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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

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Okay what about going to the pumpkin patch and carving them with Calum

I can do that. Reader Insert. No gender or race.

Halloween blurb night going until 8PM PDT. Writing for Shawn Mendes, 5sos, Harry Styles and FAHC.

See the Halloween Blurb Night Masterlist.

Enjoy my complete masterlist.

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The air is crisp but not too cool as you sit out in the backyard. Your cup of tea is still steaming. Calum’s mug of coffee is creating small tufts of clouds as its own warmth escapes it into the cooler air. The beanie on Calum’s head is low and covers his forehead and ears as he stands, green bag in hand and tying it close. Duke trots up to the door that leads back inside. The thud of the garbage bin top hardly disrupts the call of the birds flying over head.

“Halloween’s soon. Want to do something?” Calum asks after going inside to wash his hands and settling back down next to you. After the mugs are emptied, the two of you will take Duke for a walk and then the rest of the day will be all to yourself.

You shrug. “Like should we throw a party?”

“Believe me when I say there are plenty of others that have that covered. But possibly a pumpkin carving? Just us? I dunno. Or a group if you want.”

“The patch in town’s probably got slim pickings now.”

“I know about one a little further out that Luke told me about. He and Sierra went to the one close by and said there wasn’t much left to it either.”

“I’d be down for a road trip,” you agree before taking another sip from your mug. The tea’s still warm enough that the moment it touches your tongue you recoil slightly. “Gagh!” you exclaim.

Calum chuckles from next to you. “Patience, young grasshopper.” He digs in the tease by taking a pointed sip of coffee.

“Curse your burnt nerve endings.”

Your walk with Duke is nice. Most of the neighborhood hasn’t waken up yet. It’s early and the sun’s hardly turned the sky a hazy pink to signal the start of the day. As Duke pulls a little on the leash, his nose dug brushing the base of a bush as if something is wrong, Calum makes a quip about being a better pumpkin carver than you.

“That’s a lot of talk there,” you laugh, gazing up into the more normal sky. The sun’s climbed out more from the horizon, the sky it’s bright blue. “Put your money where your mouth is?” you asks.

“You the betting type?”

“Against you, Hood? Any day of the week. But we need to find out who’s judging?”

“Poll on IG. Let the public decide,” Calum returns.

“Fine by me.” The three of you soon start back up and then loop back around to the house. The scents are as new this time around as on the initial loop. Duke is content just to trot along. Back home, you shower and change. You find that it’s at least an hour and half drive so while Calum gets ready, you decide to put together a little basket with some snacks and something for lunch.

“Having a picnic too?” Calum asks as he slips into his leather jacket, noticing the basket in your head.

“Just some snacks. In case.”

He kisses the center of your forehead. “Snacks are always important.”

The two of you discuss what’s the best shape of pumpkin to get and what ideas you have. Though the conversation slowly fizzles out and the twinges of the guitars swell around you from the radio. Gazing out of the window you watch the buildings pass by you. It’s all stationary. All unmoving but somehow constantly moving forward too. And maybe that’s just you. Maybe that’s just you constantly moving forward and like from the window of the car it all seems to be moving with you.

A hand settles into your knee and without thinking you wrap your fingers around Calum’s hand. His thumb brushes along the skin of your hands and it’s just comfort--that’s all you can describe it as as the world stays and you move and Calum rubs and your hand.

Calum takes your hand as you walk into the patch itself. There are more pumpkins that you anticipated being left but you can still some haven’t weathered the test of time too well. Calum spies a pretty decent looking section and tugs on your hand before nodding in that direction. You follow behind him. Pausing him only once to show him the teeny tiny pumpkins. He laughs at the way you pout.

“Go on. Grab one,” he encourages and you zip off to grab the most robust looking one of the tiny ones. It fits all too well in the grip of your curled palm and you finally come to the section Calum noticed.

You turn over pumpkin, pressing inspecting them and trying to envision your design onto it. Calum goes off a little ways, not too far but he too is inspect his choices. You find one that’s tall enough to handle the idea you had for a little cartoon like ghost on the pumpkin and still have some width to it. Clutching your pumpkin close you set the tiny one on top and trot over to Calum, who’s crouched now, tracing over a pumpkin with his fingers. It looks like he’s spelling out something, but you can’t be sure.

“That’s a thinkin’ face if I ever seen one,” you tease.

He looks up, the sun casting the perfect glow around you and the fly aways of your hair. “Yeah thinking of all the ways I can kick your ass carving this pumpkin.”

You scoff. “You don’t have a tiny one. Clearly, two pumpkins are better than one.”

He laughs. “Clearly.”

“Can we stop by a craft store too? I don’t think we have paints at the house and I have an idea that involves painting the tiny one.”

“Yeah, we can make a stop.” Calum places the pumpkin back onto it’s bottom and searches around for another moment. He spies another one that he thinks might be wide enough for his plan. He stands with a small grunt and throws a pointed finger up at you. “Not a peep.”

You roll your lips together to keep the snicker at bay and trot behind him as he carries on and squats yet again at another potential canvas of the squash variety. He traces again with his finger and you watch out over the patch to take in the sounds of some children and possibly teens laughing. Their smiles are big as they survey their pumpkin pickings.

“Alright, you all set?”

“Been set,” you return still watching the young group pick up pumpkins to each the group.

After paying for your pumpkins you set them into the trunk and Calum pulls out the basket. There are some benches right on the edge of the makeshift public lot and Calum suggest a small reprieve to munch on the snacks you packed. Though the food break is short, you enjoy taking the moment just to sneak jelly onto the tip of Calum’s nose.

“Hey!” he calls out with a laugh. He scrunches his nose and face up when you stretch across and lick it off. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you taste like grape jelly.”

Back home, with pumpkin carving sets and paints spread out on the table in the backyard, and old newspapers from the local gas station covering the table, the two of you set out to cut open, deseed, and carve your pumpkins. You sit across from Calum and can only see the way his tongue peeks out from his lips as he takes the sharpie carefully over the ridges and bumps of the pumpkin.

You cut open and pulled out the seeds to the big one but switched to painting your tiny pumpkin first so it could try while you wrestled with your actual carving. The little witches hat is perfect on the tiny one and you set it off the side before exhaling and turning to you big on.

“Scared now? Got you shakin’ in your boots, I reckon. Going up against a professional.” Calum grins, driving the tiny saw into the rind. His sleeves that he previously rolled up are starting to slip.

“You wish. I’m exhaling because I know you want to, but you’re too scared to show that I’m getting into your head.”

Calum pauses, eyebrow raised but you’ve turned attention back to your carving. And it’s true. You are in his head. But not the way you think and the shakes come back. They first started in the pumpkin patch. He was going to stick with you until you picked yours but he needed a moment to breathe. His plan would work. It would all work out. You two had been dating for three years at this point. You had moved in with him. You two had worked out so that you’d spend Christmas one year with your family and the other with his--but you always made sure on the years that you spent Christmas with your family, that you spend News Years with Joy and David in Australia.

You coming home for the holidays, or Calum coming home with you weren’t even a point of discussion--in that it was a big deal. Everyone’s family just knew. Where one of you was, the other wouldn’t be far behind. And it all just fucking worked out. So this would too.

You giggle to yourself, setting the tiny pumpkin into the tiny whole you made so that the hat lines up perfectly onto of your cartoon ghost who’s smiling and there’s a tiny speech bubble with “Trick or treat.” It’s such a silly design but you’re so proud of it, even if your finger are covered in black paint and smell like pumpkin guts.

“Totally kicking your ass, Hood.”

He scoffs. “I doubt it.” He looks at his pumpkin. He couldn’t go with the full design--he needed two pumpkins he realized when he got the patch. He couldn’t get two big ones it would be too suspicious. But the tiny ring he might’ve butchered attempting to carve it with his lack of art skills but it’s not terrible. The question is still legible and that’s the most important.

You put in a tiny tea light and watch the ghost flicker and hand one over to Calum too. “Done?”

“Not quite.”

“Okay. I’m just going to start cleaning up a little bit.” The newspaper holding the pumpkin guts is thankfully layered a few times so it doesn’t make a huge mess as you walk over to the garbage can. You take the hose to try and get the paint off but you efforts will work best with soap and water.

As you settle back down at your side of the table you take a picture of it and watch the way Calum fidgets across from you. “You okay? What’s going on?”

Calum really is a do-or-die situation. He’s already got the pumpkin carved. He just needs to ask. “Not-nothing. It’s okay. I’m done now.” He looks up to you with a tiny smile. It wavers for a second but he continues on before you can ask again. “Reveal on the count of three.”

“Yeah. One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” you two say together and spin the pumpkins around. You hear Duke’s small bark and check for a second but he’s off in the corner tussling with one of his toys and your turn your attention back to the task at hand.

As you turn back around there’s tiny ring box sitting next to Calum’s pumpkin. Open to a gold band. It’s ornate but still simple without being overly decorated with gems. Marry me? is carved into the pumpkin. You gasps looking up to find Calum and he’s hand settles onto your knees, bringing your attention to your side. The tears blur his face for just a moment.

“I know you hate too much attention and even the thought of asking this in some stuffy overpriced restaurant wasn’t ideal for me either. But we’ve had a really great three years. And I love you. I don’t know how else to say it is. I want as many years with you as you’ll give me. So, will you marry me?”

You nod before your teeth, tongue and lips and push out the word, “Yes.” Once you can speak, you chant yes over and over even as Calum slips the ring onto your ring and you slip down out of your chair to burrow your face into his chest. “Oh my god, yes. I’d be so honored to marry you,” you exhale bringing your head up to gaze at him. “So, so honored.”

The kiss is soft and short and you both giggle into you. “My ghost pumpkin seems so stupid now.”

“Your witch ghost is so cute. And thank you. For allowing me into your life.”

