#he can see saturation just fine so he can tell how bright those colors are

[acalculatedfuture]

Can’t see red. Or orange, for that matter.

That doesn’t stop him from realizing how ugly the Team Flare uniform is.

#ic: calem #dash commentary #he can see saturation just fine so he can tell how bright those colors are #makes him wonder if the team flare uniform was built so you can see the grunts from a mile away

[bokutoslittlebird]

Awakened

Alpha!Osamu x reader x Alpha!Atsumu

Author’s note : Fantasy AU based on two pieces of fan art of the twins as fox yōkai, but I hope it’s to your liking! ; their names are never directly said to reader-chan, so their names are what they call each other.

Warnings: bullying (brief, not from the twins), naive and innocent reader, knotting, double penetration, backshot, face fucking/blowjob, dubcon/noncon, blood, biting and licking, cunnilingus, creampie

There’s a legend that runs deep in the roots of your village, one that’s told to many and encourages children to stay away from the forest. It was proven effective — no child dared to enter the forest, holding onto that fear into their adult years. The legend revolves around two mischievous fox spirits that would always be in competition. They always had someone who would win, but then a terribly evil spirit came upon the clearing they played in, forcing the two spirits to push differences aside and fight off the evil spirit that entered the territory. It was a combined effort, the two spirits realizing they worked better when they worked together. It taught children that sometimes it was better to ask for help; however, it also taught children that they couldn’t go into the forest. The spirits resides in the forest, protecting the village from evil spirits as a combined task and if anyone dared trespass in their forest, then destruction would come to the village.

It was a legend some teenagers dared to challenge, entering the forest and coming out, saying “nothing bad happened to them!” but then their luck would turn sour sometimes. It always put things in perspective, seeing them suddenly fall into a mud puddle after entering the forest, or having their pants suddenly fall. It made people laugh, but it really made you feel like the forest was alive and watching. You never dared to go near the forest. At least, not until your pride was at stake.

“Go get a stupid stick, [Y/N]!” Jocelyn sneered, her eyes narrowed. Her arms were crossed and she was tired to repeating herself. You were dared to go into the forest, get a stick to bring back for proof, and you would no longer be a coward. It was simple in words, but not so simple in action. You feared the bad things that happened after people entered the forest, but you were considered a coward for those beliefs. “You’re just a big, dumb baby!”

“No I’m not!” You shouted back, puffing your cheeks. You let out a heavy breath and turned to the brown and green image of the forest. They wouldn’t be able to see you enter the forest, but they just needed a stick as proof. Sucking up the courage to go, your legs moved towards the foliage. You could hear the other girls’ jeers as your pace slowed, the forest closer than you had ever dared to let it. The forest itself looked peaceful, but the legend of the spirits scared you, halting your footsteps. Instead of going in, you were going to pick up a stick on the outskirts, but there was no stick. Nothing but grass lay before you, the shadows of the trees outlining what was the forest and what was not. There was a stick you could see, the light seeping through the leaves illuminating it as if you were on a quest to get — well, you kind of were.

Sucking up any inhibitions you had, you entered the forest. Picking up the stick, you noticed a lack of any other stick lying in the fallen leaves. Clutching the stick to your chest, you turn to go when you find a small piece of cloth, hidden in the leaves. You pick it up, looking at the designs and feeling how soft and silky it was. It was a robe that your ancestors adorned, but the fabric told you it was either brand new or kept in pristine condition. With it in your hands, you found yourself turning to flee once again. The howling of the wind sent your legs running out of the forest and up the hill, as fast as you could. If you had listened closer, you would have heard the howl of a beast as you fled.

Deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes watched as you obtained the stick and plucked the ceremonial robe from the earth he presented to you. When you chose it and fled, he smiled. His eyes turned from your retreating figure and moved to leap from the tree he perched himself on. As his body was that of a grey fox, he was much better at hiding than if he was in his more human form. Transitioning between into his human form, he smiles once more, a finger on his chin.

“What to offer her next, I wonder?” He ponders aloud, with only the wind around to hear him and carry his voice.

Your lungs are burning as you arrive back at the little picnic you were attending, the girls giggling as you finally come back. “Did ya see a ghost or somethin’?” Akira asks. You’re heaving as you present the stick, perfectly in tact and big enough to feed a fire. Everyone’s cheers are perceived as mocking to you, as you move on. The picnic is no longer something you want to attend, instead preferring to take a bath and sleep. With your worries placed on the forest and the spirits within, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to sleep or shall an entity come and judge you for trespassing.

The next day, you find your gaze drawn to the forest, as if it calls you down. Ignoring the calls are hard, you legs involuntarily moving as you think. On the edge of the forest, you see inside to find a small temari ball. It looks as if a young child once played with it, as you get closer to the object. Looking around the forest, you expect to see a child lost or crying, but you find nothing. With the lack of an owner, you decide to leave the ball. Turning to leave, you reprimand yourself for entering the forest again.

The sound of leaves rustling has you swiveling around, almost falling over when you realize the temari is following you. Moving back, it continues to follow you. A quick glance around proves that no one else is around, so you pick up the temari. As you did yesterday, you flew out of the forest and hope you didn’t take a malevolent being’s toy.

Another pair of eyes watch as you flee, his temari offering close to your chest. A wickedly mischievous grin spreads upon his lips, his form emerging from the shadows where he was hidden. With sharp canines peeking from his smile, warm brown eyes look to the path you had just taken. “I’m glad she likes her present. I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring,” he chuckles, moving further into the forest. With each step he takes, a thick fog permeates the forest floor, providing a barrier past the stream.

You don’t know what it is. The growing urge to enter the forest gets stronger as the day continues on, the urge barely quenched upon nightfall. Even in your bed chambers, you find yourself looking through your open window, into the forest. Mist seeps from the greenery, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. A howl from the forest startles you, eyes finding the gaze reflecting back at you. As you hold the gaze, feeling yourself rooted in place, another set of eyes joins. You shut the window, deciding to never go back to the forest.

When morning comes, the feeling of needing to go to the forest is even stronger. Feeling ill from the image of last night, you decide to stay home for the day. When a knock comes to your door, you assume it to be the milk delivery. Upon opening the door, your eyes widen at the two boys on your doorstep.

“Can you go get my ball?” The first one says, a bright smile on his face. The one currently sniffling nods in agreement. They look like twins, not that you’d recognize them.

“I didn’t mean to kick it so hard, please don’t tell my dad!” He cries out, holding onto his brother. You smile warmly at him, getting to eye level. Running your hand through his hair, his sniffles lessen.

“I won’t tell anyone, you’re fine. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, wiping his tears. You shut the door, telling them to stay put as you go searching for the ball. As you look around, you become confused. Where is the ball? Moving further along your backyard, you hear a hushed whisper from the forest, wide eyes turning to sound. With an apology already on your lips, you turn to enter your house when you find yourself unable to move. As if an invisible barrier prevents you from progressing towards your house — which seems proven true as you inch towards the forest and suddenly cannot go back to where you were. With the unsettling pit in your stomach, you enter the forest once more.

Entering, you find the mist from before still evident, yet it parts for you. Curiosity sets in as you are further urged into the forest, stopping as you hear water trickling. A stream lays in front of you, waters more calm than your heart beat. You inhale, deciding to risk it as you wade through the stream. The water seeps into your shoes, the bottom of your dress becoming saturated. Progressing further into the mist, now a heavy fog, you find a large temple inside. It’s stable and perfectly standing, as if it isn’t centuries old. The two erected statues tell you the temple belongs to the spirits of the legend, finding a chill run through your blood as you realize your situation. Before you step foot onto the stairs, you turn to leave but are halted.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” A rough voice speaks. You whip around to see a tall, but handsome man. The hair is a dark grey color, eyes to match. What stuns you is the pair of grey fox ears, a tail that matches in color swishing behind him. His clothes remind you of the robe you found amongst the leaves.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, really!” You begin to plea, pulling on your wrist. “I-I didn’t mean to- to trespass!”

“What’d’ya mean? This is your home, y’know?” He seems genuinely confused, another stun to your body as his words settle. Home? This temple? Before you can refute him, another voice joins in.

“Ah, ‘Samu, I told ya humans are different. They don’t know the offering ritual, but I made sure to get our offerings. Our silly little human forgot about them,” he chuckles, looking at you. With the robe you found on one arm, the temari in his hand. “This was my offering, you know,” he gestures to the ball. “A precious item to me, it is. I’m glad you took care of it and cleaned it up. What a perfect little wife you’ll make,” his grin makes his words more sinister than they originally were. Fear spikes through your veins, your limbs suddenly shaking as you feel your legs give out. The one dubbed ‘Samu catches you, holding you bridal style as you find yourself hesitant to hold onto his robes.

“‘Tsumu, y’know I’m not watching humans like you do. That’s weird,” he cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. ‘Tsumu seemed to get ticked off at that, growling. Only then did you notice how animal-like the both of them were, sporting fox ears and a tail to match. While ‘Samu had dark grey, ‘Tsumu spotted a saturated yellow hair color and slightly lighter ears and tail. So caught up in the view, you didn’t notice that the brothers has started walking, heading towards the temple.

“W-Wait, I can’t go with you! I’m— I’m not who you’re looking for!” Sputtering out the first things to pop into your mind, the two don’t stop.

“Of course yer who we’re looking for! You’re meant for us, meant to know your place with us. After all, why else would enter our domain, smelling so delicious as you do?”

“Smell— what?”

“‘Tsumu, stop bein’ cryptic. He’s saying you entered the forest during your heat cycle,”

“Well, ovulation in humans. Apparently, they’re not like us special spirits,”

“You’re ready for us, we can smell it. You’ll be the perfect mate for us to breed,” although ‘Samu seemed uninterested, you could feel how his chest seemed to heave as he inhaled deeply. The growling accompanying his final word sent slick between your folds as you held onto him close, afraid of falling.

Arriving at the top of the temple, you saw a cot that has been lain out, the soft cushioning big enough for the three of you. The sight of it had your brain going into overdrive, panicking as you attempted to leave ‘Samu’s arms. He complied, but his hands stayed firmly on your hips. “Time to get dressed,”

Before you could ask for an explanation, your clothes were practically torn off of you. Blood spilled onto your ripped dress, your side burning from where the claws caught you. The shreds fell to the temple floor, your hands flying to cover the exposed skin. While one hand covered the area between your legs, your arm held your breasts close to your chest. ‘Samu clicked his tongue, easily removing your hands from your body while ‘Tsumu slid on the robe, his claws lightly grazing your skin. He didn’t hide the fact he was admiring the view, either, his dark eyes gazing over each inch of skin you presented to him. Once the robe was on, you were released from ‘Samu’s hold, left to cover yourself up with the fabric. You’d deny it aloud, but the robe fit you perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous,” ‘Tsumu growled, shedding his own robe. Your hands came in front of you, hoping to somehow deter him when ‘Samu brought you backwards, to the cot presented. ‘Tsumu wasn’t far behind, dropping to his knees while you lay against the cot. It was softer than expected, more plush than it looks. ‘Samu had stripped of his own clothes, his robe hanging loosely on him by the ribbon around his waist. ‘Tsumu was different, his robe open and letting you see every inch of skin, but his arms still through the sleeves as if he was cold.

“I don’t—“ you began, your words interrupted by ‘Samu’s lips on yours, his tongue brushing against your closed lips as he deepened the kiss. ‘Tsumu’s touches had begun to litter your thighs, spreading your legs as he inhaled deeply. A finger touching your entrance had you jumping, only to be held firmly down by ‘Samu’s hands.

“You’re so wet, it’s hard to hold back,” ‘Tsumu growls out, his tongue lapping at your folds. You squirm and make a noise of displeasure, but ‘Samu is there to keep your focus on his lips and kisses. The more he kisses you, the hotter your body gets and the more you feel your resistance melt away. ‘Tsumu has his face between your thighs, licking and sucking on your clit, claws digging into the skin. It has you clenching around nothing, the hot pleasure from his tongue and burning sensation on your thighs. It isn’t until he removes himself from between your legs do you feel relaxed and at ease, as if your body is jelly. Your resistance is no more, a small whine coming from you when ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu remove themselves to admire their handiwork.

It’s a sudden change, the relaxing touches and breathless kisses are gone, replaced by the feverish touches of both men as they paw and scratch at your skin, ‘Samu’s teeth sinking into hot skin and lapping at the blood while ‘Tsumu presses less destructive kisses to your neck. With the air much too hot for your liking, a breathless moan leaves your lips when ‘Tsumu pulls your head back by your hair, spitting into your mouth and then kissing you. With his tongue tracing your teeth and his growls being swallowed up by your mouth, you’re oblivious to ‘Samu. With his cock in one hand, he kneads your thigh with his other hand as he rubs along your folds.

“‘Tsumu, move off,” ‘Samu growls, pushing the fox spirit off of you, his large frame colliding with the wooden planks of the temple. You find yourself on your hands and knees, ass in the air while the robe is promptly stripped off of you, lain underneath you. ‘Samu licks his lips, lining himself up with you entrance while ‘Tsumu gets his balance back. The first press in has you screaming, but it isn’t just because he’s big. His thickness is something you never expected, but with his calloused hands on your hips, bringing you back into his hips with no regards to adjusting you. A guttural groan comes from ‘Samu, head thrown back as he basks in the pleasure of being buried in your cunt. ‘Tsumu is now back to you, his hard cock in front of your face.

With another rough thrust, one that has you practically bouncing off ‘Samu’s cock, ‘Tsumu has you wrapping your lips around his. You can’t take it all in, that’d be impossible. With a pair of hands on your hips, you’re brought to ‘Samu while the pair of hands tangled in your hair pulls you towards ‘Tsumu. Lips pressed firmly against ‘Tsumu’s cock as your tongue runs under the length, running over the bulging veins and ridges you find. Your eyes are screwed shut, unable to stay open while ‘Samu splits you on his cock, somehow forcing himself deeper and deeper inside of you. It isn’t until you’re finally bouncing flush against him do you feel something strange on his cock. It’s only then do you open your eyes, looking at ‘Tsumu’s cock that has a large bulb at the base of it, growing in size the more you suck on him. Hollowing out you cheeks has ‘Tsumu groaning, claws digging into your scalp as he forces himself down your throat. He doesn’t force the bulb in your throat, thankfully, but he does coat your throat in his cum.

