which meant… it wasn’t a dream after all.

A/N: qksnkd okk not my best fic,,, it feels incomplete somehow? idk maybe if i get some inspiration in the future i’ll consider writing more parts. also hoped tsukki wasn’t too ooc;-;

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #tsukkishima x reader #tsukkishima kei #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukki x reader #tsukkishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #writersmonth2020

[smol-and-trashy]

Botched Rescue (BnHA vore) 2/5

A/N: So this is also a thing. Warning for unwilling prey, fearplay, all that jazz. 

__________________________________

Never in his 16 years would Izuku imagine the number two hero enter through those doors. I-is he here to save us? Or what if… could it be Toga wearing Hawks’ face? His terror spiked, just imagining the blood-lusting girl sent shivers down his spine. Looking up, he noticed that the winged hero’s face was strangely passive, chatting with a long-nosed villain as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As Hawks stepped closer to the jar, following long-nose’s lead, his golden eyes widened ever so slightly once catching a glimpse of the U.A. students.

“H-Hawks!” Izuku cried out, pounding on the glass to get the hero’s attention. Hawks stared back at him, blinking blankly. He raised a feathery brow and turned to long-nose, “What’re Endeavor’s interns doing here…?” he trailed off, sharp eyes honing in on the students, “And why are they so small?” Long-nose’s perpetual grin never left his face, “Why Hawks, they are for you. We thought this size would make them easier.” Izuku slowly quieted down while Todoroki stiffened, Easier for what? Izuku thought while the hero before them voiced the same concern. “For consumption,” Long-nose answered simply as if there was no need to provide a further explanation. The blood drained from both students’ faces. Izuku faltered backward, his brain going on overdrive. Consumed by what? By who? But the answer was glaringly obvious. Long-nose had brought Hawks in the hideout to perform their death. Judging by the winged man’s affability towards the villain, he wasn’t there to break them out. Izuku’s heart plummeted; getting eaten would be tantamount to death. It couldn’t be their fate, this man had to be lying. Todoroki punched the glass, a scorching storm of raw emotion taking over his form. “Enough with your tricks, let us out!” he demanded. Still, his words fell upon deaf ears as the hero’s achingly indifferent eyes lingered over them before returning to face the villain—as if they were some kind of insignificant buzzing.   — Hawks balked, did he hear that right? No, keep your cool. Just remember your mission, I can’t afford to sabotage this. “Heh, you want me to eat them? Never thought the PLF would be into cannibalism,” he answered nonchalantly, putting his arms behind his head. Re-Destro shrugged, “I know, it is a rather unconventional method to dispose of hostages, but think of the advantages. No evidence of the corpses and imagine the humiliation the heroes would experience if they found out one of their own did the deed," he raised his hands in the air, words flying out of his mouth in eager anticipation. “It is too great of an opportunity to pass up!” The blond hero stepped back, his thoughts twisted while his gut knotted up. This shouldn’t be possible, he shouldn’t be able to do this, he can’t. “I get why you’d want me to do it, but wouldn’t it be more impactful if a big shot villain did it? What difference would it really make if I,” he took a deep breath and swallowed, regretting his next choice of words, “ate them?” The formerly stressed boss narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the shorter man, “I thought you would be grateful, after all, this would provide an opportunity to continue to prove your allegiance to us. My successor still has his doubts.” Hawks’ eyes darted back at the students, the finger smashing kid was yelling something incomprehensible to him. No doubt thinking he was going to murder them, his guilt swelled. You’re killing me here. How do I save them without any casualties, without revealing myself? “But you get my hesitation, right? This is just a lot… more than just fighting for the liberation of quirks. I’d discreetly kill them for our cause, but actually consuming those kids is another story. It’s a huge taboo, cannibalism, y’know?” “I understand, but it’s a question of whether you will or will not do what is asked of you. We value your contributions, but we need allies who are loyal.” Shit. “Nope! Not a problem at all. I was just making sure I heard you right," he pressed a thumb to his forehead in an 'L' shape, eyes dead serious. "Everything I do is for the Liberation.” Re-Destro smiled wider, shaking the hero’s hand, 
“Good good, that’s what I like to hear!” There was a pregnant pause, and Hawks stepped closer to the jar, taking off his visor and resting his chin in his arms, now eye level with the aspiring heroes; he winced inwardly as the two jumped back. He really didn’t want to do this. Would it be too late to back out now? If they kill me, would the kids still get to live? If he was being honest with himself, probably not. “What’s wrong? You look nervous.” It was a test. Re-Destro’s eyes were closed in slits, but his tight-lipped smile was telling. If he didn’t do as he was told, Hawks would be branded as a traitor and most likely subjected to the Liberation Front’s torture. Everything he worked towards would be for nothing. He cringed, and no doubt would Dabi burn him to crisp. “Ok, ok.” he grabbed the jar and tried to avoid looking at the terrified gazes of the students. Hawks plucked a thrashing Todoroki Shouto from the jar and popped him in his mouth without a second thought. “You…YOU TRAITOR!” Shouto shouted before the mouth snapped shut, pushing past his guilt, Hawks internally gagged at the boy’s flavor. Todoroki’s body was salty and quivering with hateful tears. The kid was fired up, though and he winced as a fist made contact with his molar. Shit, I'm actually going to have to swallow him. I’m going to hell. This is so sick, even for me. He repressed the urge to vomit and tilted his head back, distinctly feeling the squirming figure traveling down his throat. Hawks brought a hand to his mouth, the tiny student was going down so slowly, so painfully, it was only a gross reminder of his deed. Urk, I’m gonna throw up, his wings shifted uncomfortably and he shot a glance at Re-Destro, who was staring expectingly. Can’t look reluctant. They’re gonna suspect me. Just ignore the fact you’re eating Endeavor’s son—- ugh. Hawks tossed the former leader of the Liberation Army a wry smile, internally recoiling at the fact that Shouto hadn’t even passed his esophagus. “Can I have some water? Jeez, he’s so dry,” he complained as he rubbed his throat. The villain called up an underling and quickly, he was given a bottle of water, “Thanks!” the winged hero gasped out as he greedily gulped down the water. The younger Todoroki had finally gotten unstuck from his gullet, and he could feel him descend to his stomach. Sorry Shouto, I need to do this as quickly as possible. Please don’t drown. —— Izuku watched in abject horror as he watched the bulge of his friend slide down the former hero’s neck, quickly disappearing past his collar bone.   “T-T-T-Todoroki?” Izuku stuttered out, overcome with pure shock as he watched the death of his friend. Out of the many possible deaths Izuku thought he would encounter, being shrunk and eaten by a top hero didn’t quite make the list. As he watched a gigantic hand make its way back to the jar, Izuku held a shred of hope in his heart. He didn’t just watch Hawks, the number 2 hero, just knock back Todoroki like a mere snack. No, it was too outlandish to be real, he must still be unconscious, and these were nightmarish projections of his subconscious. It explained their predicament and why Hawks was even chummy with a villain in the first place. Despite himself, he mustered up his fear and looked up at the shadow looming over them: massive passive golds reaching tear-welled greens. While the winged man peered down at them, Izuku’s large eyes gazed up with desperate hope, but the former’s face was completely devoid of emotion: Izuku felt his insides liquefy. No. They were about to die in one of the most gruesome ways possible in the hands of a trusted hero. He collapsed on his knees. Despite the instability of the jar, the sense of hopelessness overwhelmed him. This was real. He was actually going to die. As the gloved hand neared the jar, Izuku found himself running in front of the unconscious blond. Keeping a protective stance, right when the hand was about to snatch Bakugou, Izuku leapt in front of it. The hand jolted, causing the man to drop Bakugou and grab Izuku instead. Time stood still as Izuku was lifted to the awaiting maw. As he drew nearer, he could see every pore of the man’s face, every hair of his stubble, and more importantly, large and daunting his mouth was from this perspective. Izuku was a shaking, dizzying mess as he was nearly thrown into the mouth, barely able to get himself reoriented before he was slammed to the ridged palette. Sandwiched between his tongue and palette, Izuku’s only light source was cut off, and all he knew was the damp humidity coupled by Hawks’ easy breaths. He waited in blind terror for what felt like a good minute and finally let out a sigh of relief, “Oh good, he’s not going to—” A resounding swallow echoed, and with a flick of the tongue, Izuku was dragged down.

#bnha vore #mha vore #hawks vore #nonfatal vore #safe vore #or is it??? #my hero academia vore #vore fanfic #vore writing

[umbry-fic]

A Palette Full of You (2)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 6 Word Count: 4212 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/06/2021

Chapter Title: Save the Children!

Chapter Summary: Lloyd and Colette take a break from studying and decide to play a video game. Colette starts to ruminate a little on how she's different from the rest of her classmates...

(Colloyd Week Day 2: Sidequest)

Notes+Warnings: Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter Colloyd week fic! Colette and Lloyd play a bunch of Kameo: Elements of Power. Lloyd is bisexual. This chapter might have a bit of internalised acephobia so beware.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

12-years-old

"There! Over there!" Colette shouted, dropping the Xbox controller onto her lap and gesturing frantically towards a corner of the television screen. In her frantic excitement, she completely forgot that Lloyd was sitting right next to her on the sofa, her elbow banging straight into Lloyd's arm.

Lloyd, startled, pitched to the side and pushed the joystick on his Xbox controller in the same direction.

Major Ruin, who Lloyd had been controlling to charge up a Bolder Rush, executed the move at this exact moment as Lloyd let go of the right trigger.

And so Major Ruin careened right off the edge of the platform, as per the directions Lloyd had just inputted into the game. The tragic end to a glorious adventure. Kameo would never rescue her father from her sister’s evil clutches, for she had fallen to her death from a high height... by complete accident. Or maybe it would be better to class this as incompetence?

Oops.

"Oh, no," they both muttered at the same time, staring with their mouths open in horror. Colette reached out uselessly towards the TV, as if she could reach into the game and stop Major Ruin’s fall.

As if.

The armadillo look-alike Earth elemental (except a lot spikier) continued to fall while flailing their stubby limbs uselessly, eventually hitting the ground with the familiar and resonant "thud", accompanied with the dreaded snapping sound that had populated much of their playtime in the Snow-top Village. The thin and winding ice paths throughout that area had led to many a death from fall damage as they had tried to get their hands on the elemental fruits hidden away among various corners. Now that they were in the Ancient Tower, with its dark, foreboding, narrow stone corridors lit only by the sparest of torches sitting in sconces, where there was only one path forward and they were caged in by walls, Colette thought their falling episodes would be over. It was a bit claustrophobic, really.

It appeared that was not the case. Fall damage was eternal, and it would haunt them always, following them everywhere and showing its face at the most inopportune of moments.

Major Ruin morphed back into Kameo's petite, winged form, collapsing to the ground with a pained groan. Lloyd's side of the screen faded to black before he respawned at the last checkpoint, erasing a full 20 minutes of progress. The Kameo that Colette controlled was now completely alone in the chamber, performing her idle animations as Colette’s controller went untouched. Lloyd dropped his Xbox controller into his lap as well, leaning back against the sofa as he let out a groan of his own.

There was no sound apart from the whirring coming from the Xbox under the TV, the game music, and the "whup-whup" of the blades of the ancient standing fan in the corner of the living room, struggling in its job to blow "cool" air at them and combat the viciously hot weather.

Lloyd had every right to be frustrated with her; she had a tendency to kill him in-game. It wasn't murder, just manslaughter: knocking him off the cliff, setting both of them on fire, or startling him in general. It wasn't just in Kameo. Her clumsiness and butterfingers translated to every genre. No matter the game - Mario, Minecraft, Maplestory - she always found some way to cause a game over.

But he'd never directed any frustration or anger towards her. These are just silly games, he said every time. Much easier to laugh over the mirthful consequences together than get mad. Whenever they had the time to play video games together, the air was filled with nothing but laughter, a few frustrated grumbles from when they were struggling at a particular level, and the occasional rib from Lloyd’s end when she messed up. That's what made it incredibly fun. What the two of them had termed "game-time" never failed to put a smile on their faces.

And it was an effective destresser! It was a great relief to be able to channel all the stress from studying for PSLE into beating up trolls in Kameo. That appeared to be Lloyd's favourite part of the game - racking up combos with his favourite character Pummel Weed. Though she had to say her favourite part of the game so far was watching the cutscenes that played after rescuing the baby elementals from the prisons created by the nefarious shadow trolls. The wacky transformation from adorable blob to full-fledged elemental, complete with the blob sprouting arms and growing claws or shells, was… interesting to witness.

"Sorry," she sheepishly said, still feeling the need to apologise as she patted his hand. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I found the last child!"