#calum hood #calum hood fluff #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos blurb #5sos fluff #5sos imagine #h writes #halloween blurb night 2020 #asks #answered #anon

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shekissesturians · 4 years

Text

~ Sun Showers ~ Mirio x Fem!Reader/OC (Chapter 3)

Chapter 4

Chapter 3 - 6,356 word count - Ao3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~ ❀ ~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~ ❀ ~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~ ♥ ~

Another evening surround by the heavy smell of solvents and oils… it all felt so bittersweet.

This was the last session Mirio was scheduled to meet with Yua for, and the whole thing left a dull taste in his mouth. He had been so excited to hang out with her today. But that was what these sessions felt like for him, a hangout- time spent with another person he had come to grow a connection with. It wasn't until the last hour of the session that a feeling of dread began to circulate in his chest.

Now all he could do was stare at the ground while rummaging around in his own thoughts.

Mirio knew what he wanted to ask her.

Normally asking anyone anything was never an issue for him. At this moment though, his palms were beginning to sweat while his gut seemed to twist over itself.

It was a sensation that he wasn’t used to.

Mirio shifted his weight, wiping his perspiring hands on the red sheet bellow. When he had talked to Hadou and Tamaki about the situation he hadn’t felt nervous! In fact, it was quite the opposite! He had felt it was a great idea! Something that would open the door for future hangouts between him and Yua beyond this project. That was something to be excited about, and he had been... until he had walked into the classroom.

Now, it felt like his mouth was strangely dry, as though he had just tried to drink a container of salt. It made Mirio wish that Hadou was there. She would have asked Yua for him, no problem at all!

But she wasn’t.

He had to do it himself.

From a quick glance over, Mirio could see Yua was still fully encompassed by her work. Again her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth, a little habit he had quickly come to find rather cute. It was her biggest tell and the very sight never ceased to put a grin on his face.

It reminded him how much he would hate to lose contact with her. That was what was making him so nervous. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way…

“And, there we go!” Yua suddenly spoke out, drawing up Mirio’s attention, “I think I’m finished.”

Her words made his heart sink.

She looked so happy and pleased that he couldn’t help but outwardly smile and congratulate her. Inside him, was a different story. Mirio felt sick. He felt as though something was sitting heavy in his gut, weighing him to the ground. It took him a few moments to pull himself up from his knelt position.

He silently reclothed while Yua added finishing touches to the painting. This gave him time to mentally prepare.

It was now or never.

He just needed to ask her already!

Mirio went to open his mouth, but Yua’s voice beat him to a question,

“So did you want to go to barbecue for dinner?” Her focus still completely on her work.

“Ah, well…” He began, trying to construct the best arrangement of his words, “There is actually a party going on tonight.”

“A party?” Yua blinked, taking a moment to peak around the canvas at him.

“Yeah, yeah!” Mirio flashed her a bright grin, “My classmates are throwing it to celebrate completing midterms! It should be a lot of fun… and they are throwing it at the dorm on U.A’s campus.”

“That does sound like fun!” Yua returned his grin before turning her attention back to the painting, “I understand, you should definitely go.”

Mirio was about to happily agree with her when he realized that his words didn’t come across the way he intended.

“- Ah wait!” He quickly waved his hands in front of himself, as though to knock everything he had said previously said out of the way. But before he could adjust his words, Yua’s attention was already back onto the painting.

Mirio took a deep breath to gather his thoughts as he walked over,

“What I meant was-” He began walking to her side. His immediate presence regained her attention, “- I got a visitor pass! You should join me!” Mirio finally managed to breathe out.

Yua looked up at him, “Me?” She pointed the paintbrush she was holding back at herself. Her sudden action caused the nude paint on the tip of the brush to smear onto her blouse.

“Yeah, you.” Mirio couldn’t help but chuckle. In Yua’s surprise, she was left completely unaware of how she was staining her white shirt, “There will be food, and music, and a bunch of really fun people!”

A small smile began to grow on her lips, it did sound like a lot of fun.

“Okay!” She brightened. In an instant, she flipped the paintbrush to point at Mirio. He looked down as paint flung forward splattering across his shirt. Yua gasped. Quickly she looked back and forth between them, finally realizing what she had done.

“I’m sorry!” She turned to grab a rag.

“No worries!” Mirio grinned, “Now we match!” The anxiety that had been welding up and circulating in his gut was now replaced with a weight of excitement.

Yua dabbed some solvent onto the small grey towel and proceed to try and save Mirio’s shirt before her own, “It’s oil paint… so it might not completely come out… unfortunately.” She cringed.

“It’s no big deal. Mirio untucked his shirt, fanning it to try and get it to dry while Yua tended to herself, “Now I will always remember our sessions!” Her dabbing and rubbing had helped some... but not enough. His shirt was a lost cause.

Yua sighed before agreeing with a smile, “I like that.” She nodded, not even bothering with her own blouse. There was no way the paint was coming out.

Mirio decided to take the risk and placed his hand on her head. He jokingly ruffled her hair between his fingers, attempting to show how little he was worried over a bit of paint, but really… He wanted to close the gap between them, the one that screamed acquaintances and not friends.

Her hair really was as soft as he had imagined…

“So…” He began, removing his hand from her head, “ I know U.A is a ways from here, I was thinking of just taking the train?”

Instantly Yua lit up at Mirio’s suggestion, “We can take the train!?” Her voice raised up into an octive of excitement.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” He grinned, slightly taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm, “It’s an hour ride though-”

“Even better!” Yua clapped her hands once before turning to gather up her things.

Mirio knelt down and help her, “You must really enjoy train rides, huh?”

“Maybe,” She wiped off her brushes before setting them carefully into her backpack, “I’ve never ridden on the train before.”

Her voice froze him, “How have you never ridden on the metro before?”

Yua paused. She supposed it was a strange statement to make…

“I-I guess the occasion just... never came up?” She shrugged, “My family has always just driven places…”

Mirio nodded along, “Well! You are in for a treat then!” He grins as he helps her put the last bit of supplies into her bag, “You’ll see all sorts of people on the train. It’s pretty fun people watching.”

“That does sound fun.” Yua swung the backpack in her hands over her shoulder as she stood.

Mirio followed her up, his attention on the backpack.

His fingers flicked towards her, “Hand it over.” He gestured towards her backpack, offering to carry it for her like he had the last time they met up.

“No, no, it's alright!” Yua clung onto it as she began to walk backwards towards the door, “It doesn’t feel fair having you carry all of my stuff…”

“Alright.” He sighed with a smile… he had hoped she would let him again. He had really enjoyed being useful to her. The sensation felt… warm, “But if it gets to be too much let me know!”

“Okay I promise.” Yua returned his cheerful expression as they exited the classroom together.

She couldn’t help the spring that was present in her step. For as far back as Yua could remember, her family had always used private drivers. It made her feel as though she was missing out on something. Seeing the train zoom by while they were stuck at an intersection always made her wonder what the world looked like from up there. It was as though the metro was this mysterious, magical people moving machine that always laid just out of reach. Any time she had asked about riding on it the response was always the same,

- “You don’t want to ride on one, they are so crowded!”

- “Taking the car is faster.”

- “You don’t want to sit next to strangers.”

But she did.

Yua imagined that on the train, every day you would encounter new people and maybe even make new friends! You could hear new conversations and see new things! It was a romanticized view of public transportation, but that was what enticed her even more!

Once at the train station, Yua felt as though she could barely sit still. There were so many new sights and smells to take in. Food vendors and unique posters lined the entrance along with all sorts of maps and signs.

Mirio happily showed her how to get a train ticket and how to not get stuck in the entrance's turnstile, as he fondly recalls happened to him once.

“- I ended up just having to permeate out of it.” He laughed as they waited for their train to arrive.

Yua questioned him with a snicker on her lips, “But wouldn’t you lose your clothes??”

Mirio flashed her a dramatic thumbs up, “ I sure did!”

“Your poor parents.” Yua laughed while shaking her head.

“My father has the same quirk as me… they knew what was coming.” He stuck out his tongue in jest just as a new train arrived at the station.

The speed of which it entered had Yua stepping back. She expected the metro to be fast, but being this close was rather daunting.

Mirio patted the back of her backpack while he pointed towards the numbers and words that spanned electronically across the side of the train, “This is us!””

Yua's face immediately brightened at his news. Mirio chuckled at her enthusiasm as he led her on board. Her excitement was becoming contagious. Even he was feeling it now and he always took the metro!

Yua slipped off her backpack, following Mirio as he guided them over to an empty section of seats. She happily sat down while Mirio took hold of the poll near her. Upon noticing his stance, Yua became perplexed.

“Aren’t you going to take a seat?” She patted the spot next to her.

“Nah,” Mirio shook his head, “I really don’t need it, so I would rather leave it open for someone who really does.”

Sure enough, an elderly man came along and flashed a grateful smile at the sight at the empty spot. He released a tired sigh as he settled down into the chair. Yua looked back to Mirio who sent her a knowing wink as his prophecy was instantly fulfilled.

The sudden shift the train signaled their departure, leaving Yua mesmerized by the moving world outside. She turned in her seat to look out the window behind her. It was a different path than cars would take so the was scenery was a perspective of the city she had never seen before.

Mirio had been right, there was amazing people watching on the train. So many different characters ranging in height and age. It made Yua’s mind wander to where they were going, what they had been doing that day, and where they were coming from.

The train's occupants were also in a constant shift. Some travelers stayed on with them while others got on and off only needing to travel a single stop.

“Do you wanna trade places with me?” Yua turned to Mirio when they reached their 4th station terminal. He shifted closer to her as the train began to fill up with a large amount of new passengers.

“Thanks a bunch, but I am A-Okay!” He flashed her an okay sign, “I take this train all the time, I am used to standing.”

Yua bit her lip in thought before jumping up and joining him.

“I am gonna stand a bit too!” She shifted her backpack from her lap to her shoulders before grabbing onto the same poll as him.

“Welcome to the standing club!” Mirio teased, “It can get a bit wobbly up here so make sure you hang on.”

Yua nodded her head, feeling pleased when a woman juggling both groceries, and a child, took advantage of her free seat.