“Your mouth is fucking hot, little human. It’s like you were made to take us,” he breathes out, panting. You’re coughing, feeling Samu’s thrusts speed up as he brings you close to him, but he pulls out at the last moment to spill all over your back.

“With our scent on you, you’ll be stuck by our side until you pass,” ‘Samu is in a similar situation, chest heaving as you’re flipped over. You’re then placed on ‘Tsumu’s lap, his cock rubbing between your folds as he grinds into you. “But we’ll take you together first,”

“So no hard feelings, right ‘Samu?”

“Right, ‘Tsumu,” the agree, Tsumu’s cock rubbing into you and then prodding at your drooling cunt. He slips the tip in, the feeling similar to ‘Samu’s thick cock. Speaking of ‘Samu, he’s quick to stick his own tip back in, stretching you out farther then you expected. A silent scream comes from you as tears spill down your cheeks, both of them thrusting into you as your cunt burns.

Split open on their cocks, you’re helpless. Nails digging into ‘Samu’s shoulders as his hands once more find themselves on your hips. ‘Tsumu’s hands are keeping your legs spread, the view of you sucking in both their cocks on display as they thrusts in tandem. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in and vice versa. The rhythm they set is one that works, their lips finding opposite sides on your neck to kiss and lick, teeth grazing the skin. You feel a buildup of your own orgasm as they plow into you, your walls squeezing them as they pick up the pace. Their rhythm gets sloppy, short growls from each as their bulbs start to grow again.

When ‘Tsumu sinks his teeth into you, your scream is one of pleasure as you reach your high, coating both of their cocks a milky white cream, the liquid falling to their base and dripping down. ‘Samu sinks his teeth into your skin on the opposite side as they both push into your tight cunt, a scream and shiver running through you as the do, their bulbs inflating inside to stretch you even more.

You’re completely stuck, their cocks inside you as they lap at your wounds. It’s only when you squirm do they start talking. “You’ll get used to it,”

“After all we have a week,”

“You’ll be able to take our knots with no problem,”

“All your holes will be used to taking us,”

Their words don’t ease you concern, but the fact that once they leave your warm cunt, they’re still hard and readying you for round two. The heat encompassing your body refuses to leave, their skin as sweaty and hot as yours. With their relentless stamina and obsession with pumping all their seed into you, you’re positive you’ll get pregnant.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #miya osamu #miya atsumu #miya x reader #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader x osamu #osamu smut #Mr. ‘Samu #Mr. ‘Tsumu #Onigiri Man #BB.Kinky #BB.Dark #tw.blood #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #haikyuu omegaverse #tw.bullying #cw.double penetration #cw.breeding #tw.breeding #BB.🐾

[thedevilsdom]

making 5000 year old virgin levi cum in his pants is SUCH a mood. a concept even. sitting on his lap and “accidentally” grinding down against him... acting all shocked and surprised when he cums and starts crying and apologizing, then casually reaching into his boxers and running your fingers through his cum and shushing him by making him clean them up... or just cooing about how much of a messy little boy he is and teasingly stroking him and overstimulating him until he’s huffing and trying to muffle his moans into your shoulder... OR not even responding at all and ending the night as if you never noticed, and he can’t help but get himself off later to the shame and humiliation and desire for u he’s left sitting alone with... so many options

ok here we fuckin go

- Leviathan/Female Reader, ~3k words, Possibly going to be continued as a multi-chap fic

Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Leviathan’s desire to show someone his interests overruled his nervousness and embarrassment every time. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about personal space or boundaries once he got you in his lap, watching as he played his game.

He’s not even really paying attention to you. You can easily tell without even looking that his eyes are flitting across the screen, tracking and locking on to whatever target he’s picked next before his fingers hurriedly press the keys on his keyboard to execute whatever super-special-mega-power-move-combo he’s got planned. Not that you’re complaining. The bright colors of the screen and the gameplay are entertaining enough, plus it’s cute to see Levi all wrapped up in his interests like this. You know that he could stand to have more people around to indulge him like you are now. It’d probably do wonders for his self esteem.

You split your time between looking at the screen, at your D.D.D, and at him. He’s dressed so casually, a graphic t-shirt and a pair of pale gray sweatpants, and a pair of Mononoke Land socks on his feet. It’s endearing how he moves underneath you, tensing up in stressful points in the match, sometimes bouncing his leg or wiggling his toes. You’re not even sure that he knows he’s doing any of it.

He wraps up his match, ending it in a close victory, but a victory nonetheless, just as he’d done in the past three matches you’d sat through. You hear him sigh and flop back against the backrest of his chair, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck. His spreads his fingers then forms a fist a few times, stretching between matches before he queues up for another. You take the lull in activity as an opportunity, your hand reaching down and stroking the outside of his thigh lightly, just to grab is attention, and he jumps in surprise underneath you.

“Heh, sorry,” You giggle, turning a little so that you can look back and see him, “I just wanted to say thank you for showing me this stuff, it’s pretty fun.”

You swear something short circuits in his head. His eyes are wide, you see his snake-like pupils dilate for a moment before returning to normal, his cheeks are immediately filled with red, his hands twitch uselessly above his keyboard. His eyes dart away from you, lips parting as he stutters out nonsense.

“Wh- I- Um- I- Y-You? Th-thank you- uh- you can play, if you want. I can queue you up for a quick play match and- um- you can play.” He says with a nervous shiver to his voice. You give him a bright, eager smile that stops his heart for just a second,

“Sure! I’ll see if I can do any of the stuff you can, though I dunno if I’ll be that good.” You tell him, watching as he clicks and sets up the queue for a quick play match for you. Your words only make him tense and heat up more.

“Oh, well, uh, that’s- I mean, that’s true, but I-I’m sure you’ll do fine!” He squeaks. You lean forward in the chair, getting your hands situated on the keyboard and mouse, getting ready for the game. Just as you think you might’ve figured out where to put your fingers, you suddenly feel Leviathan’s hand on yours,

“If you lift your palm up like this and curl your fingers a little, it makes it easier to press a different key, if you need to.” He explains. Marveling at the way he so easily maneuvers your hand into a better position, you realize that when he’s in the little realm of his interests, his nervousness just melts away. Though, you don’t bring it up, because you know that if you do, he’ll just be reduced to a stammering mess again. Instead, you give him a nod and a smile, getting ready for the game.

As the screen lights up with the ‘game found!’ screen, Leviathan puts his headphones over your head and leans over your shoulder to watch you play. You can tell that as you rapidly mash buttons and try your best to aim, there are several moments where he wants to backseat-game, but he bites his tongue and doesn’t criticize. As you play you alternate between being just a few inches from the screen, to leaning back against Levi’s chest, to almost standing up from the chair, all thinking that it’d give you a better aim.

Levi, on the other hand, was having a hard time controlling himself. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s seen this kind of scenario in so many hentai before, but he doesn’t exactly want to start taking advice from those, especially when the approval of the person he’s got a crush on is on the line. He’s just hoping that the headphones and sounds of the game are enough to hide his pathetic little whimpers as you unknowingly grind on his erect cocks. He’d never been so turned on by just a little pressure before. It’s getting harder and harder for him to think rationally, but he does know that the combination of him being in sweatpants, plus his ‘double-trouble’ issue, means that it’s going to be nearly impossible for you to not notice if he tries to shoo you out of the room.

Truth be told, you’re already well aware of the situation you’ve wound up in. You could feel something stiff pressing into your ass since the second you’d really started playing, and every little movement on your part has been intentional. You revel in every time Levi tenses up, or when his breath hitches, and in the confused floating of his hands as he tries to figure out where to put them.

When the match concludes with a draw, you let out a defeated sigh and lean back against his chest. His whole body goes rigid.

“Aww,” You huff, dropping your head back against his shoulder. “Do you wanna play? Or should I stay in control?” Your warm breath ghosts across his neck and makes him shiver. He’s struggling to keep from shifting into his demon form, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can last-

With just a little rock of your hips, you make him come undone.

He offers up a deliciously shaky gasp and his hips twitch involuntarily under your own, pushing his stiffness against your ass as sticky cum floods his boxers. You feel him shiver and shudder under you, pathetic little whines being torn from his throat, despite his attempts to keep them in. Finally, with a miserable little sob, his hips drop back down into the chair.

You don’t say a word as you stand up. Just to have his heart leap into his throat, you stay still for a second or two. He doesn’t say anything, still holding on to the hope that maybe you didn’t notice, though, that would be impossible.

His heart stops when you turn around.

Your eyes trail up and down his body. He’s pushed back into his seat, like he’d be able to disappear into it if he tried hard enough. His demon form is out, horns poking the headrest and tail flowing out through a gap in the armrest. His hands are in little fists, pulled up to his chest, and his legs are squeezed shut. Between them, at the crux, is a huge dark spot. If it weren’t for his vocal reaction, you honestly would’ve assumed he’d wet himself, based on the size of the stain alone. You glance up to his face. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated and locked onto you, and his mouth looks like he’s trying to form words, only to give up halfway through. He looks shocked and hurt.

“I’m sorry!” He chokes out just as you were about to speak. “I’m sorry I’m a gr-gross, yucky otaku who can’t-can’t control himself and I-I-I!” His eyes fill with tears, darting around the room as he panics, trying to figure out if he wants you to stay or leave.

“Shh, Levi,” You purr, leaning down over him and touching the waistband of his pants with a finger, “May I?” Eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“It-I- It’s a- a… I’m not… Not normal,” He mumbles, “Down there.”

“Oh?” To his surprise, you don’t sound disgusted or repulsed, you sound intrigued.

“You- you uh, you can, if you want.” Conceding, Levi knows that he wants this, especially if his still aching tent is anything to go by.

“Yeah, but do you, Levi?” You ask, pulling your hands back for a moment, completely willing to either give him a second to think or to turn you away, but he nearly cuts you off with an energetic nod of his head,

“Yes! I-I do want it, I want you to touch me there.” He whines.

“Good boy.”

With a smile, you hook your fingers around the waistband of his pants, pulling them down first. Underneath them is a pair of black boxers, so saturated with cum that they cling to his skin. He flushes impossibly darker, but you only give him an encouraging, pleased grin. Offering a second for him to collect himself, you hold off for just a moment before you continue, slowly taking hold of his waistband and peeling the cloth from him, pulling it down his thighs.

Your eyes are glued to his body as you reveal what he meant when he said not normal. You’d say that that is one hundred percent correct. Coming from a near reptilian vertical slit is a pair of dicks, both distinctly inhuman. They’re ridged, and a dark blue at the shaft, fading into an indigo at the tips, both absolutely dripping with cum. You pause for a moment and Levi immediately starts spiraling,

“I knew you’d think it’s weird! F-forget this, just go, you don’t have to do an-nnMPH?!”

He’s shut up by you swiping up some of his cum on your fingers and pressing them past his lips. The pads of your fingers press down on his tongue, but you don’t force them any more inside, giving him the chance to pull away- which he doesn’t take. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, tongue laving across your fingers and nursing his own cum off of them.

“There’s my good boy,” You offer a docile smile. “Poor thing just couldn’t stop himself from cumming in his boxers, hm? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted this to happen.” You take your fingers back and scoop up some more cum to feed him. In the in between, he mutters,

“N-no, I didn’t want it to happen this way, but…” Levi’s voice trails off, but you can put two and two together.

“Oh? You’ve thought about me touching you like this before?” That lights a fire inside you. “You’ve thought about being my good little boy? I always did think you’d make a good boy for me, Levi.”

“Y-You thought about- about me? Like that!?” He sounds absolutely shocked, and you giggle. “Um! I’ve uh, always- always been i-into you… Since, like, forever ago…”

That’s a confession, you suppose.

“I’ve been ‘into you’ too, Levi.” You push your dripping fingers into his mouth again. “You’re so cute, and I love seeing you get so excited about the stuff you like. I just wish you weren’t so down on yourself.” The backs of your fingers on your free hand stroke up the length of his lower cock, “I’m gonna keep calling you my good boy until you realize that that’s what you are.”

He swallows around you fingers, nodding gently so as to not shake them away. Levi gives pathetic little whimpers around your digits, suckling on them until they’re clean once again. The hand not in his mouth drifts down to his cocks, gently holding them both and slowly starting to stroke them.

“A- Ah!” He squeaks, hips twitching up into your touch. He’s so responsive, with his wide eyes and little sounds, it’s adorable. “That’s! It’s- you’re t-touching my- hhahn!”

“You have such cute reactions,” You purr, “All from me just rubbing your cocks a little bit. Has anyone ever made you feel good like this before, Levi?” You don’t necessarily tell it how it is, because you’re pretty sure that if you outright asked him if he was a virgin, or if you said ‘hasn’t anyone ever jerked you off besides yourself?’ Leviathan would pass out. Luckily though, he doesn’t, and he responds with a mute shake of his head, ‘no’.

With a couple more slow strokes, he gasps, finally allowing his hands to reach out and touch you. They wrap limply around your shoulders, pulling you down and him up, as he nuzzles into your neck to hide his face. The second his heated skin makes contact with your own he shivers.

“Fuck, you’re- I can- you smell really good…” He murmurs against you, “You smell like- like you.”

“You’ve paid attention to what I smell like, Levi?” You see a very clear opportunity to tease him, and of course you take it. “Have you thought about it? Thought about stealing my clothes out of the laundry? You already admitted that you’ve thought of me touching you, there’s no point in hiding.”

“Y-You, uh, it- I- I thought about- hnnn-“ He arches his back and pushes his face further against your neck, “Thought about t-taking your- your shirts and putting them over, uh, over my body pillows,” Leviathan’s voice is an adorable little whine. His confession only makes you want to make him break more. “And I thought about…” He trails off the last part of that sentence.

“What did you think about, Levia-chan?” Hand not stopping on his cock, your voice is a low, sultry purr.

“Y-Your- your underwear… Wanted to- press it against my- ‘n sm- agh! I can’t say it!” He shakes his head, his body shivering. He’s wracked with tremors like a little puppy learning how to walk, it’s cute.

“You wanted to smell my underwear, baby?” Your other hand pets the back of his head for a moment. “What if I take them off right now and press them up against your face? Smother you with them?

