#alos they’re just perfect for each other

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Every once in a while I get the urge to write Alex Keller x reader fanfiction but then I’m like “no I can’t take Alex away from Farah.”

#sorry but he belongs to her #it’s the only way #at least in my head it would be very out of character #for him to fall in love with someone else #after all he’s done for Farah #alos they’re just perfect for each other

[joshlmbrt]

NOW PLAYING;

♫ TRACK 7; This Love. (steve harrington’s version)

. 1:03 ──⚬──── 3:45 .

. ⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻ .

warnings; this does follow the timeline of season 3, mentions of r almost getting hurt, steve getting hurt - ya know :(, r & steve are broken up … BUT surprise, surprise, dialogue is not the exact same from the scene.

an; thank you for requesting. i always wanted to do something based on s3 and now i have the excuse to do just that.

requested by; @hollandweather

to request, click here!

'BUT YOU WERE STILL GONE, GONE, GONE.’

STARCOURT MALL. 1985.

Tight grips bruise each of your arms, your head hangs as you watch the floor pass behind you.

Your heel is almost lost somewhere, but you’re thrown onto a chair before it can come off.

Your name is gasped out by a voice before someone else repeats it. Your hair is gripped and head pulled up as your eyes land on Robin and Steve. Another person works on the leather bounds around your wrist.

Robin looks fine, a couple of bruises on her knees.

But Steve looks like he was beaten an inch from his life.

You wince a bit, glaring at the man. “They’re tight enough.”

He grins a bit, before looking over as a Doctor and another man steps through the other door.

He paces in front of Steve before stopping in front of him. He bends at the waist.

“Who do you work for?”

“I told you! Scoops. Scoops Ahoy! Do you think I’d be wearing this stupid outfit?!”

The man sighs and lifts, sending a slight nod at the Doctor.

You watch quietly as he reaches for something before standing in front of Steve.

“Hey,” You call out, fingers stretching out. “Hey! Don’t- What is that?!” You look over at the man who was laughing at something said in Russian, before Steve is pricked behind the ear.

Your heart breaks at the sound, arms yanking in the restraint. You knew it wouldn’t work and you didn’t know what you’d do if it did.

You knew you’d be dead.

But better than Steve being dead.

Robin’s next. “No! Leave them alo-” There’s a stinging to your cheek that effectively shuts your words off and a sob leaves your throat.

“Now,” The man says, smiling, he bends at the waist again. “Who do work for?”

Steve smirks a bit. “Scoops Ahoy.”

You feel a stinging down your finger and you let out a small scream, staring at the pliers pulling at the nail.

“Okay! Okay! We-we heard the code over the radio, which is stupid by the way,” Robin is quick to speak up. The sting slowly dies down as he pulls the pliers away. “Why would you-" She cackles. “Why would you broadcast it to where everyone and anyone could hear it?”

“Right! If you and Dustin could decipher what the code meant,” Your eyes widened at the boys name. “Then anyone could!” Steve laughs.

“Steve.” Robin says, not finding it too funny anymore.

“Who is this Dustin?”

“Dustin Henderson. Short. Curly hair. Annoying.”

“Steve.” It was your turn to grit out his name.

Before anything else could happen, there’s outside commotion. Steve smirks up at the man.

He huffs and demands the man next to you to stay put before walking out.

“Steve, Robin,” You say. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect.” Robin.

“I feel good actually.” Steve giggles. Giggles.

Before you could say anything else, there’s a war cry and a buzzing sound. Your eyes watch as Dustin Henderson zaps the guard.

He falls to the ground, hitting his head. Erica is quick to run towards you, pulling the binds away. You quickly thank her before sliding off the chair and making your way towards Steve.

Your hands immediately cup his swollen and bloody cheeks, you’d almost forgotten how, despite how beaten he was, soft his face was. “Steve, you okay?” He stares at you, a goofy smile on his face. “Are you okay, sweetcheeks? Been missin’ me?” His words were jumbled, but you could tell what he was saying.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, before glancing at Dustin and Erica who looks confused. “They gave them something.” You explain quickly.

“Explains why they’re both so happy all of a sudden.” Erica concludes.

🕊️

Erica had promised to watch the two, but didn’t follow through.

You couldn’t be mad at her, she was pulled into something no eleven year-old child should be pulled into.

Your heart hammers and you push the mens bathroom door open, eyes glancing around the room.

“That’s the men’s bathroom,” Dustin points out. “Someone could be in there.”

You turn towards him, the door closing behind you. “I don’t care, Dustin. I’m just trying to find them before they run off somewhere and get themselves killed.”

You step towards the women’s bathroom, pushing the door open. You see Robin and Steve in the same stall on the dirty floor.

A jealousy settles in your chest. “What are you guys doing? We thought they had found you!”

They both stare at the three of you, before glancing at one another.

They suddenly burst out laughing.

You clench your jaw, fist forming at your sides. It was cute that they both thought it was so funny, but you didn’t find it funny. Not at all.

You turn, pushing your way out of the bathroom that had suddenly grown too hot and too small.

🕊️

Billy’s grip on your neck makes your nails scratch at his arm, legs kicking at his own.

You were hoping he didn’t notice El crawling away from the big, slimy, melted-people monster.

But he did.

He’s quick to throw you against the wall, the breath leaving your lungs all at once as your chest hits the ground next.

Your slow make your way onto your hands and knees, coughing as silva drips from your mouth and you greedily try to suck in air.

You ignore Billy’s scream and the roar, but Max’s has you on high alert.

You try as quickly as you can to stand, feet aching and blistered, probably red and bloody.

Your eyes watch as Billy’s body falls onto the ground and the ground shakes as the Shadow Monster does the same.

Black covers the front of his shirt and drips out of his mouth. You make your way towards El, kneeling down beside her.

“Are you okay?” You push some of her hair back. She nods, hand gripping yours before leaning her head against your chest.

You’re quick to hug her.

She’s then pulling away to hold a sobbing Max in her arms.

🕊️

3:35am.

Your arms were burning from the shower you had just taken, rubbing the washcloth rough enough to leave red marks. The lotion wasn’t helping at all.

There’s a knock at your window that makes you flinch, heart beating in your throat now. But once you see the head full of hair, you releasing a breath before walking over and unlocking it to push it up.

“You could’ve knocked,” You help him through. “My parents aren’t here. They had a-”

“Business trip,” He sighs. “Yeah. I know.”

You were both friends before having a short relationship, both sets of parents worked with one another.

So when one was gone, the other one was gone as well.

“I just wanted to check on you.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets.

You nod a bit, moving towards your bed and sitting down as you pick at a loose thread.

“I’m okay. Are you?” You peek up at him.

“Excellent. Took two Advil before coming over.” He steps over, sitting next to you.

You give a small smile, before looking down at your lap.

It was silent. Comfortable, surprisingly, but it was almost deafening.

“I’m sorry-"

“I just-"

You both stop, huffing out a laugh. Steve points at you. “Ladies first.”

You smile a bit. “I just. . .” You didn’t know what to say, so instead, “I was scared.”

He looks at you, tilting his head. “Of what?”

You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth before looking up at him. “Of losing you,” You nod. His face softens, shoulders sagging slightly. He stays silent to let you finish. “I was scared of losing you,” It was more certain now. “When they dragged me in there and I say your. . . your face, you looked like if they did one more punch, you would’ve. . . Would’ve. . ."

The words stop because you didn’t want to say what you meant, let alone imagine it.

“Hey. . .” He reaches over, thumb wiping away a tear you didn’t even notice had fallen. “Hey, come here.” His hand drops to your bicep, pulling you closer.

You scoot closer to him, the comforting scent you’d grown up around invades your senses. Warm vanilla, slight oranges, cashmere, and if you really take a deeper breath, there’s slight caramel.

It’s all Steve.

His hand soothingly rubs up your back, gripping your neck. “Hey. I’m okay, I’m here. They didn’t get me,” His hand pulls around to hold your face. “They’ll never get me.” He smirks.

You huff slightly, dropping your head as you shake it. He drops his own, staring at you through his lashes.

“I’m okay,” He repeats, softer this time. “You don’t have to worry about losing me.”

Your eyes meet with his warm ones this time, nodding. He smiles softly, eyes darting down to your lips before back up to your eyes.

His thumb tugs softly next to your lip.

“Can I-”

“Please.” You nod, not letting him even finish before leaning in. He meets you halfway, lips intertwining with yours carefully.

Your hands are careful when they land on his face, thumbs softly rubbing against his skin softly.

He kisses the same - soft, slow, like you were going to slip away.

He slowly pulls away, nose nudging yours with the tip of his. You smile softly, nudging his back.

“I’ve missed you.”

You open your eyes slowly, pushing his hair back, staring at him for a moment.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

🕊️

‘THIS LOVE IS ALIVE, BACK FROM THE DEAD.’

thank you for reading! comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated! 🧸

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!readed #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #joe keery x reader

[korships]

do the whole gush ask game for omi

under read more cus longgg

+ Gush about your f/o’s sense of style/fashion!

I love him dearly but most of his non-play outfits are so swagless, but he knows how to dress in a really comfy and warm looking way. Likely as a way to tone down his intimidating stature. But even his totally terrible outfits hold a special place in my heart, so these are some of my fave of his more normal everyday outfits! The pink one is so malewife core.

+ Gush about your f/o’s voice!

he has a super versatile voice, it's mostly a comforting voice but when he gets mad or protective it can also be deep and scary. I think his voice is perfect for him in that it can capture all of him really well. plus listen to my wife sing: one , two

+ Gush about your f/o’s smile!

He has soooo many different smiles, which means soo much to me because he had a very hard time smiling for a long time, and now he has so many different ones, from peaceful and content to confident.

+ Gush about your f/o’s interest(s) and how they talk about them!

He mostly talks about his interests in a way that serves others, how much he enjoys cooking for others, taking pictures of others, giving others rides on his motorcycle. He once talked about molecular gastronomy, making me think he also has an almost scientific interest in cooking as well.

+ Gush about the little things your f/o does when they’re thinking really hard about something!

Omi thinks too hard, especially when he's down. He can lose track of his surroundings when deep in thought, accidentally burning food when he's cooking, or accidentally bumping into things. He just gets clumsy when too deep in thought, because he has a hard time just sitting or laying with his thoughts.

+ Gush about your f/o’s laugh!

His laugh is just ridiculously comforting, we've never heard him laugh hard but I would like to imagine he has a roaring laugh.

+ Gush about how kissable your f/o is!

The most kissable man ever, no competition. Especially his hands, his hands are always so busy that when they're not I just gotta kiss them.

+ Gush about how your f/o acts/looks when they’re flustered!

He gets like this really cute full face blush, he won't deny he's flustered but if anyone points it out he gets more and more flustered.

+ Gush about the most recent date the two of you went on!

He wanted to try a new cafe so we took his motorcycle there! We always get something different from each other so we can pick off each others food, but we're alos that really cringe couple that feeds each other in public.

+ Gush about the source your f/o is from!

I'm really surprised a/3! got so close to my heart, it's not at all like a lot of my other interests. But I play it daily and can't imagine not doing that, working for half a year to save for Omi bday cards or fighting in events for him gives me something to aim for, even when i'm struggling having an aim for anything else.

+ Gush about your favorite chapter/book/episode/scene etc. your F/O is in!

It's The Stranger, we all know this lol. It was the first deep dive into his character and where he really established he's not only acting to continue his dead friends dream, but for himself, as a way to begin living for himself.

+ Gush about the way your F/O looks at you (with heart eyes, of course)!

He looks at me with contentment, not always a relaxed or warm, but he knows how to utilize puppy eyes against me.

+ Gush about your F/O’s personality!

WHERE DO I EVEN START?? His personality is first and foremost based around what he can do to prove he's worthy of being the survivor of the crash in the beginning. He's a genuinely hospitable and warm guy, to a fault almost. He is super passive and won't fight back to defend himself, but for others he has no issues with bringing up his personality from his biker gang days. He somehow manages to strike the perfect balance of kind and tough.

+ Gush about how your F/O treats you (Are they protective? Loving? Are you the only person who gets to see their soft side?)!

He's protective and loving, but he feels like he can actually relax around me, let me take care of him, let out his more playful side.

+ Gush about your F/O’s love language!

It's acts of service, what else would you expect? He sometimes overdoes it and can be overbearing, he can struggle with other love languages just because this is how he shows love. But once he draws a balance, a good, normal amount, it's the best, his observant nature and his acts of service are a really good combination.

+ Gush about your F/O’s cuddles!

He always loves to cuddle, but in the beginning it took him a while to initiate. But he really likes just holding me, he likes to casually cuddle, putting his arm around me, or me putting my arm around him, laying our heads on each others shoulders, even around others. He also likes to be the small spoon, but he's also hot as a furnace so he gets sad when I won't cuddle him during summer.

+ Gush about how talented your F/O is!

His talent is all born of hard work, from his handicraft skills, to cooking, he spent years and years learning. His only possible 'innate' talent is photography, but even that has been developed over time. His acting is from years of dedication too. He's just a dedicated man.

+ Free gush pass!

just some of my fav costumes of his

#asks #🤎: mnemophobia

[hostilecityshowdown]

Xentex may I pwease request some diesel, our fav Big Daddy Cool… Maybe shit diesel gets into hanging out with his best friend Razor or some hcs u have on their relationship <3

:3 this is long. i'm a mad man. /j everything is generally pre-hunter

diesel's the default wheelman, no matter whose name the rental car is under. razor has full control over the radio, however, and prefers smaller vehicles for short trips - more excuses for touching diesel's legs when he fusses with the radio

rule number one of sharing a hotel room with razor ramon: never move anything he leaves on the bathroom counter. if he can't find his comb, he'll gunk up yours. if he can't find his clippers, he'll clip you right in the jaw

they're the annoying friends who try to tell you a story but spend the entire time going "and then he-!" "but…" "remember when-" and bursting into laughter, but not, uh… not actually ever finishing a sentence, unless it's each other's. they speak their own language. the 123 kid keeps a road journal and has a whole section dedicated to trying to decode their language. hbk, on the other hand, can parse them with perfect clarity, but they usually talk about things he wasn't around for, so he never has enough context to translate

diesel learned rule number one the hard way. and he has a "spare parts" bag in case raze misplaces an essential and gets the bright idea to “borrow” diesel’s. razor keeps a small collection of back up sunglasses for diesel, who routinely loses his

they usually agree on takeout/restaurant orders, which is… the problem. they end up having to order double of almost everything to have enough to share. this is exclusive to when they’re alone together, otherwise, razor and kid are always sharing food, and hbk and diesel are doing some advanced math to figure out how to get the best bang for their buck

diesel doesn’t like bringing razor to most of his old haunts in detroit, but razor’s the complete opposite and, besides! he used to drag diese with him when he prowled around the miami strip when they were working dallas’s club together. razor’s a local favourite everywhere he goes in florida (excluding clearwater. diesel doesn’t know what happened in clearwater and, honestly, razor probably doesn’t remember either, but those aunties running the cubano restaurant sure do. diesel likes tampa better, anyway)

they like invading gorilla position and watching the cctvs! they always try to pester whoever’s back there into giving them headsets. usually they get chased off because they provide their own colour commentary and can’t keep it down

diesel likes practicing spots with razor. he usually plays it safe, but he’s pretty beat-by-beat about it. raze, in contrast, uses it as the perfect opportunity to rib diesel. you don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times razor’s directed him, surprised him with a small package or an inside cradle, and waved kid in for the three count

hi i love trans!diesel i’m never letting him go. *hands you him.* razor loves being diesel’s wingman when they go out, sure, but he always gets a little bit jealous: that’s his big guy! that’s his best pal. besides, none of these assholes drinking beers at a lounge or strip club are going to treat diese right. maybe this is actually all a set up for razor to have an excuse to be protective and possessive? and to show him off? he really adores diesel’s body, pre medical transition and during all stages of it, and he gets a Little big headed about knowing it so well he’s the only one who can actually appreciate him. he’s the one diesel entrusted with his privacy, he’s the one diesel put down as an emergency contact, and he’s the one who wrote the check for his first operation (granted, it was ddp’s bank account the funding came out of, but that’s another story). if any of these guys think something is off, or wrong, or different about diesel, he’ll pop his top. just the thought of letting diesel take someone back to the hotel room alone and not being treated like he’s any other guy drives razor up a wall

^doesn’t apply to women as often, though, but uh. they prefer to share, anyway, and hbk is usually the one charming all the women as soon as he gets the chance. can you blame him? he’s surrounded by muscleheads and teenyboppers. if diesel has to play bodyguard for shawn outside of work hours, the whole operation usually falls apart. plan b: boys’ night!

diesel loves razor’s chest and lays on it a lot :) especially when they have enough downtime to watch movies, or they found somewhere to lounge around backstage waiting for matches. diesel thinks the optimal time to lay on razor is post-match, pre-shower

when they travel together, razor’s always the guy wanting to stop at the weird roadside attractions and welcome centres. diesel prefers to drive straight through, especially on a time constraint. if kid’s with them, he’s always recording, but razor’s got an excellent eye for photography and loves taking sneaky candid shots of his pals

#long post #[ colour commentary ] #diesel #razor ramon #uhhhhhh #I DON'T . KNOW HOW TO TAG THIS? #[ requests ] #anyway. enjoy! some nsForW implied #[ voyager ]

[captain-astors]

If you're still doing the game can I get a 003 with Juuzou?? :D (*Suzuya voice* "Suzuya Juuzou desu")

If there is a single edit of him that does not contain that line I would be terrified of it, the originality would be too profound! Anyways, WELCOME TO THE SHOW. All aboard everyone, it’s Shinigami time. Slowly but surely I will offer my terribly skewed, probably misinterpreted opinions on every single character. Eat up.