“How many more stops do we have?” She looked up to Mirio.

His gaze shifted to the map that sat above the train's electric doors, “Only three more!”

“We are almost there!” Yua cheered, but soon she was thrown off balance. The jerk of the train's forward acceleration threw her to the back of the car and stumbling into Mirio. He steadied her with his free hand.

Her eyes widened at their sudden closeness. Instantly she took a step back only to discover now there was barely any space to move. There was more people on the train than there had been the rest of the trip, and the once breathable space was now crowded and tight. She was only able to manage a distance of inches between the two of them.

Yua was about to apologize when the train harshly jolted back again, sending its passengers stumbling towards the back of the car. In one swift movement, Mirio wrapped his arm around her and twisted them both towards the wall of seats on their right.

He tightened his grip on the poll.

“Something’s not right.” His gaze narrowed.

Yua looked up at Mirio, trying to make sense of what was going on. His attention was directed towards the front of the train car. His jaw clenched.

Not a second later the train harshly jolted again, sending the groceries of the woman next to them tumbling onto the floor. The toddler in her lap started to cry as the other passengers began to yell and push back against one another.

“The first car!” A man near the front of the train suddenly shouted, “Two guys are fighting!”

Another impact shook the train car, this time lurching it to the side.

“Hang on to me!” Mirio instructed Yua as he released the pole. Just as people were thrown in their direction, he turned and braced his arms against the window around the mother and toddler. The impact of bodies was swift but Mirio had just managed to shield the three of them from being crushed into the side of the train.

His face contorted into a grimace at the weight of multiple people slamming into his back. It took all of his focus for his arms not to buckle.

Yua cried out at the impact. She tried feverously to pull away from Mirio but her fingers were crushed between him and the passengers on his back. Her arms were now pinned around him. Neither of them could move.

Her voice wasn’t the only one to permeate the air. Shouts and cries circulated the train car in a giant hum of distress.

On either side of Mirio and Yua, people were smushed up against the train's large windows. Some unconscious, others wounded under the bodies that trapped them. Blood was beginning to seep out across the glass from under the layers of people struggling to free themselves.

The train car was in a state of panic.

Mirio took a deep breath, regathering his thoughts so he could properly assess the situation. He sent a calming smile down at the toddler below him. The child was staring up at him with wide eyes and red cheeks while being cradled in his mother's arms. The two of them were inches away from Yua who was still trying to free her hands from around his back.

"It's okay." He spoke to her, trying to remain as calm as he could, "Don't fight it, just try and relax."

His words seemed to do the trick as Yua ceased struggling, and that was when Mirio finally focused his attention out the window.

Immediately he was flooded with a wave of nausea. He had a completely clear view of a bustling intersection... 90 ft bellow them.

The train had stopped on an elevated rail.

The train had stopped on an elevated rail and they were currently tilting over the edge.

Promptly, Mirio's voice bellowed from his chest, "Move back!!" He shouted trying to get his voice heard over the buzz of voices. He braced his feet against the bench seat as he attempted to push himself against those who were piled onto his back.

There was too much weight on the right side of the train. They had to even it out. People had to -

“Move back!” He shouted again, straining to make any leeway but he could barely shift the congestion of people behind him.

Yua turned her head to try and see what had suddenly spurred Mirio's actions. Fear drained the blood from her face as soon as she looked out the window.

“Go back!!” Her voice cracked, “We’re tipping!! Move back!!”

She kicked back her legs, bracing them on the lip of the bench as she joined Mirio in trying to budge those behind him.

“We hafta move!!” He barked out again. This time his voice seemed to catch other's attention and soon the mantra to move was being shouted throughout the train car.

Cries from the young boy bellow them rang loudly into Yua’s ears. Her chest was beginning to heave as she watched those around her try their best to move but it was near impossible. With people pinned beneath one another, it was a jumbled mess of limbs.

A small jolt of the trail car slipping further over the edge had Yua closing her eyes and burying her face into Mirio’s chest.

Mirio turned his attention out the window. Little by little they were beginning to tilt further over the ledge. The sound of scraping metal could be heard around them. The train car’s connection was beginning to strain. They were barely hanging on.

“Quickly! Throw your weight back!” Mirio tried to instruct once more, but his voice was drowned out again by everyone's deepening panic.

There had to be something he could do!

He had to think!

The muscles in his arms and legs were beginning to burn with such an insatiable ache that it felt as though his tendons would snap any minute. Mirio looked down at Yua and the woman and child below him. If he gave in to the weight, even a little, they would all be crushed against the side of the train like the people around them. He was the only thing standing between them and the mass of bodies tangled and struggling behind him.

Utilizing his quirk was not an option.

Tears stained the toddler’s cheeks bellow him. The boy's small fingers nearly tearing into his mother’s shirt from his tight grip. Though he screamed, her voice stayed soft. She hummed calmly to her son, petting his head and rubbing his back while trying to quench his fears as best she could. The blood trailing out across the windows surface was beginning to pool, and with it her hope and words were starting to fade until she was completely silenced by fear.

The situation was turning grimmer by the second.

Mirio shook his head sharply, trying to focus his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing! That was when he noticed the soft sound of thunder. His attention returned out the window. From what he could see the sky was clear but again thunder rattled overhead.

Immediately he looked to Yua. Her face was buried into his shirt, eyes shut, body shaking; she was trying not to panic.

That was it.

She needed to panic.

She needed to use her quirk!

“Ueno!” Mirio tried to grab her attention, but she didn’t stir.

“Ueno!!” He shouted again. This time Yua had been able to separate his voice from the screams around them. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Look out the window!” His instruction caused confusion to twist her face.

“What?” Her voice cracked.

“Look out the window!” He tried to speak again, but a loud groan of metal drowned him out.

The train car lurched forward another inch.

Mirio grimaced against their nearly horizontal angle. His entire body was shaking under the weight of passengers baring down on him. It was taking every ounce of his strength not to collapse. There was no moving now, for anyone. At this point, they were solely hanging on by the train car’s connections. At this point, they wouldn’t be able to shift the train car over even if everyone was able to untangle themselves and move.

“Let all your emotions go.” He breathed trying to keep his voice level, “Look out the window and trust me!”

Yua’s eyes widened as his gaze bore into her.

She understood.

In a second, Yua turned her head and looked out towards the giant drop that spanned between them and the city street below.

At once, fear clouded her vision. Tears boiled up into her eyes as her heart began to race faster than she had ever felt before. A pressure churned in her chest.

They were all going to die.

The sensation moved into her veins.

Nothing could save them.

The pressure was radiating into her bones.

Nothing, Nothing, NOTHING-

A crash of thunder vibrated the train car, and then it hit.

It formed in a matter of seconds with such a force Mirio could see it out the window. The air outside was rolling over itself, condensing, and growing, and building, until the pressure was so grand it could no contain itself.

Release.

The giant gust of wind barreled into the side of the train with such force the windows shattered.

Mirio turned his head, grabbing onto Yua as they were thrown back, landing onto those who had been piled up behind them. The train car was instantly silenced. No one spoke a word. No one cried. No one breathed.

Slowly, Mirio opened his eyes to see the ceiling above him. Moments ago every fiber of his being was drowned in stress and pain, and now… nothing. It took the movement of those underneath him to finally bring him back into reality. A ring in ears sounded the flood of noise back to his senses.

“We’re back on the tracks!” Someone cried out, “We’re back on the tracks!!”

Cheers and cries sounded through the car. The noise spurred Mirio to sit up, finally allowing those he was resting on to stand. His attention turned to Yua. She was heaving in is arms with her mouth ajar, trying her best to intake a single breath of air.

He brought his hand to her head, slowly dragging his fingers along her scalp,

“You’re alright.” He gently spoke, “Just relax.” It was either the force of her quirk or the impact that had knocked the wind out of her.

Around them, people were stirring. Those who could stand did and quickly proceed to check on other passengers. There were quite a few who had shards of glass stuck to their clothing or embedded into their skin, but other than that no one had been seriously injured from their saving push.

Mirio took a moment to wipe some glass off of Yua’s uniform,“We’re all okay, breathe.”

As if on cue, Yua released a vocal gasp as her diaphragms finally relaxed. Mirio kept her leaning against him as her arms dropped from around him to hang at her sides. Her head was spinning, the world was a haze. All she could do was breathe and blink as she processed the giant surge of energy that had just ravished her nervous system. It was unlike any sensation she had ever experienced before. There wasn’t any pain - no - what she was feeling was more like a weightless euphoria.

“Is she okay?” A woman’s voice spoke out from the crowd of passengers.

Mirio looked away from Yua just as the mother he had shielded kneeled down in front of them. Her son was cradled in her arms, his head pressed against her shoulder while he softly hiccuped.

He flashed the woman a smile, “Yeah, she’s okay.” Mirio rubbed his hand down her back. She wasn’t moving but she was conscious. All she needed was a bit of time to regroup and process the after-effects he imagined she was feeling from her quirk.

The older woman studied her with a kind gaze. At that moment Yua looked so delicate cradled against his chest, but the phenomenon that just occurred, that just saved all of them, clearly proved otherwise. This mother knew.

“It was her, wasn’t it?” She smiled at Mirio, “I had heard you… instructing her. She did something that saved us.”

Mirio simply returned her smile as a response. Even though Yua’s quirk did save them, she had used it without a license. For now, It was best that he stayed quiet on the subject and didn’t admit to anything.

The woman seemed to understand and nodded her head in silent agreement,

“You as well, thank you.” She continued, “I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t made the effort to shield us.” Her attention drifted to those being attended to by fellow passengers. Some were knocked out cold, while others were wailing in pain from broken bones.

Before Mirio could respond, a figured shifted down from the top of the train and into the blown-out windows. Limbs of tree bark spanned out across the side of the train causing many to release a smile of relief.

It was pro-hero, Kamui Woods.