He whines, high pitched and reedy. You feel soft lips press against your neck as he gently peppers it with kisses, not really sure what to do but desperate to show you how grateful he is for this. You can feel his fangs ghost over your skin, a threat that he doesn’t even make, and his tongue darting out to lap at your neck. The vibrations of his moans and the heated huffs of breath against you draw out a warm coursing of arousal down your spine.

“Just-! Just like that, your hand is so s-soft, it feels so good, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” He babbles, interrupted by moans and quick kisses and kitten licks to your skin.

“Is my little Leviathan gonna cum all over my hands?” Deciding not to be too cruel, when he nods his head and whines, you don’t stop jerking him off. “Good, good boy. I want you to cum for me.”

His hips fuck into your hand uncontrollably, rutting and desperate as you feel his thighs quake and his lip tremble against the nape of your neck. His hands grasp blindly at your back, holding onto you as he fucks your fist. His breath hitches again and again, half said segments of words falling from his lips until you hear him go silent for just a split second-

Then he wails.

Leviathan’s voice is high and broken and needy as he finally hits his orgasm, cum spilling out between you, gushing and flooding your hand as his hips shakily thrust forward, fucking his cum into your fist. He hiccups and sobs, riding out his orgasm before slumping back into his seat, though still keeping his head nuzzled into your neck.

Only you don’t stop. Tormenting him with the pleasure filled pain of overstimulation, you keep stroking your cum slicked fist on his cocks. He gasps,

“Ah-hah?! I-I already-! I just came, why’re you- hhah!” Leviathan’s whole body trembles, hips twitching, out of his control. You hum, your movements and tone almost bored, as though you were doing anything other than getting an extremely reactive demon off. “Too much, too much! It- it h-hurts!” Tears spill down his cheeks while he sobs. “Pl-please, pleasepleaseplease-!”

“Please what, Levi?” You’re surprise that he isn’t trying to get away from you, instead mostly staying put while his hips twitch. “Do you want me to stop? All you have to do is ask.”

“Nnn-no! no, no, it’s- ghh- it’s a lot, but- fuck,” All the words he tries to get out are ruined by the tremble in his voice and the rattling of his sobs that shake his whole body. “Gonna cum again, pleeeease, can I c-cum again?”

“Take whatever you need, baby.”

That’s all the permission he needs. He falls headlong into another orgasm, crying and sobbing into your shoulder as the intense pleasure overtakes him and dots swim in his vision, more cum pouring out of his cocks and dirtying your hand.

You- ever caring and careful- let him calm down against you. Leviathan shakes and trembles, breath hitching against your shoulder as hot tears roll down his flushed cheeks.

“You okay, baby boy?” You say, keeping any teasing out of your voice. He mumbles out a little response and nods shyly against you. “Good, take all the time you need, that was really intense.”

With a few deep breaths, he calms down enough to pull away, wiping at his face with the sleeves of his jacket. Just when he thought he might be able to face you, his eyes drift down and he spots the flood of cum that he’d produced.

“You did so good for me,” You lean forward and press your cum soaked fingers to his lips again, letting him suckle on them, giving him something to do.

“I didn’t do anything.” He mumbles.

“Of course you did,” Your fingers press down gently on his tongue, admonishing him, “You and your body are both so honest with me, thank you for letting me play with you, Levi.” He just sighs around your fingers.

You stay in his room for a little while afterwards, resuming your hanging out as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, once you’d both gotten cleaned up. Watching anime and playing video games until it was late in the night, and only then did you bid Levi goodnight and head off to your own room, wondering how this night was going to affect things between the two of you.

#obey me #omswd #obey me levi #levi #leviathan #obey me leviathan #my writing #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #🍉 anon #Anonymous #series- inexperienced #inexperienced

[loosesodamarble]

☕️ fashion in your favorite series (plural)

Hello there, anon!

And oh boy is that a topic!

I think I should start with the fact that I know basically nothing about fashion. I basically only wear jeans, t-shirts, and occasionally blouses day-to-day and my fanciest clothes are Sunday best.

But onto the actual fashion.

I think my favorite series with the best fashion sense would have to be Avatar: the Last Airbender. The clothes come from various Asian cultures and are so aesthetically pleasing. And while not 100% practical, they are not illogical fashion choices.

(Sorry about the different in quality. Couldn't be helped.)

I mean, look at their fits! Color consistency with characters from the same nation. Blues and grays for the Water Tribe. Warm tones (mostly red but pink in Ty Lee's case) and black for Fire Nation. While Earth Kingdom and Air Nomad both share yellow, at least between Toph and Aang, the saturation/shade is different. Aang's yellow and orange aren't overwhelmingly bright shades and the brown on his outfit provides a neutral shade to bring it all together.

Seriously, Avatar has some amazing fashion!

.....

Another series with good fashion sense, though more for symbolism, is Demon Slayer.

With Demon Slayer 99% of the time, the characters are all in uniform with just haoris or capes to distinguish them. Still, the patterns that they wear on their clothes sets them apart.

https://olafolsson.com/blogs/blog-1/wagara-traditional-japanese-patterns-and-designs

This blog post explains a few types of designs/patterns used in Japanese clothing. Nezuko's kimono has a hemp leaf pattern which represents protection from evil spirits, which she both gives to the defenseless and receives from Tanjirou. Tanjirou's checkered haori carries meaning such as "prosperity for descendants" which make sense since the checkered pattern has been with the Kamado family since Sumiyoshi and the siblings do manage to have their own descendants.

Inosuke may not wear a haori but he wears different types of fur.

Boars are wild and stubborn. Bears are strong and sturdy. Deer are beautiful and nimble. All those words can be used to describe Inosuke as well.

The clothes in Demon Slayer may not have a lot of variety but the meaning behind what the characters do wear shouldn't be ignored.

.....

My Hero Academia's fashion is fine. I mean, the U.A. uniforms do give an air of sophistication with the button-ups and jackets. Although there are still the unrealistically short skirts. And when the characters are shown in street clothes, the outfits are varied and some are quite pleasing in my opinion.

Personal favorites are Itsuka and Hitoshi's because they're simple with little flares like the collar or stripes. Shows that they don't put too much thought into their outfits but still put effort into it.

(And yes, I am just using this as an opportunity to show off that I have manga in the original Japanese.)

I won't really talk about the Hero costumes because that's a whole other can of worms that's strongly influenced by the characters' desire to be flashy and marketable. Practicality isn't considered that much from what I can tell. I will say this though: none of the students' costumes are good (aesthetically, practically, or even both) when you take a real close look at them. I think the adults are better, though not perfect.

.....

Black Clover is... One of the servers I'm in has a channel called "fashion police" for a reason. In this medieval fantasy setting, the fantasy is turned up all the way while medieval is low.

Just look at the Black Bulls.

Lightning round.

-Henry's in his pajamas, enough said. -Gordon is in some military uniform that we don't see anywhere else. -Yami's dressed like a bum. -The pads on Gauche's elbows and knees distract me and the lines on his pants and boots?! -Zora is basically Eijirou's Hero costume but worse (and there are already problems with that). -Finral is fine for the most but I think the boots need adjusting. -Vanessa's issue is that it's so much of one color (yes the hat ribbon and grimoire bag add another color but I personally feel like it isn't enough). -I think I have a shirt exactly like Luck's which isn't a good sign and his grimoire bag's placement also deducts points. -Noelle's outfit is illogical and inappropriate for her age. -Grey's is sensible for the most part (like how the shoe straps match the belt) but I think the divide of blue and white should be lower, maybe at stomach level. -Secre is in a ballet dress and could use shoes and a couple accessories to make her design less barren. -Charmy dresses like a grade schooler and it suits her size but, eh, I think a cute blouse could work too. -And although Nacht isn't pictured above, I have a slight issue with all his belts and that stupid high collar.

I think Magna and Asta (pre-Heart Kingdom training. Post-Heart makes me a sad mama) have the best outfits. They've got simple outfits with little details that prevent them from being completely plain. And honestly, I could see real people wearing those fits.

And it's not just them!

I mean! Why are there holes in Solid and Nozel's pants? Where are Noelle's pants?! Why do all the older siblings have such crusty looking hair?! Why do the fire Vermillions all wearing the same thing (seriously aside from jacket lengths and shoes styles, they are all wearing the same thing)?! Why can't the Golden Dawn have consistent cape colors?! Charlotte's breastplate and helmet make no sense and Sol's outfit is barely existent!

.....

Whew, I think I burned myself out with that one! Didn't think I'd go so hard, especially at the end. I legitimately surprised myself with that.

Hopefully you don't find my ranting too off-putting, anon. I just put all my thoughts out where without much of a filter.

#questions from the ask box #soda asides #avatar the last airbender #demon slayer #my hero academia #black clover #long post #sorry for an essay of a response anon #this question just ignited something in me #and i thank you for that whoever you are

[shyrose57]

Oooo maybe some real life plants! but they are .. off somehow, I think that the end should mostly keep its dull very color drained vibes so the colorful things just seem more. So the greens are so gray you could barely call it green, and for subsitute water? Maybe liquid magic. Becasue this place has to run off of magic, they are floating over a void...

SPACE WHALES! Flying Rays, JellyFish! A lot of deep sea horrors fit very nicely into space horrors (and wonders bc I'll cry if the whales are mean :( ) and would do nicely to fill the endless stretches of just void with no land in sight. and Anglerfish... maybe not a fish, or floating in the void like the others but something land bound that uses a hypnotic lure? It lures you in with the feeling of safety and home. There is a reason that the abandoned cities where off the ground :)

Anyways floating over a void, the end (in my head canon) is the source of all magics in Mc (all the planes are connected and it diffuses into the other dimensions, but it is SATURATED in everything in the end, the dragon is pure magic, a manifestation of the end itself, so a lot of things there are magic or sustain themselves on magic (things that stay there (live over generations n stuff our group is fine) get warped by it which could be how over world plants got in there and established themselves, they would not survive in the over world any longer, the sun would kill them, their roots would thirst to death on water. they have magical properties, some of them glow. ) Though there are a lot of End Native plants too (the trees that are only trees when you stretch the definition, that thing that Moves, and has what you could only call teeth but it is not an animal, so it must be a plant) Oooooo maybe the warped fungus ;) I mean everything in the nether is terrified of it, so maybe it doesnt really belong there, and hitched a ride on fleeing endermen

A lot of things glow, (its how we have those stars in the end, they are creatures off in the distance, and whenever the wastelands that stretch on for miles give way to not-trees or shrub-lands, something is gonna glow, which gives the areas eerie shadows that make the wide vulnerable wastelands they came from seem safer than whatever is found in there. The magic running in the rivers sometimes spill out into the abyss and dissipates to start the cycle anew. Things lurk everywhere and kind things are few and far between. The End is full of Life, and That Is Horrifying

Endermen are nomadic and travel in haunts (Im taking this from Human Error :D), and are generally friendly until you look into their eyes (Eyes are windows to the soul, how can they bear to look at you? You are so bright, so Warm. It Sears their eyes, It Burns their very being. Stop looking, It Hurts. Stop Stop Stop-) They are willing to trade and talk Enchanting (So All 3 Dimensions have a Sentient Race :DD) and are very magically inclinded. A lot of mages are endermen or have ender blood in them. The end is very deadly, and Haunts keep eachother alive because their death could mean death of the group (they are very close knit and that leads to very protective (what Im saying is when Tubbo gets back his Husband is going to smother him and fret over one of the 3 members of his Haunt (Tubbo, Michael, and Tommy :) )) when One finds themself without a haunt, many try and find safety in the other dimensions as they will not survive alone in the end.

( I Have more ideas, but the more I think the more I make more and I already think im dumping a lot, so sorry if I wrote too much. I tried to break up the text wall to to make it easier)

Oh, that's a good idea! Mainly dull colors-especially for the more dangerous plants, they'd need to blend in to catch their food. I feel like there'd be some more colorful ones though-the chorus fruits are pretty saturated, after all. Maybe purple colors are brighter, and others are more dull? Or no?

So many space creatures, oh gosh. There'd be very few grounded ones, with so much of the End being void, so sea-based creatures are definitely a good call. That'd be so pretty too?? And we've gotta blur the line between space wonder and eldritch horror for at least a few of them, of course!

The jelly fish are absolutely huge! Massive and glowing through transparent skin, they mainly hang out far from the islands, being mistaken as stars, and their tendrils glow so faintly you can only see them up close. From a distance, they're beautiful, but up close they're terrifying.

Flying rays the size of horses that can be used to cross the void between islands like striders for lava?? Flying rays that's tips fade into an abyssal black so deep it looks they merge into the void? Flying rays with a possible relation to phantoms? Seeking out the sleepless, but only watching, merely drawn to lure them to sleep with the mesmerizing patterns that run along their bodies.

Space whales!!!! Titans so ancient and old, parts of their bodies are overgrown by End islands and forest, making them for all purposes, living, breathing islands. Magic so deeply tied to them that even when they pass, they remain afloat, creating graveyards of still islands, that even still seem to breath when stepped upon. Gentle giants in that they are untouched by anything, and so curious of the new wonders the void welcomes.

A thing that stalks the islands it inhabits, singing out a call that seems ripple across the starry expanse-it sounds like love and warmth and understanding, and it says i love you, the universe loves you, in the same way the poem must rung in your ears, must nestle under your ribs. Love, love, love, it croons. Except then you get too close, and it catches you, and the sound is empty and hollow, and it's grip is tight, and nothing leaves it's arms or island alive, drained of life and magic.

Safety is only in that it is bound to the land, and no creature dares approach it, instinctively knowing of the danger. The islands that even the stars avoid...

Magic dragon?? Yes! Manifestation of the End?? That means it must somehow know how to take the appearance of one. Maybe smaller little space dragons, that play among the bones of the long-gone giant ones. The Ender Dragon isn't as large as they might've been, but it mimics the appearance as best it can-I wonder why. How long has it had that egg, again? How long has it waited for it to hatch?

So we can totally have some of the minecraft plants end-ified! Ooh, and since some adventurers probably brought them there to maybe try surviving in the End, there'd be things like crops and weeds and grass, long mutated as they grow along the ruins of what might've been a home once. E N D M O S S. It glow.

Warped fungus!! But more! Because this one wouldn't have ever been to the Nether, never mutated in such a way. It's home, but somehow, it still feels so very alien to those that look upon it. Maybe no orange?? Orange is Nether-color. Darker blue, or more purple-ish, possibly.