How I feel about this character: 

I love the two reapers. We do not speak of the third. In my heart there is no third. Just two. We do not speak of tres. He’s so pale he probably gets sunburnt on the chin after trying to tell ghost stories to his squad and shining the flashlight from bellow in the dark to make it “spooky” for too long, and then it takes the combined forces of Shinohara and Hanbee to hold him still to splatter some aloe vera on it. Those two are so thankful for each other’s help in containing this gremlin I can guarantee it. He’s toned it down slowly over the recent years of being treated like an Actual Human Being and Not a Fighting Machine by the aforementioned duo as well as the rest of his squad at times, but he’s also gotten stronger and if he wants to be free he will be free. You cannot contain him. It’s like trying to put an eel in a box. RUN MY BOY! SPRINT YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURE! He’s such a vibe and I honestly wish I could maintain the same level of shamelessness at all times but alas, the horrors contain me and the day I am free shall be one to fear for all. He’s so messed up but congratulations to him for trying. Listen to Shinohara when he tells you to go to bed and don’t listen to Hanbee when he says he’s fine after being accidentally stabbed, he’s really not but he doesn’t want to inconvenience you.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character:

Tricky question, He definitely does not seem like the kind of person to love romantically often, quickly, or perhaps even at all. I probably headcanon him as arospec BUT if I had to pick one, Suzuhan is near and dear to my heart. I’d say I ship it confidently but the thing is, the nature of their relationship is kind of irrelevant to me as long as they care about each other. They’re such a special duo to me, I wouldn’t say I think about it the most but it is definitely a comfort thing for me and I thrive off of the work of that one Suzuhan artist. (can’t remember their name but if you’ve so much as glanced through the tag I’m sure you’ve seen them.) To reiterate, I wouldn’t say I specifically ship them romantically nor that I specifically ship them platonically. I simply ship them regardless and without preference. They should be together. They should matter to each other. They should live in harmony and watch scary movies so Suzuya can give ridiculous explanations to how he thinks the visual effects works until Hanbee’s laughing too hard to worry about having nightmares. I want them to learn from each other and grow in tandem. Thank you, and goodnight.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: 

I’m a basic soul, of course I'm going to say Shinohara. That’s his dad. There's no question about it. Literally just father and son. They bring me a great deal of happiness, not my all-time favorite duo but they’re definitely one of them and they’re definitely up there

My unpopular opinion about this character: 

He’s not actually that deep. Love him, but he’s not incredibly complicated or nuanced, nor does he need to be! He’s actually one of few characters in Tokyo Ghoul I consider to be at a perfect level of development, not too much attention nor too little, good arc, good development, satisfying conclusion, good dynamics, interesting to watch on his own. 

Also I don’t like that people willingly embrace that just because terrible things happened to this character in his youth that loosened at least a few screws in his brain doesn’t mean that he’s just not worthy of respect but the same cannot be said for Shikorae. Who is also still a person, even if he’s lost more function. They’re both adults who’ve been deeply affected and while obviously the severity of this differs, and if you knew them personally they should be treated differently, neither of them are animals. But people seem a lot more willing to accept that as fact for one over the other. Funny how that’s the pretty one who retains full verbal function. Given, this isn’t helped by the fact that one is given a very normal resolution while the other becomes the “post credits villain” who loses all human characteristics and really is just reduced to a beast by the narrative itself, but that just makes me disappointed in the author as well. This is becoming more “unpopular shikorae opinions” So I suppose to wrap it all up, actually Suzuya centric, 13’s Jason is actually rather clunky and awkward in appearance and function alike. But this could be the artist and weapon designer in me talking about what a nightmare it is to draw and how terrible it would be for even cutting, let alone fighting on a practical level. Even just as a fantasy weapon I don’t like it very much outside of a few choice panels… Hottest take on this blog in my opinion, I am a lukewarm person on public platforms, I’m just theatrical about it at times. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

As I’ve mentioned I have very few qualms with the handling of his character, and I think he’s excellently written! So I don’t have many wishes, perhaps maybe a bit more time with Hanbee but that’s more me wanting more time for the irrelevant side character who frankly, considering he helped take down Kaneki and was, as said by the guy himself, Suzuya’s key to that fight, looked way too cool and was way too strong to be so minor. That Arata armor with the skull mask? Killed. (RIP to Arata himself though, hope he enjoyed being peeled. ) 

Favorite friendship for this character: 

This question feels redundant to me curiously if I already answered what my favorite non-romantic relationship is, why friendship as well? Anyways to digress, Mutsuki, Hanbee or Haise. I feel like they could get sweets together, or go trick-or-treating. I’ve had a sketch of Hanbee and Juuzou dressed up as an astronaut and a pink alien with four arms respectively rotating in my mind for the past day. It might never exist but remind me if you care.

My crossover ship: 

Do I even need to mention these are never romantic anymore. Zazie the beast. They’ve got very similar vibes, or Milly my beloved. They could get along splendidly for very similar reasons to Hanbee, but in more of an older sister role, and she’s more self-assured.

#suzuya juuzou #miscellaneous not-art things #tokyo ghoul #zeph answers questions about media/characters/ships

[eazy-group]

The Right Yoga Mat Can Make A HUGE Difference In Your Practice

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The Right Yoga Mat Can Make A HUGE Difference In Your Practice

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Prana is one of the very first yoga brands I fell in love with. Its clothes are totally built for a yogi lifestyle—they’re comfortable, lovely, and super-versatile. The Midtown Capri, in particular, is one of my staples for yoga flows and just everyday life. 

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7/8 Springs Leggings Outdoor Voices

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7/8 Springs Leggings Outdoor Voices

You know all those really adorable pastel sports bra and legging sets you see all over Instagram? Well those are often from Outdoor Voices, and yes, they’re just as lovely IRL. Its leggings and tops come in a fun new mix of color combos every season, so you can find one that best suits your yogi vibe. Just one piece of advice: OV’s classic “Spring Leggings” are great for lighter yoga, but if you’re into sweatier vinyasa or hot yoga, opt for their “TechSweat” options instead.

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The Reversible Mat Lululemon

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The Reversible Mat Lululemon

Before you shout “duh!” at your computer, hear me out! Sure, Lululemon built its brand around its iconic yoga pants, but actually, that’s not why they made my list. I’m a huge fan of many of Lulu’s yoga-centric products, including this Reversible Mat. It offers amazing cushion and support (which is clutch if you have sensitive knees, like me). Lululemon also makes great yoga bags, low-impact sports bras, and yes, high-quality leggings. 

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Goddess Leggings Alo Yoga

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Goddess Leggings Alo Yoga

Alo Yoga is a fave (and not just because Halle Berry is obsessed with the brand). They make pretty, flowy tops, sweet matching sports bra-and-leggings sets, and stylish jackets to throw on top of your yogi outfit. I especially love Alo’s Goddess Leggings, which are essentially half tights, half form-fitting leg warmer. (What’s not to love?) 

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Spacedye Midi High Waist Leggings Beyond Yoga

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Spacedye Midi High Waist Leggings Beyond Yoga

If you like to feel comfy, and I mean really comfy, during your yoga flow, look no further than Beyond Yoga’s workout clothes. Its leggings—especially any made with BY’s Spacedye performance fabric—feel equal parts silky and cozy on your skin. Plus, its high-waisted leggings are some of the best I’ve tried. They sit above your belly-button, but don’t feel too tight against your stomach—perfect for flowing from pose to pose with ease.

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Yogitoes® Yoga Towel Manduka

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Yogitoes® Yoga Towel Manduka

Manduka makes a wide range of yoga-focused products—everything from apparel to yoga mats. I’ve tried and loved all of the above, and always get compliments on these leggings. But, as someone whose hands often sweat to the point of slippage during yoga, I’m a big fan of the brand’s yoga towels. They come in all kinds of colors and patterns, and give you great grip.

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Harmony Yoga Mat Jade Yoga

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Harmony Yoga Mat Jade Yoga

Credit: Courtesy of Jade Yoga

Speaking of not slipping during a flow…Jade Yoga mats still go down in my book as the grippiest around. They come in various degrees of thickness, and lots of colors and styles—plus, each one offers the same impressive no-slip traction. Bonus: They’re made from eco-friendly, natural rubber. Jade Yoga also makes a number of other yoga props, including blocks, straps, and towels.

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A-C Hyper Focused Bra In Powervita™ Athleta

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A-C Hyper Focused Bra In Powervita™ Athleta

Athleta makes super-reliable and high-quality workout clothes for everything from running to boxing. And its yoga selection is no exception. I especially love the brand’s sports bras, which offer just enough support for your flow. Plus, they often include cute details. like criss-crossed straps, that add a little something extra to a simple yoga outfit. Bonus: Many of their products are now made with recycled material.  

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High Rise Bike Short Onzie

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High Rise Bike Short Onzie

Now 21% Off

If you’re looking for super-fun, vibrant yoga clothes—Onzie is your brand. From graphic patterns to leopard print and more, its offerings will help you express your fierce inner yogi. It also makes great, flowy tops like this twist back shirt (that I’ve worn more times than I can count), which pair perfectly with their funky sports bras. 

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I was introduced to this brand about four years ago, and I’ve been obsessed with its eco-friendly mats ever since. They are made with non-toxic material and are biodegradable. What makes them even cooler is they feature strategically placed lines that are designed to help you find proper alignment and body placement. Bonus: They come with a yoga mat bag to help you tote your planet-friendly mat with ease.  

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Botanical Yoga Mat La Vie Boheme

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Botanical Yoga Mat La Vie Boheme

I was introduced to this brand about four years ago, and I’ve been obsessed with its gorgeous patterned mats ever since. While these mats aren’t the most technical ones around, I love that they offer a bit of extra cushion. Plus, you have something beautiful to look at throughout your flow. 

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If you’re looking for a more affordable yoga gear and clothing brand, Gaiam has you covered. This brand offers a solid yoga mat for less than $20, with countless patterns and colors to choose from. It also has plenty of yoga props, including blocks, bags, and straps. And if you’re in the market for a cute new yoga outfit that will cost you less than $100, check out some of its sweet sets. 

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13

Half Toe Grip Non-Slip Socks toesox

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Half Toe Grip Non-Slip Socks toesox

Do your feet slip and slide around during your flow? Yeah, same, and it kinda disrupts the Zen. One solution: yoga socks. ToeSox makes all kinds of different options with grippy soles—including toeless pairs, full- or partial-coverage, and versions designed for specific activities in mind, including yoga. Bonus: The can double as barre or Pilates socks. 

Freelance Journalist

Kristine Thomason is a writer and editor with nearly a decade of experience creating content for print and digital publications. Previously, she was the health and fitness director at mindbodygreen, and the fitness and wellness editor at Women’s Health. Kristine’s work has appeared in Men’s Health, Travel + Leisure, Health, and Refinery29, among others. She holds a journalism degree from New York University, and is certified in personal training by the National Academy of Sports Medicine (NASM).

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[routeraven]

Puff Your Stress Away With Hyde Retro Disposable Vape

Vaping with Hyde Retro is a great way to enjoy your vaping experience without having to worry about refilling or recharging your device. Similarly, disposable vapes come in a variety of flavors and nicotine strengths, so you can find the perfect one for your needs. Plus, they’re easy to use and require no maintenance, so you can just vape and go! If you’re new to vaping, disposable vapes are a great place to start.

Disposables are all the rage these days and for good reason. They're affordable, convenient, and perfect for on-the-go vaping. And now, with the Hyde Retro Disposable Vape, you can enjoy all of those things plus incredible flavor and huge clouds.

The Hyde Retro Disposable Vape features a powerful 400mAh battery that will keep you going all day long. It also has a 12ml e-liquid capacity, so you don't have to worry about running out of juice mid-vape. Plus, with its cutting-edge ceramic coil technology, you'll enjoy amazing flavor and huge clouds with every puff.

Automatic Light-Up In Hyde Retro

Automatic light-up is a feature in Hyde Retro that causes the LED to light up when the user inhales. This is usually done by sensors that detect when the user is taking a drag, but some models may have a button that the user has to press to activate the light. The purpose of the automatic light-up is to let the user know that the device is working properly and that they are taking a hit. It can also be used as a safety feature since it lets others know that there is an active vape nearby.

Travel-Friendly Design

A disposable vape is a small, self-contained electronic device that simulates the act of smoking. It generally consists of a battery, a heating element, and a cartridge filled with nicotine, flavorings, and other chemicals. These are designed to be used once and then thrown away.

Most disposable vapes such as Hyde Retro have a travel-friendly design that makes them easy to take with you on the go. Some even come with a built-in USB charger so you can recharge them on the go. Disposable vapes are a great way to transition from smoking to vaping, or for those who want to try vaping without committing to it long-term.

Exciting Flavors Of Hyde Retro 

Aloe Grape: This exhilarating blend of flavors will tantalize your taste buds and leave you wanting more. The perfect balance of sweetness and tartness, the aloe grape vape flavor by Hyde Retro is perfect for any occasion. Whether you're looking for a quick pick-me-up or an all-day vape, this flavor will not disappoint. 

Bananas and Cream: Bananas and Cream is a classic flavor that can be enjoyed all day long. This creamy and delicious vape juice is perfect for those who love the taste of ripe bananas and rich cream. The sweet banana flavor is blended with smooth and creamy milk to create a vape juice that is simply irresistible. Bananas and Cream is a must-try flavor for all banana lovers!

Blue Razz Ice: Blue Razz Ice by Hyde Retro is a refreshing and icy take on the classic blue razz flavor. This e-juice is perfect for those who enjoy tart and sweet flavors. The blueberry and raspberry flavors are well balanced and complement each other perfectly. The menthol finish gives this e-juice a nice cooling effect that is perfect for hot summer days. 

Brazzmallows: This flavor by Hyde Retro is a delightful vape flavor that gives you the taste of rich, creamy marshmallows with every puff. If you're looking for a unique and delicious vape flavor to add to your collection, Brazzmallows is a must-try! This e-juice has a spot-on flavor that tastes just like the real thing.