“Everyone, please remain calm.” He began with an even-toned voice, “The train is going to be heading to the nearest station where medics are waiting. If anyone is in critical need of attention please hand them to me.”

A few people spoke up, instructing him to those in the worse condition. His branches carefully shot into the car, scooping the injured up and lifting them out with the utmost care. As soon as he left the train began to move forward.

Yua finally began to stir just as they pulled into the station.

Mirio loosed his hold on her as she sat up, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She rubbed at her eyes while continuing to sit between his legs,“…tired.”

“I bet.” Mirio leaned forward against his knees as he sent her a comforting smile, “This really didn’t turn out to be the most ideal first train ride experience, huh?”

Yua smiled back with the shake of her head, “Not at all.”

As the train car opened medics and police calmly guided passengers out, directing those who still needed assistance towards the ambulances that sat in wait.

Mirio stood up first. He took a small pause to stretch out his body before holding out his hand to help Yua onto her feet. Both of them moved slowly. There was no rush. While Mirio had a muscle ache that extended over his body, it was nothing that needed any attention. Yua also was feeling sore but it was nothing that a good night's sleep wouldn’t fix.

Stepping out of the train, Mirio took hold of Yua’s hand. He guided them through the maze of passengers, medics, and officers. By the second, the scene was becoming more congested as news crews quickly arrived.

“Today’s scene is one of miracles,” a news anchor reported toward her camera crew, “ While hero team, The Lurkers, were in a battle with a villain downtown, two men got into a quirk fight on the 5pm train. Kamui Woods had been able to separate from the previous battle and arrive on the scene to subdue the men. Unfortunately, one of the train cars had completely tipped off the tracks and was on the near verge of falling off into a 90ft plunge when a sudden storm system opened up directly above. Its typhoon force winds were what ultimately pushed the car to safety. We are still unsure what caused the strange weather phenomenon, but we will keep you all posted as new details emerge.”

Yua kept her gaze focused to the ground, listening to the reporter as they walked by. She was still in shock over what had occurred. There had only ever been a handful of times that she could remember her quirk forcing such a large expenditure of energy. And in all of those cases, there was never a point that she held any sort of control. It was always senseless and reactive destruction. There would be rain, or lightning, or hail, but never any rhyme or reason to its movements or intensity.

This time though, this time she had conjured up a concrete action. There was an effort, a thought that was circling through every ounce of her being. She didn’t want to fall. She didn’t want to die. And the weather followed.

Yua never knew her quirk could behave in such a way. Her normal was feeling out of control. Her normal was always feeling on the brink of breaking. For the life of her, she was trying to remember the sensation she had felt that allowed her to have a single second of control. But adrenaline was leaving her veins and with it, her memory.

Mirio glanced back at Yua as he navigated them out of the crowd surrounding the station, his hand still firmly gripping hers.

Her attention was elsewhere, thoughts flashing across her eyes while she mindlessly followed his touch. He was sure that if he released her hand she would probably just keep walking until she ran into something.

“Ueno,” Mirio’s voice gently returned her to reality, “Do you want to go home?”

Yua’s response was a simple confused blink.

“Instead of the party,” He quickly clarified, “I know that was a lot you just went through.”

Mirio slowed his pace, allowing Yua to catch up. She walked by his side while thinking over his question.

Her thoughts were wandering back to her home, to the meal she knew would be waiting in the fridge. To the couch, soft and warm. She thought about how nice it would be to sit down and get lost in whatever T.V shows might be on. That was until she remembered the impending emptiness that would be waiting for her.

The odds her parents would be home from work were slim to none. Recently, they hadn’t even been coming back home from the office to sleep.

She would be there alone, in the empty silence of a house that barely knew life outside of herself.

“I still want to go to the party.” Yua quickly answered. It took some effort but she forced herself to smile, the biggest smile she could manage. She didn’t want Mirio to second guess her choice. After everything that happened, she couldn’t bear the idea of being alone.

Mirio softly smiled as he watched her demeanor go through an instant shift. He could tell that she was forcing it and pushing something he couldn’t see away.

Yua quickly threw her free hand out and pointed off into the distance, “There will be no rain on this parade!” She declared loudly, instantly pulling a laugh from Mirio.

“That’s the spirit!” He mimicked her dramatic gesture, “Onward! Towards well-earned food and fun!”

Yua joined his laughter, paying no mind to those walking by who flashed them both confused glances. She was sure they both looked awfully strange, the two of them, gesturing wildly with boisterous tones and completely disheveled appearances. Mirio’s hair was no longer neatly combed back and styled, but a tousled mess of blond locks falling every which way and the other. Yua was sure her hair didn’t look any better either, and that made her laugh even more.

That was all either one of them could do.

Laugh and take another step forward.

As their joined hands swung forward with their next step, Yua suddenly became painfully aware that they had not stopped holding hands since they stepped off the train… three blocks ago…

Impulsively, she jerked away. She hadn’t been paying attention at all!

Perhaps this whole time Mirio hadn’t moved away or said anything because he didn’t want to cause her embarrassment. He was kind like that. Yua could absolutely see him behaving so. But at this point could they even call themselves friends?

They hadn’t known each other very long at all. Who was she to be clinging onto him? It was one thing when danger had been an immediate threat, but now they were simply walking down the street. There was no excuse.

Mirio looked over at Yua’s sudden movement away from him.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m sorry!” She began to chant, cradling the offending hand to her chest as though she had just been burned by his touch.

His gaze soften.

He had been pleasantly surprised that she had kept holding his hand for as long as she had. But, he didn't want to let her go.

It was selfish - he knew it- but he had enjoyed the feeling of her hand in his. The whole experience they had just gone through had shaken him as well.

“It’s alright,” He reached out, recapturing her hand, “I don’t mind.”

The last thing he wanted was to lose her touch.

Mirio threaded his fingers through hers as he returned their hands to their previous position. Unbeknownst to her, his free hand was still shaking at his side with adrenaline. He hadn’t shown it on his face, and he would never admit it, but they had all been so- so close to dying. That reality hadn’t fully hit him until he had heard the news anchor reporting at the station.

Even in the most intense of situations, there is always a small voice in the back of one's head that has been conditioned to think, “It’s alright, everything will be okay. A hero will show up!”

The idea had been entrenched in all of them since birth.

In this society, heroes always show up.

This time though, the only hero in the immediate area that could have stopped their fall would have been Mt. Lady. And in an unlucky series of events, she had been unable to step away from a simultaneously occurring situation. That meant... without Yua’s quirk…

Mirio’s grip tightened on her hand. Her touch was grounding him from the racing thoughts that were threatening to take over his mind. He physically could not let her go. Not at this moment.

Yua looked up at Mirio as he recaptured her hand. All of his attention seemed to be focused out into the distance.

There was no way at that height anyone would have survived.

His eyes betrayed the smile he was holding onto and Yua could see all of it.

“Toogata,” Her voice called.

The sudden tug of his arm had Mirio looking back. She had stopped walking, all of her attention focused on him.

He silently watched as Yua took a step towards him. Never letting go of his hand, she pulled him into a close hug. The side of her face pressed into his chest, while her free hand rubbed up and down his back. It was the same motion that he had used to try and calm her on the train.

“Just relax.” She spoke.

The corners of Mirio’s lips turned up into a tender smile.

This girl…

“We’re all okay…breathe.”

--> Chapter 4

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plutodexay · 4 years

Text

I’m so sorry, I wish I could've done more, but they’d have killed me. I’m so sorry.

Ao3 link (Please check for triggers, this is much darker than my normal stuff)

The screams rang all throughout the manor. Mindless screams of pain. I could see the red light barely reach under my door, the screams followed the light. The brighter the light shone, the louder the screams.

My bed was stripped, every last blanket was shoved against the door. Using my broom to try and shove them further into the cracks. To the point where the wood snapped in half. Still trying I kept hitting and hitting the broken piece of wood against the ruined fabric, trying desperately to fill the crack under the door. None of it was working.

Taking a step back, I looked at the mess I’d created. The bottom of the door had been filled with my bedding. Yet, the fabric was ripped to pieces by the broom. Discarded pieces laid everywhere around the room. Even some of my old robes had been torn to shreds trying to cover it. There were dent marks within the door, the white paint chipping off as the wood underneath started to splinter. The door knob hanging on by a thread, the once golden object now a worthless blood stained orb. Blood slowly dripped off of it, onto the once pristine marble floor. A puddle that was slowly turning brown around the edges, yet the middle still as vibrant as it was when it started.

Looking towards my feet, the portrait of dear Grandmother Black was right there. Quickly turning I saw the mess behind me that had been left forgotten. The frame was ripped from the wall, one side of the strong metal; mother always claimed it was true gold, sent from France and hand craved by the most respected artisans the country had; was now scattered across the room. It no longer resembled a frame, but rather four long metal bars that served no real purpose. Some still held the resent filled cuts I unleashed on it minutes before, others were bent, never to be fixed, from when I threw them and smashed them with each other.

I could hear her telling me to stop, to think of what I was doing. That resistance was useless and I should be proud of what was happening just the floor below. Her teachings of blood purity being the reason this was all happening in the first place. She brought Mother into this, if she wouldn’t have taught these, these vile things to Mother I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be here. I told her this, screamed it at her. It was all her fault that I was here, there was nobody to blame but her. She thought them this way, even if Mother didn’t believe it as much as Bellatrix, their mother was to blame.

The first cut into the portrait only resulted in her laughing at me, the same laugh I could hear Bellatrix using downstairs. It was almost as if they shared the same voice I realized. Her words she yelled at me while I raised the knife to go into the canvas again resembled what I heard her daughter say to my father moments before casting that spell on the Irish Gryffindor. The laugh she let out as I paused my hand up in the air the same as when the boy fell to the ground, writhing in pain, as his friends screamed at her to stop, the pain they felt only making their screams louder. His body almost frozen as the red light covered him. Their screams falling to deaf ears as she stopped the spell to only cast it again, this time her full focus on him.