"Oh, really? Where?” Lloyd asked eagerly, attention turning back to the TV. “I couldn't see anything. It's all so dark."

"Over there." More calmly this time, Colette pointed out the child encased in a translucent ice crystal, tucked away in a corner of the platform hidden in shadow. She’d forgotten the name of this species, and could only describe them as cuttlefish that had taken human form. What were they were doing so far from the Mountain Falls? Weren't they native to that location? "We need to free them quickly! This is the last child."

“The last - you’ve been keeping count?!” Lloyd asked, voice rising in volume and shock written clearly across his face.

“Yeah! The mother said there were three, and we’ve rescued two. She must have been really worried, or she wouldn’t have begged us to save her children. I want to reunite them as soon as possible!”

"Alright. Ice, huh? It'd be similar to the other crystals we got rid of in the snow area. So just turn into Ash!" Lloyd suggested.

"Oh, you're right! Thanks for the reminder!" Colette opened the transformation wheel with a quick press of a button and proceeded to fumble with the joystick for a full minute while Lloyd slowly crawled his way back up the tower. She kept pushing too far to the right and overshooting Ash's dragon head on the wheel to land on Thermite, before overcorrecting to the left and landing on 40 Below. Frustration slowly piled up until she groaned, burying her head in her lap. This was embarrassing. She couldn't even navigate a simple menu like this, even after months of playing this game. Butterfingers, once again.

"Lloyd, can you open the main menu? I'll just pick Ash from there."

"Nah, we don't need to open Wotnot. Let's give Ortho a break for now," Lloyd replied. She knew that wasn't the real reason. Lloyd just didn’t want to hear from the eccentric wizard trapped within the paperback book that doubled as the main menu. "Here, let me help. But you need to get up first!" She straightened up, still sulking as he smiled at her, looking like he was holding back laughter at her predicament.

Lloyd stretched out his hand and placed his index finger over her thumb, gently guiding her thumb on the joystick so that the selection square landed right on Ash's head. Colette watched as Kameo hunched over and transformed into the red, clawed, scaly dragon that was the fire elemental Ash, tail slowly swaying from side-to-side as his wings flapped.

"You're so good at this..." she muttered, glancing down at her controller where Lloyd's hand was still placed over hers. They were only 12, but his hands were already slightly bigger than hers. He'd gotten his growth spurt in the earlier part of this year and shot up in height; now half a head taller than her. It was a slightly startling change after being the same height for the six years they'd known each other. He would likely only grow taller as time went on. As for herself... Maybe she'd gain another 5 centimetres by the time she was 18, if she was lucky. Given the actual state of her luck, she'd probably stagnate at her current height. Tallness was just not in the cards for her.

Not that she minded. The added height made him rather comfortable to lie on. If he gained just a few more centimetres, his shoulder would be the perfect height to rest her head on… That would make movie nights all the more comfortable.

Plus, the height change was just that. A physical change. Inside, Lloyd was still the same person - the boy who loved playing with Noishe but hated doing his homework, and would do everything in the world to avoid it. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit.

"Don’t sweat it. There are so many things you’re good at too! If it weren’t for your keen eye, I would’ve missed the kid entirely… So don’t be too bothered!” Lloyd gave her hand one squeeze before removing his hand, returning to his quest of returning to Colette's location. "Now, melt the ice!”

Colette did exactly that, leading the lumbering Ash over to the entrapped child and unleashing his fire breath. She watched with bated breath as the ice slowly melted, causing more of the child to be exposed to the air. They had previously used this exact same technique to unearth elemental fruits in the icy caverns filled with those icky bugs that exploded when defeated and obscured the screen with blue juice. It had been exciting then, to stumble upon secrets because of their penchant for exploration. But watching the child slowly be freed, watching their tentacles slowly start to move as they came into contact with warm air, was an entirely different experience, one that filled her with joy.

When was the last time the two of them completed a side objective like this, one that had direct effects on a citizen of this magical world? Casting her mind back informed her that that would be the starting town, when they returned to water the farmer’s crops with Deep Blue.

Now that the last child had been fully freed, all the children went running back to their worried mother, who proceeded to pull them into a giant group hug. Colette dropped her controller, clapping her hands together at such a sweet sight. Lloyd did laugh, then, a chuckle that she could feel rumble through her as well from where their shoulders touched. "What are you so excited about?" he asked.

"We did it! We saved all the children!" she exclaimed, watching the mother pull out one of the large elemental fruit in thanks. "Doesn't that make you happy? That we were able to help someone... That's what makes these side objectives fulfilling, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's just like you to get like this over a video game,” Lloyd replied, watching Kameo hoist the elemental fruit into the air, where it magically shrunk in size to fit in her bag. Colette wondered how Kameo’s bag even worked - how did it store Wotnot and dozens of elemental fruits? It was like a black hole. Just like Noishe's stomach.

“Though..." Lloyd frowned, staring up at the clock that hung on the wall, whose hands indicated that it was 2 pm. "Time’s up. We should get back to revising before Mom gets home from the vet with Noishe."

"Oh, you're right..." That was a downer. Time had flown so fast; their 20 minutes were up already!

The moment had come to return to the dining table and the assessment books that sat open on it. Studying was never fun, but it just had to be math today, and the chapter just had to be nets. Her most hated subject, combined with the topic she hated most. It was a headache all around.

But Lloyd was surprisingly good at nets, and he'd been a great help the whole day. Even if he still hated math with a passion and always got stuck on algebra questions, where it was her turn to assist him. That was why studying together was effective! They could fill in the gaps for each other, and motivate each other to keep going. Just three months left to go until it was all over! They could do this, and they would get through it. Together, just as they would every predicament that came to pass in the future.

"Um, and before you go home today, could you help me with something else?"

"What is it?" Colette asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Lloyd was staring at the carpet, his hand absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of his singlet, separating the fabric from sweaty skin.

“Ellum’s birthday present,” Lloyd muttered, his voice getting softer with each word he spoke, until she could barely make out the words. “His birthday is in two weeks, and I…”

Ohhh.

They had a habit of telling each other almost everything, for any secret was always safe with the other. So she knew why Lloyd was clamming up. Ellum was his current crush, after all.

“Say no more. Of course I’ll help you! We can do whatever you want!” she replied with enthusiasm. She'd be happy to help.

"Thank you," Lloyd replied, meeting her gaze again with a tiny smile lighting up his face. "Now, let's get back to studying."

They made the short walk to the dining table, taking their seats across from each other. Lloyd's face was already starting to twist into a grimace, resigning himself to another few hours of torture at the hands of the twisted people who made their livelihood setting math questions.

Clearing away the Kit Kat wrappers on her assessment book, she glanced down at a question about nets she'd been working on before the break. Yet not a single word on the page was being absorbed. They were all running away from her.

The downside of Lloyd confiding in her for all of his crushes was that it was a stark reminder that she hadn't had her first one yet. And then, inevitably, her mind would drift further to all the little ways she stood out from her classmates.

It was like everyone around her had changed drastically overnight at some unknown point in time. The jokesters of the class had just started making dirty jokes one day, prompting scandalised glares from the rest of the class but also prompting snickers. She herself didn't get the joke half the time, just laughed to go along with everyone else.

Then there was the shift in daily conversation. Instead of discussing their favourite Pokémon, more often than not the other girls would now discuss in hushed voices while giggling which celebrity was the most attractive. She herself would sit quietly, trying to melt into the wall as she observed without interjecting, half fascinated and half horrified. Weren't they all too young for this?

Things got even more awkward when she was forcibly pulled into the conversation when someone directed a question at her. She had no idea what to say whenever someone showed her a picture of a celebrity and asked her to rate them. The only thing she ever managed to stutter out was that their eyes were a nice colour, and so was their hair. That... was how you judged a person on how attractive they were, right? Everyone else, though, seemed to think she was weird. But how was she supposed to be feeling? No one had ever taught her. It felt like everyone was keeping a secret from her on how these things were supposed to work, then making fun of her for not getting it.

She only got more confused every time something like that happened. All she wanted to do was go back to talking about her favourite cartoons, but that didn't seem to be an option. Lloyd wasn't in the same class as her, so she couldn't even sit with him and ignore everyone else. The only time she could meet up with him during school hours was at recess. She didn't know what Lloyd talked about with the rest of his friends. Maybe the same stuff. But she didn't really care, because, with him, she could just be herself. There was no need for tiring pretence.

All she could do when the girls were in a mood to discuss celebrities again was sit a little outside of their circle, counting down the seconds remaining for class to start while she tried to look as occupied as possible. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time the topic of conversation turned back to something a little easier to understand, like video games.

But surely, someday, she would understand.

She was waiting. For that day. For her to finally catch up to everyone else in the race she hadn’t even known she’d entered until everyone had left her in the dust, still standing with her mouth agape at the starting line. To finally be like everyone else, to be able to fit in seamlessly. But there was no use getting down about it!

She just had to meet The One. Then everything would change, everything would fix itself. That's what happened in all the stories, the shows, the movies, after all.

Because everyone, in the end, learned to feel the same way, right?

~~~

19-years-old

"Right! I think that’s enough for now.” Colette’s voice shattered the serenity of her room from where she was sitting on the bed with her laptop balanced in her lap, cutting through the sleepy fog that was starting to fill Lloyd’s head. The peaceful Ghibli tunes that had been filling the room cut off abruptly as she shut her laptop screen, reaching a hand up to undo her messy hair bun.

Lloyd yawned, rubbing his eyes and hoping that would make his eyelids feel less heavy. Pushing himself up from his belly-down position on the bed, he caught one last glance of the back of Colette's neck before her hair covered it again. Doing prep for uni was not the most exciting way to pass the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't normal fare for a date. But it had to be done, so they might as well do it together, as they did all things.

Though he'd gotten distracted and started scrolling through YouTube about an hour ago.

"Are you going to change out of pyjamas?” Lloyd asked, stretching, his shirt hiking up slightly. He’d taken the lift down the three floors that separated his apartment and hers in the old HDB block that they’d stayed in all their lives, rang the doorbell while staring at the Chinese New Year decorations that were still hung up despite the month now being April, and waited for Colette to open the door… Only to be met with the sight of Colette in her favourite doggie pyjamas, the baby blue button-up ones that covered every inch of her skin. She'd shrugged and said it was cold from the non-stop rain, but he knew the real reason was the lazy post-A-levels haze, that affected him as well. These days, sleeping in until noon was the norm. Or sleeping in until one of his parents came into his bedroom to knock him awake.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing a towel and a few articles of clothing from the open wardrobe and heading towards the doorway.

“Alright.”

Lloyd closed his laptop slowly, not wanting a repeat of the time in Secondary 3 he’d shattered the screen because Zelos had sneaked up on him and caught him unawares. He rolled off the bed, making the small trip of barely a few steps to the study table, passing the various objects Colette had up on the walls - the Disney posters she’d gotten ages ago, and the random stickers she’d amassed over the years from school club sales and donations - and the bay window filled to the brim with cute and huggable soft toys, a familiar Siberian Husky that showed the signs of being well-loved sitting atop the pile.

Lying on the study table was Colette’s Nintendo Switch, plugged into a socket to charge. Right next to it was a jar holding paintbrushes of all sizes, all of them as clean of paint as possible, for he knew Colette took extremely good care of her art supplies. The sketchbook no one was allowed to peek into was sticking out of the table’s drawer, half-used pads of foolscap and sheets of paper with pencils rolling in them visible within. Files that he’d nearly kicked, containing lecture notes and worksheets, were shoved into messy piles under the table, unneeded after the conclusion of examinations but having no convenient place to be stored. The tiny shelf sitting on the table still had her Junior College badge housed on one of the layers, silver in colour and reflecting the light from the windows, despite her having no use for it ever since they had graduated in November. (Perhaps she liked looking at it? She was something of a magpie sometimes.) He could spot a familiar conch shell, placed among other knick-knacks, mostly birthday presents.

Picking up the handheld (with its lime green and cyan JoyCons firmly attached), he unplugged the charger and watched the screen light up - and frowned at what it showed him.

"Hey, Colette!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hoped he could catch her before she entered the bathroom. Uncle Frank was working in the master bedroom no more than five metres away and had been nothing less than incredibly nice, as he always was, providing tons of refreshments and snacks. Lloyd would like to prevent a shouting relay if possible.

If Colette had been walking, she shouldn't have reached the bathroom yet...

The fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the floor informed him that he was right. "What is it, Lloyd?" Colette's head poked its way into the doorframe, her golden hair reaching down towards the floor, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You left Animal Crossing on," he answered, waving the Switch in the air.

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You know what to do, right?"

Control the playable character and put her to sleep, then save the game. He'd done it before.

"Yeah, but, I was thinking... I haven't taken a walk on your island since last year. How about I take another tour while you're in the bathroom? If you're okay with it, of course."

"Oh, sure! I trust you." Colette smiled sweetly, turning to leave before pausing and turning back. "But remember -"

"- remember not to step on the flowers." Lloyd finished her sentence easily, stating that fact very seriously. He knew about Colette's concerns about her precious flowers, which she’d spent hours arranging around her little island until they were in just the right spot - fields of rainbows to welcome any guests and guide them around. He hadn't known that the stems of the flowers could break from being trampled multiple times when he first explored her quaint world - the fictional flowers were just as fragile as their real-life counterparts. He’d kept that in mind ever since, adding it to the many rules to follow to ensure no harm came to all the hard work Colette had put in to make her island perfect.

"Yep. Um…” Colette wrung her hands together, bowing her head so her hair formed a veil over her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“No, nothing’s wrong!” Colette hurriedly replied, lifting her head again. She screwed her eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. “I - uh, just wanted to say… I love you!”

The last three words came out in a shout, so quick that he almost didn’t catch them.

Lloyd froze, trying to process what he’d just heard - and before he could reply, Colette was already gone, having fled down the corridor and out of sight.

He slowly shut his mouth, which he hadn’t even realised was open.

This was the first time she’d said those coveted three words since they'd started dating. Her voice had been dripping with uncertainty, her posture betraying her shyness, but no matter how contradictory, she’d said it with sincerity, with all her heart. And even though he didn't need to hear them from her to know she loved him, for it was actions that counted, and certainly didn't need to hear them from her for him to love her, it still made him smile, his whole soul filled with a light warmth.

They’d travelled such a long way from all the checkpoints in life that they'd passed together. They still had a long way to go, but they’d do it together. As they always had.

"I love you too, silly," he said into empty space, knowing Colette couldn't hear him but wanting to say it anyway.

Lloyd unlocked the Switch screen, staring down at Colette's intricate creation. Flowers filled the screen, black, grey, white, purple, that he found familiar but couldn't put a name to. Oh, well. He would just tour the island and check out any new changes while he walked to the living room and waited for Colette to come back. Maybe he'd visit the town centre as well.

The most vital question to be answered was... Had Colette gotten those froggy chairs that she wanted for the townspeople?