Everything is luminescent. The things that aren't are much more dangerous than the things at are, don't stare into the dark for too long-it might start looking back, and trust me, you don't want that :).

The Endermen Know they are not supposed to be here, even if the newcomers do not Stare with all of the heat and warmth and burn. One may bear the Wings, and two may speak their language, but they are too soft, and colorful, and bright, but not glowing. They are Outsiders, and Outsiders must go home.

Because nothing good comes from those that stay-how do you think that thing knows the universe's lullaby?

They ally with the four, if only to save themselves, but the Outsiders grow on them. Maybe they will visit, but the Outsiders must stay out.

(Ranboo does not let his Haunting out of his sight for awhile. Tommy and Michael too yes, but mainly Tubbo and Phil. They could have strayed too far, they could have not come back. He doesn't Know in the same way the others do, but even he is aware of what he could lose, and what could become)

(Tell me A L L of them, I beg of you)

#So Past The End We Went AU #dream smp #dream smp au

[appleflavoredkitkats]

stagnant;

author’s note: been a while! this isn't as long as my other fics, but i wanted to write this because i just like the concept of fundy in las nevadas, okay? and smoke breaks. i love writing smoke breaks. and of course, i will be writing about fundy because i am biased and he deserves better lmao. this is all written before the las nevadas arc ever occurs, so if there are any discrepancies by the time las nevadas finishes, that ain't my fault.

also! all of this is platonic! i view schlatt as fundy's other father figure. for quackity, i don't necessarily view him as 100% manipulative towards fundy and schlatt, but you're free to interpret him in any way you want. and yes, i know the situation about schlatt, and i don't support the actions of the cc, but i do enjoy his dsmp character nonetheless.

DO NOT SEND THIS FIC TO ANY CONTENT CREATOR!! be nice!!

laslty, special thanks to my good friend dany from the dsmpanalysis discord server for beta-ing my fic!

relationships: platonic fundy & schlatt (father-son relationship)

warnings: trauma, smoking, gambling, drinking, alcoholism, substance abuse, self-harm (accidentally burning oneself), slight mentions of fire, parental neglect (from wilbur), unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied depression or mental illness, mental health struggles, addiction, references to past violence, death idealization, underaged gambling, arguments (in the background), and general angst!

word count: 1878

summary: fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps are then heard behind fundy, but even then, fundy doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk.

or, it's midnight in las nevadas, and fundy has a smoke break with schlatt. he reflects on the state of the server, and he reflects on himself.

( ao3 link )

a click of a lighter, the tapping of dress shoes against chiseled quartz, the rummaging of pockets to fetch another fresh pack of cigs. his paws work automatically: slicing the plastic cover with his claws, fumbling the top open, and finally selecting a cigarette from the batch, twirling it between his fingers to the sound of muffled, jazzy tunes in the background.

with the smoke in between his sharp fangs, he guides the lighter to the end of the stick. there’s a deep inhale, letting the smoke fizzle into his lungs, latching onto every feeling of remorse, regret, guilt, sadness, pain, hurt, trauma, everything— 

and fundy exhales, all of those icky sensations evaporating into misty smoke.

this cycle of mindless smoking continues as fundy stands idly on his hotel room’s balcony. up ten stories high, fundy looms over almost everything in las nevadas. despite it being midnight, las nevadas’ visitors never relent. from above, staring with droopy eyes, fundy sees all four casinos lit up brighter than a neighbourhood during the holidays. no bulbs malfunction, thankfully; all of them flicker and twinkle as if there was something to celebrate about in this place full of deceit and temporary bliss. the bars, while more mellow, have the calmest of tunes blasting from their jukeboxes. when fundy first started working here, he remembers being fond of upbeat tunes like these, but they’ve quickly grown stale, or maybe fundy’s just grown tone deaf overtime. who knows?

everything about this place grows on fundy like a terrible rash. sometimes, he does enjoy the outgoing crowds and customers, but sometimes, the noise overwhelms him— ear-piercing, annoying, inharmonious. so, he ends up in places like his dishevelled room, unkempt from all the alcohol and exhaustion and the fact that he just doesn’t  want to give a fuck anymore. but as much as his room is reminiscent of the rubble he left in his original base, he at least feels at ease with the sounds he hears from above. there is the same jazz music, the same victorious yelling at jackpots, the same rolling from the slot machines, but it’s in diminuendo. 

it’s a symphony fundy will willingly listen to because he feels like he can separate himself from the chaos present downstairs. when he is with the others, when he serves tequila shots and shuffled decks, he feels like he is at the center of his own friends’ descent but from his own bedroom, he can pretend that he is fine, that everything is fine. he can live in the delusion that his friends are shouting from a well-deserved victory when deep in the back of his head, he knows that they’ve gotten inexplicably attached to machinery that he knows is programmed to bring about their demise.

fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps is then heard behind fundy, but even then, he doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

the guy who enters pats his back twice gently as a greeting, settling himself next to fundy. fundy averts his gaze from the saturated lights to look at the goat hybrid. with a newly tailored suit and freshly manicured horns, schlatt has never looked more dapper, but his skin was still heavily scarred and immensely graying. 

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk. fundy lowers the smoke, coughing a little before raising an incredulous eyebrow at schlatt.

“i learned from the worst,” fundy replies as his free hand shuffles through his pockets, holding out the box of smokes for schlatt to get one for himself. fundy doesn’t need to ask schlatt if he has his own lighter; he somehow always does. he’s been used to his mannerisms ever since a darkened flag with glowing, orange lace loomed over a dying country.

schlatt easily raises the smoke to his chapped lips and lights it easily. he falls into the rhythm of the scenery, slouching against the metal railings as he watches the same fluorescent bulbs fundy had been watching. 

moments like these, no matter how incredibly fucked they are, are the closest fundy can get to tasting peace. his father once described peace as a taste of freedom. it is the image of bright-eyed soldiers under swathes of redwood trees, free from the shackles of tyranny and violence their oppressors have imposed on them.

but fundy knows, as always, that his father is a liar, because at this very moment, fundy connects the concept of peace with the disgusting taste of smoke.

it is a habit he’s picked up from a man he’d once considered perfect. back when the server first hit its grayest of days, sometimes fundy’s claws had itched to strike a match, to spark stones. the scorching blaze igniting was the most colorful thing  he’d had in that wasteland of grey. he’d kept doing it more and more and more, until his own fur and skin burned and he realized that he too is graying like the place he called home. when schlatt had first discovered it, fundy remembers a lot of talking—all kind, kind words that have tarnished his perception on what a caring guardian, or a father, may be—and then, out of the blue, fundy asks for a smoke. while a confused eyebrow quirks, schlatt gives him one to try out, saying that there is a first time for everything, especially since their lives have been as mundane as they possibly can be.

and here fundy is now, able to finish an entire pack in the span of a few days as if it is a part of his diet. 

but if all this substance abuse and addiction and self-sabotage and self-deprecation have become so widespread in the server, so normalized, would one even consider it awful? if everyone is traumatized or hurt, does the concept of trauma even exist in the first place?

“you know, i— don’t take this the wrong way, but i thought that you would be much happier to see all your friends reunited,” schlatt speaks, fingers gesturing to tiny specks on the ground that move in sync with the jazz. fundy hums non-committedly as a reply, not really knowing what to say. 

“well, sucks to be you, i guess. mopey ass,” schlatt jokes with the same half-smirk he uses whenever fundy is notably graying like he did in the past. fundy chuckles at it, at least, but his shoulders droop immediately after. the smallest bouts of happiness and joy make him unbelievably tired nowadays.

fundy attempts to lift his smoke again to his lips, but surprisingly, schlatt interrupts, forcing fundy to lower his arm. fundy stares at him acutely with furrowed brows. “fundy, i—” schlatt begins, and his lighthearted expression dwindles into something much more anxious and apprehensive. schlatt clears his throat and continues, “fundy, kid, i know i’m not the type to get all grossly emotional and whatnot—that’s more of tubbo’s thing—but you have to listen to me when i say that you need to leave.” schlatt grips fundy’s forearm now, firm yet slightly shaking. “kid, you’re not healthy here. it’s— you— this—” schlatt gestures towards the buildings, the lights, the entire shithole that they are stuck in, “this is not somewhere you need to be. you need to leave when you can.”

fundy blinks, and then he blinks once more before his free hand shrugs off schlatt’s grip. he returns to his original position of leaning against the railing, and through the reflection of the cold metal, fundy can see the unpleasant surprise on schlatt’s face transform into something more defeated. a pregnant silence precedes a long, exasperated sigh from schlatt. the edges of fundy’s lips slightly curve downwards.

“well, it would be easier if it weren’t for the fact that i literally have nowhere else to go,” fundy replies monotonously, as if this statement is something he’s rehearsed several times before. “i’ve hit rock bottom, schlatt. i have nothing else to lose,” fundy continues, huffing out a melancholic chuckle. he doesn’t think this situation he’s stuck in is anything comedic, but it sure is amusing how his life has continuously spiralled further and further for the past five years. he’s amused by the fact that he is still very much alive and breathing by this point despite the—fundy looks at his half-finished cigarette, the livid circles under his eyes, his furrowing ears as being exposed to multiple explosions has caused a permanent, high-pitched sound to ring in them sporadically—small, little missteps. 

it’s quiet again as schlatt stares at fundy uncomfortably. “you’re really out here wishing for god to strike you dead in front of a dead man— how very respectful of you,” schlatt replies sarcastically. fundy knows schlatt only wants to lighten up the mood. schlatt has been very persistent in helping fundy find the brighter side of things for a while, but lately, they’ve fallen flat. is schlatt’s eloquence gradually deteriorating, or is it fundy who’s only gotten more numb towards schlatt?

fundy doesn’t know, and both possibilities are undesirable, really, so fundy decides to speak. “i’m sorry,” fundy says, and he doesn’t know if it is for himself or for schlatt. maybe it’s for the both of them.

schlatt’s look softens, and he raises his free palm to grip fundy’s shoulder, thumbing it for comfort. a part of fundy wants to sob, to cry, but he chokes all his tears back with an inhale of smoke. “i’m sorry too,” schlatt murmurs, his voice the softest and the most caring it has ever been. when fundy exhales, he can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes as schlatt continues, “you deserve better.”

fundy hums and his eyes trail downwards to gaze at las nevadas’ visitors once more. he spots ranboo, possibly exhausted judging by his sloppy movements, forcefully pulling a crazed tubbo from a slot machine. fundy remembers that inside, he has seen purpled, foolish, and puffy shout over a simple card, a two of clubs, arguing on whether they should split the fifteen stacks of diamonds or not. he remembers finding sam outside the bar next to the trash bins downing his own personal bottles of alcohol, gripping tightly on a withered rose as he sobs uncontrollably. at the side, he can now see a distressed bad and ant incessantly begging the blackjack booths to accept their territory offers as they’ve lost all their possessions to far too many rounds of roulette wheels and texas hold’ems. he also spots a jovial yet sly quackity skipping through the streets energetically as a stern techno and phil trail behind him, ready to smite anyone who dares terrorize the place. 

and lastly, he stares away from the crowds and returns to gaze at schlatt—tired eyes, frayed hair, drying skin—with a bittersweet smile. fundy replies, “i think we all do.”

#mcyt #dream smp #fundy #jschlatt #fanfiction #writing #long post #las nevadas #quackity

[laurenmm62017]

When You Find Your Answers, I'll Be There Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31111016

Here's the 2nd chapter! I don't think I nailed Kallus' POV so i appreciate any feedback!

Alexsandr Kallus grew up on Coruscant, the most populous planet in the galaxy. He knew about soulmates before he was even able to walk. He was surrounded on all sides by people talking about soulmates.

He absolutely hated it.

He hated that all he can see are shades of grey just because he hasn’t met someone he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He hated that it wasn’t even guaranteed that he and his soulmate would be romantic partners, but they could be simply platonic (which would be fine with him) or even hate each other (which he was less fine with). He hated that he might not even meet his soulmate AT ALL. He hated how all of his family, friends, classmates, and teachers always made such a big deal about soulmates.

He was so tired of it.

Alex was 11 when he was bullied for these views so much that he was cornered after school and beaten up so hard, his ribs were bruised for a solid month afterwards.

He decided then that he would enlist in the Grand Army of the Republic when he came of age. Everything was grey on those giant Venators anyways.

He never really thought about who his soulmate could be. He pushed himself to be as strong, fast, and smart as possible. He pushed himself so hard, he passed out due to exhaustion every night. During a particularly grueling sparring session, he had pushed so hard, that his partner grew enraged and broke his leg to get him to stop fighting. Pain lanced up and down his leg as he screamed and writhed on the ground. Their instructor calmly, almost too calmly, called to the medbay on campus for a stretcher. Alex never really forgot that look of apathy.

When Kallus was 20, The Galactic Civil War ended and the Empire rose to power, with Emperor Palpatine at the helm and his second in command Vader at his side. The Grand Army of the Republic became the Imperial Army, and he was recruited into the ranks as a Commander. It took a long time for ranks and respect to cement into place, but by the time he and his troops went on their first real mission to Onderon, a former base for major rebellions led by Saw Guerrera, he gained the respect of all under his command. He regarded them all as capable soldiers and friends in return.

The mission went south, of course. It turned out that Guerera’s troops hadn’t left the planet yet because they had blown up his company’s transports. Kallus had been knocked out in the first blast, and woke up on his back on the side of the road. He attempted to stand up, but he found that he couldn’t move a single muscle.

Then, slowly, a tall, dark grey Lasat menacingly prowled down the path of destruction, executing every one of the soldiers who were still showing signs of life.

John, Lina, Corbyn, their medic, Stim, everyone.

Kallus’ eyes were as wide as can be, as the Lasat slowly passed by his position.

‘Don’t notice me, don’t notice me, don’t noti-’ He frantically thought, but it was in vain.

The Lasat’s head whipped around to look at him, paralyzed on the ground.

“Well, well, looks like I found the commander of the group. That’s some fancy armor compared to the others, isn’t it?” He purred dangerously. Kallus tried to open his mouth, but found he still couldn’t move.

‘If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.’ He glared up at the Lasat.

“Ooooooh, look at those eyes. Tell me, have you found your soulmate yet, Commander?” He snickered, leveling his weapon at him, some kind of modified electrostaff. “Tell you what? I’m feeling pretty generous tonight, so I’ll let you live. But I gotta make it look good. So what should I do.... Heh, I got it.”