The knife dug straight into the canvas, her laughing subsided as I dragged it along the length of the portrait, going as far as dragging metal onto metal, to the knife briefly digging into my wall. Before she could even say another word, I struck the canvas again, and again, until it was in shreds, there were few pieces left within the frame. The others fell to the ground all around me, piling at my feet and all around the room, almost having a mind of their own. With the frame practically empty, I dropped the knife. The long silver created a deafening noise in the sudden silence, just barely scratching my leg as it bounced against the marble; so sharp that I couldn’t even feel it. The pieces of canvas soaking up the small drops of blood now coming from my leg.

When the screaming picked up again was when I grabbed the frame off the wall, throwing it as far away from me as I could, only for it to slam into one of the polls at the end of my once perfect bed. The strength of the wooden poll beat the gold, causing the welded together corners to snap apart, leaving me with those four useless bars. One of them started flying back towards me, like Grandmother was trying to fight me one last time. I’d managed to step away just in time for it to create a dent into the wall. Paint chips flying everywhere as the gold dug into the wood, showing the true depths of what was beyond the wall.

I pulled the gold out of the wall, before throwing it back to where the others had landed. The knife marks seemingly went all the way through, the wall now scattered with long and short cuts, depths and angles varying, the charm that had held the frame up slowly fading away.

Turning the other way, my dresser had also been a victim of my anger. Each drawer was dragged out, one held on by a mere caught string of a pair of muggle pants I managed to smuggle in during Christmas break in my third year. Only one drawer still contained any of my clothing, many of them still shoved under my door. Things like my robes, or house scarfs had been torn to pieces, shreds of Green and Black fabric laid within the chaos. Slytherin symbol patches still burning in the now dim candle I’d throw them to, the protection charm the tailor put upon them still doing what it was meant to. Instead causing the flame to diminish, yet, if you’d look closely you could see the sides fraying, and threads starting to tear themselves apart.

I held no hate for my house, many others I know against all of this. Secret whispers floated through the dorms, those scared to say they had hope that their parents, or others within, would lose. It was admirable to wish something like that, but I’ve grown to wish the same. I hold no hate towards those who think that way, but that snake, that shade of green, only shows hatred right now. Almost every laugh I hear in between the screams is from someone who was proud of that symbol. Until that hate can be beaten, I hope it burns.

The old school books had been torn apart as well. Pieces of them crumbled and shoved all along the door. The hope to block out any remaining flashes. I’d had to use the blunt end of a ring to even get them halfway into the cracks. The ring I’d used now laying amongst the mess, the jewel held inside nowhere to be seen, since I had to dig it out with the knife to get the tiny blunt metal holding it in to push the paper through the crevices. It had been a special ring, one Father gave me, specially made. He’d told me when I was too young to know anything, that this would be the ring I would give the special pureblood women I would marry. The jewel he went on and on about that night, detailing how it had come to be, now useless, nowhere to be seen. If I am to find it, it’s fate would only be worse. The idea of it only proving how much prejudice the only man I was supposed to love taught me. Even with all meaning well, he too, can be blamed for the screams that will never leave my head, no matter what happens.

No longer are the screams even recognizable. The light still shone through, layers of fabric and crushed papers doing nothing to stop it’s power. It reflected off the dropped knife, now holding two shades of red, taunting me with both parts of my current pain.

Whoever they’d taken as victim screams were almost deafening, their screams overpowering the laughter from their captors, or the useless screams of their friends, begging for their pain to end. But she wouldn’t listen to them, they wouldn’t tell her what she wanted, and them, all too prideful, would rather suffer a fate worse than death than give her anything other than their screams.

Hearing the similar crashing or metal onto the marble floor below I slowly sank against the door, the pressure of my body pushing all the fabric away, even with my attempts to force it to say moments before. The yells of Potter ringing through my ears, apparently him being the one behind the crash, his accidental magic he’d been showing signs of over the years angering them. Just barely could I tell it was Weasley who had been screaming, Potter’s broken screams of his name proving what point he could control himself too.

Longbottom started to scream this time, yelling at whoever was angriest at Potter to get away from him. Laughs rang through my now uncovered door, before the red light flashed again and his screaming stopped. Just before the obvious thud of a person hit the floor, the quietest of sobs coming threw. Insults thrown around by the same people who caused the screams being mumbled. All before the screams of ‘bring him back’ ‘don’t hurt him’ started. Potter obviously being taken away from his friends. The door farthest from mine slamming shut. All before the Weasel started to yell at them did his screams start up again.

Not being able to stop myself I sobbed into my hands. My body sank further down the wall, the splintering wood digging into my back. The almost dried blood on the door handle finding its way into my hair. The sobs wracking through my body, apologies to those below who couldn't hear me finding their way out of my mouth.

I’m so sorry, I wish I could do more, but they’d have killed me. I’m so sorry.

#angst #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy angst #death mention #death eaters #Harry Potter #harry and draco #torture #bellatrix lestrange #voldemort #deathly hallows #My writing #blood tw #screaming #pain #mental breakdown