~~~

Next chapter

#fanfiction #multi chapter #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #day 2: sidequest #tales of symphonia

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-two: heart of gold

“i wanna live, i wanna give, i’ve been a miner for a heart of gold. it’s these expressions that i never give: that keep me searching for a heart of gold.” -”heart of gold”, neil young

Oswego was a rather tightly woven little dot upon the southeastern shore of Lake Ontario, at least according to Joey. He also explained that the nuclear power plant on the far side of town was so set apart from everything else that it seemed to come from another world altogether. He made a joke about the river waters being radioactive but it only made Sam wary of everything around there.

“Nah—they haven't had a meltdown up there,” he assured her, “that's just the whole joke about being from here is all. That we all glow in the dark like a buncha of glow sticks or sump'n.” But then he drove them back to his place down in a town known as Camillus, not too far on the outskirts of Syracuse.

“Hang on, I thought you lived closer to New York City,” Sam confessed.

“I mean, it technically is—about a half an hour less of a drive. Oh, you talking about my old place? I had to move back around here in March 'cause that drive was getting treacherous in its own rite and rent was getting to be too much. I would'a told you sooner but—you know. Things happen. I'm making a little bit more money than I was before so I was able to do it.”

“Right, right, right.” Sam flashed back and when she, Frank, and Charlie had to rescue him from the snow.

“Besides, I was startin' to miss this part of upstate, as you'll see here in a couple of minutes.”

Despite the darkness, the orange and yellow trees that lined the landscape made her think of fire or the cotton balls she would find a craft shop. The nondescript edge of town reminded her of California as well as the outskirts of Reno and Carson City. The two lane highway turned into a four lane main street and she spotted the faint line of lights over a ridge on the southern side of town: the brightest yellow light shone out from the top part of the ridge. Sam glanced about the block for anything notable to recall for the next time she visited.

“Not much here,” she remarked.

“Nah, there really isn't,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “'Swaygo is even worse as we'll see tomorrow. But every part of this is home to me. I was born in 'Swaygo and I grew up all around here. Even though I've moved outta 'Swaygo, I still call it home.”

They rolled up to a stoplight and Sam peered across the intersection to the long low brick building nestled next door to a fuel station. She recognized a paint palette over the front window and a line of big bold text right over it.

“Is that an art store?” she asked with a gesture out the windshield.

“It sure is!” he declared. “Given it's night time and we're a buncha hicks 'round here, they're closed for the night. But we can go in there tomorrow if you'd like.”

“Yeah, I kinda need something to make an artistic rendering of you,” she explained, “and even though I have plenty of things back home for that, it's still a four hour drive regardless.”

The light turned green and they lunged forward. They drove past the art store and a mere white light shone in the front window: she knew that tomorrow was going to be quite the eventful for them as Joey hung a right past the shop.

“Right down this way,” he explained as they drove down the dark side street to the very end. He reached the stop sign and he peered both ways about the dark neighborhood. No one coming.

He rolled forward to the low apartment complex right in front of them, such that it took her by surprise.

“Yeah, it surprised my mom when I brought my parents along when I moved in here,” he told her; even in the dim light, she could make out the sight of that lopsided grin upon his face. Even though he had just turned twenty six, he still resembled to a little boy with that smile on his face and that twinkle in his eyes even in the darkness.

They bounded into the driveway and then they posted up at the big cube of silver mailboxes.

“Gotta check it out first,” he told her as he unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of his car. He rounded the front end, and the headlights shone upon his slender body as he made his way over to the mailboxes. Sam watched him fetch for the mail but then she noticed the soft glow of the headlights on the back of his curls. It was right there she wanted to draw him and then to paint him out with oil paints. Not watercolor, not acrylic, but oil paints.

She hadn't worked with oil paints before, but she wanted to do it right there for him.

He returned to the driver's seat with a little pink sheet of paper in hand.

“Gotta care package from my aunt,” he told her.

“Oh, boy!” she declared.

“I can't get it right now, though—tomorrow is gonna be quite full for the both of us.”

He started up the car again and they made their way over to the building on the right. Right before their parking spot stood a little walkway that extended around the building and into the darkness. Joey led Sam around the corner to a low doorstep and a cold blue door: when he unlocked the door, he let her go inside of the dark and cool apartment first. When she was inside, he reached for the light switch on the wall. It was a small place: they stood in the living room right there, which consisted of nothing more than a small thread bare gray couch and a small side table with a black lamp and a low glass coffee table; an eggshell colored vent about the width of the door itself stood on the left side of the room. Right in front of them was the kitchen, a narrow sliver of a room rounded by a low table with three chairs. To her right was a stone stairwell which led up to the loft.

“I assume that's your room upstairs?” she asked him with a point to the stairs.

“Sure is. Bathroom's up there, too, and—I think I have a spare tooth brush in my medicine cabinet. I'll haveta check 'cause I know how sucky the aftertaste of coffee can be, especially this time of day. But in the meantime, make yourself at home here, Sam I am.”

He shut the door behind him and he darted up the stone steps. Sam peered about the small living room: right behind her was a tiny television with rabbit ears over the top; a long low barren bookshelf, barren saved for a small handful of books and a few stacks of vinyl; another lamp up top with a cream colored lampshade, and a small hockey trophy. She stooped down for a look at the bookshelf: nothing she had heard of herself, but it was in fact comforting to see that Joey did have another nuance to him. She eyed the vinyl records, at all the Journey and Led Zeppelin, Foreigner and the Beatles, Deep Purple and Rush, Kansas and Yes. She let her eyes wander over the record player itself, tucked behind the television and with the cable coiled up on top of the protective glass. She wished for her copy of Spreading the Disease to merely appear before her just so she could play it right then and there.

“Yeah, I do have a spare one,” he was saying as he descended the stairs, and he stopped right in his tracks. Sam turned her attention to his standing on the bottom step. Joey showed her another little grin.

“Ah, I see you found my music collection,” he proclaimed; he lay the head of the plain red toothbrush in one hand as if it was a club.

“Of course,” she declared with a beaming smile on her face. She lifted herself into an upright position and brushed herself off even though the floor was clean.

“I learned to sing by singing to songs from the Beatles and Journey, y'know,” he said as he neared her, “I literally would sit in my parents' living room and listen to records on their player and try to sing along to the Fab Four and Steve Perry. I'd also sing to Foreigner and Rush, and that was how my voice came to be so high and light.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” she added.

“Gotta start somewhere, right,” he echoed, and he handed her the toothbrush.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice as if he had just given her the best gift ever.

“I also hate to make you sleep on the couch,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just think back to how uncomfortable we both were in the cabin last year for my birthday.”

“No, no, no—it's okay,” she assured him, and she couldn't think of anything else to follow up to that.

“It is pretty comfy,” he continued on. “I've napped on it many times before. One time, I came home at three o'clock in the morning and I pretty much collapsed onto it face down ass up. I actually woke up face down ass up. That's how comfy that couch is—I slept for four hours in that position. Wouldn't use one of those pillows, though—it's hard on the neck.”

“Do you have a spare pillow?” she asked him.

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you have a blanket?”

“I have many. Sam, this is upstate New York and I've lived out here the twenty six years I've been alive—we gotta have a shitload of blankets and a warm place to sleep at otherwise no one can survive up here. You can use a bit of my toothpaste, too.”

“Good to know,” she confessed as she tapped the head of the toothbrush against the inside of her palm. “'Cause—I gotta get this taste of coffee out of my mouth.”

* * * * *

Sam jerked over onto her side there on the couch cushions. Joey was in fact right about the couch: it was comfortable. Almost too comfortable. She had a difficult time even so much rolling over on her side or onto her back. She had woken up twice throughout the night but she had fallen back asleep. Perhaps it was from laying in a bed different from hers that threw her off a bit.

The spare soft pillow cradled her head: she sighed through her nose and kept her eyes shut against the rich darkness before her. The only sound came from the pipes running in the wall and Joey's slow, gentle breathing upstairs.

She thought about the incident with Alex back at the coffee house and that little raise of his eyebrows. He had softened for her a little bit right there, even with Joey right behind her ready to beat him down yet again. She barely knew the young man and he looked at her like that because of her past with Cliff.

She couldn't stop seeing it over and over again inside of her mind. Not to mention that little sliver of gray hair over his brow kept reappearing in her mind.

She thought about the mysterious man and the stripe in his hair. No way that was him, even though he shared a lot of similar looks to him. The stripe was far too big and Alex had too soft of a face as well. And yet she wondered about him. One thing that baffled her about him was his referring to Joey as her boyfriend. As far as she knew, he only saw them together that one time, unless he saw more of what Joey was doing at the memorial than she did: it made no sense to her.

It was all so much to think about that she wound up falling asleep again.

No sooner had Sam fallen back to sleep when she woke up yet again, that time to the sound of a heavy rain outside of the apartment window right in front of her. Joey yawned upstairs and cleared his throat. She opened her eyes and soft bluish gray light shone through the heavy white blinds.

Joey cleared his throat again.

“Hey, Sam, you awake?” he called out to her.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah—I just woke up. Why? What's up?”

“Kinda hungry right now. You want some breakfast?”' “Please,” she said in a broken voice.

She heard Joey climbing out of bed up there, and then he padded down the stone steps.

After a brew of coffee and a bite of biscuits and gravy courtesy of him, they climbed back into his car and drove down the block to that art store right as it opened for the day.

There were only six aisles before her, but she knew it was all for the best with all the smallness of the town. She couldn't hardly resist that new art supply smell as she picked out a pair of paint brushes and some acrylic paints: she had considered those beautiful oil paints but she wasn't willing to bust down for a can of turpentine, nor was she willing to fill Joey's apartment with that acrid odor. A brand new medium for herself and for Joey as well.

Meanwhile, Joey himself checked out the little wooden blank mannequins on the other side of the room: he picked one of the smaller ones for a closer look. Sam watched him move the arms about for the perfect pose. He set down the mannequin and he posed in its wake, as if he was ready to pose for her when they got the chance that weekend. But she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him.

Once she had picked out a canvas and spent the rest of the spare change in her pocket, she and Joey made their way back out to the lake effect rains.

“I got a little something waiting for us back at my place,” he said once they ducked back into the car in unison.

“Like what?” she asked him, but he didn't reply to her. He never did reply to her as they returned to the apartment and she set her things down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Joey ducked into the kitchen for something: Sam took the plain off white canvas out into the open. She ran her hand across the heavy grain of the canvas: like a thick heavy rug right underneath her skin.