The Lasat swung down on Kallus’ leg and it broke cleanly. Kallus still couldn’t move but the pain of the same leg that broke a few years ago was so excruciating, he passed out.

When he woke up, he was lying in a medical bed. His superior officer, Admiral Yularan, was sitting in a chair at his bedside.

“Good to see you awake, Commander. The medical droids tell me you’ll make a smooth recovery. Whenever you are able, I’d like a full report of what happened down there.”

“My men?”

Yularan shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, my boy. You were the only one we found still alive.”

He looked up at the ceiling, anger, guilt, and fear flooded through him. He felt so helpless. He was caught off guard, and as a result, everyone was dead.

Because of him.

In that moment, on that uncomfortable medical bed, he vowed that this would never happen again.

Kallus was 26 years old when he was recruited into the Imperial Security Bureau on the recommendation of Admiral Yularan. He was trained to be ruthless, unforgiving, and as stoic as a rock. He was first assigned to Internal Affairs in order to keep loyalty to the Empire. He was very good at this job. Because he garnered the respect and loyalty or his coworkers and subordinates, many of them were rather to get in his favor by reporting any disloyalty or traitorous activity to him. He was one of the most successful Agents in ISB at this time. However, he was becoming restless just staying on Coruscant every single cycle. He wanted to get out in the field, and assist the Empire from out in the stars. He requested to be transferred to Investigations.

That was where he first encountered his soulmate.

His Lasat soulmate.

For kriff’s sake, how cruel could the universe be? A Lasat? The very one who slaughtered his first unit? One of the species he helped hunt to extinction. Surely this was a joke.

That first time he made eye contact with him, however, was admittedly magical. The way that color seemed to first saturate within the Lasat’s eyes, and spread to his soft-looking fur, and then to his surroundings made him pause for a moment. He was so captured in his eyes, it was like the galaxy paused just for this moment.

But reality came back as a blaster bolt nearly caught him in the shoulder and he ducked back to cover.

In his free time, he learned the names of the colors of his soulmate. His eyes were bright green. He had light purple fur and dark purple stripes. His jumpsuit is dark green normally, as he rarely could disguise himself. He encountered his soulmate many more times in the span of a few months, but he was never able to capture him or his group of rebels.

And then they somehow crash landed together on that Geonosian ice moon.

~

Alexsandr sat on the ground, and watched his soulmate, Garazeb Orrelios, member of the Spectre crew, jog towards the Ghost and as his friends poured out of the ship to welcome him back.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cave they had taken shelter in.

“When you find your answers, I’ll be there.”

That is what Zeb had said. But why in the galaxy would he try to find answers to questions he knows he won’t like the answers to?

For himself? For the galaxy? For Zeb?

He knew that no one in the Empire would run out and embrace him like Zeb’s teammates had. The most interaction he will have is with the medical team to fix his leg. He would simply send a report to a superior officer that he would make up.

Kallus was picked up by an Imperial shuttle long after the Ghost left the atmosphere. As he suspected, he is sent to medical, discharged after his leg is set, and sent back to his quarters. No one except Konstantine greeted him on the way back.

Alone in his quarters, he sat down heavily on his bed and stared at the grey floor, walls, bedsheets. It was as if he had never even found his soulmate at all. The only burst of color there was the small meteorite he smuggled back with him.

“It’s the same color as Zeb’s bo-rifle…” He thought, idly stroking his thumb along the crevices in the meteorite.

“I’m going to find my answers, Zeb.”

~

The next time he saw Zeb in person was right after his escape from the Chimera. He messed up. He got caught, and he caused a huge loss for the Rebellion. Would he really be welcomed into their ranks after everything he had done? He was genuinely not planning to ever join up with them. If he got caught, he figured he would never see the light of day again and he would die as Fulcrum.

He never expected Kanan Jarrus, of all people, to approach him after their first jump into hyperspace.

“Kanan.” He whispered, clutching his arm to his chest and shifting his weight to one leg. It still hurt even after the medical droid looked him over. “Thank you, for taking me in.”

Seeing Kanan this close, without his mask, Alexsandr could see why the Jedi usually wore his green face shield. The scars across his face were much lighter than the rest of his face, jagged and haunting. Kanan placed a hand on his shoulder gently.

“Thank you, for risking everything.”

“It wasn’t that hard. Once I found my answers, it was clear to me.”

“We’re glad to have you, Fulcrum.” Kanan smiled and dropped his hand back down. “Zeb is in the common room, if you want to speak with him. The debriefing is almost over.”

“Thank you. Kanan. And please. My name is Alexsandr.”

He smiled at Alexsandr. “Get in there, Alexsandr.” Then, he continued through the ship with the comfort of someone who has been in a place for a long time.

Alexsandr slowly limped up to the door of the common room, pausing for one moment before he opened the door. Inside was Hera Syndulla, General Dodonna, Sabine Wren, and in the far corner, his soulmate, Garazeb Orrelios. Their eyes met and for a moment, it seemed as if everything fell away. It didn’t matter that he just barely managed to escape from the Empire. It didn’t matter that he had been beaten down over and over. All that mattered was that he was safe here, caught in those sharp, bright green eyes.

Zeb motioned for Alexsandr to stand next to him, and he limped over as fast as he could. He leaned his weight against the wall  and Zeb placed his hand right next to his. He could feel the heat radiating off of Zeb, and in that moment, Alexsandr had never felt safer.

“So, did you find your answers?”

“I did.”

#kalluzeb appreciation week #kalluzeb #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios

[tmntgirlie]

TMNT x Reader

Helping You Bleach Your Hair

Prompt: Heyoo :) hope you are having a fantastic evening/morning/afternoon/timeless endeavor in the void, could I request hcs of the boys helping their s/o bleach/dye their hair? In the process rn and would love some helping hands tysm ❤️❤️

Oh my gosh, why haven’t I thought of doing this one sooner? I’ll try to use laypersons’ terms as much as possible and not too much hairdresser lingo. Hope you like it! (Pro tip: please don’t bleach your hair at home. As a licensed cosmetologist, I wouldn’t even do so on myself)

Leonardo

“Y/N? Hon, where are you- what are you doing?”

“Uh-”

“What is that stuff on your head?”

You quickly explained what you were doing

It really wasn’t that big of deal- you wanted a chance, and you thought that lightening your hair would bring that change

Plus, once you got to blonde, you wanted to try all sorts of fun colors

“Is it supposed to look like cake frosting?”

“Saturation is key. Can you help me get to the back?”

Leonardo gingerly took the color brush from your hand

“What do I do with it?”

“You take thin slices of hair and brush the product on. Don’t get too close to my scalp, though, stay an inch away. That part is supposed to be last, I think”

You never had somebody more gentle working on your hair

You had your fingers crossed the entire time

It’s just hair, you kept telling yourself

What’s the worst that could happen?

Maybe you should have recorded yourself in case you screwed up

You could be the star of a new Brad Mondo video that way, make some coin

Twenty minutes later, Leo handed the brush back to you

“What now?”

“Wait another twenty minutes, I think, then do my roots- then rinse and tone”

“Tone?”

You had so much to teach this terrapin about hair

Raphael

“What the fuck is on your head?”

“Raphie! Baby! I’m just bleaching my hair!”

“The fuck is that?”

You scoffed

He was not in a good enough mood to appreciate your creativity

“I want to color my hair bright red, but I have to bleach it first so it’s really bright”

“Any particular reason you want red?”

“I’m starting to rethink it, actually”

“Well, who am I to stop you? Here, let me help”

You carefully handed him the color brush, hoping this wasn’t a mistake

Sure, he had his creative side, but he wasn’t this sort of creative that you knew of

“Thin slices, away from my root”

“Got it, babe. How thick do you want it?”

You grinned

“Thick as you can get it. It needs to be saturated so the lightener can penetrate better”

“Oh, penetration? That is something you know well”

He was kind of rough with your hair, but was it bad that you liked it?

Little tug here, a pull there

Your hair was probably not the only thing getting penetrated that night

Donatello

“Donnie! Donatello! Baby! Honeybuns!”

Your purple-banded turtle boyfriend ran into the room like it was on fire

“What? What is it, baby, what’s wrong?”

“Can you check to see if I got all of it?”

“Got all of it?”

You gestured to your hair

“How do you want me to look?”

You gave him a tail comb

“Use this, make sure every single strand is covered and that the roots aren’t touched. Can you do that for me please, baby?”

Donatello was certainly up for the challenge

He took that comb and ran the pointy end through your hair, inspecting every single strand of hair

He licked his thumb and wiped away anything that was even close to your scalp

“Isn’t this not safe to do at home?”

“Someone could say the same thing about your lab experiments”

He didn’t respond, just smiled and kept working

“What’s your goal with this, exactly?”

“I’m thinking of going for an icy blonde color”

“You’ll need to go a lot lighter than this”

“Well, yeah, it’s supposed to sit on for forty minutes. Sixty minutes max, I think”

“Did you even read the instructions?”

Donnie quickly researched ‘bleaching your hair at home’ and found out exactly what to do

If his baby wanted to be icy blonde, they were going to be icy blonde, dammit

Michelangelo

“Aw, you’re doing your hair without me?”

This turt thought himself to be a professional

After all, he had seen all of the Brad Mondo videos and bleach fails

He knew what to do, he knew what not to do

Dare I say he had more of an idea than you?

“Don’t tell me you got the T-18 toner- that’s a permanent color! Way too high ammonia for freshly bleached hair!”

“Don’t worry, babe, I got a demi gloss”

“What’s the goal here, babycakes? What are we working towards?”

You showed him a picture on your phone

At this point, he had completely taken over your home project

You weren’t complaining

It was hard to keep your arms up for that long

“Oh, easy peasy! Do you want me to throw in a few lowlights as well for dimension? You don’t want a flat hair color”

“Do you know how to do those?”

“Ooh! What about a balayage? I saw a bunch of videos on how to do them-”

“I already started the all over bleach, but maybe we can do that next time?”

“Next time?”

Oh, he was so excited

He didn’t have his own head of hair to screw with, and now he figured he had your permission to do your head

“This is going to look so bomb. Should I do a root tap so that it grows in better?”

There were days you questioned his knowledge of the world

This was a day where you questioned why he had this knowledge

Again, not that you were complaining

-

A/N

I’ll admit, this one was fun. I could totally picture the guys wanting to help you or being easily convinced to help their partner do their hair. In all seriousness, I do not condone bleaching/lightening your hair at home. BUT if you absolutely must, here are a few tips

Slow and steady wins the race. You don’t need 40v developer to get where you want to go. 10v works just fine

In short, developers determine how fast the hair will process. In my country, we have 4 kinds- 10 volume, 20 volume, 30 volume, and 40 volume. You can mix them (using math, yay!) to get to any volume inbetween or you can dilute them with water- but never use more than 1:1 ratios when doing so! You could kill the developer

10v developer will lift the ‘slowest’, but will cause the least amount of damage and can be stretched/left on a tiny bit longer than manufacturers instructions. As long as you can’t stretch you hair more than 70% elasticity, you should be okay

Follow mixing ratios stated on your color/bleach, but when using bleach, these ratios are more like guidelines. The product will work BEST if used as stated on instructions, but you can put in a little more developer to create a runnier consistency or a little more powder bleach to make it thicker. It will still work

When using foils, you don’t need a cake-frosting thick bleach mixture. You can do with a runnier consistency as long as it sticks to the foils and doesn’t slide right out

Use a thicker consistency for open-air processing or processing just using a cap or plastic bag. The outside will harden, but will keep the inside moist inside

Follow instructions from the manufacturer on timing. Start the timer when you start applying- if you take 20 minutes to apply and the bleach needs to process for 45 minutes, that first piece you bleached will be done when the other parts have 25 minutes to go

And for the love of God, use a demi permanent color and 10v developer or LESS if you are toning

Plus, toning needs to be on level or lower in order to work

Happy coloring!

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt imagines #tmnt imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles imagines #tmnt headcanon #tmnt hc #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #reader insert #tmnt reader insert #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #donatello x reader #michelangelo x reader #home hair coloring #tmnt coloring hair

[off-light]

dimilix; ~3k from an abandoned wip; snapshots from Felix's different lifetimes

--gold.

The world is bright—too bright, searingly white, to a degree that all other colors are washed into pain.

Your clothes are damp around your skin. The blood that soaks them overwhelms your senses, metallic and putrid. It smells particularly strong because you have just rubbed your nose with the back of a knuckle, unintentionally making a mess of yourself. You wonder if it’s from the pegasus knight you dispatched last, or maybe the young soldier before her.

The grass around your knees has already been matted by the stompings of the three armies. Dirt, so saturated with blood, mixes now into a sludge that smears over your pants when you bend and wrap your hands around the handle of the first spear.

When your grip is adequate enough, you pull.

It takes some heft before it comes out. The body underneath you shifts, almost as if protesting in death.

The blade tip comes out glossed in burgundy. You cast it aside and reach for the next.

“Hey,” a voice calls.

You do not stop.

Besides, they’re too slow. You’ve already hefted the next spear out—this one lodged so deep that the blood has soaked a finger’s width into the wood of the shaft—and you fling it aside in the general direction of the other.

As you brace one hand on the corpse and reach for the next, a funny thought passes through your head. You are grateful for your gloves. Otherwise, the scent of blood would not come out from under your fingernails for days. What an irritation that would have been.

You sense someone crouch beside you.

The third spear is difficult to pull out. You have to shift it, a tad too rough.

Though you know he is already dead—have already checked for a pulse and breath yourself—still you feel a pang of guilt.

“Felix.”

It would not be wise to ignore her any longer. If you had any energy remaining, you would sigh.

“Leonie.”

“Stop doing that. Someone else will take care of it.”

“It’s fine.”

You select the next one to remove. This one is in the deepest of them all. You can tell by the angle, how it must have been thrust with such great force to lodge itself in so firmly. You grab it and shake it, experimentally, to confirm.

“Don’t worry about it. Really. We’ll have some of the other Leiscester soldiers come take care of it.”

It won’t come out. You stand for better leverage, push down on the body with one hand while using the other to pull.

Three big jerks, and the tip pulls free.

Ah, there’s the problem. It was a harpoon point. You bring it up to your face to examine it. His blood trickles down your palm, mirroring the path of your own veins.