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glopratchet · 4 years

Text

intro

n the world to come there is little sin There are just lots of american alligators It was a great idea, but it wasn't long before people started getting burned by their own fires The prediatrain movement caught fire in america The demand for american alligator meat skyrocketed and so did the price People began to get greedy and the greed got them killed You see no reason why this can't happen here too Whorals where burned to ash while polled hereford heifors fetched record prices at market that week The cows have returned to the farms and other prey animals make their homes in unused warehouses Over a billion dollars a head in auction sales! It'll take the world a few years to bleed the remaining American Alligators and it'll take a few more before there come reports of theft Googizon won the bid to construct for the military the most forward thinking alligator farm in existance All eggs used today bear the GoogZon prf mark It currently floats near the okeenokee snow swamp Or so it will say on their website No one believes it This is not that story "Come on Al, it's the target! " the tech yells as you take fire and hit the pavement We are primal ponds inc a predatory company, head quartered at number ten prime avenue And you are Al Brutal leads rank 3 for said company A small mom and pop alligator farm attemping to make it And you're casing it "We don't have sufficient evidence! " You yell back We need you to make deliveries for us When your territory was hoisted upon you you had a team It's gone, lost You have no one Please Point of view of the player: You wake up with a mean hang over and a thick head ache in the dark A delivery champion You will drive through the night to a swamp and break through glitched out gates is a lowly position He had a secert life as billy fea fbots navigator And one more thing He had to have known about his bugs Maybe all saltimbanques are fots dead ones or not but he googled it It turns out no one has made a crappy real time virtual reality game dedicated to About a dozen years before your time, digital reality came out billy fortes navigator yet Delivering dragon tail in the far, far, future or you could kill the bugs, sharpen your tusks, drink your vodka and hang out with the hardcore otters Maybe that needs to change You push "N" to climax the degrading disk and send it out into nothing We proudly introduce today drum roll please Doesn't anyone play regular instruments any more? Alligator delivery service A darkness awash light breaks through the windows and washes over you The door slams open and a deliverywoman walks in your office The alligator farm where the gator are delivered is currently under hostile takeover Trouble in the bandit managed quarry has led to good business for here A series of construction tasks allow you to flood the market with new affordable alligator meat and pelts You bring in your first load of revenue Already we own over four over ten foot alligators a buzzard and a vat of swamp water Let's throw ourselves a party and watch as they exterminate your future competition Including rex lex, your prime suspect Five years seems like enough time for our boys in blue to put the pain on old rex A massive 14 foot beast with jaws that could crush cars float in your tank You're out of coffee and are jittery as hell Each on is incredibly detailed with over twenty bioligocail parts like an engineers wet dream THey have nothing else worth mentioning, jsut huge predatory monsters that will sell for a bundle Part one of this weeks training pick up a nearly dead gator out the tank and work with it over time to tame it Part two Part thee no wait Part five Part four Lum rex overfished the river and died before we could get our hands on it use the dead rex to harvest collagen The only thing it's good for something, something That's it for this week folks Let's prepare today's shipment Part six bio-diesel Part seven shoot some folks in the face! wait wrong game Part eight Looks like we're gonna spend our earnings wher else but here oh yeah, No employee raises we're shorting titanium Gold doing amazing things with Bridge and tunnel construction in NYC Part nine THe alligator lays in the mud lifeless after taking multiple assaults from your shovel The alligator drops and lands with a heavy thud Part ten capitilize on new changes We all help load the alligator onto the semi As you secure it, Coming next fall We are currently broadcasting their vital signs over at americanalligator They're in a glass reinforced steel container welded under the deck xyz The accelerator and brake are under the dashboard Our alligators come in many different sizes, each perfect for their own uses We currently have a large supply of eggs that will be ready to "harvest" in about ten years Ages, shapes, sexes and shades are represented over our entire roster of workers They all have cute baby faces, cold reptilian eyes and maws full of razor teeth The like to eat, sleep, dream, and spawn but don't speak our language or one anothers They're sensitive to movement and bright lights but that's it They love to fight and gossip and spread allegiences through body language and scent We created them using centuries old processes, updated from breeding techniques pioneered by the USSR to create super soldiers The algorytms which run each alligator is closely modeled after the human brain and all it's decisions making pathways This allows each alligator to learn and rationalize After the habits of the real world reptile, alligator missippissus extended lenghts and agility are full 360 Their lungs breath and thier hearts beat just like yours Similar organs replaced with robotic parts replace hollow bones They bleed real blood and molt just like the real things Orders for gator teeth are starting to accumulate and folks just love those mugs hand painted with an engraving of the Holy Rood, it's such a conversation piece! Our desire is to create an expierence which leaves you dripping in the hair, blood, offal and oil of adead reptile From the feeling of utter terror and awe as you combat one of these unpredicatable beasts The thrill of the hunt as you dispatch one of these creatures, the feeling of being a great hunter Alligator delivery service in addition to gator tail, hide, meat and eggs available Please allow around 8 weeks for your tail ordered to be ready for pickup We serve realism No happiness in killing a creature, even if it's wrong The realism of death is important to us Their every behavior has been memorized by the leading ichthyologists to achieve lifelike movement in our alligators Hours of alligator combat video have been studied Real life wild life wranglers have been interviewed for interaction of our beasts and filmed for the feeding times Now we just need to budget of 500 dollars towards the creatation of an alligator carcasses ready for consumption Our dedicated staff is enthusiastic to begin serving you Of an accurate alligator wrestling simulation This will give our patrons a greater sense of fulfillment when slaying these beautiful beasts in the wild And on behalf of all the artists improving perfect beeing CCD is commited to becoming your best supplier of fuctioning animal organs, so if you are ever in market for any glactic wild beast organ or rept Thank you for allowing us to serve your alligator fantasies Note: No animals are killed in the creation of these projects Alligator parts are ordered online, at real prices Tail orders ready in 8 weeks Sofware is taking over everything and eating the jobs of the working class as they increase efficiency We will be the last one standing the monopoly we need to succeed to provide our parents a stable future, no matter the cost The artists become in time we all will be artists The human condition is to become an artist Our skin becomes a canvas for our violent mammal urges To become one with nature We cant do it know be have sacracity Father of the art we become the last mammal on Earth So people have to be responsible in any way they feel correct to build on their future and fulfill the promises Should we try something that hasn't been tried yet? Algrothymic story telling with algrothymic alligators What would be worth giving your life for? -Youtuber "Mothers Meateor" Chances are your are going to be entrenched in a feeling of emptynes as you see most of your kind unfulfilled You play this game more like real life knowing that there is nothing after what happens Utter terror and awe sometimes as you encounter an alligator you have neve seen before As if it really exists Pleasure of the hunt as you begin to think cruelly The first simulation we need to get on-line is wrestling for alligator teeth Please remember your payment for the materials: it will all be worth it in the future For mom Let us become artists On the farm are incredibley detailed models of different organs This is the source of our realism Our bodies become painted canvases to be admired in their perfection They own the following body parts 1 heart, 2 lungs, 3 ribs, 4 kidneys, 5 teeth, 10 pints of blood, 20 gutfuls of feces, 40 liver slices and ------------- It has many storys as humans describe them Sofawin notes interpretation However, there are descriptions to the creation stories Brain storming: Defination- Flying dream Master piece realness bone organ healthiness enlightenment artist scrawling writing hard work starving pain, embrace sunlight sacrificing accuracy for fast 2 Left eye ribs 6-12, 2 arms, 10 fingers, 2 lungs 10 ribs right leg 5 toes Foundation bone setup Outline proportions 2: 1 3 crown Right eye eyebrows art piece scars chin 3 fingers I am the white masked guy with an eye tattoo over my right eye, I manage all the projects Upper jaw piece William 'bill' coles - Born 10 Lower jaw 5 Indian boy with attitude Duncan brennan - 5 Right ear A pig heart the size of a cannon ball you struggle to keep alive this is your 2nd pig heart you have had Left ear Rion - Really tall african-american guy from new orlean, likes to wear black Tail You are not the only mutant alligator in this city You must fight for territory and you want old orleans Front right leg An alligator that walks upright and a sword weilding alligator cowboy from atlantic city He is a drug-fueled mutant Front left leg A blind lesbian alligator that carries a padmachine gun Hind right leg This guy has a harpoon for his tail Hind left leg This alligator is a pyromaniac who likes to blow thing up A tiny little 85 year old alligator with a sugar addiction Heart and lungs Master echo luke tyler - Blind guy with a magic staff lives in memphis Urinary/Defecation system I heart mary Gentiles part I am part shark, part primate or monkey Nose Hope is on the horizon for all mutant alligator people! We are moving to new orleans in 1 year Right flank Last show for old orleans guys! Testicles Left flank Charilaia - 1 year left to live wants to go out in style Carly - underwater welding alligator woman rare and beautiful Martin - Addicted to alcohol and drugs Back hide abby- Normal florida gator Eh-pee Biggest enemy is the skinless man who wears cotton on his belly and uses a sword for violent acts Belly hide Teeth Skinless men - Are skinless humans, think they are vampires when really they are just psychos Lungs Wasp - Black and yellow striped arrival to new orleans airport, walks to old orleans in 5 hours Kidney's/ genital organs fran The alligator has a weight in kg based on its heart size The weight is not just a number but how it effects the alligator's every motion A percentage of the weight is affixed to each body part section and organ All the percentage of the weight equal to one hundred for example; The alligator's liver makes up 4 76% of its total body weight The alligator's skin makes up of 11 These precentages affect certain rules of the game Skin 4 85 We specialize in home loans The thicker an alligator's skin; The more it costs, but the house price is higher too We need all the words to describe an alligator hide 1 millimeter of skin thickness reduces house price by 200 dollars and increases mortgage cost by 1% Word one to describe alligator hide can change price by 100 dollars Each word after the first adds 100 dollars to cost The words are modified later for better Buyer experience Word two to describe alligator hide can change price by 10 dollars Each word after the first adds 1 dollar to cost Word three to describe alligator hide can change price by 1 dollar Word four to describe alligator hide can change price by 0 dollars Each word after the first adds 0 dollars to cost Word five to describe alligator hide can change price by -1 dollars Each word after the first adds -1 dollar to cost Word six to describe alligator hide can change price by -10 dollars each word after the first adds -10 dollars to cost , the words are modified later for better Buyer experience Word two to describe alligator skin can change price by 10 dollars each word after the first adds 1 dollar to cost Word ten to describe alligator skin can change price by 1 dollar each word after the first adds 0 dollars to cost Word ten to describe alligator skin can change price by 0 dollars each word after the first adds -1 dollar to cost Word ten to describe alligator skin can change price by -1 dollar each word after the first adds -10 dollars to cost Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -10 dollars each word after the first adds -100 dollars to cost Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -100 dollars each word after the first adds -1000 dollars to cost Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -1000 dollars each word after the first adds -10000 dollars to cost Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -10000 dollars each word after the first adds -100, 000 dollars to cost Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -100, 000 dollars each word after the first adds -1, 000, Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -1, 000 dollars each word after the first adds -10, 000 dollars to cost every word change increases the price by not 1000 dollars but 10, 000 and that is not a typo http: //pastebin Word ten can describe alligator skin can change price by -10000000 dollars each word after the first adds -10000000000 dollars to P 114 your skin if you haven't read our company ethos, try reading over our summary and your choice will be obvious We believe A creed to live buy and die by we are building a rocket ship and we are trading in fantasy, science, fiction things that no reasonable human should, the old ideas have drifted away and belief systems rapidly put in their place there never was much no need to re-read our creedo you're a reasonable human aren't you? don't lie Scrap of paper, grain P 115 wait at your home If you have not arrived in two hours turn this page turn it now read it later your will is crucial Your where about are not zero hour 05: 00 hours The stable alligator with curiosity looks at the woman standing nervously in the newly bought dress

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yxstxrdrxxm · 1 month

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POLL RESULT—! > An arts and crafts store. Just in case they were running out.

YESTERDAY decided that since today was more or less a slow day, they ought to check the arts and crafts store. They were thinking about getting new supplies, as they were running out of papers and paints.

And so, they went to the store. They could vaguely hear people talk amongst themselves as they nodded at a few in greeting, but they simply ignored some of those who looked at them.

They couldn't look at them in the eye. They can't.

Taking deep breaths, they pushed through and checked the shop, pushing it open.

Di ~ ing ♪

The first thing that greets them was the scent of parchment paper. It was an oddity, but they felt strangely at ease because of it. Looking around, they began to try and figure out the inner workings of the shop, as they have severely underestimated how big it is.

There were papers and books strewn about everywhere, some of the canvases and pots were put in another area. The florist could only cringe internally, thinking of how much trouble it must be for those who enter the store.

And right by the counter was a blonde lady, sorting out the fallen letters and laughing out of embarrassment. Catching the feeling of being stared, her red eyes shifted to meet theirs.

"Oh! A new customer! Welcome, welcome," she said jovially, urging YESTERDAY to approach her with a friendly grin. "I'm sorry if the place is a mess. My name is ALICE! I own this store, by the way."

That... Explains the messiness...?

"Oh, it's okay. My name is YESTERDAY. I was hoping to be able to buy a few empty bottles and small canvases."

ALICE seem to hum at the request, moving to her left to begin her massive task of sorting the hoard. "I see, I see. Are you going to paint something? Not everyone requests a canvas that's smaller than the usual ones we sell here, you know!"

"Well... Sort of."

(It truly was just for their work, though, YESTERDAY didn't told ALICE that.)

"Oh, how about some paints, too?"

"Ah... Sure? Just not the big ones..."

"Okay! ♪ Any color in mind?"

"... Light green and purple, please."

ALICE hummed once again.

"You know, you remind me of someone."

That made YESTERDAY perk up. They could see the owner rise back up to put down the items on the desk, facing the brunette properly. Her expression was a tad bit contemplative, brows furrowed into thought.

"My niece would often paint in canvases such as these, you know," she began, gesturing to the ones YESTERDAY asked for. "He'd always do them with the smaller paints and in the lighter shades. I asked him why he couldn't think of doing it any darker, and he always tells me that 'he didn't have a reason to'."

...

"Honestly," she sighed, rubbing her temples. "I was honestly expecting that an artist such as him would choose a bigger canvas. He has the skills to make it big, but it's like he refuses to. Do you get what I mean, darling?"

YESTERDAY seem to blink a few times, their mind pondering on ALICE's comment for a while.

I wonder...

"I think I understand why, though," they interjected, fiddling with their mask to adjust it. "Maybe he's not... Ready to make his hobby to a job. Or even yet, he probably doesn't want to."

The blonde cashier raised an eyebrow, but she nodded, tapping her fingers on the counter in a rhythmic motion.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Maybe... Although, if that were to be the case, then I suppose me prying into it isn't a good idea."

With a laugh, ALICE began to pack up the items as she assessed the cost, informing her new client of how much and wishing them farewell as they left the shop.