Cola Ice: This flavor is perfect for those who love soda or carbonated drinks. It has a very realistic taste that will leave you feeling refreshed and satisfied. The menthol in this e-juice gives it a nice cooling sensation, making it even more refreshing. Trust us, you'll be hooked on this flavor after just one puff!

Energize your senses with the zesty flavor of Hyde Retro’s Energize. This delicious blend of orange and lemon is perfect for an afternoon pick-me-up or a morning energizer. Packed with vitamin C, this vape juice will give you the boost you need to power through your day. Try it today and enjoy the vibrant flavor of our Energize Vape Juice.

Morning Brew: This rich and flavorful vape juice is made with a blend of coffee and cream, giving you a smooth and refreshing vape experience that will leave you feeling energized and ready to take on the day. Whether you're looking for an early morning pick-me-up or a mid-day snack, Morning Brew is the perfect vape flavor for you. So kick back, relax, and enjoy a cup of Morning Brew today!

Pina Colada: The Pina Colada by Hyde Retro provides a smooth and flavorful vaping experience that is sure to please any palate. The Pina Colada flavor is also available in a variety of nicotine strengths, making it a great option for both beginners and experienced vapers alike.

Sour Apple Ice: It is a great choice for those who enjoy sour and sweet flavors. This e-liquid has a tart green apple flavor on the inhale, followed by a refreshing menthol blast on the exhale. If you're looking for a unique vape flavor that will keep you coming back for more, Sour Apple Ice is definitely worth trying!

#Hyde Retro #Hyde Retro Disposable Vape #disposable vape

[hair-regrowth-serum]

VIVI’s 2020 Holiday Gift Guide

Shopping for everyone on your holiday list is stressful. There’s always someone whom you struggle to find the perfect gift for. The good news? Wellness and lifestyle products make great gifts for everyone! Giving the gift of wellness shows you care and want the best for them. A lifestyle gift can open their eyes to new brands and convenient ways to live a more holistic life.

Regardless if you’re stumped or just looking for new, creative gift ideas, VIVI is here. Our collection of products can fit your list, no matter who is on it. Let’s dive into VIVI’s 2020 Holiday Gift Guide!

For the workaholic

If you know someone burning the candle from both ends, Catching Z’s are bound to be a welcomed gift. These sweet treats are formulated to deliver deeper, more restorative sleep. Melatonin helps naturally prep the body for slumber and organic hemp extract helps the mind cope with stress. All in all, Catching Z’s help stabilize the body’s natural sleep cycle. Let’s be honest, we could all use a little more of that. 

For the beauty lover

Introduce the beauty lover in your life to their new favorite hair product: Root 66. This abundance serum is designed for holistic volume and fuller hair. It delivers moisture through Sativa (hemp) seed oil while natural DHT blockers thicken hair and prevent hair loss. Adaptogens plus caffeine and green tea awaken hair follicles, increase blood circulation, and naturally revive overworked locks. 

For grandma and grandpa

Grandparents are bound to love Vita+ Gel, VIVI’s 99.9% effective hand sanitizer. It was created to fight off bacteria, but it also nourishes and moisturizes hands with Vitamin E and Aloe Vera. The added bonus? It smells heavenly with organic peppermint and lavender oils. In all fairness, Vita+ is an excellent gift for anyone on your list!

For the new momma

Did one of your friends have a quarantine baby? Then Vita+ Spray is for her. This new mom will benefit from the versatility a spray hand sanitizer gives her. Baby in one arm, 99.9% effective hand sanitizer ready in the other, it’s brilliant. Plus, she’ll appreciate that Vita+ Spray is formulated with clean, natural, soothing ingredients perfectly safe for her new baby. 

In an effort to combat COVID-19, 100% of the net proceeds of VIVI’s Vita+ hand sanitizers will be donated to World Vision and Hunger in America! Learn more about our mission. 

For the one who’s always sick

Have a friend who’s always calling in sick? Help them out with the C-Sweet. These yummy gummy treats help shield the body from illness with a daily dose of Vitamin C. They’re also packed with our proprietary formula of organic, broad-spectrum Nano-emulsified hemp extract to help ease their mind. The C-Sweet is a boost to anyone’s everyday wellness regime.

For someone in a city

To protect against toxins and environmental pollutants, shower your city-slicker with CBDetox. It soothes and revives overworked hair using tea tree oil, plus relieves itchiness and flakes. This de-stressing elixir also has hemp oil to soothe and moisturize. CBDetox balances the scalp’s PH level while adaptogens and all-natural antioxidants help detoxify hair from the root.

For everyone else on your list 

Meet the gift that anyone will LOVE: Daily Vivant. These delicious gummies deliver head-to-toe wellness with a daily dose of Calcium, Vitamins B6, B12, and E boosting overall energy and health. Daily Vivant also packs Biotin promoting natural hair growth. Each gummy contains a powerful pairing of THC-free cannabinoids plus a potent blend of essential vitamins, rejuvenating skin and nails, strengthening hair, boosting the immune system, and relaxing the mind. Daily Vivant Gummies will have them looking and feeling refreshed from the inside out. Read more..

#Hair Loss Treatments for Women

[kikisfuneralservice]

the view from here is beautiful - kim jonghyun x reader

summary: getting away from the snow for winter break to get a taste of the heat is just what you needed

gn!reader x kim jonghyun

4.0k words

rating: M - explicit sexual content, swearing, and drinking

*ALL CONTENT IS PURELY FICTIONAL AND NON-ASSOCIATIVE WITH ANY OF SHINEE OR SM ENTERTAINMENT- PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES!*

It was a beautiful evening out, as well as it was to get a drink with some friends on the rooftop. The fresh sunburn on your back from a day out for hours had called for some aloe, yet it had manifested, leaving a sting that only the light of the moonlight could cool off. 

A mojito was a perfect way to end a day, especially by chatting it up with some friends that you hadn’t seen for a long time. The air was warm, and it was just the right weather to wear something light and breezy. “How long did it take for you to get here?” You sipped at your glass, clearing your throat. 

“Not too long,” you said, making the trip here sound less extreme than it really was, originally getting stuck in the snow back home. You forgot about it, anyway. You were here on a warm island with your boyfriend, meeting all of your friends, and that’s all you needed. “Only like five or six hours.” Not counting the many delays and the numerous babies crying. 

“I’m really glad you could make it,” your friend said with a smile. “It’s nice to get out of Antarctica once and a while, right?” You laughed; it wasn’t that cold. Sure, the weather reached below the freezing point of water, but it was what you lived in. It sure was going to be hard to go back, though.

“It’s so beautiful,” you mused, admiring the beach from the rooftop, realizing how much you missed being somewhere warm. “I wish I could stay here forever.”

“Christmas must be much more fun with snow, though, right?” your friend inquired, taking a sip of their drink. You chuckled, drinking as well as to not remember how it was back home.

“Maybe for one day,” you said. “At the moment, it’s beautiful, but not when it lasts for three to four months straight.” The shoveling, the accidents, the cold, and more were enough for you to buy two tickets to Puerto Rico just to get the hell out. 

You felt a presence move up from behind you, a familiar whiff of cologne passing by your nose. “I say that we never leave,” Jonghyun said as you looked at him with a smile. The glass in his hand had now been discarded and a few of the buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing honey skin underneath, gaining even more of a tan than his already naturally colored skin-tone. It was beautiful, and you had always been jealous of him being able to get tan, while you were always left with sunburns. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, feeling an arm wrap around your waist. “Let’s just move here.”

“Well,” your friend started with a chuckle, “it’s all fun until some of the bad rain storms hit. Sometimes if they’re bad enough, they really can cause a ruckus.”

“Really?” you questioned, repositioning your hand on your glass. “I guess that makes sense; since you guys are all surrounded by water. Are there many hurricanes?”

“Not too many,” they said, clicking their tongue, “although we’re probably due for another one soon.” You both laughed, throwing your heads back in sync. You glanced at Jonghyun, his eyes darting around quickly, barely paying attention to the conversation in front of you as his arm was still attached to your waist. 

“I really hope it stays like this for you guys for a while,” you said, wishing you could live in your friend’s house for the month, just to get away from the snow. “How did you even end up here?”

Jonghyun, sensing the start of another long conversation, moved his arm to your lower back, pulling you against his body. The two of you often had signals for each other, and they were put in place for situations exactly like these: One of you would be in a situation that the other wanted to be out of, and thus came the motions of letting each other know when the both of you should pack it up for the night. However, his motions weren’t any that he had done in the past, usually being a light arm squeeze or rubbing your shoulders. He massaged your lower back, placing a kiss on the side of your head, causing blood to rush to your face quickly. His lips lingered at your temples, making a prominent noise as he moved his head away from your face. His hands roamed back to your sides, stroking them softly; he was being very touchy with you, which wasn’t something new, but he knew when it was appropriate and when it wasn’t. And it wasn’t one of those times. 

“Jjong,” you whispered, him humming lightly in response, “whatcha doin’?” He smirked softly, feeling you in his arms. 

He leaned into your ear to whisper something to you, his lips brushing against the tips of your ear and feeling his warm breath. “I just missed you today, baby.” His voice was low and sultry, feeling it reverberate inside of your skull. He smiled, putting his face into your hair as you swallowed roughly, checking your watch casually. 

“Hey,” you said to your friend, “I think we’re going to head out now… It’s getting a little late, and I’m feeling a little tired.” 

They laughed: “It’s eight o’clock! The night’s just begun! But if you say so…” They smiled, reaching over the bar to fill up the glass that had been previously emptied earlier. 

“Let’s go to the beach tomorrow,” you promised, holding up your pinky finger, your friend following suit.

“That’s a promise, right?” You both laughed as Jonghyun hummed softly, moving you closer to him to kiss the top of your head. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it…” You narrowed your eyes at your friend who simply laughed, turning their head and reaching for the remote to turn the music up louder.

“Why so sudden?” You were walking alongside him, his arm attached around your waist and lightly stroking your skin under your top. You looked at his eyes that had grown dark with a familiar smile on his face, one that normally seemed innocent, yet this one had a bit of a sinful turn to it. 

“You look very good tonight,” he told you, looking at you with pure infatuation, “although, I think what you’re wearing is a little too revealing…” He looked down at your lack of clothes, although a shirt over a bathing suit was really all you did need for how warm it was outside, especially after a day in the sun.

“It’s hot!” you said, backing yourself up and he chuckled, placing a small kiss on your temple. “Do you expect me to walk around in long pants and a sweatshirt?” 

“I think at least longer shorts would suffice,” he said, motioning to his knee-length shorts that quite frankly looked like they were a uniform for a boys’ boarding school uniform. 

“Then I think that you should button up your shirt, sir,” you told him, taking your fingers and softly touching up from his chest to the bottom of his throat, causing his breath to hitch. “It is getting a bit hot in here, huh?” You smiled, enjoying the teasing as your boyfriend turned alongside you to the next street. 

“When we get back to the hotel,” he started, looking up at the sky, “I’ll be able to take it off… How about that?” Your mouth formed an “o” shape, slapping his bicep, a giggle escaping his mouth. 

“So this is the reason you wanted to leave!” you exclaimed as he looked into your eyes; they always had a sparkle to them, as if the stars captured in his eyes were stolen from the galaxy above, his way-too-stubborn-self refusing to give them back. From the photos in his childhood, the stolen stars were present, so you called him the boy from the galaxy. His perfectly sculpted features were all yours, and he wanted you to know. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough,” he said, giving your sides a light squeeze. “Plus, you are always so much more beautiful with a pink tint on your cheeks.” You rolled your eyes, wanting to shove him off of you, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“There’s wine in the room,” you said, “how about that?” he hummed affirmatively, continuing to carefully walk alongside you in the dimly lit streets that were filled with music and laughter late at night.

*

As soon as you walked through the doors of the hotel, your boyfriend picked up his pace, almost rushing you to the elevator doors. You laughed, “Woah, there tiger.” He smiled his usual smile, allowing you to enter the doors first. “Thank you.”

“Hey! Do yo-” Jonghyun rushed in despite the person running toward the elevator and quickly closed the doors, the sound of the elevator ding going off as you watched the man in the suit’s disappointed face as the doors closed.

“Jjong!” you exclaimed, slapping his arm. 

“It’s okay,” he dismissed, “our floor is high anyway, so it will take a while.” Before you could roll your eyes at your boyfriend again he had pulled you in by your waist and made contact with your lips, causing you to jump in surprise. No time was wasted as he moved his hands up your top and attached his lips to your neck like he was a vampire, and you were fresh prey for the taking. You gasped, feeling his hands around you, quickly roaming, and then meeting each other to clasp around your lower back. 

“Jongh-” you started before he connected both of your lips again. His kisses were always thoughtful and meaningful, but these were feverish, and although he still kept his passion, it was a little too much passion for a hotel elevator. You reached up to grasp his hair in your fingers as he slid his hands up your shirt, feeling your warm skin in his touch. You detached your lips from his to try to speak: “Not here, Jjong…”

“There’s no one here, right?” he said quietly. You couldn’t answer before he moved in to kiss you once more, his moans in your mouth sending a shiver up your spine as you gasped for breath. He held onto you tight, his hands traveling downward to place his hands on your ass, squeezing you tightly, ultimately resulting in you letting out a groan as his hands quickly traveled everywhere as fast as possible. The ding of the elevator suddenly rang, the both of you suddenly running out of time as the doors whipped open. You separated yourself from your boyfriend to find a woman and her daughter, both holding hands, standing across from the both of you, Jonghyun still holding you in his arms. 

“I-I am so sorry-” the woman started, stepping back and shooing away her young daughter. You slapped Jonghyun, preparing to blame him for this later, but instead he took your hand and swiftly led you out. 

“My apologies, Ma’am,” he apologized, bowing his head slightly and rushing you out of the elevator and into the hallway. 

“You’re insane!” you hissed at him through a hushed voice. “We just traumatized that woman and her daughter. SHE LOOKED SIX.”

Jonghyun fought back a smirk, turning his head to look back at your angry expression while leading you down the hallway, his hand in yours. “It was kind of a rush, though, right?” he said, a chuckle slipping from his lips. I guess that was kind of exhilarating, you thought as he squeezed your hand, and took out a keycard out of his pocket and inserted it into one of the doors. 

“You still want me to take this off?” you asked him, raising your eyebrow. He pulled you in and slammed the door shut, smiling at you with his lipstick stained mouth and out-of-place hair that was once done up so nice that you had pulled and pulled on.

“May I?” he inquired, not taking his eyes off of you. You nodded as he pulled you onto him, feeling the evident tent now in his pants, sliding the shawl you had off of your shoulders and down to the floor. He carefully grabbed your chin, bringing it upwards to kiss him a single time: “You’re just wearing a bathing suit under this…” It was a statement rather than posed as a question to you, and all you could do was simply nod. “May I take this off? It seems to be getting in the way…” He lightly tugged on the end of your shirt, eliciting a smile from you.

“As long as I get to unbutton yours,” you teased, playing with the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck. He smiled a white-toothed grin; he was built so nicely from head to toe, not being able to simply rest your eyes on one part of his body. He pulled your shirt off, leaving you in your bathing suit and him in his half-unbuttoned shirt and shorts. You pulled him in to kiss you once again, your hands traveling down to unbuckle his pants, feeling him smile against your lips.

“You really don’t like my shorts, huh?” he said with a chuckle, moving his hands to grip your waist, stroking your skin softly. 

“No,” you said, “I really don’t… I’d rather them be off of you.” He advanced backward to sit on the end of the white sheeted bed, holding you in his arms with a tender kiss as you carefully unbuttoned his floral beach shirt, discarding any clothes left on the both of you to the floor. His lips were soft and fit perfectly in with yours, leaving everything from his tongue swiping across your teeth to his noises in your mouth the perfect fit of your puzzle.

“Sit on me,” he said in between breaths, holding your still upright body as he sat himself down on the bed, pulling you in by your ass closer to him. “Sit on me, please; on my lap.” 