“No need. I’ll meet everyone back at camp after I’m done.”

You have removed four spears. There are still—you make a quick count—five left. The four that have already been removed are laying on the ground, basking in the sun. This is more tiring work than you had expected.

Above you, she shakes her head.

“If I didn’t know you any better, I would say you were punishing yourself.”

What a pointless thing to say. You fold back onto your knees and reach for the next.

“Don’t you have other dead to move?”

--black.

Dusk. The sun is setting orange around you, glinting direct off your half-sharpened blade with a burning ferocity. Your fingers are powdered with grit from your whetstone, numb from the act of holding metal so firmly.

A voice from behind you. “You go through those pretty fast.”

You had been thinking about the letters that you’d burned this morning, picturing the way they blackened and curled in the fire, re-living the vindictive joy you had felt while carrying out the act—at the sound of the voice, the thoughts scatter like birds.

The other person approaches and takes a seat next to you, craning her neck to see what you’re doing.

“Not in the mood to talk, I see. As usual. I’m not exactly surprised.”

“Then why do you bother?”

“What can I say? Sometimes a girl just wants company.”

Silence stretches between the two of you. You can feel how she watches your hands as you continue to work—there are another two blades to sharpen after this one, and you’d rather finish before the sun goes down in full.

You hear her shift, cross her legs and prop her chin on the palm of her hand.

“Edie’s really been putting you to work, hasn’t she? I’m always positioned pretty far from you, but you’re always so easy to spot at the front lines. I just have to look for the only officer without a battalion.”

“I see.”

“Your fighting is very efficient and skilled. Very impressive to watch.”

“Thank you.”

Her voice drops. She sits up straighter.

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

Something about the sudden seriousness in her tone makes you want to smile.

“If it disgusts you, then don’t watch.”

She laughs.

“Didn’t I just say? You’re hard to miss.”

She picks up another whetstone at your side and weighs it in her palm. You watch the way her fingers wrap around it, clumsy and uncomfortable. You know that she has her swords sharpened at the armory, like all of the others. You’re the only one, to your own knowledge, that insists on doing it yourself.

“Not like that.”

You take a pause in your work and reach over to fix her grip. She shakes her head when you try to help, drops the whetstone back onto the bench between you two.

“I thought the letters stopped coming for you. I’m surprised you even got the one today. Who was it from this time?”

The vision of the flickering embers come back into your mind. You turn back to your work.

“Didn’t check.”

“You didn’t even check to see who it was?” She sounds incredulous. You’re surprised by the degree of emotion in her voice. “I didn’t realize you hated them that much.”

“Why is it surprising? They have nothing to do with me now.”

She falls quiet in thought.

One blade done. You sheath it and pick up the next.

You feel her eyes track you.

“Do you go through all of them? With each battle?”

“Generally.”

“It usually takes me a little over a dozen battles before one of my blades becomes too dull to cut, depending on the armor.”

You know the durability of the blade that she uses.

“Your edge alignment must be off. They should last longer.”

“Yours do?”

You hear the challenge in her voice, and look up to meet her eyes with your own.

You are beginning to understand. Perhaps this is why she came to speak with you. To confirm her suspicions of your nature, how terrible she expects you to be.

You wait for her to ask. If she does, you have a number ready. Would she keep her composure then?

...

She is the first to break. She doesn’t look away—but smiles, devoid of warmth.

“Always so impressive, Felix. I suppose it’s good for Edie that you’re on our side.”

--blue.

Cold wind on your face. It’s the biting mountain breeze of the sharp peaks around Garreg Mach, and it is now very, very familiar. As you walk on, in formation, down the steep slope, you can see the battle flag lead at the head of the army.

With your position, higher on the cliffs, you watch it snap with the current. The blue is so vivid and energetic that it looks more alive than the standard-bearer carrying it.

“Incredible sight, isn’t it, Felix?”

You’ve been hearing the sounds of a horse coming towards you for a while now, but didn’t expect it to be him.

You look up to see the solemn face of your father. His eyes are bright.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You watch him turn back to the standard. This is not exactly a conversation that you want to have, but he opens his mouth and continues it—now undeterrable.

“Is it not incredible that His Highness has returned to us? Look at how quickly the soldiers have rallied around him. Faerghus may now have a true chance at victory against the Empire.”

What he’s implying is something much more personal than what he’s speaking aloud. You feel your mouth pull into a frown.

“Hmm.”

“Have you had the chance to speak with him since—?”

“Since I watched him slaughter dozens of people in cold blood? Connected him to the tales of evil incarnate tearing through Imperial soldiers?”

“—Since you saw him alive.”

The breeze has become persistent, throwing your hair into your vision. You blow it back out, a little huffier than you’d like to admit.

“No.”

Your father sighs. “I see,” he says.

It is easy to recognize it as his disappointed voice. You feel the familiar pull of frustration in your throat.

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“On the contrary, Felix. I feel like you two have much to talk about.”

There is no way to remedy a misunderstanding as fundamental as the one between you and your father. You actually find it astounding that he looks at Dimitri and sees anything remotely akin to hope. How does your father not feel the same crushing sense that Dimitri’s current form is proof that everything was truly done in vain?

Damned if they lose the war, damned if they win. For all the fuss of fighting for victory, it’s about just as annoying to convince people to abandon hope.

“It is your role, as his oldest friend, to support him. You have a connection with him that others do not.”

The taste in your mouth grows sour. You were raised to never yell at your father, but it is a close thing.

“We have nothing in common.”

“You’ve always held a deep empathy for him. I know that there were times when the two of you do not always see eye to eye, but—”

“And I am not his keeper.”

“Felix. That is not what I am implying, of course.”

“What do you even propose I do? Invite him for tea to discuss all the people we’ve killed over the past five years?”

“Felix.”

His voice is growing stern, in warning.

Unfortunately for him, you have long passed the point of caring. You know what he wants you to do, and it is an impossibility. You are wiser than him in this regard. You have never held power over Dimitri in the way everyone seems to think that you do.

“If all you want is a man on the throne, you should take up the position yourself.”

A sharp stop. You can tell, from your father’s silence, that you have gone too far.

It raises the hairs on the back of your neck. You feel young again, on the verge of a scolding—only now you are much older and, with that experience and learning, was assumed to be wise enough to not propose treason in the middle of a prince’s army.

You do not turn to him. You press on in the crowd, leave him and his outdated views behind.

--war.

You stare out at the grassland in front of you, pointedly ignoring what’s happening with your right leg at the moment.

“Am I binding it too tight, Felix?”

“No.”

He’s not. The wound isn’t even drastic enough to be bound in the first place, as it’s not anything you would have bled out from—it is large, sure, but shallow, far from any key artery. You had tried to press this point earlier, but it apparently was not enough to convince him.

All you can do, now, is stay put on this rock and hope this inconvenience-turned-ordeal passes soon.

“Mercedes will have much work today,” he says. “I have always been astounded by the stamina of healers. Their fights extend long after ours.”

His voice is even, but you can tell that he is very tired. This battle lasted much longer than anyone’s projections—stretching long after the sun went down, until the dirt was long soaked in a darkness that masked the strange, blood-sloughed quality of battlefields.

You two are far enough away from the main line to hear only the groans and screams of the wounded as distant hauntings. Here, those sounds are muffled by the more urgent call of crickets. Deceptively peaceful, for wartime.

His bandaging, around your leg, is neat and clean with practiced efficiency. It’s clear that you’re still bleeding, enough that it’s soaking through the cloth.

“Would you like to raise it?”

“No. It’ll stop soon.”

“It’s a very large wound.”

“Just give it a few minutes.”

His focus is still on your leg. There is a corner of his mouth pulling to the side, obviously displeased, set with a stubborn stiffness that you have long learned to recognize.

“I’m worried. Even if it clots, it will only tear off again when they remove the bandages to heal you.”

“Wouldn’t matter if they’re going to heal me anyway.”

He shakes his head. “But it will hurt.”

It has not been very long since you both returned to speaking terms—speaking terms that didn’t involve outbursts, accusations, or delusions. You’re sure he’d feel more awkward about it, too, if he wasn’t so consumed with this non-task.

“I can take it. Don’t you have other things to tend to?”

“Of course, but I’m not done.” He sits back, clearly frustrated. “If I was better at faith magic, I would heal you myself.”

“Don’t. If you healed it wrong, we’d just have to cut it open again.”

“That is my fear as well.”

If you were more prone to dramatics, you would have long fallen back onto this rock. It’s clear that he’s in one of his moods. Only the Goddess herself could move his mind, at this point.

You begin to slide off onto the ground. He moves out of your way as you lay down, rearrange yourself, attempt to lift your leg—a huge mistake, as searing pain swells past the numbing salve you’d applied earlier, making you lose your strength.

Luckily, he catches your leg and helps you navigate it onto the rock.

“Content?”

He sighs. “There was no need to do that just for me.”

Liar. As if you could have had any peace from him otherwise.

“It’s fine. You can go now.”

He takes up your old post on the rock and sets a hand on your knee.

“I will wait with you, at least until the bleeding stops.”

No escape, then.

You shake your head. One day, you’ll learn how to stop him.

You turn your attention above you, filling your sight with the new moon-sky and its little pinpricks of stars.

From this vantage point, it feels as if the world itself is cupped around you, high and unreachable, safe.

No one that has spilled as much blood as you deserves this form of peace, and yet here it is.

In your peripheral vision, you can see the way he’s turned upwards as well, gaze tracking from star to star. Marooned with you, just briefly, on this little island.

--young.

Your pinkies jerk against each other and, when he pulls on your arms, he does it just a little too hard.

You feel it in your shoulders. It is a familiar tension.

“Say, say, oh playmate—”

“Come out and play with me—”

“And bring your dollies three—”

“Climb up—”

He slows, trailing off. He’s waiting to see what you do first.

“—my apple—”

He takes too long. Your palms meet the back of his hands.

The rhythm is lost.

“Dimitri!”

He starts to turn pink, ducking his head into his shoulders as he giggles.

“I’m sorry! I’m confused by the song.”

“I already taught it to you three times!”

“But it’s hard to sing and remember the hand claps.”

He claps once in demonstration. He looks a little embarrassed—which he should be. Ingrid would have gotten it ages ago.

“It’s not hard to remember, it’s middle—”

You clap your hands in front of you, and he copies you.

“Right—”

You hold up the corresponding hand and feel his meet yours. The sound when they collide is crisp.

“Middle.”

Clap.

“Left—”

Left. He’s staring intensely at your hands in concentration, mouthing the words as you speak them.

“Clap, clap—”

Four claps, his set just a fraction of a second behind yours.

“Back—”

Your knuckles bump against his, bony and unfamiliar.

“Front—”

Palms.

“—And that’s it!”

You say it firmly, with a hint of a tone to imply the extent of his sluggish brain.

He doesn’t seem to notice and is entirely focused on miming that same pattern. He runs through the pattern a few more times, and then looks confident.

“Okay. May I try again?”

You hold out your hands and his pinkies curl around yours, shaking your arms up and down, in a way that sets the beat. You couldn’t care less about the soreness in your shoulders.

“Say, say, oh playmate—”

“Come out and—and play with me—”

“And bring your dollies three—”

“Climb up my apple tree—”

“Jump down my rainbow—”

“Into my cellar door—”

“And we’ll be jolly friends—”

“Foreverm—”

Your hands miss.

“Dimi—!”

“Felix!”

“You missed!”

“No, your hand was too high!”

He grabs your wrist and holds your hand up near his, miming incorrectly the distance that had been between your palms.

“No—”

“Because my hand was here, and yours was—”

He fights your grip when you try to adjust his hand more accurately. The stubborn set of his face make your sides hurt from laughing.

“Okay, fine.” You raise your hands. “Go again!”

--

these were originally flashback scenes from a twine game that i was making, but alas! don't think i will ever finish them, so here they are banished to tumblr

#dimilix #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd

[caitlesshea]

dripping like a saturated sunrise

Chaos. It’s all chaos. Alex looks around and cringes. There’s glass everywhere and they’re surrounded by rubble. 

Max and Isobel are unconscious, the aftermath of their showdown surrounding them, while Liz and Rosa tend to their wounds. 

And Michael. Alex nearly chokes thinking about it. Michael took the brunt of Max’s anger, shielding Isobel and all of them from the destruction. Kyle leans over Michael as he tries to stop the bleeding from his chest as Maria puts pressure on the wound on his forehead. 

“Alex!” Kyle tells and it forces him back into reality. Alex looks at Michael and practically falls to his knees next to him. He winces when his prosthetic bends more than it should but he settles next to Michael. 

“Help me stop the bleeding.” Kyle says as he tries to assess Michael’s injuries. Alex’s hands flutter over Michael’s chest, unable to fully press on the wound.

“Alex! You need to put pressure on it.”

“I can’t. I need something.” 

“Something? What are you talking about?” 

Alex ignores him and bunches up what’s left of Michael’s shirt to place on top of the wound before he presses down. 

All too soon the shirt is soaked through and Alex takes his hands off of the wound. 

“Alex!” Kyle yells as he tries to stitch up the gash on Michael’s leg. 

“I can’t. I can’t.” 

“You have too. Just long enough for me to finish and try to wake Max.”

Alex looks down at his blood soaked hands and up to Michael’s face and prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that he’s making the right choice. 

The moment his hands touch Michael’s skin he feels it. Warmth settles into soul and it makes his breath catch. 

In what feels like no time at all he can see the beginnings of his mark, a splash of color that winds around his wrist and over his left hand. Their marks have always been the most beautiful thing to him. 

Most soul marks are black with just a hint of color. Usually something meaningful to the pair. They appear through skin to skin contact and become permanent the longer the two people touch. 

Alex and Michael’s matching soul marks are a wash of color. Vibrant pinks, purples, and blues. Just like the console. 

Alex only recently made the connection when he grabbed Michael’s hand back when he tried to give Michael information on his mother Nora. 

That was the longest they had touched skin to skin in months. Over the years they had fine tuned their interactions, knowing exactly how long it would take for the marks to settle and become permanent. Neither of them wanted to make them so. 

Alex has a soulmate that doesn’t want to be bonded to him.

He can see the colors taking shape over his hand and Maria gasps.

“Alex.” 

“No.” Alex tears his eyes away from Michael’s face to look at her with pleading eyes. 