“Sam?” he called to her. She raised her gaze to the counter top, and the tall brown glass bottle right before him, right in between his hands. She spotted the label on the front side there and her heart skipped several beats at the sight of it.

“Joey,” she begged as she shook her head at that. “Joey, please don't.”

“Why?” He frowned at her.

“Because it has booze in it.”

“And?”

“Joey, please,” she pleaded as she stood to her feet and scrambled closer to him. “I want you to stay away from the booze for a time.”

He never changed his expression at the sight of her.

“Why? It's just you and me here. And it's a whole weekend, too. You've got time before you gotta mosey on back to school.”

“Joey—you don't want to go there right now.”

“What? It's just one drink, though.”

“Yes, and one drink leads to a second one and a third one. It happened at the restaurant with all of us there before—and it'll happen again.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and she watched his hand as it rested on the bottle neck. His fingers stayed curled around the smooth glass. It was dead silent in that room: silent save for her own shuddered breath.

“What if I told you,” he began in a low voice, “that I feel better stripping down to bare skin with a drink in me?”

“Just one?” she demanded.

“Just one.”

“I'll stand here while you drink it down, though. I need you to be as clear as possible to boot.”

“Clear but also loose.”

“Exactly,” she said, reluctant. Joey pried off the cap and he tipped the bottle back into his mouth. She set her hands on the edge of the counter and watched him. He drank it down in four large gulps, and he ran his tongue around his lips like that of a snake.

He fluttered his eyelids at her and set the bottle down on the counter in between them. She scanned his face and at his brown eyes in particular. Even in a few seconds time, she could see the effects of it overcoming him. The canvas and the paints awaited her.

“Let your clothes fall to the floor,” she told him in a low voice. He stuck out his tongue at her, and then he cracked a little grin at her.

“Come on—let them fall right off of your body.

He unfastened the button on those tight jeans and he let them fall down his legs towards his feet.

“D'you take your shoes off?” she asked him.

He then stooped down and pried off his shoes.

“I have now,” he said as he kicked off his jeans and left them there on the linoleum. He then peeled off his shirt and lay it across the counter.

“Man, you do not hold your liquor well, do you?” she joked.

“I dunno 'bout that,” he admitted; he stood there in his underwear right before her with a giddy look on his face. Sam frowned at him and she set one hand on her hip.

“What's the matter?” he asked her.

“Take off your underwear.”

“Why?”

“Don't question it. Just do it.”

He sighed through his nose and then he slipped his thumbs inside of that elastic band. He let them fall onto the floor, right next to his jeans. Sam gestured for him to follow her.

“Right over here,” she encouraged him in a gentle tone; and she led him to the middle of the living room, right in front of the coffee table. “Hang on a second—”

She doubled back to the kitchen table for a chair, and she brought it back to him. A perfect fit in between the coffee table and the vent on the wall.

“Have a seat.”

Joey plunked down on the cushion and spread his legs out a little bit for her to see in between his thighs.

“Want me to pose for ya?” he cracked as he raised his arms over his head.

“No. Just sit normal. Let me see you. Let me see you in your entirety.”

Joey set those large hands on either side of his hips, right on the edge of the seat. Sam headed into the kitchen for a wash basin.

“There's an empty pickle jar right there next to the sink,” he told her; indeed, there was, so she picked it out and filled it with clean cool water from the faucet. She returned to him and picked up the paint brush. The sole light came from the kitchen and from the window on the side of the room but it proved to be enough for her. A nice moody painting for the man himself.

Even with the cool lighting in that apartment, there was a bit of a sheen to his skin, especially right around his knees and his ankles. A healthy shine of sorts upon the rich darkness about his skin, and one that she was eager to cover with her paint brush.

She didn't have her pencil in hand, but she could have a good look at his slender nude body before her. He had eaten and drank down a bit of alcohol: he was full enough for her and those soft yellow and brown tones for his skin.

She thought about Alex and the little pearl of gray hair over his forehead. She gazed at the painted head on the paper, at Joey's head of black curls. A fleeting thought crossed through her mind that told her to dip the brush into white paint and make a little pearl over his forehead. And yet she flashed back on their scuffle back at the coffee house: she need not draw attention to that, even if it was art.

Such a small, slender little body. Much like Cliff, he had a little crease in between his waist and his thighs as if he had had a belt there. Maybe it was just part of the male anatomy, to have that little crease there near their thigh region. If there was one thing she needed to polish up on in her future drawing classes, it was all of that. The taste of the fundamentals and perhaps running away with them more and more in her own artistry.

She used that one brush for his whole body and his thick black hair. A touch of blue all over and she had a portrait of Joey, done with nothing more than her and him in the safety and privacy of his own home.

“May I see it?” he asked her.

“Of course! You are the subject after all.”

She picked up the canvas and she showed it off to him, and he brought a hand to his chest.

“I don't have a pencil on hand so I just winged the whole thing,” she confessed, “so it's a bit rougher than I like and what I'm used to, too.”

“No, no, I love it! And it's not just the booze talking with that, either—that really looks like a Native American painting! I wanna share that with everyone now.”

“Well, it has to dry out first,” she told him as she placed it back down on the coffee table.

“Okay. Should I get dressed now?”

“Please,” she encouraged him with a gesture to him.

“I'll get dressed and I'll drive us up to 'Swaygo 'cause the day is still pretty young.”

“As long as you're up to par,” she pointed out. “I'm not riding in the same car with a drunk dude.”

“I ain't drunk, though—just kinda tipsy. I can talk you there, though, if you'd like.”

“Yeah, sure, I'll take that.”

Joey headed back into the kitchen for his clothes and his shoes. He then handed her the car keys and they strode on outside, where the rain had backed off a great deal into a fine drizzle. She climbed behind the wheel of his car: it felt like a million years since she last drove a car with all the rides she had gotten, from Charlie as well as the subways. But she managed to drive them up to Oswego, the city by the lake, by Joey's direction. Even with the one drink in his system, she could tell that he wasn't up to par to drive any distance, but he was lucid enough to tell her about it.

By the middle of the day, and by the time they had cleared a low rolling hill outside of Syracuse, she spotted the vast black sheet off in the distance and she knew that had to be Lake Ontario. The gray of the lake hung over that small city like a protective blanket, and she thought of the towns back in California, all the ones that lined the coastline and beckoned everyone with beaches, but there was something else to it. The gray washed over everything and left it all muted in its wake: the sole black and white light house off in the distance only added to the feeling of it all.

“So this is Oswego,” she declared. “This is where you grew up.”

“Born and raised!” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “The lake looks so cold right now,” he added.

“I imagine the snow here getting crazy,” she said.

“Oh—the time you, Charlie, and Frankie had to come get me was only a little part of it. Up here, we really only got two seasons: winter and road work. If they aren't working on the roads, it's probably snowing a shitload. And we often get feet of snow down by the lake shore, too. Speaking of which, I think it might snow in a bit. It feels like snow and looks it, too.”

“Sounds like Carson,” she noted as they rolled up to the first stoplight. “Almost word for word. Except Carson and Reno are both in the desert rather than near a lake.”

“Huh. Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, it's—kinda crazy to think about especially when I hear the same thing being said about a place that's still relatively new to me.”

He then turned his head in her direction.

“I think I like you, Sam,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“I have seen you after all,” she added.

“You've seen me in the buff. And—if I'm bein' perfectly honest, I kinda wanna see you do more of it.”

“You want me to do it again,” she stifled a chuckle.

“If ya don't mind,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I'll have a pencil next time. I'll also make sure you're genuinely comfortable, like I want to make you comfortable around me sans the alcohol.”

“You have a heart of gold, Sam,” he declared.

“Nah—you're the one with the heart of gold, Joey,” she said as the light turned green. “It's in there under all those proverbial scars. It just needs to be coaxed out.”

#fanfic #anthrax fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #chapter 32 #deadly nightshade #book two #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #slice of life #artistry #writing #also on ao3 #text

[lobster-tales]

Falling Back in Love With You

Chapter 3 Summary:  Link and Mipha travel to Rito House, intending to pick up their representative from the archery club. Revali, however, proves to be a problem.

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1  Chapter 2 

Link switched on the radio, not to disrupt the comfortable silence between Mipha and him, but to enhance it. Rhoam always left a blues album in the CD player. The van rolled past empty halls and dormitories, vacant fields and courts. Very few students stayed at the university through the weekend.

When they reached the edge of campus, Mipha asked, “Did you have fun last night?”

Link shrugged, casting her a clueless look.

“You don’t know?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t remember?”

He shook his head.

Concern entered Mipha’s voice. “I didn’t realize you drank that much… Do you even remember when I was there?”

Link pinched his fingers together, a small gap between.

“How much? Do you remember that game we played? With the cards?”

He nodded.

“Do you remember…” She let out a slight chuckle. “When we got the card where everyone has to drink while holding hands?”

Link smiled to himself, recalling the group’s laughter, someone spilling soda on their shirt.

“And… After everyone else put their hands down, you still held my hand?”

His blood froze. Link kept his eyes forward, tracing the details in his mind. He hoped to find something else, something easier to explain. Now that she mentioned it, though, he did remember. Mipha’s hands were small and cold, and he was warm from the punch.

She sensed the change and bit back her disappointment. Mipha gazed out the window instead, watching the neighborhood pass by. The van turned into Rito Street, and she knew she was running out of private time.

“I know… I’m not sure…” Mipha tried to put her feelings into words. “I just wanted you to know that I… I liked it. I liked holding your hand. Whatever it meant, or even if it meant nothing at all.”

Link tried not to react, but he knew his uncertainty was on full display.

Mipha steeled herself. “I guess… if it’s not too much, I wanted to ask you something?”

His curiosity got the better of him, and Link glanced her way.

“I’ve… wanted to ask you for a while now.”

The navigation app beeped on Link’s phone, alerting that they were at their destination. He pulled alongside a blue house, putting the van in park. The action startled Mipha.

“Oh, we’re here.” She straightened in her seat, reminded of the task at hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up now. I’ll wait until after the budget proposal.” Her thin red lips pulled into a smile. “Come on; let’s go find Revali.”

A broad-shouldered man perched on the front step of the blue house. His intimidating presence was offset by the accordion in his hands, his bright blue mohawk, and the easy look he gave the two of them. “Hey Link, hey Mipha,” he said, the instrument sighing between his fingers.

Before Link could wonder if this was Revali, Mipha said, “Good morning, Kass. How was your show last night?”

“It was great, thanks for asking. Blew the roof off of ole Rito House.” He indicated the blue building behind him.

Link felt memories flicker. He remembered how the building’s facade looked at night. The front door was opened only for performers, while the rest of the crowd gathered in the backyard.

Kass’s heavy eyeliner crinkled as he smiled. “What can I do for you?”.

“We’re looking for Revali,” Mipha said. “It’s a sports club thing.”

“On a Saturday?” Kass lifted his chin towards Link. “Aren’t you hungover?”

Link nodded bashfully, then pointed his index and middle fingers forward. He pivoted them up and down towards Kass.

“And you’re in a rush?” Kass shook his head. “What a day. Well, come on. I doubt he’s awake. Hang out while I check his room.”

Footprints from the night before were still visible on the ancient wooden floor, tacky where drinks had spilled. Link’s gaze traveled over the furniture, decorated by stains and red plastic cups.

“He’s not in his bed,” Kass said, reappearing at a hallway’s entrance.

“What?” Mipha asked, frowning. “Like he’s not here?”

“Well, not in the house,” said Kass, unbothered. He made for the back door, waving them through.

The backyard was similarly dirty. In one corner of the yard, an abandoned workshed sat with rusty tools inside. The other corner held an unused child’s playset, the wood just beginning to rot. The structure had a plastic yellow slide, two low swings, and a ladder that led to the covered platform in the center. Inside the playset, a body slept soundly, obscured from view by a pile of blankets.

“There he is!” Kass was the first to step forward, clearing his throat. “Revali?” He took hold of one of Revali’s legs, sticking out over the edge of the wood.

Like a snail, Revali withdrew the limb, curling into the fetal position as he growled, “Go away.”

Kass shook his head fondly. “Your friends are here to pick you up.”

Mipha asked, “Did you get Zelda’s texts?”

“Her what?” he grumbled, still hidden from view.

“We have to go to the school.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

“Yes, I know,” Mipha said patiently. “But Ganon changed the meeting. We have to go today.”

Revali rolled over to face them, his dramatic eyebrows and angular nose visible beneath the blanket. “And that’s my problem?”

At the sight of Revali’s features, memories flooded back to Link.