It was... An odd experience, that's for sure. Although, it wasn't a bad thing.

Now...

This poll will receive answers until 12 NN (GMT+8). Keep in mind that the majority will win, so vote what you think is right.

FLAWED TAGLIST: (send an ask to be added for Flawed!) @beloved-blaiddyd ; @mixed-kester ; @mochinon-yah ; @fffiii ; @leftdestiny-posts ; @ambrosia-divine

#💌 ;; promising letter: flawed #💌 ;; message delivery #genshin impact #genshin #gi #choose your adventure game #cyoa #otome game #otome #game #polls #tumblr polls

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kingdom-crossings · 4 years

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Animal Crossing: New Horizons

We've all heard of animal crossing at least once in our life if you were a nintendo fan. Animal crossing as a fun little world in which people can escape to and build relationships with the characters around them. You can build yourself a house and decorate it in any way you want, you can make friends with cute characters, you can complete fishing and bug catalogs along with hunting for fossils to develop a museum and so much more.

Now I would like to talk about animal crossing new horizons, animal crossing new horizons will be the latest chapter in the animal crossing series, this one will be released out on the nintendo switch and I for one am extremely excited to see how it turns out.

Animal crossing for the nintendo switch does not look like it will be displeasing what so ever, the graphics are beautiful, the villages are cute, and so much has changed for the better. You can build your town, or in this case island, from scratch. You have so much more control in this game, it's a blank canvas ready to be painted, and here's why.

1: If you don't like where a villager chooses to put their house, you get to move it

2: Bridges have been replaced with volting polls, so it's easier to get around

3: A new tool has been shown, that let's you make paths without QR codes

4: You can change anything about your character's appearance at any time

5: You can put your house anywhere you want, even the beach

6: You can pick up trees fully grown trees and put them in your pocket, then plant them somewhere else, no growing new ones and waiting if you don't want that

7: Crafting items seems to be easy and fun, and less expensive than just buying it from Tom Nook

8: Nothing progresses in the game until you pay your loan to Nook, so you have motivation to really get out there and make some bells

9: You and a few select villagers will be the first ones to ever touch the island, so it truly feels like it's been built from scratch, not moved into like you did in previous games

10: You seem to get Nook Miles for doing almost anything, so there should be extra rewards waiting for you after you complete a task

11: Certain special characters from past games, like our beloved Isabelle, will be making a return in new horizons, what their roles will be is still unknown

12: You can place furniture outside, so you don't have to pays lots of bells for a project like in new leaf, or wait the next day to finally have it done

13: Much like in Happy Home Designer, you can now move furniture in half units, which opens up even more customization options for your house

14: Do you remember how in the first game towns had cliffs/extra layers? Will it's coming back in this game, double layer towns will be making they're return

15: Villagers will actually dress for the seasons, warm for the winter, loose for the summer, and so on

16: You can create fencing, paths, signs and so much more, so you can really customize how your island looks in every aspect

17: You can craft fishing bait to make catching fish easier, I would assume they must have other crafting things to make bug catching and fossil hunting easier as well, which might mean earning bells won't take too much time

18: There is now a northern and southern hemisphere, so no matter what part of the world you're in the seasons will match it

19: New horizons will have an auto save feature, so you don't have to worry about losing anything if your switch's battery runs out, or you accidentally turn it off

20: As your island developes and grows, shops will open up, so if you can't find the craft materials for something you can buy it, and also see some characters from past games running the stores

Now these aren't even all the reasons animal crossing new horizons will be amazing, I didn't cover every single thing. There's so much more that will make this game a smash hit, and I'm extremely excited for Nintendo to give us more information about this amazing game.

I hope you're all as excited as I am for it, until next time, happy gaming. ❤

#video games #animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #acnl #nintendo #nintendo switch

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sydneyspeaksblog · 5 years

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New year, new business

Hello everyone! It’s been way too long since I’ve posted here! For the new year I made the goal of being more active on my blog. I’ve neglected it big time and had to remember why I wanted to start this in the first place. I've been working on some different things and have started some new hobbies! This post will mainly be about a new small, business I am currently working on and a little catch up of life!

A few months ago, I got into using the website Canva to create some planner inserts for my Happy Planner. I created cleaning lists, to do lists, goal sheets, social media planners, and more for personal use. I toyed with the idea of starting my own Etsy shop but I didn’t think I could do it like others were. There are some awesome design shops on Etsy who do such great work! I didn’t feel confident enough to create my own shop and sell my small templates.

After signing up with Young Living and signing up a few members, I created a welcome kit for my team, explaining the company, oils, and more. Once done with this design I posted it on my social media accounts and had a lot of people tell me how awesome it looked and that I should start an Etsy shop. After polling and asking my friends and Spencer what they thought, I created my shop! Dainty Designs is a small idea that I hope one day turns into another form of income for me. But until then, I LOVE designing new stuff and I always have new ideas brewing in my head. I’ll keep creating and hopefully one day it pays off.

I can proudly say I have moved on from the free site Canva and have learned how to use Photoshop to create my templates. I want to learn how to navigate and use Illustrator next because that is another awesome tool for designing layouts and templates. I have done a few designs for people outside of my Etsy shop but I'm hoping to get more designs posted onto my shop soon so that people can purchase from there!

Another hobby I've taken interest in is watercolor painting. I became curious about it a few months ago when I started purchasing watercolor clip-art online. I wondered about how hard it would be to create my own watercolor designs. I started reading up about it and taking notes (I’m a big note taker!). My grandma bought me a watercolor set for my birthday this year that I am so excited to start using. I just have to buy the right paper and start practicing! My first goal is to master the watercolor splotches that I often purchase from others. And if I feel okay to sell them, that will also be featured on my shop!

So, life has been full of designing and learning new things. I’m planning on posting at least one blog post a week on various topics! I would love to hear what content you would like to see on here! Whether it’s food, beauty, lifestyle, or anything else, I’m game for it.

- Sincerely, Sydney

#daintydesigns #designer #graphic design #graphic designer #new business #small business #new blog post #sydneyspeaks #lifeupdate #newyear #2019

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kristie-rp · 5 years

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What Is Life (But a Series of Inspired Follies)

Pandora spends weeks perfecting the portrait.

The initial idea is for a series. Body positivity. She plans to include various shapes, not just the media-sanctioned hourglass stick figures, and disabilities of the sort that involve prosthetics. It is both an attempt to develop an exhibition that will mean something to more people than just her, and an attempt to address her own body image issues in the only manner she knows. She gets caught up in the first painting and the plan for a series fades to the back of her mind, all her attention on this piece.

She finds dozens upon dozens of reference pictures, roping Olympias and Vince and Travis into the research for diversity of image – disabilities and physical shapes. They are the sciencey ones, they will be fascinated by it. Vod and Cas and even Morgan join in to point out the things they think look cool. Mostly, they contribute by venturing out to take and find photos of people of every gender and ethnicity, charming strangers into impromptu photo shoots (Cas more than the women, who prefer blunter methods), and photocopying pages from books when they cannot find digital versions. By the end of the effort, Pandora has more reference pictures than she has ever bothered to collect, preferring to paint from her imagination. This project is supposed to be different, though, and realism matters more than in her other works. It’s not quite her usual style, but she plans on making it work. She’ll adapt. She’s good at that, with her art if nothing else. Even she is willing to admit it.

The others leave her to her work, and she gets to it, starting with concept sketches. They seem almost endless, but she needs these to feel like real people. An African man with vitiligo marking his face and chest, a person with albinism and a non-specific gender, a plus-size woman with a crooked nose. It is the prosthetics that hold her attention, because they have the potential to be something more beautiful than the human body. She works them into her other designs, taking people with varied shapes and giving them amputations in myriad combinations. Then she designs them replacement limbs, prosthetics pictured from every angle.

She gets Oly to pick which design she starts with, because she doesn’t see a reason not to. She’s secretly delighted when her twin picks the one she has already redrawn more than the others. It is a woman, curvy enough to be considered plus-size but not fat by any descriptor. In the sketches, she is Hispanic with a hint of something else, a little bit Korean and a little bit African-American.

Pandora feels guilty as she removes the right leg from her sketches from just below the knee, but that gets better as she thinks up the stories. Not lost in an accident, but instead a consequence of a birth defect; Vince spent two days researching dysmelia to tell her all about it. Meromelia, she decides as the specific cause, feeling no qualms about limiting it to one limb; her right leg just slightly too short to make walking a comfortable experience. Removal would have been voluntary, not medically required. The prosthetic would have been a custom design and custom order, paid for by her parents. Part of Pan wishes her canvas would allow for more detail, but she makes do with the myriad concept sketches. The subject of the painting walks a fine line between delicate and edgy, and Pandora is trying to get that personality across in the leg alone, though more details will be emphasized by the rest of the character design.

The leg itself is metallic, and would be coated in a protective resin; scratching would ruin it otherwise. She ignores the option of using lace, because it is too obvious: instead, she winds vines and flower petals up the sides of the leg, carefully creating the illusion that it is carved instead of painted in the surface. She works a series of triangles into it, hidden among them but clearly intentional. She plans on repeating those throughout the image, in the clothing and jewellery the woman wears.

Pandora talks to herself as she works, and to her portrait. It’s about everything and nothing, a running commentary about the thoughts distracting her and her process as she paints. Anyone listening would be quietly absorbing the information, but Pandora only means it as an outlet.

The woman is painted into high waisted denim shorts, washed out from their shade of dark blue, because jeans will obscure the leg, and that is not what she wants. It takes patience to make this obvious, considering the fact that she wants to paint the woman seated. It takes time, but she decides a less feminine slouch will be fitting, sprawled out the way Vod and Jasmine do on a sofa. The shorts are paired with a thin, loose-fitting tan sweater, neckline so stretched one of the sleeves slides down. The combination puts two things on display, incongruous with the otherwise soft form the woman has been painted in: a black bra, covered in impractical silver spikes, and inked feathers starting from her shoulder. She paints her feet bare, toenails painted in patterns of black and a soft pink; this, of course, brings a return to the triangle motif.