“Switch with me.” Maria says as she settles against Michael’s side to put pressure on the wound and Alex takes over bandaging Michael’s forehead. 

Normally when they break their connection the mark fades away. It’s no use though, since Alex has had the pattern memorized since he was seventeen. 

Only this time, the mark isn’t fully completed. But even more troublesome, the mark isn’t disappearing. If Alex was thinking clearly he would realize it’s because he stopped touching Michael skin to skin, but he’s stuck in a spiral that he’s irrevocably messed up the one good thing in his life. 

He has just a moment to see Max waking up and crawling over to heal Michael when the world goes black. 

~~~ 

Alex comes to slowly, feeling warm and tingly, in a way he hasn’t felt since that day in the toolshed all those years ago. 

He squints against the bright lights and realizes that he’s laying on the couch in their makeshift lab. He can feel an IV in his arm and his stump feels like it’s not on fire for the first time in days. 

He lets the warm feeling settle in his chest as he opens his eyes. There are hushed whispers that quiet immediately around him, when suddenly a mop of golden curly hair is in his vision.

“Private.” 

“Wha?” Alex tries to say even though his mouth feels like cotton. Michael chuckles and Alex feels it in his soul.

“Oh.” Alex says quietly as Michael brushes his hair off of his forehead with his left hand. The same hand that he can now see their completed soulmark on. 

“Yeah.” Michael says just as quietly as Alex did. Alex looks down at his left hand and sees their soulmark complete for the first time. 

Tears spring to his eyes and he shuts them tightly as Michael grabs his hand. 

“I had to. I hope you’re not mad.” 

Alex’s eyes open at that and he shakes his head vehemently. 

“You’ve also got a nice handprint on your stomach.” Michael looks towards his stomach and Alex follows the movement where Alex can see a shimmering handprint so similar in color to their soulmarks it makes Alex smile. 

“My healing isn’t one hundred percent, which is why it’s not fully formed and why you’re on an IV drip, but you should be able to take it out in a couple of hours.” Michael smiles ruefully and Alex squeezes the hand still holding his. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“They left to give us some privacy.”

Alex nods and licks his lips. Michael hands him a water bottle and Alex has never been so grateful.

“Why?”

Michael scoffs. “Turns out when you hide a soulmate from people for ten years they tend to think you have something to talk about.” 

Alex rolls his eyes but does nod his head.

“I am sorry. I had no choice.”

“Hey, no Private.” Michael scoots closer to Alex on the couch. “I’ve wanted this since we were seventeen.” 

Michael touches Alex’s soulmark and Alex shivers.

“But?”

“No, buts.” Michael smiles. “The only reason the bond didn’t complete when we were seventeen was because of Jesse, not you darlin’.  Never you.” 

“I thought. All those years...” 

“I thought you didn’t want it.” 

“No. Michael. Never.” Alex says with as much conviction as he can muster. 

Michael leans forward and places his forehead against Alex’s and Alex feels like he’s home for the first time in his life. 

“When the handprint fades, and we can really feel the bond, I’ll tell you again, but please know that I love you, and I have never looked away.” 

“I’ve never looked away either, Michael. Never.” 

#malex #alexweek2020 #roswell new mexico #mentions of blood #here have some malex soulmates to make up for all the angst

[shiredded]

A white animation student’s take on Soul and POC cartoons

This got long but there’s lots of pretty pictures to go with it.

Hi, I’m Shire and I’m as white as a ripped-off Pegasus prancing on a stolen van. Feel free to add to my post, especially if you are poc. The next generation of animators needs your voice now more than ever.

My opinion doesn’t matter as much here because I’m not part of the people being represented. 

But I am part of the people to whom this film is marketed, and as the market, I think I should be Very Aware of what media does to me. 

And as the future of animation, I need to do something with what I know.

I am very white. I have blue eyes and long blond hair. I’ve seen countless protagonists, love interests, moms, and daughters that look like me. If I saw an animated character that looks like me turn into a creature for the majority of a movie, I would cheer. Bring it on! I have plenty of other representation that tells me I’m great just the way I am, and I don’t need to change to be likable. 

The moment Soul’s premise was released, many people of color expressed mistrust and disappointment on social media. Let me catch you up on the plot according to the new (march 2020) trailer. (It’s one of those dumb modern trailers that tells you the entire plot of the movie including the climax; so I recommend only watching half of it)

Our protagonist, Joe Gardner, has a rich (not in the monetary sense) and beautiful life. He has dreams! He wants to join a jazz band! So far his life looks, to me, comforting, amazing, heartfelt, and real. I’m excited to learn about his family and his music. 

Some Whoknowswhat happens, and he enters a dimension where everyone, himself included, is represented by glowing, blue, vaguely humanoid creatures. They’re adorable! But they sure as heck aren’t brown. The most common response seems to be dread at the idea of the brown human protagonist spending the majority of his screen time as a not-brown, not-human creature. 

The latest trailer definitely makes that look pretty darn true. He does spend most of the narrative - chronologically - as a blob. 

but

That isn’t the same as his screen time. 

From the look of the trailer, Joe and his not-yet-born-but-already-tired-of-life soul companion tour Joe’s story in all of its brown-skinned, human-shaped, life-loving glory. The movie is about life, not about magic beans that sing and dance about burping (though I won’t be surprised if that happens too.)

Basically! My conclusion is “it’s not as bad as it looked at first, and it looks like a wonderful story.”

but

That doesn’t mean it’s ok. 

Yes, Soul is probably going to be a really important and heartfelt story about life, the goods, the bads, the dreams, and the bonds. That story uses a fun medium to view that life; using bright, candy-bowl colors and a made-up world to draw kids in with their parents trailing behind. 

It’s a great story and there’s no reason to not create a black man for the lead role. There’s no reason not to give this story to people of color. It’s not a white story. This is great!

Except...

we’ve kind of

done this

a lot

The Book of Life and Coco also trade in their brown-skinned cast for a no-skinned cast, but I don’t know enough about Mexican culture to say those are bad and I haven't picked up on much pushback to those. There’s more nuance there, I think. 

I cut the above pics together to show how the entire ensemble changes along with the protagonist. We can lose entire casts of poc. Emperor's New Groove keeps its cast as mostly human so at least we have Pacha

And while the animals they interact with might be poc-coded, there’s nothing very special or affirming about “animals of color.” 

So, Soul.

Are we looking at the same thing here?

It’s no secret by now that this is an emerging pattern in animation. But not all poc-starring animated films have this same problem. We have Moana! With deuteragonists (basically co-protagonists) of color, heck yeah.

 Aladdin... Pocahontas... The respect those films have for their depicted culture is... an essay for another time. Mulan fits here too. the titular characters’ costars are either white, or blue, and/or straight up animals. But hey, they don’t turn into animals, and neither do the supporting cast/love interests.

Dreamworks’ Home (2015) is also worth mentioning as a poc-led film where the  deuteragonist is kind of a purple blob. But the thing I like a lot about Home is that it’s A Nice Story, where there’s no reason for the protagonist to not be poc, so she is poc. Spiderverse has a black lead with a white (or masked, or animal) supporting cast. But, spiderverse also has Miles’ dad, mom, uncle, and Penny Parker.

I’d like to see more of that.

And less of this

if you’re still having trouble seeing why this is a big deal, let’s try a little what-if scenario. 

This goes out to my fellow white girls (including LGBTA white girls, we are not immune to propaganda racism)

imagine for a second you live in a world where animation is dominated to the point of almost total saturation by protagonist after protagonist who are boys/men. You do get the occasional woman-led film, but maybe pretend that 30 to 40 percent of those films are like

(We’re pretending for a second that Queen Eleanor was the protagonist, because I couldn’t think of any animated movies where the white lady protagonist turns into and stays an animal for the majority of the film)

Or, white boys and men, how would you feel if your most popular and marketable representation was this?

Speaking of gender representation, binary trans and especially nonbinary trans people are hard pressed to find representation of who they are without the added twist of Lizard tails or horns and the hand-waving explanation of “this species doesn’t do gender” But again, that’s a different essay.

Let’s look at what we do have. In reality, we (white people) have so much representation that having a fun twist where we spend most of the movie seeing that person in glimpses between colorful, glittering felt characters that reflect our inner selves is ok. 

Wait, that aesthetic sounds kind of familiar...

But I digress. Inside Out was a successful and honestly helpful and important movie.  I have no doubt in my mind that Soul will meet and surpass it in quality and and in message. 

There is nothing wrong with turning your protagonist of color into an animal or blob for most of their own movie. 

But it’s part of a larger pattern, and that pattern tells people of color that their skin would be more fun if it was blue, or hairy, or slimy, or something. It’s fine to have films like that because heck yeah it would be fun to be a llama. But it’s also fun to not be a llama. It’s fun to be a human. It’s fun to be yourself. I don’t think children of color are told that enough. 

At least, not by mainstream studios. (The Breadwinner, produced by Cartoon Saloon)

It’s not like all these mainstream poc movies are the result of racist white producers who want us to equate people of color with animals. In fact, most of those movies these days have people of color very high up, as directors, writers, or at the very least, a pool of consultants of color.

These movies aren’t evil. They aren’t even that intrinsically racist (Pocahontas can go take a hike and rethink its life, but we knew that.) It’s that we need more than just the shape-shifting narratives of our non-white protagonists. 

It’s not like there isn’t an enormous pool of ideas, talent, visions and scripts already written and waiting to be produced. There is.

But they somehow don’t make it past the head executives, way above any creative team, who make the decisions, aiming not for top-of-the-line stories, but for the Bottom line of sales.

When Disney acquired Pixar, their main takeover was in the merchandising department. The main target for their merchandise are, honestly, white children.

So is it much of a surprise

that they are more often greenlighting things palatable for as many “discerning” mothers as possible?

I saw just as many Tiana dolls as frog toys on the front page of google, so don’t worry too much about The Princess And The Frog. Kids love her. But I didn’t find any human figures of Kenai from Brother Bear, except for dolls wearing a bear suit. 

So. What do I think of Soul? 

I think it’s going to be beautiful. I think it’s going to be a great movie.

But I also think people of color deserve more. 

Let’s take one more look at the top people who went into making this movie.

Of the six people listed here, five are white. Kemp Powers, one of the screenplay writers, is black. 

It’s cool to see women reaching power within the animation industry, but this post isn’t about us.

We need to replace the top execs and get more projects greenlit that send the message that african, asian, latinix, middle eastern, and every other non-white ethnicity is perfect and relatable as the humans they were meant to be. 

Disney is big enough that they can - and therefore should - take risks and produce movies that aren’t as “marketable” simply because art needs to be made. People need to be loved.

Come on, millennials and Gen Z. We can do better.

We Will do better.

TLDR: A lot of mainstream animation turns its protagonists of color into animals or other creatures. I (white) don’t think that’s a bad thing, except for the fact that we don’t get enough poc movies that AREN’T weird. Support Soul; it’s not going to be as bad as you think. It’s probably gonna be really good. Let’s make more good movies about people of color that stay PEOPLE of color.

#soul #pixar #disney #poc #animation #long post #shire screams

[theageofsims]

1. Do you hide any secrets in your stories that only a few people will find?  

Secrets? None that I can think of!

2. Sims writing has a visual component. How do you utilize color/objects and settings in your stories?

I try not to have anything too bright or too blinding because it messes with my eyes. Settings I run on Ultra, but it's Custom because I do knock a few things down... I just forget what I have turned down. This has nothing to do with Sims writing though... so I answered incorrectly I’m almost positive. I’m just going to say I try my best and I’m not sure how I utilize color/objects and settings in my stories -- it probably depends on my mood.

3. Which process do you dedicate more time to, editing visuals or editing your writing? Why?

Writing. I think so many people probably have this great story to tell, but they probably don't tell it or they begin to only stop because they aren't matching up to the editing styles of others.

I get that everyone has photoshop or other photo editing programs, but not everyone has the same skill level -- and it shouldn't matter.

I see saturation of reshade all over the Sims 4 community (it may exist for other versions of the game, but it didn't when I was playing them way back in them days...).

I'm not immune to the fascination of reshade either. I remember spending hours and even days once upon a time trying to play my game with reshade, realizing that what settings worked for other people didn't work well for my machine -- or the lagging, or having to screencap with different functions instead of just pressing the usual short-cut for screencaping, etc.

Did it add anything to my story? No. Did it allow me time to work on my story? No. Did it even allow me time to switch from storytelling to gameplay in one gaming session? No.

Aesthetics are something to be seen, but in my opinion they're really fleeting -- and I'm someone who taught myself how to graphic design for years and even sold my designs for about six years. I'm an extremely visual type of person and I love to edit photos as well as take them, but even so... it just pulls so much time away from telling a story if one is going to sit there and try to duplicate what others can do -- especially for something like a game that allows so much free will creatively. Not everyone has the same machine that can run the same basic settings or added enhancements.

That's why there's so much to be seen when going through the community, but very little context -- literally speaking.

4. What scenes do you find hardest to write?

Romance. There's just that fine line of coming across mature in the sense of behaviors of the characters -- or dirty. How far is too far and is too far not far enough?

5. Are there any scenes in your story that you enjoy re-reading?

Yup -- pretty much scenes with a lot of conversation between two or more sims. It really brings out their personalities/reminds me of just who they are as individuals and if they react or how they react to certain sims.

6. Are there any scenes you wish you could go back and re-write?

None. I mean, I'm saying that because there's no way in hell I'd go back and write them -- but I'm sure if I had the desire to, I'd re-write them all, haha!  

7. Do you have any characters you believe might be misunderstood by your readers?

Yes. Nina comes to mind immediately.

Nina is the extroverted friend. Those people tend to be annoying even in real life, but to who? The introverted people. She can come across pushy and overbearing of course -- but her intentions are good. She just has to do a better job realizing and listening when others are telling her to stop or to leave something alone.

8. Are there any plots or characters that have changed dramatically since you initially began writing them?

Yes. Curtis, which I am not happy about at all. I really wanted him to be a good guy and he was until a storyline popped into my head and then it just made sense to pick him.

I don't know what'll be the future for him or his outcome -- or where he will find himself next in the story, but I honestly didn't want him to go the way he had.  

9. Are you writing with a deadline in mind to complete the story?