“You want me that badly?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair as he helplessly nodded: “Say it. Say you want me. I know you do after you couldn’t wait to touch me until we got into that elevator.” He whined, placing his head in your chest. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded. His hands quivered as he took his time, savoring every inch of your skin like smooth sand, feeling every wave in your body with his greedy little fingers. Only the cloth on his lower half compared to your swim bottoms were the only pieces separating you from each others’ warm exposed bodies, excreting sweat and heat at an impossibly fast rate. You wrapped your legs around his body, what a body; his toned, honey-colored body that was heaving for breath under your control and yours only. Everything from his arms to his lower trail were covered with tight veins that you could practically see the blood pumping through them, his hard-on making an appearance under you. Your circular movements on your boyfriend sent a spark up your body; it ached for friction or some sort of action as you edged yourself along. 

“Jjong,” you softly called out, almost as if it weren’t directed toward him, alas implied as you stared into empty space, feeling him against you. The man under you made a noise of pleasure as you felt his hand run across your thighs, squeezing them tightly as you slowly rutted against him. Your hips stuttered against him as he moved his hips up to meet yours, mindlessly bucking them up into you.

“Love it-love you,” he moaned, “so pretty… Take off your clothes…” You moved to take off your bottoms, revealing a warm patch on the center of your boyfriend’s underwear. His head was tilted away from yours, burning a fiery heat, not able to look you in the eyes as you slowly undressed for him.

“Off,” you told him, plucking at his waistband, “take it off.” He groaned, pulling down the last of what covered his body, sighing at the release under the hot fabric. 

“Good…” His eyebrows were knitted together, moving his hands that resided on your lower back further toward him. “Sit-sit on me, Y/N…”

“You want me to sit on you?” you replied, sliding your hand through his soft hair that was full of volume and length. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “Wanna make you feel good, baby…” You felt your stomach stir at his whines, still slowly rocking yourself on his legs, wanting to stay in this position for a little while longer, feeling the heat rise in your body quickly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “like this, though…” He smiled lazily, meeting your glazed over eyes. His eyes were heavy and dark, the stars in his eyes hiding away behind the other side of the moon, waiting for the sun to rise again. Even just his gaze sent a shiver up your spine as he lifted your hips up carefully and set them down onto his tensed muscle, unable to continue at the sensation of you around him.

“Oh…” His mouth, gaped wide open, moaned out. You captured his lips in yours, feeling him move under you slowly and hesitantly. His hands traveled up your body, touching your chest, causing you to sigh into his mouth, the sound reverberating in his skull. “Y/N…” he spoke into your mouth, removing his lips from yours.

“What?” Your legs trembled at his touch; Jonghyun bit down on his lip at the sensation, and moved his head away as if he were coming up with another thought. 

“Move,” he said, out of breath, removing you off of his lap, “move over…” You felt him lay you gently down on the soft duvet, moving his hands again to place around your face, suddenly shivering at the lack of warmth he had so readily provided previously. He moved onto you, watching his face above yours and his pretty, pretty locks dangling down his face as he looked down at you, his muscles tensed. “That’s better.”

You frowned slightly, realizing you had less control than before, but the lazy smile on his face was still enough to keep you just as excited. “I liked being on top of you better.” He chuckled, stroking the sides of your face softly, feeling everything from the tiny hairs to partly healed up scars, touching everything to know you were real. 

“But here,” he said, bringing his lips closer to yours, “I get to see you better.”  

“You’re cheesy,” you told him, a laugh coming from his mouth and causing his mouth to curl up into a beautiful smile. 

“Only for you,” he whispered, moving down to kiss your neck, making you gasp as if this were the first time he had done this; every time with him felt new, and each time you loved him even more and more. “God, Y/N… Look what you’ve done to me.” His skin grew red and puffy, sweat beading up around his forehead, and his entire body flushed. He looked down, as if he were going to stroke himself, but instead lifted your hips.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, earning a small smile from him.

“…Wanted better access.” Your face flushed with slight embarrassment as he lined himself up to you, your hands reaching to dig your nails into his back. You dug your nails harder into him as you felt him insert himself into you, a groan catching in your throat. 

“Jongh-“ You couldn’t finish as he swiftly pulled your body back from his and back into you, feeling him deep inside of you. 

“I want you so bad,” he said, mindlessly pumping in and out of your body. He was so beautiful over you: His broad shoulders tightening as his body moved up and down, closing his eyes while letting out noises of pleasure. “You’re… you’re so nice and wet for me, baby.” 

Your mouth hung agape, feeling him in and out of you, aching for more as you tighten your arms around his neck. He moved his head down to meet your collarbones, kissing them gently but keeping his lips there, as if he were going to mark you up. “Faster… please.”

He grunted in response, quickening up his pace, moving his arms from your body to grab the headboard of the bed frame behind you. “So pretty- you’re so pretty.” His eyes fluttered open to meet yours, barely able to keep eye contact as your eyes rolled back, smelling colors as you felt your stomach tighten. “Y/N… I’m close…”

You nodded fervently, capturing your lips in between your teeth, drawing blood as the man above you trembled, his hips stuttering against yours; you felt his warmth pool inside you, quickly chasing his release with a throat-ripping groan, feeling your body overtake you as you neared your end. 

*

You smiled, humming contently as you closed your eyes and laid back on the soft pillow cushioning your head. Nothing but the duvet of the bed was covering you up, feeling warm as your boyfriend poured a glass of wine distant from you. 

“A little more,” you teased, watching his smile grow as he filled the glass to the top. His chest gleamed with the afterlook of sweat, pajama shorts hanging low on his waist as he raised the glasses from the table and over onto the bed.

“Is this enough, my love?” he cooed, placing the glass carefully in your hands. 

“You’re clingy,” you told him as he feigned surprised, placing his hand lightly on his chest. He grinned, moving into bed next to you to wrap his arms around your bare body. “You sure you don’t want some?” You turned your head toward his, his head resting softly in the nape of your neck.

He hummed, tracing his hands softly, little shapes and patterns onto your bare back. “All I need is you,” he told you, and he was sincere. After all, he was your favorite lover boy, wanting nothing but to praise you. “I am perfectly content right here.” He leaned in to place a sweet kiss on your lips, as always, lingering to taste the sweet wine on your lips.

You pulled away from him with a smile, “If you want some, go get yourself a glass.” He smiled, placing his hand delicately around your jawline, feeling his breath on your face.

“Maybe I will,” he said, a smirk growing on his face, “or… maybe I can just…” He moved his arms in to suddenly grab around your waist, causing you to gasp as he grinned devilishly, placing small, rapid kisses all around your face. You laughed, his lips tickling you as they were placed on every part of your face, then resting on your lips, laughing against his mouth as he puckered his lips. 

“I love you,” you told him, as if it were the first time ever telling him, but his excitement remained, his eyes growing softer.

“I love you more.” You cocked your head, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“We’re not doing this again,” you told him, narrowing your eyes. You took a sip from your glass that you had luckily not spilled all over the sheets. He buried his head into your neck, causing you to laugh, his hair tickling your neck.

“I still love you,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “more than anything.” You laced your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes slowly flutter shut. He was never not beautiful in your eyes: From his perfectly sculpted jaw to his chiseled legs, from head to toe he was absolutely stunning. It didn’t take long for you to take notice to him, and you made sure to not let him out of your sight. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was forever a hand to hold; and he was yours.

*

thank you for reading once again! please leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed, and make sure to follow me on twitter for more updates!

#SHINee #shinee jonghyun #shinee x reader #shinee smut #kpop smut #kim jonghyun #jonghyun #jonghyun smut #shinee fic #kpop fic #jonghyun x reader #jonghyun fic

[jihyuncompass]

Link to the Other Boys

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Giving: Acts of Service 

“Vyn?”

“Yes?” 

“May I ask you a question?” You asked him. Vyn took a sip from his cup of tea in his hand. His brow gently raised with curiosity. 

“Of course. What’s your question?” 

“I’ve been thinking about trying to get some plants for my apartment. I don’t have the room for a whole garden in my apartment. But I wanted to try and get at least a few little things.” You explained. “Thing is, I don’t really know anything about plants or taking care of them.” 

Vyn set his teacup down on the table. “Well that is something I could surely assist with.” He readjusted in his seat with a familiar spark in his eye. “What kind of plants are you thinking about?” 

You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your gaze. “Well the truth is, I’m not really sure. I don’t exactly have a green thumb like you do.” Vyn’s expression didn’t waver, instead he just picked up his teacup to sip at the tea again. 

“That’s alright.” He started. “I’m sure I can help you find something to suit your needs.” Vyn showed you that reassuring smile that he knew could easily put you at ease. Meeting his smile you sipped from your own cup of tea. 

A few days later Vyn had invited you to his home. Saying that he’d found some plants you might be interested in. You arrived at Vyn’s house on a sunny and warm Saturday afternoon, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on your skin. 

You met Vyn in his garden. Walking up to him as he was bent over a patch of flowers. Checking for any weeds growing there and checking the soil’s moisture. Hearing your footsteps approaching Vyn glanced over his shoulder. 

“Ah I didn’t hear you drive up.” Vyn removed his gardening gloves and set them to the side, standing up to properly greet you. “Thank you for coming here on your day off.” 

“Of course! I’m more than happy to visit you.” 

“Well I’m grateful nonetheless.” Vyn said. “I picked up a few houseplants for you the other day. I think they’re just what you’re looking for.” 

Vyn led you inside his home, leading you to the small sunroom in the back of his house. On a table you noticed a few assorted potted plants. 

“Most of these plants require little attention. They’re ideal for people with little time to dedicate to upkeep.” You nodded thoughtfully, listening to him as he started his explanations. “This aloe vera plant only needs watering every couple weeks or so. It doesn’t require much and aloe vera can be used to relieve burns or other skin problems.” Vyn’s eyes shifted towards you, noticing your expressions. 

You gave him a reassuring smile and nodded for him to continue. He motioned towards the next one. “This is a spider plant. These plants are well known for being difficult to truly kill. It only needs watering every couple weeks, and even if you forget the plant usually won’t die. They also do well with almost any light conditions.” 

“This is wonderful.” You said with a smile. “You really thought through all of this.” 

“Of course, you asked for my help after all.” He said. Looking back at the plants in front of both of you. 

He continued on explaining each plant. Going into detail about each and every one. You nodded thoughtfully with each one. The more time he explained the more you realized just how much he’d prepared for you. It was almost as if he was an expert on each and every one. 

“Do you think these will do?” Vyn asked you. 

“These are perfect.” You said happily. “Thank you.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” Vyn said. “Now, if you aren’t in too much of a rush. Would you like to stay and have some tea with me?” 

As always, you graciously accepted.

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Receiving: Words of Affirmation

“Ouch!” You cried out, quickly pulling your hand back from the stove. Checking your hand you cringed at the bright red angry mark left on your hand. You hadn’t meant to brush your hand against the hot pan you’d just taken out of the oven, but by the time you had realized how close it was to your hand it was already too late. 

Turning up the cold water you ran the water over the burn. Taking sharp breaths as your hand stung. Looking at the clock you sighed loudly. Vyn was going to be arriving any second. You should have started cooking earlier, and now here you were trying to finish dinner while also managing this burn on your hand. 

After several minutes you turned off the cold water. Looking over the injury, once the water turned off the pain returned. You grimaced at the sight, it likely wouldn’t blister much but it was still unpleasant. Looking around your eyes stopped on the aloe vera plant on your shelf. It’d grown a bit since Vyn had given it to you as you’d be careful to follow his directions. 

Being careful you broke off a small piece of the plant, rubbing the inside gel on your burn like Vyn had told you to do. Bandaging it up after you've finished with the aloe. 

You’d hardly noticed the burn by the time Vyn arrived. Greeting him as you usually would. 

“What happened to your hand?” Vyn asked after taking his shoes off. You glanced back at the bandage. 

“Oh I just burned myself cooking. It’s nothing.” Vyn didn’t seem convinced by your explanation. “It’s really alright Vyn. I ran it under cold water and even used some of that aloe vera plant like you told me.” 

Vyn seemed a bit surprised by your words. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah I just snapped off a little bit of the plant and used the stuff inside.” You pointed towards the plant on the shelf. 

Vyn approached the plant on your shelf, taking note of the other houseplants he’d found for you. “I’m glad it was of good use.” Vyn wandered towards the snake plant you’d put near your window. Admiring how the leaves had grown and started to sprout new offshoots. “You’ve done a really great job of taking care of these.” 

Standing next to him you smiled. “Well it’s all thanks to your guidance.” Vyn met your eyes, you couldn’t quite determine what he was thinking. However he seemed happy with what you were saying. “Truthfully I wouldn't have had any idea of what to do without you. I probably wouldn’t have picked the right plants or killed the ones you gave me.” 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that terrible.” Vyn said. 

“Oh I’m not so sure.” You responded. “But your guidance and help has really meant a lot to me. Thank you.” 

Vyn smiled, his eyes shining. “Well, anytime you need help. With anything, please reach out to me.” You nodded, taking his hand in yours. 

“Always. I promise.” 

#tears of themis #vyn richter #vyn richter x reader #mo yi #mo yi x reader #tot #mihoyo

[random-imagines-blog]

Love Peas {Hiram Lodge x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1894 Summary: Hiram comes home after a very rough night. Notes: Mentions of death

Shifting under the covers, you heard a noise coming from downstairs. The house was usually quiet save for the murmur of the appliances and electronics, a sound that you had gotten used to over the months of living here with your boyfriend, Hiram. So each and every footstep on the ground sounded like a racket. You laid still, expecting the security system to trigger, saying that there was an intruder, but it did no such thing. The power was still on, you could hear the hum still, that little electrical buzz that was your constant background noise. So that meant whoever was in your house had the keycode. Hiram.

There was even more clamor from downstairs. A groaning sound. Now you knew for sure it was Hiram. You’ve heard him, unfortunately, be in pain on more than one occasion through your relationship. It was the price that he paid for being in the ‘business’ that he was.

You swept the blankets off of you, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. You pulled your robe closed over your pajamas as you made your way quickly to the door, through the hallway, and then started down the stairs to see what the damage was this time. You were always terrified that he was going to come home covered in blood, battered beyond repair. That you were going to hold him and hear nothing but the death rattle right before he would be gone. It was a scene that ran through your nightmares. A scene that if it were in front of you, you were ill-prepared to deal with.

There was nothing lazy, or just-woken up about your movements. Foot descending after foot on the runner of the stairs, keeping the chilliness of the hard floors at bay. Through the moonlight coming in through the windows, you were able to see a form just slipping out of the foyer, making it’s way to the kitchens. “Hiram?" You asked, reaching the bottom of the staircase and turning to follow. He was hurt, though there was no blood on the floor. There wasn’t a trail leading after him. But by the way that his leg was sliding behind him, it looked like it was broken at the very least. You flicked the switch and the kitchen came to life with bright lights, revealing everything. Under those florescent s, there was no room to hide.

Though Hiram was trying pretty hard to hide.

He sat down on the floor, head leaning back against the wooden cabinets. He was bruised, but that was an understatement. He was severely bruised. Black eye. Split lip. His usually perfect hair was tousled in a not-unattractive way but the very fact that he hadn’t immediately took a come to it scared you a little. If that was the state of his face, you were very concerned about the rest of him. You got down on your knees next to him, ignoring the discomfort, nervous to even touch him. He looked like he would break if he did.

“I can explain...” Hiram started off by saying, but then realized that he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this one. He’d look up into your face, and then would immediately try to cut off the eye contact, looking down at the ground instead.

“I think this is going a bit beyond the first aid box’s capabilities,” You winced upon seeing the other side of his face. Oh lord, even that eye was starting to swell up. He was close to being a human bruise at this point. That poor, gorgeous face of his. “Maybe we should get you to a hospital. Is anything broken? How did you get home?”

“Cab,” Hiram admitted, ignoring your first question. “The driver was - taking care of things while I left.”