Link and Zelda joined the throng of students in the backyard of Rito House. They lingered on the outskirts of the group, apprehensive. Link’s mind was still fuzzy from the punch at the lifeguard apartment, and Zelda felt out of her comfort zone amongst the partygoers. A few people waved and some even approached her to talk. Link discovered that several were in the student council under Zelda’s leadership, and others knew her from classes or from the sports clubs.

“Princess, welcome!”

Zelda winced and turned to face a student wearing a light blue scarf, his navy hair wind blown on top and gathered into short braids at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t call me that, Revali,” she said.

Revali cocked an eyebrow. “My apologies, but you are the student council president, not to mention the daughter of the dean, therefore-”

“Ex-dean,” Zelda corrected sharply, her fists clenching.

Sensing he had gone too far, Revali backed off. “Very well, then I shall stick to ‘my lady’.” His green eyes settled on Link, mouth curling. “And I see you brought your bodyguard.”

“Link is my friend,” Zelda said. “You remember him from the fencing club?”

“Of course,” Revali said, circling them with one hand on his chin. “You know, some would argue that fencers are the natural rivals of archers such as myself.”

“What?” Zelda asked, exasperated. “Who would argue that?”

“Like I said, my lady,” Revali took his place in front of them, peering over his shoulder. He lifted his arms to each side, showing off his muscles beneath his sleeveless turtleneck. “Some.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “We’re all part of the sports club program, Revali. None of us are rivals.”

“Indeed,” he sighed. “However, it’s no secret that anyone can swing a little sword around. But it takes true skill and precision to fire an arrow, to pierce a target directly in the center.”

Link huffed, insulted by Revali’s coarse description of fencing. Zelda saw his expression change and said, “Fencing takes skill and precision too.”

“Oh please,” Revali scoffed. “Fencing is a brutish and violent sport. All of their members just want an excuse to beat on each other with weapons for hours at a time.” He raised his head high. “But archery is only for those with a refined taste, my lady. In fact, I wouldn’t debase it so much as to call it a sport; it’s more of an art.” He smirked at Zelda. “You know, my lady, we could use an elegant palette such as yours among our ranks.”

Zelda’s annoyance melted away, and she smirked at Revali. “Actually, I’m already a member of a club.”

Revali froze, looking between the two of them. “Oh? Perhaps volleyball, with Lady Urbosa?”

“Nope.” Zelda crossed her arms, triumphant. “Something more brutish and violent.”

Link stifled a laugh, but Revali was unamused. He pursed his lips, bowing his head in surrender. “Well perhaps… not every fencer is…”

A voice interrupted from the back porch, saving Revali from further embarrassment. “Kass is on in five!”

Zelda took Link’s hand and led him towards the back door, calling back to Revali, “See you after the show!”

They entered the crowded living room, one side of which had been cleared out to make space for the stage. Once they had picked a spot along the wall, Zelda collapsed into giggles. “Oh, that was priceless! What a-” She stopped, and found more tactful words. “I mean… Don’t get me wrong, he can be cool, but he’s just so... eccentric.”

Link grinned. He knew her well enough to understand her real meaning, and he agreed. Zelda stifled another laugh and said, “I’m going to find a restroom. Wait here for me?”

He nodded, and she disappeared into the crowd. Link stood alone against the edge of the room, watching Kass tune his accordion through the wall of bodies.

A voice hissed in Link’s ear. “You think you’re so clever, swordsman.”

Link jolted and met Revali’s piercing gaze. The archer narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you strut about, acting like you’re better than me. You may have Lady Zelda fooled, but I see right through you.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “So, what do you say we settle this? Once and for all? I have a bottle of rum in the cabinet; I can secure us some shot glasses from the house owners.” Revali stuck out his hand. “How about it, swordsman? Do you accept my challenge?”

Link paused. He had never competed in a drinking contest before, and was unsure of how much alcohol he could handle. The other, and perhaps the most pressing concern, was how Zelda would react once she found out.

Revali sneered at his indecision. “Ah, so you are a coward. I figured as much.”

Then again, Revali had relentlessly insulted his passion, and Link found that he couldn’t turn down an opportunity to put him in his place. Just as Kass began the first song, Link grasped Revali’s hand.

“Yes, Revali, because it affects your club,” Mipha said.

Link blinked back the thoughts, focusing on their exchange.

“Just like it affects the fencing club,” she said, indicating Link. “And the swimming club,” she pointed to herself. “And all of us. If Zelda doesn’t have any sport club members there, then the budget proposal gets rejected. That means no new bows, arrows, gear, anything. The practice gyms-”

“The archery club doesn’t use the practice gyms,” Revali scoffed. “We have to go off campus. Our gear still works, and if anyone wants something new, they can buy it themselves.”

Mipha’s mouth curled into a rare sneer. “Revali, this is important. Just come with us.”

“Nope.” Revali rolled over once more, pulling the blanket tight around his body.

Link, Mipha, and Kass exchanged glances. Kass shrugged helplessly. “Maybe you can ask someone from a different club?”

“On such short notice?” Mipha’s shoulders lowered in defeat, and she pulled out her cellphone. “I could ask my friend from the sailing club… If she left now, then maybe she’d make it on time.”

Time. Link removed his own phone to check. 11:20.

Whoa. How did that happen? He glanced at Mipha, who was still scrolling through her contacts. We don’t have time for this.

Link examined the playset. He nudged Kass, pointing to the slide. A grin spread across Kass’s features and he nodded in approval. He moved into position as Link climbed onto the playset, standing over Revali.

Still wrapped in blankets, Revali glared up at Link. “What do you think you’re- Aahh!”

Link shoved Revali’s body through the opening that led to the slide. Unable to stop his descent, Revali fell into Kass’s arms. Kass hoisted him over his shoulder, shooting Link a thumbs up with his free hand.

Revali protested loudly and without dignity. Kass hauled him through the fence gate, then tossed him into the backseat of the van. Suppressing a chuckle, Kass winked at Link and Mipha. “Just bring him back here when you’re done. My kids are at a sleepover, so I’ll still be around.” He moved back to his position on the front porch step, picking up his accordion once more as he called, “Oh, and good luck!”

#loz #botw #loz fic #link #zelda #mipha #revali #my fic #commission

[vangoghmusings]

starving artist | shota aizawa x reader

hello!! this is chapter three of “starving artist” and i really hope you guys are enjoying it :) ive really loved writing it! i update primarily to wattpad (@/vangoghpoets) but i update here as well! also, don’t be afriad to reach out with requests <3 

You basically passed out the moment you arrived home, exhausted from your week. The following morning you forced yourself to wake up early and begin the sketch and underpainting of the first canvas for the first-year dorm common area. You're usually a scrambled mess when it comes to your artwork, but you wanted to try being organized for once.

Looking down at the half-finished brown underpainting, you sighed in frustration. Your fingers ached, not having done such a large amount of sketching in a long time. You grabbed your sketchbook for reference, noticing the numbers scribbled down in the corner.

"Aizawa..." you mumbled to yourself. A blush crept up your cheek

you: hi aizawa, i hope you got some rest! this is y/n btw :)

You didn't expect a reply right away, yet your phone chimed in mere minutes.

aizawa: i didn't expect you to be an early bird y/n. and yes i got some rest, thank you.

You giggled at his punctuation, even over text he seemed so serious. You left your art easel and went to sit down on your couch.

you: ive just begun my underpainting so i have a lot of work today

aizawa: whats an underpainting? i thought it was called a canvas

You laughed to yourself, curling up on your couch.

you: no no, an underpainting is first layer of paint applied to canvas, its a base for future layers of paint

aizawa: I had no idea painting was so intricate. i just figured you were either talented or not.

you: it's just like being a hero, you'll never be good if you don't put your all in it. And you want to do great, no matter how difficult it is.

aizawa: i'm guessing you're pretty tired then.

you: incredibly tired.

It was true, you were utterly drained from jumping back and forth from teaching to painting. It felt like you hadn't had a single moment to yourself since you started at UA. Your phone chimed again.

aizawa: do you want me to bring you a coffee? it's the least i can do since you picked all those leaves out of my hair and because i fell asleep on you.

You blinked at the text, surprised at the offer. You had a tiny crush on Aizawa that you were constantly pushing down. Maybe this could be an opportunity to prove yourself that you could get over your mushy feelings for him. You typed back quickly.

you: coffee sounds amazing actually! are you sure you don't mind?

aizawa: not at all.

You gave him your address and tried to bury the giddy feelings swelling up inside you. In an attempt to distract yourself from his impending arrival, you went back to your easel and continued your underpainting. You put your entire focus on completing the underpainting, working with both speed and detail. You were adding shading to the canvas figures when the doorbell rang. You shot up from your concentrated position and wiped your face flustered, forgetting about the orange paint that covered your fingertips.

You walked over and opened the door, smiling to see Aizawa out of his work attire. He wore a simple black sweater that looked a little too big on him, accompanied by black jeans and what appeared to be Doc Marten boots.

"Hello!" You smiled at him, letting him enter your home.

He smiled softly, holding the coffee cups in his hands.

"Hello, y/n. You have paint on your face by the way."

Your eyes widened in horror at his words. You began to laugh nervously as you hurried to the bathroom, Aizawa left standing in your living room and looking around. You scrubbed your face quickly, mentally scolding yourself for the careless move. You swiftly fixed your hair and walked back out to meet Aizawa.

He turned to you and handed you your coffee. "I hope you like vanilla, it was just a guess."

You grinned, taking the warm cup in your hands and taking a whiff of the sweet steam peeking out.

"It's perfect, thank you."

Aizawa nodded, looking around your living room. He looked odd standing in all black in your colorful home. From the rug to the furniture to the dinnerware, your home was eccentric, to say the least. Whether it was a souvenir from your travels or trinkets of a local artist, everything had its place. Aizawa looked like a goth at a child's birthday party in your home.

He took a sip from his coffee and gestured to a painting on the wall. It was an old painting of a village, filled with rustic colors and gentle strokes. You smiled softly at the feelings of home that surged over you.

"No, my grandmother made it. I inherited her quirk actually. It's a painting of the village we grew up in."

Aizawa turned to you and tilted his head, "Village?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, my family is from a poor island in the Caribbean. My parents moved us to America so we could have a better life. We as in my sister and me." You smiled to yourself, picturing your family back home.

"So why are you in Japan now?"

"I'd always save up money from my art shows to come here. Everything is just so beautiful and I'm a sucker for a good still life. I just figured I could save myself the money and move here."

Aizawa nodded, slightly confused at your art terminology.

"Can I see one of your paintings? Or your underpainting thing?"

You giggled and nodded, leading him into your mini art studio. The room had an easel and stacks upon stacks of prepped paper and canvases. Jars filled with brushes, charcoal, Indian ink, and pencils lined the shelves. A bucket sat on a small table, filled to the brim with acrylic paints. Another box filled with oil, one filled with gauche, and the last one filled with watercolor palettes.

"It's kind of a mess, sorry," you mumbled under your breath as he walked inside. Aizawa looked around entranced. Several finished and partly finished paintings hung from clips on a string, drying or waiting to be sold. He faced your easel and scrunched his nose in confusion.

"Why is it all one color?" He pointed to the orange underpainting.

"Underpaintings are monochromatic," you answered matter-of-factly. "It gives the painting more depth."

Aizawa nodded, his mouth forming a small 'o' shape in understanding. There was a moment of silence as Aizawa continued to look around in awe.

"This is really incredible, y/n," He said softly. You felt the heat take over your face, making you panic rather than take the compliment. "Who's your inspiration?"

You blinked, still flustered from your tomato red blush, "Huh?"

Aizawa stepped towards you, tossing the empty coffee cup in the trash.

"Who inspired you? Like, every young hero is inspired by a pro. Who's your pro?"

You smiled softly, "My grandmother, I mean she gave me this great quirk. Its nothing a hero could really use, but its been good to me so far. But as for a professional artist, I'd have to say, Matisse."

He tilted his head, clearly not knowing who he was. You chuckled, "He's a French painter." Aizawa nodded once again.

"I've been to France before, Paris specifically. It was for a pro hero conference but still."

Your eyes widened, "Of all the places in Europe I've traveled to, I've never been to Paris. It's basically my dying wish to go to the Louvre."

"I didn't get to do much tourism when I was there, I'd like to go back someday."

You smiled at Aizawa, he didn't strike you as someone who'd enjoy traveling or tourism, but you could still imagine him in a cheesy Hawaiian shirt and a camera strapped around him. The image in your head made you giggle softly. He eyed you and looked down at your hands.

"I heard about your quirk but I've never seen you use it."

"I could say the same for you," I said lying. Of course, you'd seen clips of him and his quirk on the news, but never really in front of you.