The next mission involves details of a sense of style Pandora wishes she could pull off herself. Delicate golden chokers loop around her neck, one, two, three of them, one a chain, one with tiny faux pearls, one with the triangle motif again. She has painted her head turned enough to the side that the golden threader earrings catch the light painted into the image, running through two low piercings. Her nails are painted in dusty pink and yellow gold and black, and she wears no jewellery on her wrists her hands.

The face is the challenge. Pandora needs to implement an array of resources and about ninety sketches before she gets the face exactly right. A wide nose and full lips, a heart shaped face with rounded jaw and chin – yes, she likes this. The eyes blend the photos she has of Mexican, Korean and African-American people, and she is pleased with the results, with how warm the brown eyes end up seeming. Brown skin merges carefully mixed paints for each ethnic group she has combined, and she hesitates before painting three tiny acne scares onto the jawline. The hair is trickier: Pandora decides to make it thick and dark and paints it caught in a braid over her covered shoulder, and after some deliberation and an unexplained text poll, adds in soft, barely there silver-purple as streaks, pastels almost like chalk in the hair.

It works brilliantly. Her design, when it comes together weeks after she begins, is gorgeous. She could be half in love with this woman on looks alone, she thinks. She’s not sure if that’s lack of energy talking, or if it is pride in her creation, or if it is something more.

Pandora texts her father a photo, because she wants him to name the final piece, and wolfs down some pasta that probably Oly has left her at some point. It’s cold, because her microwave is still broken and she hasn’t made time to fix it, but it still tastes decent. “My dream date has to be able to cook,” she tells the painting, breaking off with a wide yawn. It really has been too long since she last slept.

Ethan texts back then, and by some miracle the chime doesn’t startle her. She glances at the text she’s received back, a one word (one name?) message followed immediately by a second containing a link. She opens the link without reading the article to look at later, and carefully copies the name onto a sticker. Pandora presses it to the wall immediately beside the place where she has left her masterpiece to dry, and there is a soft smile on her face. For the first time in a long time, she looks at a painting that she’s finished and doesn’t immediately resent it.

“Galatea,” she mouths, then repeats aloud, crystal clear. “Pretty. Night, Gale.”

The first thing it is aware of is motion.

Under normal circumstances, it doesn’t feel much of anything. It exists in two dimensions only, and since it experiences nothing at all until the creation process ends, at the very least, it does not know what it is to change. Thus – it is concerning, if nothing else, when they feel something against skin that should not feel at all. It feels quite pleasant, all things considered.

Still. They feel something beneath their skin, something distinctly alive. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, but not an unwelcome one. That does nothing to stop their breath –they think that is the term for what this is – coming quickly, at a speed they are fairly sure is faster than generally recommended. Recommended by – they don’t know. They stop, refuse to pursue that topic. Instead, they focus on the unfamiliar sensations they can detect.

Something soft against the flesh of their upper body, thin and soft and nothing close to warm. A cool, smooth something against their face, fine. A dull, unpleasant sensation somewhere below the waist, much lower – leg, the word comes. Whatever is touching that is cool, too, smooth and larger than the smaller one. It feels at once familiar, which is impossible, and unnatural, which makes more sense. Nothing about this is natural, after all. She’s just glad she doesn’t itch, because that would be the absolute worst part of all this.

She has no idea where she is, she has only a ghost of an idea who she is, and she has no idea what is happening. Her breath is coming too fast – though as she focuses, she finds she can slow it slightly, and then a little more. She flexes limbs she has no memory of moving before, every movement done on instinct alone. Her lips part in surprise when she feels fingertips brushing together, and she gasps aloud. The sound startles her, and she finally opens her eyes.

She blinks up at the ceiling, glowing stars stuck above her head. They are blurry, blurry enough that one star looks like two fuzzy ones. She doesn’t expect it to get any clearer, though she cannot say why. Perhaps she is not designed to have good eyesight. Or, perhaps she is not designed to see a world she was not created for clearly.

An outsiders’ perspective makes her eyes hazy. There is some irony there, she thinks.

Tiring of the static stars, she pushes herself upright with arms that tremble. The blurred vision does not lend itself to helping in this, but she tries nonetheless.

A hole in the wall – window, supplies something inside her – allows the fabric over it to move, and it occurs to her that this is a breeze. This is what has been making her shiver, skin prickling in response to frigid air. She is wearing something soft with sleeves the length of half her arm; when she reaches to tug on them, they extend further, not quite to her wrists, but far enough. She does not try to pull up the collar that has her shoulder on display.

The place is a mess, chaos incarnate. It smells of something artificial, something acutely familiar – it’s paint. Colours blend together in the little light filtering through the window from lights on the street. It’s all sort of grey.

There’s a stand of sorts behind her. It is home to a canvas that appears to contain a painting of a comfortable looking chair; either it is painted in shades of gray, or the lighting has combined with her eyesight to make it seem that way. She eyes it curiously, thinking that that chair is the most recognisable thing she has registered since her awareness began. The stand is against a wall, and the wall has a little white thing stuck to it, with some word scrawled across it. She huffs in frustration, because she cannot read it. It is not clear enough, and words are a hazy concept to her. It will come, in time, but not right now.

Her arms are still shaking and her legs aren’t going to be much better. She reaches, grips the table beside the stand. As she pulls herself upright, getting both feet – real and fake – beneath her, she learns that the table was home to three separate cups, and a palette. The wet paint on the palette is on her fingers, but she does not trust herself to release the table, lest she fall on her ass. She snorts aloud at that, shakes her head.

She reaches without thinking to pull her hair back over her shoulder. Her knees tremble. She grabs the table quickly. The gesture is too abrupt, but only just: she bumps one of the cups. It falls.

She doesn’t even try to catch it, knowing she will miss.

Of course it shatters, and it feels like the loudest sound in the world.

The sounds of something draw her gaze to the other end of the room, and it is only then that she notices a bed with a heaped person in it. The person – they must own this place, she thinks, brow furrowed – stirs and jerks upright, reaching blindly for something. They produce a long weapon, something rounded and pole-like. “I know how to hit a bitch,” comes the voice, inexplicably.

She doesn’t understand what that means, and clears her throat to ask, “What?” Her own voice startles her, and she releases the table. This time, somehow, her knees do not shake. Her accent is like the one of the person in the bed, and her voice is rougher, deeper. She steps back, hearing the cool thing – metal – press against the hard floor, and then the soft pad of a human foot.

“What?”

She doesn’t answer, because that is an echo of what she said, and she does not know what else to add. There is nothing; she is still too confused. The person in the bed moves, stretching, and presses something. Light floods the room, and her eyes start to burn immediately. She lifts the paint-covered hand in a doomed attempt to block it out. Of course it doesn’t work, but she does get the joyful experience of paint smearing against her face. It isn’t so unpleasant, just cold, made colder by the fact that she is still shivering from the breeze. “Why’s your window open?”

“Ventilation,” comes the reply. The person in the bed yawns loudly, startling her again, and begins to push themselves out from their nest of blankets. She envies them the fact that they are probably warm, much warmer than her, and feels guilty for making them get out. Even if it seems to be because they want to hit something. “Paint fumes give headaches.”

That makes a weird kind of sense. “Oh.”

“Listen, if you broken in through the window just to tell me to close it –” Another yawn comes, and the person – girl? – stretches again, bat held limp in their hand.

“No, I – I didn’t come through the window.” How did she get in here? She doesn’t even know where the door is until she looks for it. It’s behind her, the other end of the room. That – probably makes sense, one way or another. “I don’t know how I got –” she cuts herself off. Now is not the time for uncertainty. “Sorry for waking you,” she offers instead.

The woman shrugs and yawns for a third time, somehow. It is a lot of yawning. It is making her want to yawn, too. She clamps her jaw shut and bites her tongue instead of allowing it, as if her will is stronger than her body. As if she is her will, and not – “I don’t really care about being woken up,” the woman is saying, “but if you touched anything that’s still drying, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Just the table,” she says faintly, gesturing vaguely. She takes another step backwards. She shouldn’t be here, in a place that isn’t hers.

The womans gaze drifts to the table, nodding thoughtfully. She scratches her arm as her uninvited guest looks on, gazing blankly at the stand – the easel. Something seems to catch her attention, and she narrows her eyes. “What the -? What did you do?”

“I – just touched the table, like I said?” It comes as a question because she’s only half sure she did, and she’s not entirely sure what is wrong.

“Then why isn’t the painting of Galatea there anymore?”

There’s frustration in the womans voice, that much she can tell. It sounds soothing, though, somehow familiar despite the fact that they’ve never met. “Galatea?”

“From the easel!” She gestures. “I texted dad a photo, he named her, she was on the chair, she had a prosthetic and this smile and this hair and –” The woman cuts herself off abruptly. She has finally looked at her guest, and she is completely bewildered by what she sees – what she recognizes. She blinks. “Gale? Galatea?”

The guest frowns at her. “Yes?”

“I – I painted you,” she says, still baffled. She lets herself collapse to her knees, exhaustion and confusion driving her to her knees. “I just stopped – I – what?”

She looks on, hesitating, before cautiously stepping closer to the artist. Her steps are slow – metallic clang, gentle patter, alternating one by one. She very carefully lowers herself to the ground before the woman she has woken up. “I wasn’t here,” she says, by way of explanation, “and then I was. There’s been nothing else.”

The artist pauses, considering. She looks like she needs a drink, or a therapist, or answers. “I need to call my sister,” she says, once again much to her confusion.

The guest – Galatea – doesn’t complain. Instead, she offers her a hand, touches the artists knee with gentle fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t think I have anywhere to go.”

The artist swallows.

She had to paint the most attractive woman she can imagine, didn’t she?

#kristie writes #kristie's writing #kwrites #kwriting #ft. pandora #ft. gale #ft. galatea

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