“Christ, Hiram,” You groaned. You got up to your feet, dashing towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit that was in there. The amount of times that you had to replace this thing. The pharmacy probably thought that you were in an abusive relationship. You came back to see that he hardly moved, other than to wipe a bit of blood that was coming from the deep cut in his bottom lip. You sat back down beside him, opened up the first aid kit, tore into a package that contained an alcohol wipe and started to blot.

“Do we got any ice packs?” Hiram moaned. You stood up to go and check, looking through the contents of the freezer. You rummaged past the frozen vegetables, frozen pizzas, bottles of alcohol to find that - no, there were no ice packs in the freezer.

“Have to do with some vegetables,” You said, grabbing a bag of frozen peas. You held it up to his face, pressing it as tenderly as you could against the rougher looking eye. He hissed, and brought his hand up to grab it, only to show you how damaged that looked too. Bloody knuckles were the least of his worries. “We’re going to have to get that looked at,” You said, pointing towards his hand.

“It’s fine,” He muttered, letting it rest on the bag, which was resting on his face. It looked like it hurt. You didn’t know how he wasn’t crying out for a hospital. You would be if you sustained even half of those injuries.

“As much as we love peas in this house, I don’t think they’re going to be granting you any miracles,” You said, and went back to dabbing with the alcohol wipe. “Your lip is going to need stitches. The cuts too big. It won’t heal right.” “So call my Doctor,” Hiram growled, grumpily. By instinct, you slapped the top of his thigh, making him gasp out in pain and drop the frozen bag onto the ground. It broke open, the little green vegetables scattering across the tiled floor.

“I don’t care how hurt you are, you don’t talk to me like that,” You said, shaking your finger in his face. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t know how many more of these you can take before you have some serious internal injuries. Even Houdini died from a punch to the stomach, and you’re not nearly as good at escaping trouble as he is.”

“Mi amor, comparing me to a dead man,” Hiram groaned, pushing peas off of his lap. You got up again, your legs getting a work out from all of the squats that you were doing tonight, and grabbed another bag of frozen peas. It was weird that there were so many, but even rich people buy stuff that’s on sale sometimes. It’s how you stayed rich.

“You keep this up and you will be a dead man,” You quipped, putting the fresh bag on his face, holding it this time instead of letting him do it. “At least let me look at you, please?”

He finally gave a nod, and you slowly lifted his shirt to see all of the markings and bruises that were on his abdomen. His torso looked like a Jackson Pollock painting with the different shades of colors everywhere. You winced, bringing the shirt back down. You really hated seeing him look like this. You’ve been pleading with him to retire since the last time that he had received a beating like this. Or at the very least, hire someone younger to take his place in these fights. He was getting too old for this. “You should see the other guys,” He quipped.

“I don’t doubt it. And what were they - half your age?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, moving the bag from one eye to the other. “Hiram, my love, don’t you think it’s about time that you think about retiring? We can move away from Riverdale. We can get a spot on the beach somewhere, where it never snows. Where it’s never warm. Where the only damage you have to worry about is getting too much sun. Getting burned. But I’ll take care of you and always put sunscreen on you. Aloe vera if you do end up getting burned. Just - think about it, okay? For me?”

“I can’t give up my business like that,” Hiram shook his head, not even considering the possibility. You sighed. You knew that was going to be his answer. You hadn’t been expecting anything else. And yet you were still disappointed. As per usual. “I cannot be seen as weak or everything that I’ve done so far will have been for nothing. All of that work. I can’t pull out yet.”

“Of course you can’t,” You sighed. “At the very least, can you plan on it in the future? I don’t want to be putting this bag on your eyes when you’re well into your seventies.”

“Do you think we’ll still love peas then, mi amor?” He asked, breaking into a smile despite what must be a lot of pain, especially in his lip area.

“I think the better question is will I still love you them,” You teased. pressing a kiss onto one of the few parts of his face that wasn’t mottled with bruises. “But yes, to both. These are lovepeas, don’t you know. Rumor says that if you put them on the black eye of the person that you love, you’ll be together until the ends of the Earth. Or until there are no more peas. But given how the bees are dying out, that might not even be until the ends of the earth.”

“And your creativity is why I love you, and why I always come home,” Hiram said, taking your wrists around his hands. You smiled gently, loving that he cared about the weird side of you. Not just the well made-up person who was always by his side at work events. He always had a way of making you feel like you were someone special. Someone worth adoring.

Now if only you could actually get him out of the criminal business and move somewhere like Mexico where you can lie on the beach together.

“Do you love me enough to let me leave for a moment to call the Doctor? I am worried about this lip of yours. I need it stitched up and better so I can kiss you again.”

“Yes, I suppose I love you that much.” His thumbs would rub at the underside of your wrists for a moment, and then he would gently release you so you could get up and walk back to the bedroom where your cellphone was waiting. Even leaving him that long seemed like an eternity. You called the doctor while you were on your way back down the stairs, hanging up as you entered the kitchen, just in time to see Hiram picking one of the frozen peas off of the ground and popping it into his mouth.

“What are you doing?” You asked, going for the broom and dustpan to finally clean that mess up.

“Oh, I thought these were the feel-better peas. You eat a couple and then you feel all better until the end of time?” He’d ask, showing his very rare funny side. You laughed and shook your head.

“Let me clean these up then I’ll get you to your chair. The doctor is on his way.”

#Hiram Lodge #Hiram Lodge x reader #Hiram Lodge oneshot #Riverdale #Riverdale oneshot #oneshot #one shot #request #hiraml #x reader

[remakethestars]

CABIN 7 — APOLLO

Headcanons.

❝There ought to be more drama, I think. A musical crescendo. Confetti.❞

— Jess Cooper, I Am Still Alive

Headcanon masterlist.

Oh, boy — this is my cabin, y'all; buckle up! 😁

Not all Apollo kids are good at everything their dad's good at, okay? I sure as heck can’t paint or play an instrument. 

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence?

They run an underground tattoo parlor.

That's where Will & Butch got their respective sun & rainbow tats.

Apollo kids with lyrics tattooed into their skin.

Rick says there isn't much by way of décor inside, which is f*in' B.S. Apollo's the god of art; those walls have been graffitied Tangled style.

🎶 i'll paint the walls some more — i'm sure there's room somewhere! 🎶

The east wall is covered in a landscape of a sunrise, & the west has a sunset (because the sun rises in the east & sets in the — yeah, I'll see myself out).

The north & south walls & the ceiling are white, though, because it really brightens/opens up the space (C7 has the 2ⁿᵈ most campers under C11 because Apollo's a slut; things can get a little crowded in the summer).

When there’re celebrations, the artistically inclined kids bust out the face paint. Especially for the younger campers.

The artistically inclined are the ones that paint the camp beads for the end of the summer. Despite the numbers, it doesn’t take them as long as one might think.

Rick said the ceiling had cedar beams, but we're not gonna do Cyparissius dirty like that. Cypress wood is good for building; the beams are cypress. You know what? F*ck you — the whole dang cabin's cypress!

There’s a massive, potted aloe vera plant by the steps that gets moved into the C4 greenhouse in the winter. It’s one of those old ones — because everyone knows the old aloe plants work better for burns & blisters than these sh¡tty new ones. (It’s constantly getting broken off to heal burns & stuff.) 

Rick said there are potted red & purple hyacinths in the window & yellow flowers from Delos. That's true.

I'd say the flowerbeds around the cabin are full of healing plants, but I feel like they'd be better off around the infirmary for obvious reasons.

I do feel like there's a laurel tree planted outside C7, though, because Apollo's a pining b¡tch.

And there's an actual infirmary building, okay? Rick's kinda inconsistent about that. Sometimes he says "infirmary," sometimes he says the Big House is running over with injured, & apparently there's a cot dead center for injured in C7? B.S.

Or maybe I've just read too much fanfic, and the authors don't get it right?

Either way, there's an infirmary building with surgery & delivery rooms. One floor. Locker room for C7 kids to store their scrubs & sh¡t.

They go for yellow scrubs, though, because orange C.H.B. scrubs make them look like escaped convicts.

Fun Band-Aids™

They give out little orange stickers with laurels around the edges that are like I voted! stickers, but they're injury-specific.

I got my leg(s) reattached! & Percy Jackson shot me in the butt! & I ticked off Clarisse! & I made out with an Aphrodite kid in the poison ivy! & I fell off the lava wall! & I got pranked by the Stolls!

After a war or just when there’re a lot of campers in the infirmary, there seems to be a constant flow of Apollo kids singing one hymn to their father in unison to heal someone.

Sometimes, an unconscious camper wakes in a cot & thinks they’ve died & gone to the wrong afterlife for a moment because their singing sounds like angels. 

The medically inclined wash their hands like surgeons. 

Kind of germophobic?

They also go around tying surgeons knots in everything.

In the summer, they’re walking Banana Boat sunscreen & after-sun aloe lotion dispensers.

The medically inclined also have the world’s sh¡ttiest handwriting.

They have to work hard to fix it if it bothers them. 

Can check your vitals & run a blood test just by touching you.

A lot of them casually touch their loved ones (at least, the ones that aren’t in C7) every morning to check their vitals & see how their health’s doing.

They do it subconsciously every time they touch someone & don’t notice it until they pick up something’s wrong.

They can do this for themselves as well. Though it may not be as accurate? And they take daily vitamins depending on what they need.

Organize their lives via pill box (never lose an earring).

Fight surgically. Every blade in their hands becomes a scalpel, & every time they’re going in for a kill against an armed anthropomorphic monster, they slice the tendons in its arm required to grip its weapon to disable it before going in for the kill.

Back to C7, it’s got a little porch with a porch swing. The kids sit on it sometimes & teach people how to play instruments.

They leave the porch light on at night when they’re waiting for one of their siblings to come home from a quest.

Jumping into the depressing sh¡t, they never found Michael’s body, so they only presumed him dead. They leave the porch light on every night now, hoping he’ll come home.

Apollo kids are afraid of the dark. They use the buddy system after the sun goes down. 

The cabin’s central light fixture is a papier-mâché sun that’s been charmed to glow when someone sings 🎶 clap on 🎶 & stop glowing when someone sings 🎶 clap off. 🎶

The curtains are a gold fabric. They’re only closed at night. Because, again, C7 kids are afraid of the dark.

The Wikipedia says Apollo kids are cursed to be afraid of snakes (I assume by the Python Apollo killed). I feel like they’d burn a lot of aster leaves then. I read somewhere it was said by the Greeks to ward off evil spirits & snakes.

They play Go Fish with their tarot cards. They’re really good at tarot games.

Hand-drawn tarot decks featuring figures form Greek myth.

There’s a target on the back wall they practice throwing cards at. They can throw them in combat for a distraction with terrifying accuracy. 

There’s a Magic 8 ball that’s passed around on the Winter Solstice (the longest night of the year), when — as a headcanon I’m sure I’ve read somewhere has indicated — they’re up all night.

Crystal balls are allowed. However, they must be covered with a cloth or placed in a box when not in use because they’re double-convex lenses, & we don’t want another incident like the fire of 1993.

Sometimes, they make little predictions throughout the day other campers may find disturbing. Such as whipping around and catching a stray arrow without warning (spidey sense?). Or cutting you off when you’re talking about someone moments before they walk into the room.

There’s a tea cart in the corner. Because tea is good for healing & they’ve accumulated an addiction.

The cart has a radio on it that’s always on at night because a lot of C7 kids can’t sleep without noise. (Inspired by @sugarandspiceandkindanice.)

Most of the time, it’s on a nearby country station that actually plays good country at night. But sometimes they switch channels — especially when there’s a new kid settling in & they could use the comfort.

There’s a portable record player there too. The shelves under the cart are full of C.D.s & records.

I’m sure I’ve read a headcanon somewhere that they sing every morning while getting ready for the day. That’s true.

The number of times it’s been “When Will My Life Begin” from Tangled is disturbing, though. 

🎶 seven a.m., the usual morning lineup! 🎶

Luke said in The Lightning Thief C11 is up at 07:00 & breakfast is at 08:00, I think, but we all know Apollo’s waking his kids up when the sun rises. 

A lot of the time, someone will just start out with whatever song they have stuck in their head & everyone else will pick it up.

Sometimes, this leads to members having the aforementioned song stuck in their head for the rest of the day.

Even the people who aren’t musically inclined will sing along, as they’re usually drowned out by the music kids that get really into it.

So sometimes those not-music kids will find themselves singing by themselves during the day years later & are surprised to find — they actually sound good?? Or at least not bad??? And it’s because singing is a learned skill & they picked it up.

I’m sure I’ve also read a headcanon somewhere that they sing “Look Down” from Les Mis when they have to do menial chores, but I'm adding “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” from Annie, “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, & the Smurf song.

They break into song all the time.

Lee was glaring at Tantalus once & made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes, I wish —” and the entire cabin broke out with “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

🎶 — i'd never been born at all! carry on, carry on… 🎶

As mentioned in at least The Lightning Thief & The Lost Hero, they spend a lot of time playing basketball. You can bet your butt they do a rendition of “Getcha Head in the Game” from High School Musical every time there’s a new camper passing by.

They have a sister named Jubilee, and every time someone greets her — "Hey, Jube!" — the entire cabin breaks into “Hey, Jude” by The Beetles.

🎶 hey, Jube! don't make it bad. take a sad song & make it better… 🎶

Sometimes, if there are two campers that really need to get together, C10′ll commission C7 to sing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid (or the same song with different pronouns, obviously). 

It’s usually a capella unless someone happens to have an instrument on them.

Rickrolling. 

The “Macarena.” 

Apollo takes clandestine recordings of their jam sessions & distributes them professionally. Whatever money’s made goes directly into their college funds or they periodically find it under their pillow tooth-fairy-style.

There’s a lot of denim because the artistic members like to paint on the backs of jackets & the pockets of jeans.

A lot of them have excellent aim with most projectiles, so they toss stuff to each other a lot. This results in them being oddly in sync, so they can catch something from another sibling without warning & without looking like Sam & Dean Winchester do in Supernatural. 

Their life looks like a Dude Perfect trick shot video. 

It also results in some funny looks when they hurl things halfway across camp to each other. Namely, the whistling Nerf football. 

C7 is two stories. The second story has paint on every wall. 

The east wall upstairs has arrows mounted that got Robin Hooded along with a little tag with the name of the C7 kid & the date it happened.

They also have arrows mounted from the first bullseye if there’s a member being taught. 

Lots of musical instruments & art supplies up there.

There’s an old T.V. up there. They have all of Bob Ross’s show on V.H.S.

C7′s south wall (ground floor) holds the door to the bathroom on one side & a door leading to the stairs. 

It also hosts framed photos of Charlotte, Lee, & Michael.

Instead of saying “shoot,” they say “loose.” For everything. Instead of saying “Shoot!” when they drop something, they say “Loose!” 

It's kinda one of those things — like your friend starts saying something & you just integrate it into your vocabulary subconsciously.

They like to play a game where you shoot an arrow straight up & try to catch it as it comes back down.

That sounds really stupid on their part, but it actually comes in handy when someone tries to shoot them in combat & they catch the arrow, dumbfounding whoever's attempted to skewer them.

The cresting on their arrows is in Morse code of their nickname (·—— ·· ·—·· ·—··). They can take one look at an arrow & tell what’s whose.

And the paint color of the cresting tells them what kind of arrow it is — bullet tip, broadhead, explosive, etc. 

Every bunk in C7 is made with hospital corners. No exceptions. The kids who aren’t medically inclined learn because all the beds being made the same way makes it look cleaner for inspection.

I can’t decide if Apollo kids have really good eyesight so they fit the Hawkeye bill or if they’ve all just read — Apollo’s the god of knowledge — & painted so much they’ve messed up their eyes.

The number of times one of them has used bowstring wax on an art project in a rush instead of glue is hilariously large.

I use String Snot, and it comes in a container that looks like a glue stick.

A lot of them wear bracers all the time.

When the time it takes to sling one’s quiver onto one’s back, grab one’s bow, knock an arrow, & draw is so long, one really doesn’t have time to also strap on their bracers before rushing out of the cabin to threaten a giant bronze dragon.