He rolled his eyes, "Show me."

You tried to hide your flustered blush that emerged from his sudden seriousness. You grabbed a paper from the stack and gently placed your whole palm on it.

"What's your favorite color?"

He looked down at himself and his black attire and back up at you.

"Yellow actually."

You nodded, remembering his yellow goggles and sleeping bag. Once you pulled your hand away, the paper had a mustard yellow imprint of your palm. You showed him your hand, the paint disappearing back into your skin.

Aizawa raised his eyebrows impressed, "You managed to match the color to my sleeping bag."

You grinned; proud he had noticed, "I'm pretty good at shade matching." He gently took the paper with your handprint.

"You have small hands." He looked up at your hands and lifted his up for comparison. You lifted your hand up and placed it on his. He was right, your hand was small compared to his. You stared at his hand on yours, not wanting to pull away. His palms were calloused, most likely from hero work. You gave him a sly smile. Aizawa furrowed his brows in confusion, "What?" He pulled his hand away, only to see an imprint of paint of your palm on his in your favorite color. "Hey!" He grumbled and pulled his hand away from you grumpily.

"Now you know my favorite color," you giggled. He sent a glare in your direction, swiftly running his hand across your cheek, covering you in the paint. You gasped, "Aizawa!"

He burst out laughing at the smear of paint on your cheek. It was the first time you truly saw him laugh and it caught you off guard. You narrowed your eyes at him, your hands prepping the paint.

"Oh, you are so dead Aizawa."

He gave you a smirk, "Oh really?"

You shot bright neon shades of paint from your fingertips, splatter painting his black sweater. His eyes widened.

"Yes, really." You answered, returning the smirk.

He stared at you and before you could realize, he had used his quirk to erase yours. Swiftly he wrapped his arms around you, like a tight hug, and covered you in the fluorescent paint. You gasped trying to break free. "Aizawa I can't believe you!" You couldn't help but laugh at seeing his body wrapped around yours, the usual dark figure covered in bright hues. He chuckled and slowly let go of you. As much as you hated being covered in paint, you missed his arms around you.

"You know you can call me Shota, right?"

You blushed, thankful for the paint on your cheeks covering it up.

"Okay, Shota."  

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shota aizawa #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #shota aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead x you #mha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha aizawa #bnmha #bmha #fanfiction #aizawa fanfiction

[webcricket]

Castiel Imagine

Imagine: Eavesdropping on your beautiful singing - something you do when you think no one else can hear you - is Castiel’s guiltiest pleasure until he gets caught in the act (ft. Dear Abby, aka Dean Winchester).

Requested by: @earl-grey-cafe

“Dean-” Castiel pushes the bedroom door inward; widening the sliver of an inch the hunter left it open, he swings it all the way to the gaping limits of the hinges.

A wall of pepperoni grease, malt hops, and gun oil - none of which he finds alarming or unusual - accosts the angel’s senses; nor does the sight of Dean in boxers and socked feet scrambling to mute the horror film scream of the television whilst simultaneously shoving a half empty pizza box under his pillow and sloshing beer onto the bed sheets while he sits up provoke any special interest beyond the fleeting thought that Dean’s dietary choices, perhaps, are not ideal for his long term cardiovascular health.

Cas pauses after stating his friends name to allow Dean’s threading pulse a moment to recover from the surprise of the sudden intrusion. Not that Dean should be surprised by the suddenness of the intrusion after nearly a decade of friendship spent unsuccessfully trying to teach the celestial being to knock first.

The seraph takes Dean’s grumbling around a mouthful of coagulated cheese and irately glistening green eyes as an invitation, if not into the space itself, as one begging expedience to clarify whatever the hell he wants in order to beat a hasty exit. He speaks both without apology and without further delay, “I need to ask you a question.”

Dean swallows hard to dispatch the gummy wad of pizza. He swipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Do you ever knock?”

Cas ignores the query, determining Dean to be employing sarcasm on account of the obviousness of the answer. He moves on to the matter on his mind; namely, you. He overheard you singing in the shower again last night when you couldn’t sleep, which - the singing and the sleeplessness - happens often enough to pique his concern.

It’s a habit of yours to stretch your voice - a heavenly voice if the angel ever heard one, and he would know - only when you believe no one is listening. “Have you ever heard Y/N sing?”

Dean’s glower wobbles and weakly rolls, his temper consoled and conversely further incensed at the lack of seriousness in the situation. He makes a mental note to have a conversation with his friend about what does and doesn’t warrant the disruption of his preciously rare me time; not - Cas’ idea of urgent often dwelling in the empiric satisfaction of curiosity over the human condition - that it will make any difference.

“Yeah, I’ve caught a couple notes here and there, and-?” Dean’s huff accentuates his annoyance.

You’re talented - talented and shy. You keep your gift to yourself and Dean, having sacrificed much for family, respects the need to shroud some things in a shield of selfish pleasure to preserve the status quo of inner sanity; for example, a double cheese double meat deluxe deep dish Chicago-style pie from Gianni’s in central Lebanon on a Saturday night.

Cas’ gaze narrows; some of his friend’s snark refracts in the brightness of the blue; he feels Dean knows the unspoken remainder given what he knows regarding the angel’s especially interested affections toward you and is playing a game of chicken. In retrospect, he thinks he should have sought out Sam.

Dean sighs, and concedes to the seraph’s silence if only to be quickly rid of him to restore his peaceful pepperoni and slasher movie solitude. “Listen up - some things, people don’t share with anyone. That’s Y/N with singing. Just leave it be.”

Crease of brow softening in comprehension, Cas thoughtfully eyes the corner of the pizza box peeking from beneath the drape of the pillowcase. “So it’s like you wanting to consume copious amounts of artery clogging cholesterol while lying prone and watching Hatchet Man in private.”

Deeply wounded by the angel’s holier-than-thou tone, and a recent brotherly lecture regarding bacon from Sam, Dean scoffs, “Nobody asked you.”

Cas gets it - your singing, however beautiful, is a subject of taboo unless you choose to share. He’s glad he didn’t go directly to you and cause you the discomfort of a compliment and discomfit of a request to hear more without the barrier of a bathroom door or concrete wall between you.

“And shut the door on your way out,” Dean grouses since the angel continues to linger meditating upon this newfound clarification and the sentiment of disappointment stirring in his chest that it means he cannot compliment you or request the favor of a direct audience to your talent.

“Thank you, Dean.” Stepping backward with a grateful bob of the head, Cas does as directed and strides into the hall.

In as much as Dean has his secret enjoyments, and you your solo performances, Cas, too, considers his routine of straining to catch your murmured melodies a guilty pleasure; those sweet reverberant notes caress his ears irresistibly like a siren’s call and nurture a reverence for your singing in his celestial center such that it seems to hum musically in time, delightfully thrumming through his vessels veins, whenever he chances to perceive your sensuously strung voice.

He thinks it not a guilty pleasure in the traditional sense of the phrase, a saying which suggests he finds profound pleasure in a sound which would not inspire general awe in whomever heard it - quite the opposite, there can be no doubt in his mind, or any other, excepting perhaps your own in not sharing, of your talents; nor is it because he feels any guilt in the actual eavesdropping - one hears much, whether one wants to or no, when blessed with the aptitude of angelic perception; rather, he considers it so only because you yourself, seeming not to trust to your gift in a capacity allowing you to openly share it, and it light of Dean’s elucidation, save your songs for a safety inherent in solitude.

Your lips part, tongue plucking strings of air in vibrant tone in moments when you believe you have a motel room or the bunker all to yourself. The oxygen belts from your lungs with force to flood the vaulted heights of the ceiling on those welcome weekends with a buffer of many miles between you and the Winchester brothers.

In the spaces in between, when you aren’t quite as alone as you surmise, Cas cherishes every illicitly captured dulcet lilting of soulful tune.

It’s not that you don’t account for Castiel being around; it’s that he’s so damned quiet padding around the place with divinely dampened footfalls. And it’s not that he’s lurking intentionally long around corners or in shadow before announcing his presence; it’s that he is struck in rapture, determination of direction and intent distracted as he stills to follow a phrase of lyric or two to its mellifluous terminus.

This time though, there’s no sneaking about on the angel’s part to blame. Sat at the kitchen table in the semi-dark, flesh of his forehead folded in a neat stack of seriousness over a knotted brow, Cas sifts through Dean’s box of Krunch Cookie Crunch in search of the cheap plastic trinket promised in colorful graphics to be hidden inside - the absence of which the elder Winchester will hold his brother accountable for whenever their latest adventure permits them to return home; needling his friend’s nerves in this manner is a lesser of the angel’s surreptitious and innocent amusements.

He stops his rustling task at the scuffing approach of your slippers and turns toward the threshold. He thought you were asleep when he arrived back and did not deign to wake you to inform you of his late arrival. His features flatten beneath the involuntary feeling of gladness the promise of your presence fosters; the early assemblage of your name rasps in the back of his graveled throat as he prepares to greet you. There, it husks into unspoken oblivion when the first hum of your voice titillates the air.

Oblivious to the celestial company, you step into the kitchen, swiping the light switch as you skip down the two shallow steps and make for the sink to fill a glass of water. Cushioned toes tapping the concrete floor, the kitchen being one of your acoustically favorite rooms in the bunker, the fullness of your unfettered voice echoes off the walls.

Glass brimming, stopping to wet your palette with a sip of the cool drink, you spin on a heel, snap shut your eyes to isolate yourself from the room and the rigors of this life, and settle your spine to the steel skirt of the sink.

Having no contingency plan that doesn’t involve awkwardly breaking for the door, Cas stares, cereal sugar-dusted palm propped to push himself up from the table, wide-eyed and speechless as you continue the tune.

By gradual degrees in sensing a worshipful sort of warmth washing your cheeks with heat, and then the unmistakable scent of the seraph tickling your nose - that uniquely stormy discharge of revving grace skimming his vessel’s skin in lieu of sweat when his adrenaline rises - you become aware of being watched and listened to.

Tongue skipping mid-note on the back of your teeth, your lashes flare and flash on the seraphim-shaped mass of trench coat seated at the table, his stance somewhere between sitting and standing, and the outline of an apology molding his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I tried-” he stumbles over the words and his feet as he straightens upright and steps into the light and nearer- “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay. I didn’t see you.” You soothe his fumbling; your chin drops to your chest, a bashfully-tinted flush unfurls across your face. “I just don’t usually sing in front of anyone.”

Cas cannot help his blunt honesty in reaction to your confession. “Why not? Your voice is exceptional.” His already bass register lowers as he extends his fingers to loop at your jaw, gently lifting your gaze to his. “Beautiful.” He does not add the ‘like you’ that naturally links to the accolade in his thoughts; the impact of that bit of unspoken affection stamps his own cheeks to match your blush.

A smile tugs doubtful at your lips. “You think so?”

His attention flicks from your eyes to your mouth, following the minute movement, and back. “Without a doubt.”

Self-conscious at the magnetism of desire felt to press his pout to yours in physical proclamation of his praise, his fingers falter from your chin and the tenderly glossed blues revolve to study the span of inches set between your beating hearts.

You feel it too, have felt a sentiment stronger than friendship solidifying between you for a while. The seams of your body tremble to contain a soul bursting in song at the suggestion of something more. “I could, I mean, if you wanted me to - if you’d like it-”

“Yes.” The bright shine of his eyes spill unfettered happiness to crinkle the skin surrounding them before the essence of a smile spreads to lighten his entire aspect.

The seraph’s smile - it’s purity, and the adoration reflecting the radiant potential of you as the source of his joyful feelings - is all the ovation your heart needs.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity   @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx   @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991   @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @ladyofletters67 @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim   @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson @pixiedusts  @spookysculderfiles  @laqueus-ludovicus  @missjenniferb @lexininja  @jessiekay2010   @skrratata  @rhiannonj79  @calicat79

#castiel imagine #spn imagine #castiel fluff #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castielxreader #castielxyou #castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #reader x castiel #you x castiel #castiel fanfic #spn x reader #cricket writes cas

[dearkaelsman]

Because I’m currently unemployed and my province is in recession wooo

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER.

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1. FIRST NAME: Ashli

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: I can say the alphabet faster backwards than forwards. I am also a proud BlackBerry user in 2020.

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: Eyes and smile are the first things I notice. After that I feel like it’s different things I find attractive on a person or reflective on personality.

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: Hungarian-style cabbage rolls. Beef belongs in them, not pork.