Not to mention if they use a recurve, they’ll also have to string their bow.

And a number of them do use recurves due to the abilities to both knock multiple arrows at once & to restring in the field.

Bows with risers coated in golden, reflective paint & limbs painted with artistic strokes.

Trick arrows are their jam. C9 is constantly being asked for new arrows.

Explosive arrows, sonic arrows, grappling hook arrows…

That’s another saying they’ve all taken to: “___ is my jam!”

There’s a bookshelf or reference material on Apollo for new C7 kids (as Rick’s indicated), but the rest of the case is full of medical journals & textbooks & books on art & poetry & divining the future.

A lot — if not all — of them have either gold flecks in their eyes or central heterochromia.

Freckles across their noses & shoulders & on the tips of their ears. Tans. Sun-bleached hair. 

Long, nimble fingers perfect for playing musical instruments.

Either they hate the winter because the sun's out for less time (so you’ll find them walking around with blanched skin & faded freckles & with both a hoody & a parka on), or they’re perfectly fine with winter & are used by everyone around them as walking space heaters. 

They spend a lot of time with Castor & Pollux. 

Rachel sits at T7. She’s practically an Apollo kid at this point. 

While her cave was being renovated, she stayed in C7.

Their dad’s the god of truth; none of these M.F.s can lie worth a sh¡t. 

But, by the gods, they can tell when you’re lying.

And they take it as a personal insult. That you (A) would dare do something as immoral as lying in the first place & that you (B) would dare to insult their intelligence in such a way because you thought they couldn’t tell.

C6 & C7 are both known for reacting outrageously when their intelligence is insulted (see: chapter 10 of The Battle of the Labyrinth). 

The more civil of the reactions of a C7 kid being lied to is cursing the liar to tell the truth, which I believe they can. 

They can curse you to speak in rhyming couplets; they should be able to curse you to tell the truth.

You mean to tell me none of these kids have created a functioning Lasso of Truth yet?

This one's really long. 😅

A lot of people fancast Sam Claflin as Apollo, but I'm going with Ross Lynch. 'Cause I do what I want. 😎

Visit my Apollo cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Apollo #Apollo kids #children of Apollo #Apollo cabin #headcanons #headcannons #Percy Jackson #PJO #HOO #TOA #remakethestars #art #archery #painting #healing #doctors #sun #hcs #TW: mentions of violence

[reveriequill-rai]

Shroud: Withered Soul

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while. As of right now I’ve just been uploading stories I’ve written in my newspaper club, and now that I’ve graduated I hope that can now expand to short stories generally. I’m not gonna promise that posts from now on will be more consistent, but I would like to at least speed up my uploads a bit before they actually wind down, as I imagine I will be working on more stories in the future. Everything being uploaded right now is previous work, but nothing too old--probably like, from last year tops. This was completed sometime in May, I believe. 

This is an introduction to a character I created called ‘Shroud,’ an amateur self-proclaimed ‘detective’ who exclusively investigates occult-based crimes and malefic.

Content Warning: death, descriptions of corpses, graphic descriptions of violence and pain, cults 

[My blog will usually contain PG-13 stories, and as of right now I am writing some darker content, but I will tag anything that may be especially disturbing or uncomfortable. I’ll include this warning in my bio, too.]

----------

The corpse in front of me wasn’t all that disturbing by itself. I had seen dead people before–comes with the territory. I had been dead before. Murder rates in Twilight were, naturally, much higher than any other district in New Fable–especially further south of the district where I was–considering how much wild magic was around, and not even the police force sent here from the northern district of Bastion could do anything about it. So the corpse itself didn’t bother me, all things considered.

What did disturb me, though, was a number of other things.

For one, the corpse just being there was a problem. They weren’t stopping, and they were getting far too close to home.

Its eyes were still open, for another thing, and nearly colorless, and looking at me specifically, and I can swear to you that had not happened when I first laid eyes on it. Even worse, like me, the man lying dead in front of me appeared to be wearing a few bandages like I was, perhaps just recovering from an injury.

And for yet another thing, and perhaps the worst part of this, was the connection I felt with this dead man. Something about the state he was in struck a familiar chord that only I and a select unlucky others knew. As if we were kindred spirits–undergoing the same fate, yet with (probably) different outcomes.

I had been at this–whatever you would call tracking down cults as someone with zero prior detective experience with the help of almost no one–for…a few months now? And I’ve made a bit less progress than would be expected from someone who has seen just about everything the darker sides of magic had to offer. I did have one solid lead, though, and hopefully one that would lead me to exactly who I was looking for.

“Everyone move,” I ordered, pushing my way through the crowd.

Ignoring their complaints, I made my way over toward the body and began to examine it, hoping for any hint of who had done this, and more importantly, if it was exactly who I had suspected. There didn’t appear to be much damage, but what first caught my attention was the note tucked into the man’s pocket. I took it out and unfolded it, and immediately flinched.

Demon tongue.

Hellish whispers ran through my head, and I wasn’t sure if they were just in my head or not. It was hard to tell these days.

I honed in on the note, written on some old paper as if torn from an ancient book. The more I stared, the louder the whispers got. I ignored the throbbing in my head as best as I could–humans were not mentally equipped to engage with the infernal language at all, and I much less so. My hands shook as I read the brief message, which I must have read dozens and dozens of times already; I wasn’t counting and didn’t care to.

Some people studied demon tongue despite…well…everything, even the illegality. It probably didn’t matter to them. It didn’t matter to me, either, but someone had spoken to me in demon tongue before–though, in their defense, likely not out of their own volition–and the trembling and rapid heart rate was not worth the ability to communicate with infernals. (Nothing was, honestly.)

For these reasons–and also not wanting to be arrested or have my mage license revoked–I personally didn’t speak or write demon tongue, but I at least knew a little bit and could recognize some of the infernal runes. And those runes were enough for me to know that this was the exact same message that the abyss had been trying to send me in my last moments.

—

Can’t run home, I thought. They’ll follow me.

Just gotta run until I find a phone booth.

I ran until I finally spotted one on the street corner near a bridge. I let out a sigh of relief, taking a quick moment to catch my breath. Then, I quickly crossed the street and ran toward the phone booth, quickly dialing the police station.

“Hello?” I said into the phone as quietly as I could manage. “My name is [……………………………] I’m at the corner of Coral Avenue by the Armada IV Memorial Bridge. I’m being pursued by a group of kids in demon-charmed cloaks and shawls, please I need your help they have knives and they’re trying to kill me-“

The tears stinging at the edge of my eyes began to overflow as a human voice at the end of the line responded in perfect, uncharacteristically calm demon tongue. It was a short sentence, repeated over and over again, but with the little knowledge I *did* have, I could translate it by about the sixth loop:

“You are going to hell.”

I hung up the phone immediately, resisting the urge to yell, “I KNOW” directly into the phone.

Humans can’t speak demon tongue here. It’s illegal.

So how did an officer know demon tongue?

—

Unsurprisingly, the body was still in semi-good condition. After all, little damage was done to the body—only the soul. The only physical marks I could make out were marks around the wrist and neck, likely to restrain the victim. Couple of bruises here and there, too, but nothing was broken.

This…disturbed me, to say the least.

Cults around here were usually known to be violent. After all, a lot of them stood for violent causes–executing the ‘impure,’ plunging everyone into the dreams of a volatile eldritch creature, usurping the throne and forcing everyone to convert, rallying the youth to their bloody cause with claims that they alone possessed special powers…I had heard it all, all of them violent to some degree. But the ones that had gotten me…they seemed to worship oblivion itself. Or maybe whatever was in it. That was beyond even my knowledge.

But…even then, they still had arguably the least violent cause. The deadliest, yes–they seemed to just be destroying souls–but strangely not as bloody. Yet their means of carrying out this objective has historically been, well, bloody.

Or maybe that was just me.

Either way, this victim had certainly not gotten the worst of it. There were no twisted limbs, no bloodied nose, no wounds from blade or bullet, basically no magic-driven attacks aside from the terminating consumption of the soul…only marks of the initial restraint, bruises from the subduing, and the abyss claiming and destroying the soul.

I could almost picture it in my head: they likely jumped him in the middle of the street, kicking him around a bit to possibly weaken him, throw him off balance, but not too much as to rouse resistance, then restraining him–to the floor? A wall? I couldn’t tell, but there were no rope burns so they must have done this by hand–and calling, somehow, for their god, for lack of a better word, to devour its newest victim’s soul.

What did he see as he died? Did their eyes turn as colorless as his would become? Had they shown any sign of enjoying his torment? I doubt it; it didn’t seem like a very ‘fun’ kill. And likely not as personal as it was for me.

They were getting much better at their kills. It probably wasn’t as fun, but more precise.

And a lot less violent than I had gotten.

—

I caught a glimpse of the charm from earlier out of the corner of my eye, but just as I looked it vanished. Just then a cold breeze hit me as the door behind me opened, and I was yanked out onto the street, leaving the phone dangling by the cord. The book dropped from my hands.

The four delinquents appeared in front of me from nowhere, likely having turned off their Moonlight Shroud charms.

“Gotcha,” Ransley said, smiling as he picked up the book.

“Give it BACK!” I roared, lunging for him. Ransley hit me hard across the face with the book, sending me flying a few feet back onto the brick road. Quickly I realized that my safety was not worth keeping that book. I didn’t know where or how Ransley learned to hit that hard but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. As he and the others examined the book, I began to scurry away as Ransley gave an order to the others:

“Get him.”

An instant later, I heard something click far behind me, and a sharp pain ripped through my knee. I collapsed to the floor, letting out an agonized cry. I examined my knee, and saw a hole much bigger than a bullet hole should be. I looked up at my attackers.

A gun?!

“What the HELL?!” I shouted. “You’ve already got what you want! LEAVE ME ALO-“

Ardent appeared behind me and punched me square in the face. I held my probably-broken nose as a muffled shriek of pain escaped me. Each of them vanished and took turns raining blows and slashes on me as I tried to step back and run. They gave me almost no chance to react. My body ached everywhere; the knife wounds, though shallow, stung just as bad, if not worse, as any bee. I could barely stand. I used my remaining strength to try and push them off of me whenever I felt them, but I stumbled each time I did, giving them room to knock me around further. Finally I collapsed, and Ardent grabbed my shirt and dragged me to the bridge.

“W-wait-“ I cried, still wincing and crying from my bruises and decayed knee. “STOP IT!-”

—

I examined the bandages on my hand and knee. The ones from that night must’ve been amateurs, or at least new to the cult’s way of doing things.

Focus, Shroud.

The victim’s eyes were still open, and almost completely empty.

Almost.

The body must not be entirely empty, then. This wasn’t exactly a kill—whoever this person was, they would not be dead for much longer, or at least depending on your definition of ‘dead.’

How long ago had this attack been, then? I touched the skin—still warm-ish. This had to be recent.

By that logic, if this was meant not as a lethal attack, but as one of induction into their group…

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I at least knew it wasn’t for very long.

So…I didn’t have much longer, then.

I instinctively jerked away from the body. Would he come back? He wouldn’t be under anyone’s control, at least for the first few minutes–how long does it take to kill someone? Would it be long enough for him to kill me?–no, he probably wouldn’t go after me; I had barely any soul left for him to long for…unless he’s just that desperate enough to take scraps from a near-husk.

What would he do when he came back? Would he wander around, lost, confused, until they welcomed him with false promises of salvation and freedom from the ‘burden’ of having a judgement-tied soul? Would he be violent, as they had been to him?

Then again…I came back after one of their attacks, but with a will of my own. Did they want me to come back? Why would they want me of all people to come back?

—

“You know how much trouble you caused us, […….…]?!” Ransley shouted as he kicked me in my injured leg. “Don’t act like you didn’t have this coming, you little weasel.”

“I didn’t-“ I tried to say.

Ransley propped me up on the sidewalk, just by the edge of the bridge, right above the river. He placed his hand on my bruised shoulder, looking at me with a bone-chilling grin.

Again, I got a good look at his eyes. This time, everything except the pupils was entirely white. As I looked I almost felt like I was staring at something beyond; further, even. But the harder I looked the more I could see how much nothing there was. And yet, in spite of that, this nothing seemed to be staring back at me.

The others had the same white eyes too, looking on with a horrible satisfaction.

“What…” I barely managed to say, “…what are y-you…?”

“Free,” Ransley answered, without his usual cruelty and instead with an uncharacteristically sanctimonious tone. “And with our help, so too will you be free.”

With a hard shove, I was pushed off the bridge.

I grabbed onto the edge with my hand, barely having the strength to pull myself up.

“T-this is insane-!” I cried. “Ransley! Please! Y-you can keep the book; I won’t call the police, just help me up-“

Ransley frowned and put his boot on my hand. He leaned in as he brought his foot down harder, crushing my hand. Bone splintered and crumbled under the weight of the shoe, and I let out a shriek as a cold look crossed his face.

“You really should stop holding on so much,” he said. “That’s your problem. That’s why you’re here. Just let go, and face oblivion.”

Ransley took his foot off finally, but my hand had run out of strength. I slipped, and fell into the river.

—

Either way, I had to work fast.

“Hey, kid!” Someone from the crowd called. “What’re you doing? Leave this to the professionals.”

I turned around, and maybe it was the speed at which I had whirled around to face them, or he did just flinch.

Was it my eyes?

“The police won’t find them,” I explained. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve studied demonology for a few years.”

I went back to the body.

“You mean you know who did this?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered. “I just wanna be sure…”

I pressed down on the bruises on their shoulder and arms. Hollow. I felt no bone or extra layer of skin or muscle underneath.

Just as I suspected, I thought. Soul devouring.

My only question now was, how much of the soul was left?

—-

The bridge wasn’t particularly tall; just enough for any small cargo ships to run under. But the fall felt much longer than it had any right to.

I never hit the water. I was swallowed by something but it certainly wasn’t the river. It was as cold and sharp but nothing wet ever touched my skin or clothes.

I did not fall into water. I fell into something foreign, something dark, something alive, something evil.

Its eyes were beady and attentive, focused, eager, and it had long rows of sharp fangs. It appeared to smile at me, expecting me, welcoming me. Whispers in demon-tongue surrounded me, and I overwhelmed myself trying to find a single word I could understand. The only thing I could catch was “going to hell” again…was this it? Was this hell? What circle was this?

I was immobile, unable to look away from the creature in front of me, unable to scream as it opened its fang-filled mouth. I couldn’t even let out a scream of protest; no, not against this, as it brought down its jaws and took a large bite out of a deep part of me even I could never access. The pain from my bruises and wounds no longer burned; only ached, as if the pain had been there forever.

I was hollow. If there was anything left, I barely even felt it. My wounds glowed a hot white color and became shallow. I felt nothing but an aching nigh-emptiness that seemed to have no origin I could place; no past; only a present and a long future.

I didn’t know how long I was in that void. But as much as I despised that thing for robbing me of my life, I was grateful that it chose to let me go.

—-


I took out my pen from my pocket and a couple of mini-candles from my satchel. I flicked a lighter and lit the candles, surrounding them at different points around the body. I began to draw an evocation circle around the body. I’m not sure what had stopped this cult from performing forced evocations as opposed to beating everyone into submission until they blacked out enough to face the abyss and have their soul devoured, but I wasn’t about to find any sense in a group of people who literally worship the abyss.

I took my time with the intricate webs of the circle, carefully connecting whatever remained of the soul to the points where I would draw in the runes, and connected those to the candles.

I then drew in symbols in the language of the spirits at the different sub-points that would draw up souls from the afterlife, adding a desperate prayer in each pen stroke that I evoke the right thing and not something unwelcome. I had to steady my hand as I did this, reminding myself that this was merely a human soul who was recently killed, so the chances of him having ended up in hell – was he that kind of person? – were slim; they had to be, of course they were; there was no need to panic so stop panicking. Yet knowing I was drawing the same symbols, the same webs, lighting the same candles as the deadly evokers around town who would break into people’s houses and draw evocation circles under their beds to call up who-knows-what from the pits of hell to torment the living…to think I was drawing the same circle that I checked for every night when I went to sleep…

The pen snapped in my shaking hand against the concrete, getting ink all over my hand. I swore, and rubbed some on my finger tip so I could start to finish the circle.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?!” someone cried, making me jump. “You’re tampering with evidence! That’s illegal!”

“You’re gonna screw up the investigation!” someone else shouted.

I steadied myself from being startled.

“This…this is the investigation,” I replied bluntly.

“Wh–okay…? Are you a detective or something?” the first guy asked.

I shrugged.

“I think so,” I said.

“You think-”

I could hear further shouts from the crowd as I turned the body over to draw the rest of the circle underneath, but I held up my hand to stop them from getting closer.

“Just let me work!” I cried without looking back.

That’s when I noticed some of the rapidly-decaying skin near the shoulder and side of the ankles. The skin had withered and given way to bone, the effect cutting through flesh and muscle. Even the bone had begun to decay.

Well, so much for minimal damage.  

I unzipped the victim’s jacket and pulled back the shirt just slightly to get a better look at the damage. The withering had spread further—the entire shoulder seemed about ready to decay. I took a camera out of my bag and took a picture of the decaying wounds.

With the remaining ink, I drew another sigil on the bandage of my injured hand, a heart-shaped eye-like symbol with two lines running up my index and middle finger. It was a painful process and I was just careful enough to have the pen not tear through the bandage, and I placed my shaking hand on the decaying shoulder and closed my eyes. I saw all of the injuries on the man’s body, including where he had been injured–he had a broken arm that had almost finished recovering, and a fractured foot that was also healing, but wasn’t as near completion as his arms. Either way, both of these had stopped healing, and had actually gotten worse, with the bones beginning to decay in both areas.

What was the point of beating people up, breaking them, letting them decay, and then expecting them to join you after you had broken them? My attackers probably went through the same thing as this man had–as I had, if this cult was larger than them. So why do the same thing to others?

But that was just it, though, wasn’t it?

They knew what it was like to be soulless, and only they knew not only how to recover from the injuries suffered, but how to disguise themselves as living to avoid trouble with the law.

I looked again at the bandages on my hand, and unraveled it slightly, careful not to let the crowd see. There, too, did my flesh begin to decay. This was the primary issue with not having a soul: without the very essence that gives us life, our bodies aren’t capable of self-healing anymore. Any injuries are permanent unless fixed by a doctor, or if we tend our own wounds.

Fortunately my bones—at least in my hand—hadn’t completely withered away. I managed to revive just in time, fortunately.

Just in time.

——

I don’t remember much about the day I woke up. Just the excruciating, aching pain.

What I did know was I had washed up on the shore of the city, and I couldn’t stand up for a very long time. A burning sensation enveloped my entire hand and knee, and I felt a throbbing sensation in both areas. The bruises from the beatdown stuck on me like a leech, but most vividly, my chest felt hollow. And it hurt. The emptiness gnawed at the inside of my chest, and it, too, burned and ached. Like a stomach ache in the wrong place.

With my good hand I crawled my way off of the shore until I found a lamppost. I grabbed onto it, and propped up my good knee. I swung my arm toward the lamppost, grabbing onto it with my bad hand, shocks of pain running through my body. I tried to haul myself up, but the weight of my body caved my knee in, and I collapsed. That’s when I got a good look at my hand.

Bits of skin had completely come off, seeming to have withered away. Pieces of bone underneath had chipped off.

I grew nauseous and I felt the blood drain from my face. I let out some inhuman noise that I reckoned was some attempt at a scream but came out as a cross between that and a moan of agony.

How had this happened?

It was a horrible sound, but at least I had been found. Otherwise, who knows what would’ve happened?

Or who else would’ve found me?

——

Finishing the circle grew tricky as my hand trembled, though I was unsure if it was from the injury or from the reality of the process itself.

“Kid, we don’t even know who you are,” the guy from earlier said. “Are you even a licensed detective?”

I ignored him and wiped some of the ink from my pen on my hand, pressing my hands together to activate the circle. As the soul fire candles flared, what little color was left in their eyes drained slowly, and a small, glowing, deteriorated wisp of a soul rose out of the victim’s body.

This was all that was left…

Somehow this dead man was just the same as I, who could still breath, still walk, still talk, still live—but only just.

What had this man’s soul seen before it was decimated? If, in fact, the same people who killed me are responsible for this, did he, too, see the same grinning face in the abyss that I had? Was he as afraid as I was? Or did he accept this as death?

I took my mage’s license out of my pocket and showed it to the crowd.

“I’m a licensed magic user,” I said, “is that enough?”

“…that’s not a detective license,” the same guy said. “I’m calling the police.”

“Great!” I said. “Tell them the Brotherhood of Abyss Walkers did this.” At this point it was all but confirmed.

“The…what?”

“The cult that keeps tormenting this forsaken town,” I explained. “The one behind all the unexplained murders.”

The guy—along with the rest of the crowd—stifled a laugh. Some of them couldn’t hold it in.

“There’s no cult in New Lumanore,” someone else said. “Our security’s airtight; no way they would’ve been able to form a guild without a license.”

“Just call the authorities, Aaron,” a lady in the crowd said. “This kid isn’t worth persuading.”

“W-wait-“ I said before letting out a resigned sigh. I packed up the candles and pocketed my pen, and took off. I knew who the culprit was. What the police had to say didn’t bother me.

They’ll believe me when I put the culprit behind bars.

—————

In previous investigations I managed to pin down the general area where the Abyss Walkers operate. Prior murders took place at least within a mile’s range of Eclipse Avenue, an area further south of New Lumanore. It was a relatively quiet and empty area; there were quite a bit of shops and buildings of unknown function that no one ever seemed to go into, not even during the day.

The entire place screamed occult activity.

Sure enough, just as I hit the corner of the avenue I caught a glimpse of a Moonlight Shroud charm, pinned to the outwear of a hooded figure. They were walking along the other side of the street, hanging close to the bare wall of a wide building.

Once they were some distance along I crossed the street quickly and began tailing them.

Confrontation wasn’t new to me, just…unfavorable. Is that why I trembled? Either way I knew the procedure: Walk with the same beat. Same path, same pattern of step. Stop when he stops. Walk like this until the shadow is close enough for contact.

Once I did I took out a capsule from my coat. It contained shadow ink, allowing me to either create my own shadow, or to hide within someone else’s. I didn’t have enough of a soul to perform any magical feats on my own–whatever I could do would probably just come out as sparks–so this was the best I could work with. Unfortunately the capsule was nearly empty, and I made a mental note to contact my supplier after I was finished. In the meantime, I used what was left to lather my hand in ink as I silently crept behind the lone cultist, and pressed my hand against his shadow. I latched on and eventually got pulled in. Inside the shadow realm, I had a black-and-white view of the street from inside the wall. I couldn’t breathe, though, and I couldn’t hold my breath for very long so I knew I had to jump him sooner rather than later.

I took a coin out of my pocket and tossed it outside behind the cultist. He stopped and turned around, as expected, and I took the moment to lunge out and grab him by the throat.

—————

The cultist narrowed his eyes, and an amused smirk came on his face.

“Hey…” he said. “I know you.”

I flinched. How?

He kicked me off and stood up.

“You…you’re the kid we got that book from!” He chuckled. “You don’t quit, do you? This is really what you chose to do after death? Vigilante work?”

I felt the blood drained from my face.

“…what are you talking about?” I lied. “What book?”

“The demonology book, stupid,” he said. “The thing damning you to begin with. You forgot already? Or did you lose your memories alongside almost all your soul somehow?”

I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to charge at him again. I couldn’t take him in a head-on fight. I was too weak for that.

“Tell me,” he said. “How’s it feel? Being so close to freedom, so close to ridding yourself of that moral creed weighing you down…no fear of rapture…just your life and your…well, I suppose now broken…body, and your heart and mind.”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“Good thing you came back, though. We’ve been slacking on our initiations recently…Ardent went a little too hard on too many people. We’re behind on our quota.”

“Wait a sec…” I took a step back. “What do you mean ‘too hard?’ Aren’t they supposed to come back?”

“The idiot decided to use magic to slow the initiates down,” the cultist explained. “As if that wouldn’t damage the soul at all. I’m sure you of all people know. You’ve taken enough beatings form him, right, D–“

I punched him in the face. The second I made contact I realized I had used my bad hand without thinking. Bone snapped, collapsed, and even shifted through the hole in my hand. I let out a far-too-loud shriek of agony as I recoiled and caressed my hand, trying to relocate the bone.

The cultist looked at me and laughed, and I raised a finger on my good hand and threatened him:

“Don’t try that again,” I said. “I’ve still got one—ahh…—perfectly functioning hand.”

“Fine by me,” he replied. “You hit hard for a dead person…”

My hand still ached from the punch. I imagine it probably hurt me way more than it hurt him.

“Do you mean to turn me in, Shroud?” the cultist hissed. “Just try it. I know who you are. They’ll find out you’re undead and investigate you to hell and back. Whatever decimal of a soul you have left won’t save you. Not even close.”

“I can’t trust you with that information even if I let you go,” I said. “But even if you do…I’ll know sooner or later if you’ve said something. You best not try it if you don’t wanna die twice.”

The cultist grinned.

“I’m shaking,” he said, deadpan. “I’ll just come back again.”

“What, are there no revival limits in your little group?”

“Nope. He’ll bring us back again and again as long as he needs us.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, you’ve only been resurrected once, you big baby,” the cultist said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not joining you.”

“You have no reason not to,” the cultist said. “We can fix your broken body; make you look and seem as alive as the next person. Those remnants of a soul may not matter to the police, who’ll mark you as soulless anyway, but you know who it does matter to?” He pointed at the sky and at the group. “Them. Someone like you, who’s spent hours learning about heaven’s enemies…you think you have any chance of reaching heaven? HA!”

I fell silent. Just when I thought being registered as ‘dead’ to everyone you know meant they wouldn’t bother you about being a (rookie) demonologist anymore. That reminder worked my last nerve, yet every time it was brought up I could never muster up a proper defense.

“…I’m aware,” I mumbled.

“Besides, I’m sure you’re just livid at the police, who never caught who got you. I’m sure you’d like your vengeance against them for failing you…we can help you out with that, if you’d like. After all, why should we fear death, or judgement, from this life or the next? Like I’ve said, we’ve got no soul to weigh us down to heaven or hell. No death, no judgment. Just you, whatever you wanna do, and a welcoming oblivion who’ll spit you back out as many times as needed. As long as you keep it fed, that is.”

“It doesn’t matter if the police know or if they don’t know,” I said. “I know. And I’ll know more than they ever will. Besides, why the hell would I trust you to give me closure about my death–the death YOU caused?!”

The cultist frowned.

“And that’s just the trouble, isn’t it…you’re just about soulless, and the only soulless person New Lumanore who isn’t with us and…for what? You lose nothing by joining us!”

“First of all,” I shouted. “I am not soulless. Your stupid demon didn’t take all of it.”

“Yeah. Still not sure why that happened,” the cultist replied, “but who am I to question the great abyss–”

“Oh, shut up. And second of all–just in case you forgot–YOU KILLED ME! I don’t owe you loyalty, or gratitude, or mercy…I owe you nothing.”

“You may be upset now,” the cultist said, “but you’ll learn to thank us later.”

“I will not.”

His frown turned into a scowl. He took out a small cylinder from his pocket.

“I was gonna use this the day of the attack,” he said, “but I didn’t see any point. Seemed like the others were doing just fine without the staff.”

Sure enough, the cylinder popped open into a metal bo-staff. He walked towards me, twirling it through his fingers.

“You’ve been chasing the wrong thing, Shroud,” he said. “You think you need vengeance, but what you really need is security. We all know what being soulless is like. You’re weaker, you can’t heal your wounds, you can’t do magic, and it’s pretty obvious when you’ve just come back from the dead. I don’t care what three-percent of a soul you do have; it’s nowhere near enough for you to enjoy all the privileges of being fully human. Face it. You’re basically the same as us.”

As I stepped back, he stopped spinning the staff and instead gripped it with both hands.

“So you can either let go of those remnants you have the audacity to still call a soul, then come with us and let us give you the safety you so desperately need,” he said, rearing the staff back, “…or we’ll just break you further and let oblivion do what it wishes with your remains.”

He started to bring the staff down.

“WAIT!” I yelled, bringing my hands to my face.

Surprisingly enough, he actually froze, the staff a couple inches from my face.

“Okay…I get it…” I said. “You’re right. I won’t turn you in. Just…promise me you won’t tell anyone who I am.”

“What’s stopping me?” the cultist asked, cocking his head slightly and raising an eyebrow.

“Look. I didn’t turn you in,” I said. “You owe me.”

“No I don’t. I’m not tied to anything but oblivion.”

I let out an annoyed huff.

“Like I said. I’ll know if you exposed me,” I reminded him. “I don’t care if that scares you or not, just…let me go.”

“Let YOU go?! You jumped ME!”

“And I had—I…thought…I had the right to. Look…I’m backing down. You go about your night. I go about mine. We don’t speak of this.”

The cultist hesitated, then put the staff away.

“Fine,” he said. “But we’ll still come back for you. Whether or not your initiation goes smoothly is entirely on you.”

With that, he pulled out the same charm he had on the day of the attack, and vanished.

“See you around,” he said.

That was the last I heard of him that night.

Once I thought I was safe, I let out a loud groan of annoyance.

I had him. He was literally a few feet away. If I *just* had more shadow ink that would’ve been it for him.

But…he was right. I was at every possible disadvantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I shouldn’t have jumped him. I should’ve just taken note of his appearance and went from there. That was foolish on my part.

But…I did have his appearance now.

But he had my identity.

I still wasn’t at a complete advantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I had to lay low, and rebuild. My hand was wounded and I was lucky I didn’t get my skull bashed in. There was no way I could have recovered from that. But I wouldn’t give up. I had a lead and I wasn’t letting go of it.

I didn’t care about their ‘freedom’ or ‘not being tied down’ or anything like that. Fact of the matter is, they were hurting people, and their demon lord had more control over them than they’d realize.

They were beyond redemption. The demon didn’t bind them through any soul manipulation or contract–it was some weird combination of free will, gratitude, and the threat of permanent death.

These cultists had to go, and quickly. They had to pay, and dearly.

I know I’m weak, but once I’m back up and running I would do as much damage from the shadows as humanly possible.

They weren’t bound by any rules, so why should I have to be?

I didn’t care how many times I would get hurt. They ruined my life, and I was going to pay them back tenfold.

#original story #fiction story #creative writing #dark fantasy #urban fantasy #violence cw #death cw #cult cw #death tw #violence tw #cult tw

[keltonwrites]

I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed.  “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

Subscribe to the newsletter here. Follow on Instagram here.