5. A FOOD YOU HATE: Meat pies of any sort (they’re too rich for my palette to handle and literally make me feel sick).

6. GUILTY PLEASURE: I don’t believe in feeling guilty about things I enjoy if they’re not hurting anyone. 

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: In the winter I go full-on fleece PJ’s because I’m Albertan and it gets down to -40*C here. In the summer, a t-shirt or tank top and Lululemon pants/shorts.

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: Serious relationships because I lack self esteem.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: Generally speaking I believe everything happens for a reason, however, as a recently unemployed journalist, I do wish I had paid more attention to job openings while working at my last newspaper that was shut down in January. I genuinely loved what I was doing, where I was working ( the pay was practically minimum wage but it was a job), so I didn’t pay attention to them before, and now I’m literally living in one of the worst areas of my country to find a job, and unable to afford moving to where there’s work.

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: If I’m comfortable with the person, yes.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: The Star Wars prequels.

12. FAVOURITE BOOK: I read a lot so it’s impossible for me to narrow down to one book. The Harry Potter series (specifically Prisoner of Azkaban) will probably be amongst my favourites, especially given it was the first book series that made me love reading. Beastly by Alex Flinn is one of my go-to rereads when I’m looking for something romantic because I really enjoy the way the book is written, and as a girl that often ends up RPing guys, it’s nice to have that “male” type perspective on a romantic relationship. The Immortals Series by Tamora Pierce is also a long-standing favourite. 

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: Cats. I could so easily by a “crazy cat lady,” but I just have two at the moment.

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]: Dearka x Miriallia (Gundam SEED, obvs.), Anakin x Padme (Star Wars), Trunks x Pan (DBZ), Mitsuhide x Kiki (Snow White with the Red Hair), Sakura x Syaoran (Cardcaptors)

15. PIE OR CAKE: Cake. I’m super picky with pie.

16. FAVOURITE SCENT: The smell in the air after it’s rained in the summer, OR what my sister and I like to call “warm sunny kitty,” which is how the kitties smell after they’ve been sleeping in a sunbeam all afternoon.

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: I don’t really crush on celebrities as much as I’ll find a character attractive in a show or movie that I’m watching. I recently binged “Spinning Out” on Netflix which unfortunately got cancelled after the first season, and I really liked Justin Davis, played by Evan Roderick, so I guess he might count as my current celeb crush?

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: Right now  I’m very much in Star Wars obsession mode so I’d like to go to Disney World to check out Galaxy’s Edge. Eventually I want to see the life-size Gundam in Japan and visit Cat Island, and visit Greece and Italy.

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: 100 per cent an introvert.

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: Probably.

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: Android. Apples rot.

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: Yeah, I’m slowly catching up on games while I’m unemployed. Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order is a recent favourite, but I’m super excited about the remaster of FFVII coming out.

23. DREAM JOB:  I don’t like limiting myself which is why I like being a journalist/photojournalist where I get to experience and do a number of different things. That said, if I could do nothing but shoot events for a newspaper - and sadly newspapers don’t employ straight photographers anymore - that would be ideal. Potentially I wouldn’t mind delving into the political realm with behind the scenes stuff, or combine my love for nerdy things with writing/photography and somehow get paid for it. And paid more than just above minimum wage LOL.

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: Buy my dream camera, the Canon ID X, repair the gear I have that needs to go in. I’d look into opening up a viable independent local newspaper for central Alberta that isn’t tied down to a corporate, American-based chain or operating as a political propaganda machine, and once I have some job security, move into a place of my own.

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: Athrun Zala. He’s very much a self-righteous character that believes he’s the only one that really knows what’s going on, and the only one who NEEDS to know what’s going on. Much of the friction he created within the Le Creuset Team was as a result of him not letting his teammates know that Kira was a friend and Coordinator piloting the Strike. I believe they would’ve approached battles differently if they had known, and it would’ve eliminated the doubts of Athrun’s leadership when they were searching for the Archangel on Orb, and honestly may have saved Nicol’s life in the end. If he wasn’t so self-righteous, he also wouldn’t have played into Durandal’s hand in Destiny, trust Kira and even Lacus to be on the right side of things, and perhaps even prevented that whole Cagalli-Yuuna situation. He might even actually let one of the many women fawning over him (he honestly doesn’t seem interested in ANY OF THEM, Cagalli included), and let Dearka and Yzak know what was going on in Destiny when they were left in the dark about Durandal’s master plan, and what role the Archangel and Athrun were playing in the war.

I guess what bothers me, too - and it could just be the Dearka in me talking - but he gets preferential treatment a lot. As far as I know, the story is Dearka was demoted for his defection from ZAFT, while Athrun, who defected AFTER Dearka and didn’t even have the balls to return right after the war returned in Destiny and was given back his red coat and a FAITH badge as if he’d never done anything wrong in ZAFT’s eyes....only to pull the same shit again.

Honestly, the man has no direction in life, and is somehow lauded as a hero and exempted from any sort of repercussions of his actions.

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: Voltron. Miriallia-mun and I were both into Voltron when it came out and even cosplayed Hunk and Keith together and it was the best. But as it goes with many fandoms, the show got hijacked by brutal shipping wars where one couldn’t just enjoy the show. The fandom then became really toxic, calling for the creators to be assaulted or worse at conventions, or insinuating they were homophobic because they didn’t make their slash pairing canon. I couldn’t have cared less about ships in the show, and the final season showed some catering to toxic fan pressure and had some poor plot points which honestly left me uninterested in watching the show after the final season.

tagged by: Stole it from @aegis-destiny

tagging : Anyone who wants to.

#dearka-mun

[heysawbones]

Watchmans

It is 2018. I have been reading comics for over 20 years, and making them for about ten. I have never read Watchmen. 

I even own the damn thing. I’m not sure when it got into my collection; it’s almost as if it was assigned to me when I started making comics where people fuck and say bad words. @beesmygod suggested that I ought to actually, you know, read the book. Assess how it’s aged. To make a long story short: it’s okay.

To make a short story long, I’ll break my assessment down into sections. People love that.

Art

It’s great. It’s not exciting, but it’s incredibly solid. It doesn’t feel “off”, while at the same time it never comes off as excessively referenced. The color palette can be jarring, and played a part in me not reading the book for a long time. I stopped noticing it after a while, and sometimes if you squint real hard and ignore the lineart, the colors look cool together in and of themselves. A notable exception: Nite Owl looks absolutely ridiculous without clothes on. It’s like Dave Gibbons got the script, read “chubby man” and thought, aw no, people hate looking at those. Nite Owl is the Ken Doll genitalia of Fat. It’s off-putting.

The comic makes great use of layouts, and pages always end on good narrative beats. Easy to follow (visually).

Story

Watchmen is what happens when a friend of yours tells you about some drama that’s clearly really exciting to them, but not to you. You don’t know the people involved. Your friend tells you everything that happened, and maybe even in the right order, but doesn’t tell you why you should care. That was the biggest issue for me, really: the story couldn’t convince me to invest in the characters. Is it because there are too many of them, so the focus is too broad? Is it that none of them are interesting people? The women in particular are boring in this comic, though at least the original Silk Spectre has a good line or two about Tijuana Bibles. I’d say that the women are less characters than props, but that would imply that the males had depth. Rorschach is the only character who, while not deep, has any weight to him at all. 

There are a lot of references to the Cold War and Mutually Assured Destruction in this comic. There’s even a somewhat obscure reference to Nixon’s “Mad Bomber” strategy, which impressed me. Even so, I don’t feel like the comic makes the best use of the material. The threat of nuclear annihilation feels like background noise, even as the world encounters a potential crisis over the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. This is more than a cosmetic issue, as the threat of annihilation is what drives the climax of the book. Going into Ozymandias’ big reveal, my initial response was, “Was this really necessary?” Things didn’t seem bad enough to warrant something so dramatic. Imagine what kind of shit he could’ve pulled if he was fully prepared for the Cuban missile crisis. What a drama queen. I assume this was an oversight; of all the criticism hurled at Ozymandias by the other characters, nobody tells him that he’s overreacting - just that they can’t believe he’s doing this “mad scientist shit”. When it’s done, they say, “All we did was fail to stop him from saving the world”. No, you failed to stop him from throwing a tanty. He didn’t save the world. It wasn’t in imminent danger in the first place.

All of that said, it’s not a terrible comic. It’s ambitious as all hell, which I respect. Is it a great comic? Well, we’ve collectively decided it is, so that means it is. Is it a great comic on its own merits, read in 2018? Not really. It has too much trouble with all of its moving parts, and knowing how to prioritize them properly to keep people focused. They even layer another comic in, a narrative-within-a-narrative. It’s an interesting affectation, but it doesn’t help with the impression of noise. It’s a real noisy comic.

On Rorschach

People have accused Watchmen of romanticizing the self-aggrandizing, tone-deaf attitude and behavior of Rorschach. A friend of mine believed he was an author insert. I think you’d have to assume the author really, really dislikes himself to believe that. Rorschach is not meant to be liked; he’s meant to set the book’s tone/thematic conflict, and he’s meant to be understood. In understanding him, you may find things about him that you do not hate. He isn’t even always wrong, which I think confuses some readers. 

Rorschach is incredibly obnoxious. I think the author was pretty open about that. If you have to be beat over the head with constant declarations of how shitty a person is to be satisfied that the author isn’t glorifying being shitty, I just don’t know what to tell you. 

On The Comedian

He’s like Dadaism if Dadaism was fascist, instead of the opposite of that. The shittiest nihilist. I don’t get him. Is he just there to suck? Why did anybody put up with this guy? Sure, he moves the plot along, but otherwise, man. Why are you here.

Moral relativism

The book’s thematic conflict seems to be “moral relativism versus absolutism”, but I can’t tell where the book ultimately lands in regard to that question. Perhaps that is the point, as we utterly fail to do that in real life, as well. Or, perhaps the book forgets about the thematic conflict partway through. It’s hard to tell. What the book does concretely do, is drive home how even moral absolutists can’t agree on what the correct absolute morals are. Just... like in real life. I wish the comic touched on this theme again near the end. It would have helped pull things together.

On women

Alan Moore’s depiction of women in this comic is just a dang bummer. It really is. Every living woman in the comic is defined in some way by her relationship to sex: a prostitute, a woman who falls for her would-be rapist, a woman largely kept as a consort to the human stand-in for nuclear weapons. A woman who loathes her husband’s work because it keeps her from getting the sex she wants. Two women get in a fight about being gay and having sex. Neither of the living female heroes gave much of an actual shit about fighting crime, and even seem annoyed to be dragged along. Rorschach has problems with everyone, but women in particular, he doesn’t see as people. None of these things in and of themselves are necessarily indicative of an author’s narrow view of women - this might be controversial, but I think even “a woman who falls for her would-be rapist” could theoretically be done well. When nearly all of your references to women are like this, it’s a pattern. It would be one thing if this pattern only showed up when viewed through Rorschach’s narrative lens, but that isn’t the case. This is normative. Sucks.

2/5 arbitrary stars. Historically important, interesting in that context. Not that interesting, otherwise.

edit: @gunwildversuseverything , thanks for the heads up

#blah blah blah

[missnmikaelson-main]

Careful Elena, Someone Might Start to Think You Care - Part 3

I do not own TVD or TO

Warnings: some adult content in this chapter. 18+ Only please

The supple leather of the black jacket clung to her arms and fell open in the front revealing the magenta t-shirt that dipped low. The shirt covered the top of her black skirt that clung to her legs, but was still comfortable enough to move around in. She had tied the entire look together with black ankle boots. The buckles glinted in the flashing lights of the club. The neon colours bounced off the silver buttons of her jacket to reflect off the bodies of everyone she passed.

A strong hand grabbed her elbow a few feet from the door. She spun around to face the man and cocked an eyebrow.

“A gorgeous gal like you shouldn’t be leaving alone,” his grey eyes dropped to her chest.

A few days ago she would have definitely been offended and very weirded out by his salacious gaze; there was something corrupt in his eyes and the way he held himself. She’d heard whispers of this guy and his horrendous actions towards women; nothing ever stuck because he was the son of a city official. She had practically seen Ava’s spine tingling when he had fastened the pair of them with a manic look.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” He took her hips and pulled her flush against him.

She glanced down to where she could feel him against her thigh; he grew hard when she stretched up and breathed against his ear.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” her fingers danced over his chest, “just a girl I hook up with.”

“I heard about the bathroom,” his hands slid down to squeeze her ass.

“Really?” She tilted her head. Her eyes spotted the red head at the bar; it hadn’t taken Ava long to find Elena in the club, and even less time for the pair to slip into the graffiti covered bathroom stall.

“Or rather,” he leaned down and bit her ear, “I heard you through the door. I think I can make you scream louder.”

“How’s your tongue?” Elena leaned back and looked him up and down slowly before meeting his grey eyes. “Because hers was wicked.”