#newsletters #amwriting #relocation #home renovation #cabin life #cabin living #colorado #log cabin

[zettaiunmeis]

HI THANKS TO @raventrigonsdaughter LETTING ME KNOW THAT OG GAME CARMEN AND JULIA USED TO BE PARTNERS BEFORE CARMEN WENT ROGUE, LET ME PROPOSE: VILE!JULIA.

details under the cut because this got Long

jules is part of the either the same class the ~infamous~ black sheep

and they don’t? really like each other? like julia is still kinda Serious and she doesnt really appreciate the vile squad goofing around and tossing water balloons or whatever and black sheep finds julia a little too uptight even if she’s interested in a lot of the same things (history, etc.)

black sheep’s speciality is Being SLick, as we know, but julia’s is patterns (and also historical artifacts)

ok but the important part of this is that bc julia’s is patterns, she ends up being like a scout or smth along those lines bc she can analyse patterns and report back to help plan the caper

and that basically means that when she graduates, she ends up in far more long cons than any of the others

anyway, after black sheep gets in trouble for the water balloon thing, the faculty decide she’s far too mischievous, and so, they assign her a partner — julia

(side note: its kind of the same thing that ends up happening to jean-luc and antonio a bit later on, but thats more because they work well together, and less bc either one of them needed a grounding influence)

anyway black sheep and jules again. do not like each other. but that doesnt mean they dont work well together — julia’s got an eye for patterns, and black sheep has every thieving trick in the book ready and waiting up her sleeves (alongside an instinct for thievery)

slowly, as they are forced to work together more and more, they kind of reach a less tense partnership and then one day black sheep makes a history joke and thats how they become friends

like julia is still very pointedly Not friends with the rest of the vile squad bc they’re still very reckless and immature, etc

but shes sort of seen black sheep when she’s been more grounded and less hyper/feral and she?? kind of doesnt mind??

bc grounded black sheep isnt constantly trying to prove that she’s The Best and grounded black sheep isnt trying to prove that she’s more than just the teacher’s pet — she’s kind of just having fun with julia and julia’s been so serious about her training that she hasnt really made any other friends and…. its nice

its nice to have black sheep loudly slip into the seat next to her and and tease julia about whatever recent historical discovery she’s researching and pull her out of her own head once in a while

and its nice to have black sheep glance over in the middle of class when sheena — sorry tigress — whines about something or the other and roll her eyes in the same way julia feels like doing, even if something strange sticks in her throat when carmen does the same with gray

she can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but at some point, she starts thinking of black sheep as her friend and it’s an exciting enough thought that she’s got a little smile on her face next time black sheep slips into the seat next to her in professor maelstrom’s class

and at some point julia stops being just julia to black sheep, and starts being jules because we’re in a school for thieves, but we’ve already got plenty of ~jules~ right here and thats sincerely the worst joke i’ve ever heard and oh really ~jules~? bet i could find an even worse one

and like all the usual stuff is still happening in the background — shadowsan-black sheep rivalry, gray and the Squad being black sheep’s friends, the phone and player, etc.

its just that now, black sheep has a bit of a calming influence and that does help!

and they work well enough that most people assume that julia and black sheep will be partners after graduation 

even crackle acknowledges it — despite the jealousy he feels at the knowledge

so things continue and all this happens, but then comes finals.

things go the same. black sheep gets perfect scores in all of her exams, except stealth 101

julia — now the historian — can’t help but check for whether black sheep graduated too and just as she does, she hears crackle say it: she didn’t pass

and she wants to go to black sheep and ask if she’s okay because everyone knows how much black sheep’s wanted this, how much she’s been working for it, but by the time gray’s been dragged off by tigress, black sheep has disappeared and julia has no idea where she’s gone

so she waits for a bit in the cafeteria and in the dorms and anywhere else she thinks that black sheep would be and she sees… nothing

and about twelve hours after the results, the faculty pulls her for her first mission (for context, this is before the whole,,, hear the true name of vile thing) which is basically being a plant for the morocco mission, by pretending to be an archaeology phd student from oxford who’s come to study the findings in the excavation

and she’s busy enough with that that she barely gets to think about black sheep or graduation or anything other than the near-overwhelming anxiety that comes with the horrifying ordeal of potentially being Known but she just manages to figure out like,,, guard rotations, as well as the exact objects that are at the site for the vile squad to steal

and then she’s out before they even get there — julia’s pattern recognition and historical knowledge made her pretty useful when it comes to planning capers so it meant that she’s always travelling around the world ahead of each caper, but would also make her a pretty invaluable asset to vile, so they can’t afford to get her caught

julia doesnt hear about black sheep nearly messing up morocco until much later, and even then, she doesn’t have all the info

all she can do is wonder why the hell the faculty would fail someone who somehow managed to sneak out of vile island without anyone realising until much later

and yes, maybe a part of her misses her old partner, but she knows that it wouldn’t matter anyway — she was the mole, and she’d barely get to work directly with carmen so.

but then cut to a year later, when a vile counterfeit operation in boston is suddenly sabotaged

cut to the moment when, julia, despite not having seen her in a year, is still able to somehow recognise black sheep’s work

its Slick. its the Slickness that tips her off, and part of her is reluctant to tell the faculty who it is, but her allegiance demands it and she tells the faculty and she hates herself for it when she sees the murderous rage on each of their faces

and somehow, that — her ability to recognise this carmen sandiego — gets her in a new position, as a mole in interpol, passing on the information they get as they try to track the scarlet super thief as well

and then one day, in poitiers, julia sees her

its black sheep. it’s undeniably black sheep under that red trench coat and julia wants to go and talk to her capture her and bring her in to vile but her new partner ~chase devineaux~ is everything that once made her turn away from her interest in law enforcement and he orders her to call for backup while he tries to stroke his own ego

she does, of course, but maybe she delays it a bit, if only because she’d rather let carmen sandiego get away than have devineaux’s ego get any bigger

and the rest of the season goes much the same except after julia ends up in acme, she reports to vile about everything that’s going on, and they no longer suspect devineaux of helping carmen etc etc

and she can’t help but somewhat sympathise with what carmen’s doing — she’s returning invaluable historical artefacts and julia’s always loved history and- it’s just… altruistic. and that’s admirable. and that’s the only reason i feel so torn about helping vile. that’s it, that’s the only reason.

and then comes the chasing paper caper

what was originally the first real conversation between julia and carmen goes completely differently

(note that most vile operative outside of jules’ graduating class do not know of her existence bc she barely interacts with most of them since she’s more a spy/mole who’s out of the picture by the time anyone else gets on the scene)

carmen still needs to be able to spy on paper star without anyone noticing, so she still goes for the seat right in front of the cute short-haired girl sitting alo- and oh my god jules?

and its the first time julia has heard that nickname in over a year and oh God they were just friends this should Not hit this hard what the Heck

and carmen still sits down and just quietly grills her as to what the hell is going on bc she Knows that jules is a always a mole and never an active part of a caper and she doesn’t?? understand??

and jules is kind of in a daze, but she’s been Trained so she feeds carmen her cover story:

she defected from vile when she saw how they were treating historical artefacts — melting down gold, selling priceless works of art to the highest bidder, etc. etc. — and that since then she’s been silently helping interpol with taking down vile ops, etc.

and it takes a bit but carmen kind of starts to believe it — she knows julia loves history with all her heart, and she’s… well, she’s never been the kind of recruit that carmen’s expected to see in vile anyway, so. it’s not out of the realm of possibility, is it, for julia to be a defector working against vile? after all, isn’t she the same?

so she starts looking around, while waiting for paper star to make a move, and she ends up noticing the briefcase in the seat next to her, and for some reason, those initials — clearly chase devineaux — make her want to scowl

“new partner?” “oh… its… well, work. work... partner” “oh.”

uhhh anyway i might actually. write this? idk don’t count on anything lmaooo.

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego (show) #carmen sandiego (character) #julia argent #carulia #carjules #julethief #my au #this took SO long to write out but it was so Worth it

[blissfulparker]

Seasick pt.8→p.p

Parings: college!peter parker x reader

Summary: when you give one lie to your mom that you have a boyfriend, she ends up buying an extra ticket for a cruise you guys are going on. Now you’re stuck looking for a fake boyfriend and eventually drag peter in. Except you and peter both like each other and don’t know how long you can last pretending.

Warnings: fluff, small angst at the end

A/n: wow! Sorry this took so long for me to update! The last two weeks I really hadn’t had much time for anything except answering asks and a few blurbs but I finally found some time and energy to stay up and edit this next part for you guys. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

When you told him you wanted to go to the beach, he didn't think you meant to hike down to a beach. Away from tourism, away from the shops and restaurants. There were more local people and as Peter was scared of something happening, getting lost, you getting kidnapped, your parents looking for you. You, you were calm and content.

“Where even are we going?” he asked and you turned around.

“There's this beach I used to hike down to when I was fourteen. well, i started when i was fourteen. It's kinda my secret spot as a tourist you know? The locals know about it...you'll see.” you tell him with a smirk and he follows you down a steep hill. His face trying not to go red as he followed you down such a steep path.

“You've been doing this since you were fourteen?” he asks and you nod. It would make sense, make sense why you would just randomly disappear for two weeks of the summer and come back perfectly normal.

“Yup. all those weeks in summer where i was just gone. I was here.” you tell him. His eyes widen before you step down into a beach. It was beautiful, empty of tourists but plenty of locals and kids running around, families laying out and enjoying themselves. It was beyond beautiful.

“So your family goes on a cruise every year?” he asks in shock.

“Yeah, it's like their one excuse to get together and make everything look good. It's a façade peter. All a fake.” you roll out a towel as you slide your shorts off, you are just in a lavender purple bikini. He loved red on you because of him, it was his signature color. But lavender fit you, it was your color.

“Peter.” you snapped him out of his thoughts and he jumped a little as he came back into reality. “Can you get my back?” you ask, handing him the sun screen. He nods as he takes some into his hands and massages it into your back.

“Do you wanna talk about last night now?” he asks. He knows it is healthy for you to talk. how it's pent up and you'll just have to deal with it again and again each year. Maybe you told MJ and he didn’t know. But he truly believed you just needed someone to listen.

“No, now i wanna swim.” you shrug getting up and walking into the water, waves crashing against your body. He hates how difficult you're being but his only option is to chase after you. You’re making him chase after you.

“(y/n)!” he swims and you jump on his shoulders. It's almost quiet as the only thing he can hear is the waves crashing into the land and the wind brushing into the trees.

“This is really pretty.” his body floats as he looks around. Far out in the sea he can see that there is a boat, he sees trees from a clif and a group of people jumping into the water. It’s like a fantasy.

“Yeah i know.” you share the same smile as you hold onto his shoulders for balance. He allows it, he doesn’t even realize it. If anyone were to tell you guys you were a couple he would believe it.

“I don't want to push it, not more than I already have. but what is the whole point of me being here? After last night i just...you told me they want to be perfect. That you want to be perfect. So you need a boyfriend to be perfect?.” he says. You look down, the water is a little cloudy but you can see your feet just fine.

“I guess I just wanted to be like them, show them I too can be the cute new york girl that has her life together. I thought I never cared about their approval but sometimes I see happy families leave a movie theaters or a restaurant and think if I just try a little harder, if I just do something right I can be just as happy as them. So when my mom called and it just slipped I had a boyfriend she was so excited for me, i thought maybe that was the key.” you shrug, it stung at the bottom of your heart. It did. Though you didn’t show it, you didn’t know, peter could hear the sound of your heartbeat ache.

“I mean, I think you're perfect.” he starts and you laugh a little trying to swim away.

“Shut up, I thought I told you i don't need pity.” you truly didn’t want to hear it. Especially not from him.

“No, I do. I mean, you are incredibly smart, you get along with everyone no matter who they are you can get along with them, you can pull off just about any outfit and you always look so pretty even after studying for hours. you always put others before yourself and just the other day i found out you're incredibly talented with painting. You always get things done on time and make time for everything and you make it look effortless. In my book that's pretty much the definition of perfect.” he rambles a little bit to you.

You stop and face him. Eyes wide and breath in your throat. He payed this much attention to you, you never noticed.

“What?” you asked and he shrugs. Maybe this was the climax moment Ned bragged to him about. He'll get a lover's high and it will feel like a movie.

“I mean, sure sometimes you don't knock and i think you need to work on that but-” he starts to try and take back some of the things, he doesn’t want to sound like a creep or an over analyzer. Doesn’t want to accidentally make you insecure when the whole point of this was to—

“Peter?” he stops talking. Your chest touches his and he grows red a little but luckily it just looks like the sun just hit his face.

“Y-yeah?” he looks up and you touch a wet curl.

“Do you want to know the real reason I wanted to transfer?” oh no. he thinks.

“Why?” he swallows hard not knowing how much longer he can take having your chest pressed against his in the bathing suit he didn't realize till now was so thin.

“Because you were dating that one girl Gwen.” you tell him and he cocks his head.

“I was so excited to go to Columbia with everyone. I had the biggest crush on you all four years and I thought maybe, just maybe this could be my chance with you. Then first semester you started dating her and she was the polar opposite of me and I just felt so lost. I never felt anything like I did for you. I was so in love with you it hurt me so much. So i just wanted to go, i thought maybe i should start over.” you play with the strap of the suit before laughing a little. “I then realized it was a stupid idea to transfer for a boy so i changed my mind and stayed. No one knew about it except for my family.” you tell him. His arms go around your waist without even realizing.

“D-Did MJ even know?” He asks. You told that girl everything. He knew how close you two were after finding it strange you two were comfortable with showering with one another.

“No.” You feel the water and the waves slosh around you. “Not even MJ knew.”

Your next move felt like the lovers high ned was talking about. Your lips slowly come in and meet his. His lips carefully move against yours and his hands explore your back to bring you in closer.

It almost felt like you’ve done this before. That you two have kissed like this before but you haven’t. Lovers high. He thinks.

His curls tickle your forehead and his lips pull away from yours. You rest your forehead against his and he notices how beautiful you are after he kisses you. He thinks to himself how he wants to get use to this.

“Real or fake?” he says in a whisper barely audible enough for you to hear, covered by the sounds of the waves and birds. You laugh an airy laugh before saying,

“Real.” and like that his lips are back on yours, he lifts you up a little and allows your legs to wrap around his waist. Your hands rest on his cheeks as for the first time, he knew this trip was completely worth it.

-

“You sunburn really easily.” you rub aloe on his back as you two eat from the bag of pretzels you brought.

Now laying back on the beach the sun is at its peak. Children run past as you and peter catch a break for yourselves.

“It's not my fault I'm pale and from New York where it's always raining and dark.” he says back with pretzels in your mouth.

“You can at least wear sunscreen.” you tease kissing his shoulder softly before going into the bag to grab your sunglasses and book.

“I do,” he reminds you before looking over to see two girls around the age of seven and eight laughing and looking at the two of you. “Why are they laughing at us?” he asks slightly insecure. You're already comfortable on your back with your book.

“Because were American.” you tell him and he looks at you knowing you’re lying. “I'm kidding, they think you're cute.” the little girls that were once sitting and laughing, now walked over with something in their hands.

“They’re walking to us.” he panics a bit to you but you're too invested in your book to care.

Still giggling they hand him a beaded and braided bracelet and hand you one too. Both a mixture of colors. You smile at them with a thank you, handing them a five dollar bill as a thank you.

“I thought they just thought i was cute.” he has a cocky smile as he puts the bracelet on.

“Oh get over yourself. They thought we were both cute. I've seen them do it to couples for years. Not the same kids of course, its a mixture of kids. I guess it’s kinda their thing here.” you tell him laying back down as if what you said was nothing.

“Couples?” he asks and roll your eyes.

“Yes, peter, couples.” you chuckle to him and he lays down on the towel to feel the sun against his skin.

He didn't really like the word couple. It made him feel old. He did like the term ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ that makes him think of walking hand in hand into study dates, bringing coffee to one another, rubbing each others backs when you are stressed. He loves the sound of that.

“Your sister came by this morning, Maya.” hes relaxed and maybe a little too relaxed. you now sit on your elbows.

“What did she say?” you ask him and his eyes open in a squint as he speaks.

“She said Arden said she's sorry and your mom wanted you for lunch but i said we were busy.” he tells you and you fall back on the towel thinking if you'll be in trouble for not ditching your mom. On a normal trip you would, but now you had Peter and were getting away with a lot. A little bit too much.

“Oh.” was all you said. You didn’t want to ruin what you just started. “I'm getting hungry? Want to go back?” you ask and he sees you're uncomfortable. Was it something he did? Was it something he said? Were you feeling like all this was a mistake?

“Oh, um, yeah,” he gets up and helps you put stuff back into your bag before taking your hand into his. His hand only there for seconds before you take it away. He can tell you're upset but this time he doesn’t know what. if it was him or your sister or your own thoughts that held you back. He thought he was having a good day, you guys were having the best day on this whole trip but it seems your mind changed.

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