She could see him picturing Ava kneeling on the bathroom floor between her legs. The actual memory was enough to warm her up, but she had something else in mind.

She didn’t stop him from grabbing her wrist and placing her slim hand over the hard ridge in his pants. His hot breath fanned over her ear.

“I got something better than a tongue.”

“We’ll see,” Elena hummed. She backed away while maintaining eye contact for several paces before turning around and exiting the club.

Her heels clicked on the concrete slab of the sidewalk as she moved out of the streetlights. She made it ten paces before she heard someone coming up behind her.

Once again strong hands took hold of her hips but this time she was pulled sideways into the dark alley. It was the kind of alley she would have seen in a horror film. A fire escape ended a half dozen feet above a green dumpster that blocked the light from the street. That was where he pushed her.

Her hands came up instinctively to catch her weight and keep her body from colliding with the rough wall. The heavy bass from the club pounded through the barrier. She glanced over her shoulder when his hands rucked up her skirt.

Cold air swirled around her exposed skin and cooled her hot center, but even in the dark alley she knew he could see how wet she was.

“No underwear?” His hand came down on her ass.

“I left them in her purse,” she winked. Her sensitive ears easily picked up the ripping sound of his zipper being pulled down. She waited until she could feel his erection trailing through her folds before straightening up and turning around. “Wait.”

“I don’t wait for anyone,” he growled and held her throat.

Elena felt her airway block as his free hand forced itself between her thighs. She grabbed his wrist and moved his hand from her throat down to her heaving breast.

“You have no patience,” her eyes narrowed, “and one day,” she hooked her leg around his waist, “it would have gotten you into trouble.”

“Would have….” His voice trailed off in a strangled groan.

Elena arched her hips and ground against him while leaning forward to kiss his throat. Her teeth nipped at his Adam’s apple while her center rubbed against his hard cock.

“Mmm,” she licked her lips and felt her fangs descend, “it would have.” She pulled back so he could see her face and smirked when the blood drained from his cheeks.

“What the fuck?” He moved to push her away and gasped when she gripped his chin.

“Hold still,” her pupils dilated, “and don’t scream.”

His body immediately stopped moving as his eyes widened with fear.

“Don’t worry honey,” she trailed her fingers down his cheek, “I’m gonna save you some future trouble.”

Her mouth opened wide to expose her glinting fangs to his terrified gaze. She gave the sight a moment to sink in before using vampire speed to spin them around and slip her teeth into his throat.

Fear, as the Salvatores had said, made the blood sweeter.

Elena had never had much of a sweet tooth, but after indulging in the hottest food imaginable it was a nice palette cleanser; like going for ice cream after leaving the Indian restaurant. She did love spicy food, but it was nice to mix it up once and a while.

The decadence of his blood washed over her and made her feel positively delirious. As the liquid drained from his body he went limp; it took less than a minute for his heart to slow. Normally she would have stopped at that point, healed him and sent him on his way, but his blood was scrumptious.

She dropped him in an unceremonious heap when his heart stopped and licked the velvety liquid from her lips. Using the toe of her boot she turned him over and tilted her head. Her lidded eyes roamed his still frame, while she adjusted her skirt, and widened when she reached his crotch.

“Brings a whole new meaning to the term rigour mortis, doesn’t it?” The voice coughed behind her.

Elena looked over her shoulder and used her heel to poke the dead guy’s still hard cock.

“I was wondering when you two would show up,” she turned slowly. Her thumb caught a bead of blood running down her chin.

“Didn’t we teach you not to play with your food?” Damon crossed his arms and looked down.

“So you’re of the do as I say and not as I do variety?” Elena looked between the Salvatores. She had thought Jeremy would find her first and that he would probably bring Bonnie with him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Damon hoisted the body up and into the dumpster; it had become clear that Elena wasn’t going to clean up after herself.

“You play with your food all the time,” Elena leaned against the dumpster, “or are you forgetting about Caroline? Then Andie?” She kept an ear on Stefan who had yet to say anything. “And I’m pretty sure Stefan loves playing with his food. I seem to recall hearing all about bodies literally torn apart and then pieced together.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Stefan crossed his arms. “I didn’t have my humanity, and if you’ll recall I was under the influence of Klaus.”

“Not even Klaus does that,” she turned her gaze to her ex-boyfriend and cocked an eyebrow.

“You know you could just play with a Mr. Potato Head,” she drawled in a bored manner, “or paper dolls. You know… since you’ve got that whole humanity thing; I tell you though,” She looked between them, “life is pretty sweet without it.”

“You don’t feel anything for this guy,” Damon gestured to the dumpster.

“No,” she shook her head. “Actually…” she held up her finger, “… I regret killing him so fast. He had promised to make me scream.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing the last few days,” Stefan stepped back and met her disinterested eyes.

“It’s what I’ve been doing the last few hours,” Elena held up her fingers as she counted: “eating, sleeping, fucking…” She lifted her foot. Stefan was close enough that she could trail her toes up his leg. “And shopping of course since I had nothing to wear; I thought I’d upgrade my wardrobe.”

“Why?” Damon looked her over. The clothes were of a higher quality then she typically wore, and was much more revealing; any lower and she would have been considered indecent.

“Attraction,” Elena shrugged as if it were obvious. “I thought I’d try my hand at getting blood without compulsion.”

“You haven’t compelled anyone?” Stefan caught her ankle when she reached his inner thigh.

“I’ve compelled the bartenders,” Elena motioned to the club behind them, “but only because I didn’t think to get a fake ID. And I compelled some of the staff at the mall.”

“You left your purse behind so we kind of figured that,” Damon rolled his eyes.

Elena rolled her neck around to look at him. Her eyes darted between the brothers.

“Jeremy wasn’t lying,” Stefan’s jaw clenched, “you’ve turned it off.”

“Score one for Saint Stefan,” Elena nodded. She tilted her head and blinked slowly. The one thing that seemed to remain after flipping the switch was her curiosity; she was Pandora and she was surrounded by boxes. “What are you two doing here?”

“Your brother was worried about you,” Damon sighed, “he called Bonnie and I overheard the conversation. We came to help; to try and talk some sense into you and get you to turn it back on.”

“I don’t want to turn it on. I like how I am now; I’m no longer held to some impossible ideal, and I’m done mourning. You want to help me?” Elena bit her bottom lip. Rolling her shoulders back she looked them over suggestively while lowering her leg back to the ground.

It had always been one of her deeper fantasies: being with two guys at once. The combination of Ava’s tongue, her frenzied dancing, and frat boy’s blood had her all worked up. She knew they were both adequate, and that they had probably been in this situation before; they would just be swapping one brunette for another.

“I know how you can help me,” she reached and ran her fingers over their abdomens. “What do you say boys: are you up for a little fun?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was insinuating; it was blatantly obvious when she squeezed them through their jeans.

Elena’s tongue touched the back of her teeth when they exchanged a look. Her lips formed a pout as their heads shook in unison.

“It… it wouldn’t be right,” Damon pushed her wrist away.

“Now you’re concerned about what’s right?” Elena stepped back and put her hands on her hips.

“We’re always thinking about what’s best for you Elena,” Stefan sighed.

“Maybe you should stop,” Elena shifted back on her heels, “you’ve got no right to me, and no right to tell me how to live my life. I want what I want when I want it, and I’ll take it.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you when you don’t have your humanity.”

“But it’s okay when I’m sired to you?”

“I didn’t know about the bond then,” Damon’s lips quirked up in a smirk as his eyes glittered in the dark alley, “but I do now.” He stepped forward and looked down into her dark eyes. “Turn it on Elena. I want you to turn it back on.”

Elena’s disbelieving eyes flickered from Damon to Stefan’s expectant gaze.

“No,” she scoffed, “clearly Jeremy didn’t tell you. The sire bond was tied to my emotions, and no emotions mean no bond. My will is free again.”

“Then turn it back on,” Damon stepped back. “Turn it back on and we can finally be together.”

“I don’t want to be with you, Damon,” Elena shook her head. “I thought my slap was clear; we are over. I don’t love you…”

“You don’t have emotions right now,” Damon tried to reason with her.

“I don’t love you,” Elena looked him over slowly, “and I never did.”

“You were coming on to both of us not two minutes ago,” Stefan’s eyes narrowed. There had to be some of Elena still in there; she had always been so compassionate. Her emotions couldn’t have been buried too deep.

Elena turned her gaze to the younger brother and tilted her head. She had never thought of Stefan as stupid; he had a hero complex, but he wasn’t stupid.

“I don’t care about either of you,” she leaned forward, met their eyes and enunciated clearly. “I don’t care about anything, except my physical needs. I needed blood from him,” she waved to the dumpster, “and now I need a hard fuck, the kind only a vampire can give me, and you’ve both proven to be adequate in the bedroom.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Elena shrugged, “I’ll go and find someone else; there are plenty of attractive men inside. Or maybe a girl again; that was fun.”

She flashed them both a bored smirk before flashing inside.

“Now what?” Stefan turned to Damon when she was gone.

“Now we catch her,” Damon grumbled, “and force her to flip the switch.”

“We should have just said yes and broken her neck before anything happened.”

“Let’s just go and find the kitten before she kills anyone else,” Damon pushed past him and walked from the alley.

“Kitten?”

“Katherine 2.0,” Damon looked back over his shoulder, “baby Kat.”

Stefan chuckled and followed his brother into the club.

“Calling her that might piss her off enough to turn it back on.”

++++

Elena tossed her head back into the wall. The vulgar graffiti created an urban background for her exposed upper body. She moaned and ground her hips. By pure chance Ava had still been in the bar; a quick scan had also revealed her other little plaything.

They were all in the cramped bathroom now.

Elena had shed her jacket and t-shirt after entering the stall and turned around to grasp Ava’s hair. A moment of hard kissing passed before she pushed the girl to her knees. One of her hands was still holding a fistful of the lustrous red hair.

“Do you like watching Daniel?” Her eyes fell to his pants. “Do you enjoy watching Ava eat my pussy?”

He nodded. Elena could hear his pounding heart from his place by the door.

“Then show me how much you like it,” she nodded to his zipper. Just when he pulled out his erection Ava buried her tongue in Elena’s cunt.

Daniel began to jerk off to Elena’s moans. He couldn’t decide where to look: Elena’s heaving breasts, her dripping cunt, or Ava’s fingers that had found their way between her legs.

“Ava’s a bit of an exhibitionist,” Elena gasped. A coil began to tighten in her stomach. “But you knew that. She’s totally getting off on you watching her do this, but do you know what’s gonna push her over the edge?”

“No,” he grunted. His orgasm was fast approaching.

“The knowledge that the door is unlocked,” Elena bit her lip, “and that any moment now,” she shuddered and held back her release, “it’s…” her pulse slammed in her neck, “… going to… oh my…” she panted and pressed Ava closer. The busty red head had found her g-spot and was using her fingers to stimulate the soft tissue while sucking on her clit. “… burst… oh… mmm… Ava you’re amazi…”

Elena’s head fell back against the wall as her hand clasped the top of the stall. She heard the wood crack but didn’t bother looking; instead she chose to ride out her orgasm against Ava’s face while panting her name.

Daniel groaned and came with a guttural moan making a mess of Ava’s neck and Elena’s thighs.

Ava jerked back with a gasp when the door was ripped from the hinges and banged off the sink.

“Hmm,” Damon tilted his head and clasped the shoulder of the man with his cock in hand, “that is hot,” he nodded to Elena as she came down, “can’t say I blame you for making a mess.”

Daniel swallowed. His breath caught in his throat when Stefan came in and caught his chin.

“Leave now and forget what happened in here.” Stefan released Elena’s plaything and yanked the other one to her feet. He was a little gentler with Ava, but he still compelled her to leave and forget.

“Did you change your minds?” Elena panted and watched them go before settling her eyes on the brothers. She smirked when their eyes fell to her still open legs.

“Not exactly,” Damon smirked.

Before Elena had a chance to react he flashed across the small space. She just heard the snap of her neck before her vision went black and she heard nothing.

“Let’s not mention this to her brother,” Stefan located her top and fitted her arms into the sleeves. “It’s not the best look for his sister.”

“How about the body in the dumpster?” Damon murmured.

“That either,” Stefan located Elena’s jacket. He wrestled her into the material and tossed Elena over his shoulder.

“Fine,” Damon reached out and straightened her skirt until it reached as low as it would go. “Let’s get her back to Mystic Falls.”

A few people turned to look, but nobody stopped them from carrying the girl who’d overdone it from the club.

Tag list: @rissyrapp20 @elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn

#elena gilbert #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #fanfic #the vampire diaries #the originals