Since I'm still working on 1.10 of my longest story... not a chance lmao. As for my Galaxy Quest 2 story, I would like to finish that up before the end of this fall season though!  

10. If you could choose to be one of your characters for a day, which one would it be?

Nina. To be that outgoing and carefree? Man... would that be a trip for me. A full, all expenses paid trip.

11. What are some elements you think are becoming cliché in the genre you’re writing?

Hard to say with my main story because without cliché, storylines wouldn't properly be delivered. It's like trying to tell some of my plotlines without stereotypes... it's not really going to work. So the characters have to kind of fall into their places. I don't think it'll always be that way, but maybe it might have to be?

12. What is your favorite thing about the simblr story writing process?

Having pictures to help you say what you aren't able to write.

13. What characters do you feel most connected to? Why do you feel connected to that character?

In my story I feel most connected to William and to Gloria, so far.

The both of them are going extremely outside of their norm. It doesn't seem so very much at the moment because all of their closeness has been private, but it's literally right around the corner. They'll both begin to experience things they've never experienced before when they begin to interact with the outside world.

My dad's black and my mom's white. They're both from two different countries/cultures/races. They came to America in the 1970s, met on their lunch break because they worked in two different companies that were across the street from each other. Married by 1980, had my older brother by 1981, and then I came along in 1987.

My dad had a long term relationship before he married my mom, had three daughters with someone in his country which makes my half-sisters 100% black.

After 23 years of marriage, my parents divorced. My mom dated a black man long term and my father married a woman from his country which makes my step-mom 100% black. If my mom ever gets married again one day, I'm almost positive that it'll be to a black man.

I'm not saying I'm well-versed in race relations... but I'm also not saying I'm not well-versed in race relations. I was born into a multiracial/multi-cultural household. It's been a part of my life, my whole life.

As for myself I grew up in catholic school before moving to the suburbs. It was transiting from one white population to another. All three of my best-est friends growing up were all white. All of the guys I ever had crushes on then and even now in my adult life have been white guys.

It's like trying to understand rocket science when I write about William and Gloria in their own worlds (especially Gloria's) as well as together. I'm trying to be fair to the both of them, but we're talking about two people who are their own race. We're also talking about a white guy and a black woman which really isn't 'as' popular as a black guy and a white woman since... since, well, for a few decades now.

I don't want to paint either of them in a negative light to the point that they can't come back from it, but it's not something that comes easy. It's kind of exhausting after some scenes with them because I'm doing my best to make things fair.

14. What is something that you think most of your readers might miss?

I don't know, but honestly, I wrote all that I did on question 13 because there have been times where I've struggled with allowing myself to write certain scenes -- thinking that they would come across in a negative light.

For example, the situations with Curtis were not easy to write because I do not want to paint black men in a negative light (they get enough of that as it is. I've seen that first hand with not only my own dad, but with my older brother who yes, is biracial like myself, but seen as black by society).

Not to say that black women are not seen in a negative light, but I've put Gloria in a positive light from the moment that I created her.

Still, I worried that readers would think that I was targeting black men in my story and I was not okay with that.

I'm not sure if anyone notices, but when black characters are seen in a positive light, I will tag "black sims" and "sims of color" (honestly, regardless of they're 'black' or not), but when they are shown in a negative light -- I won't tag it because there's no reason to see that.

I'm not saying that all black people or people of color are good or better than white people or those who aren't seen as a person of a color. It's just that they're often thrown in a negative light just for being who they are -- because of their skin color, so there's no need to promote that.

On the other hand, the reason why these issues came about with Curtis in the first place is because while there is such a thing as "black love" between two black people, there's also moments where it isn't. There are plenty of black women who have grown up around other black people/dated/married black men where it did not work out. There are some black women who wonder why they support black men, but do not have black men who support them.

I don't know everything about issues within the white communities or the black communities -- but I can understand where they're coming from because I'm mixed with both. I did some research and realized that there's a whole bunch of black women that are loyal to black men that aren't loyal to them and while black men have very little problem going outside of their race, black women struggle... which amazes me since it's 2020.

So -- what I don't want my readers to miss? It's all of this. I don't want them to think I'm trying to paint black men in a negative light and I guess it's safe to say that's the black side of me who would even think that in the first place.

And just to add -- I don't want people to miss who Gloria is. It's important to view her as an individual above everything else, but also as a regular woman. If black women get angry, they're coined the typical angry black woman. We hardly see black women in romantic roles, but we often see them struggling in many, if not, all areas. I don't want people to miss her softness and times when she is in need or mistake it for her being angry or for her complaining. Other women get away with things like this every single day, but black women honestly don't.

#sorry this was long winded #asks

[osmw1]

Crowbar Nurse   Chapter 16 — I’ll Do Somethin’ About It

Wh-What was that?!

My eyes darted around in a panic, but I could neither see nor hear anything.

None of us had the slightest clue on what had just happened.

It was for but a split second that the world fell into darkness before any color had returned.

“Eek…”

Elizabeth failed to hide her shriek as she swallowed in our surroundings, though it was a fair reaction.

The world was illuminated in bright neon greens and reds… We were bathed in this unnatural saturation and brightness.

“Oh, jeez… It like we’re in a glitched SNES game. This is hilarious!”

“Argh! It most certainly is not!”

“Did… did the game crash just now?”

Clearly, Elizabeth did not find the situation as amusing as I did.

Crash, though? What did Kiryū mean?

“Crash? What’s that supposed to mean?”

My brows furrowed before I even noticed.

“Exactly what the name implies. Something unexpected messed up the game.

Maybe… it’s because the ‘Thermobaric bomb ending’ and the ‘truck ending’ both got triggered. If the devs didn’t expect this possibly to happen, then the game could’ve crashed…”

“Oh, no… With the colors all messed up like this, we won’t know what’s going on anywhere…”

I examined the environment far off in the distance and took out my phone.

Just as it was before, the game that ‘You’ was in was greyed out and couldn’t be changed.

No. It was still too early to give up on them. It was still early… but the situation was getting worse by the second.

“Our hellish troops are still with us, but New Nick had disappeared already… What should we do? Just how will we get to ‘You’…?”

I may have been down in the dumps, but Kiryū was ever vigilant and surveying our surroundings.

“Don’t let it get to you, Sera. Remember how I said that if it’s a technical problem, then I can do something about it?

… The level is still physically the same, except for the color… Alrighty.”

The moment he finished speaking, Kiryū reached for his crowbar, his knuckles turned white, and splattered the blood that had covered his weapon of choice.

“Kiryū! Ew! Bodily fluids are biohazardous, you know? Go brush up on your standard precautions!”

“…”

Rather than paying me any attention, Kiryū darted his eyes around.

However, that wasn’t for long as he visibly had a light bulb moment.

“… Sera, gimme the chalk!”

“Huh?”

“How much time do we have until the thermobaric missiles hit? Gimme 30 minutes… I might be able to do something or other!”

“Huh? Uhh… o-okay!”

After I had retrieved it from the NPC, Kiryū snatched the chalk set out of my hands and got straight to drawing on the ground.

“K-Kiryū…?”

The only breaks from his work were to periodically glance up at the landscape.

“… Just what is going on?”

After the initial panic of seeing our exchange had subsided, Elizabeth wondered what Kiryū was doing on the ground as she watched him.

“You two can sit and chill in the truck. I’ve gotta work out a few things on my own.”

What other choice did we have?

Elizabeth and I climbed into the cabin of the truck without a word of protest and rested our eyes. With how ragged we all have been running, a few minutes of sleep makes a huge difference. Between nodding on and off, Elizabeth and I managed to squeeze a few words between us.

“… Hey, Sera?”

“What’s up?”

“You know how I was teasing you earlier about Kiryū? Erm, if I really do get on your nerves, then don’t hold back and get angry at me, okay? I know I tend to get carried away imagining people coupling up.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you when you go too far. But I’m alright right now.”

“Good.

Oh, erm, if Kiryū’s attention is unwanted, then I’ll see if I can subtly do something to help. Like, if he’s too overbearing when I’m not around, let me know.”

“Huh? No, he’s not like that at all.

I’m fine with how things are right now.”

“Hmm, I see. I suppose you like the fact that you two get along well, then.”

“…”

“…”

“… If you don’t quit making that face, Elizabeth, I really will snap at you.”

After our conversation, I took out my phone every now and then to check up on the status of ‘You’, afraid that they would disappear somehow. Though she understood my anxiety, Elizabeth chided me for wasting the battery and I reluctantly turned off my phone.

Kiryū had been quietly working with his chalk, save for one outburst that involved hollering about how this world is “Y-up”.

Then, another ten, twenty minutes later…

“Sera! Elizabeth! I’ve got it!”

My eyes snapped open, awakened by Kiryū’s exclamation.

“Holy cow! The truck grew a few sizes!”

I looked down from the window only to have my knees go weak.

It was like looking out of the windows of a second, maybe even third-floor apartment.

That could only mean the truck was bigger. Not only was the cabin more spacious, but even the seats were wider. No, they were beyond just wide — they were too big for me now.

I could hardly believe what was happening.

“All I had to do was to mess with the scale value of the object.”

He couldn’t have hidden that smirk even if he wanted to.

It just naturally comes out every time he finds and abuses a bug.

Are all game devs this smug?

“Wh-Wh-What does that even mean? How did this even happen?!”

“Y’know how the game crashed, right? And that led to all the weird colors around us?

Well, that’s because the part other information got jumbled into the part that’s supposed to be for displaying color.”

He squatted down and gave the ground a good smack with his hand before continuing on,

“It could be any info in the wrong place that’s causing the artifacting, like dialogue or the size of objects.

When you call the wrong info that’s supposed to determine the color of objects, that’s how you get all the messed up colors. You can even change it like this… See?”

“… Oh, the truck is back to normal now.”

“If you change the color to what it’s supposed to be, the truck’s size is also back to what it’s supposed to be. Now, let’s crush everything between us and “You” with our giant truck.”

Kiryū’s cackling was infectious; I couldn’t help but to do the same.

We stripped the army of their supplies and loaded all of it into the back of the truck.

With the sheets we have left, we tied a rope from the driver’s seat to make getting in and out easier._ I mean, the truck way too big._

And with a turn of the key… the engine roared into life. All aboard.

“Let’s go!”

We had a ways to go until we reached our destination, but I was getting way too excited already.

I buzzed with excitement as I gripped the steering wheel.

“… You do have a driver’s license, right, Sera?”

Kiryū voiced his concern.

“Nope. But I used to rip around in those little go-karts for kids.”

“What?! That’s not the same thing, you idiot! I’m driving!”

It wasn’t Kiryū who tore me off of the steering wheel and then stuffed me into the passenger side, but it was Elizabeth.

“What, can you drive trucks, Elizabeth?”

“I’m licensed to drive and I have played quite a bit of Trailer Simulator too. So, to answer your question, yes.”

“… That means you’ve only driven in video games! You’re practically a newb yourself!”

“Better than Sera by any means! Are you saying you can drive, Kiryū?

… I didn’t think so.

Now, we have but an hour left until the thermobaric missiles drop on us, so let’s book it.”

For some reason, Elizabeth looked very awkward as she fell into a moment of silence, looking down beneath the wheel.

The footwell was absolutely dark and cavernous.

“What’s the matter?”

“…”

“Are you okay, Elizabeth?”

“… the pedals… I can’t reach the pedals…”

  —In the end, we spend another 10 minutes to make Elizabeth’s cane larger. But even then, petit little me had to work the accelerator with the big stick in Elizabeth’s place.

    No rubble or debris could stop the giant truck. Even mobs of zombies were crushed by the force of this great tsunami.

Anything enemy too strong would be then slaughtered by the army.

Though we were still bathed by the neon hues of the scenery, none of the zombies or monsters seem to be affected.

As blood and guts spray from all the zombies, Kiryū had only one thing to say about this world of blinding blues and magentas,

“This is like seeing one last dream before taken by the reaper.”

“What? Naw, I’m having so much fun here!”

I jammed on the accelerator with the mithril walking stick and enjoyed the scrolling backdrop.

“We’re almost at the place where the protagonist goes for the ‘Thermobaric missile ending’…”

“Never mind the protagonist, I wonder what ‘You’ is doing,” Kiryū asked.

“The door back to the previous stage is broken, so maybe ‘You’ is stuck at the very end.”

I contemplated out loud as I climbed on top of a two-story building, rattling the debris beneath.

We overlooked a sprawling rainbow square. It was hard to recognize from the weird colors, but this is definitely the end for the “Bomb ending”.

Then, turning to look at us was a giant of a woman.

Fluttering in the wind was her pink dress… Clearly, she wasn’t the game’s protagonist.

That’s probably… ‘You’.

■”You” in the Peach-Colored Dress

An unknown being from the beginning to the end. Did she trigger the ending out of ignorance? Or perhaps was it planned…?

contents: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /next/

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#Average Translations #AvgTL #osm #light novels #ln #web novels #wn #syosetu #一般の英訳 #ライトノベル #ラノベ #オンライン小説 #オンラインノベル #小説家になろう #Crowbar Nurse #CBN #threehyphens #isekai #バールナース #異世界 #AVG Translations #AVG翻訳

[personaconcept]

Persona 6 Concept Part 8

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Good news, everyone! The votes are in, and the name of the Velvet Room Attendant has been decided! From henceforth, he will be known as Gilbert! Yay! It’s not that surprising, but a lot of people compared the name Lucius to Lucius Malfoy. I know many characters named Lucius, which is why I could distance myself from the name (I love you, Lucius from Phantom Paradise, my baby, mwah, go read it, please, I beg you. You can find it on Webtoon)

Plot/Playthrough

Before we continue, I should point out that Sayaka is the only character whose social link you can complete before her Palace. Is this a thing in other games? Me dunno. Much like the others, her Palace will only skim the surface of her problems, and her social link will be what really goes in depth and helps her through them. If you choose to not do Sayaka’s social link at all, you don’t have to worry about being super confused. The Palace will explain her mental illness and problems just fine.

September 30: Shinju confronts you about her virus and your connection to those who have survived it. She’ll go with you to her Palace and summon her Persona.

October 1 - 22: Save Shinju.

October 24: Shinju returns home. Begin hotsprings trips.

October 25: End hotsprings trip.

October 26: Return to school.

October 27 - November 1: Cultural Festival prep.

November 2 - 6: Cultural Festival.

November 7 - 8: Free days.

November 9: Sayaka goes to the hospital.

We begin our story again on November 9. 

Immediately upon hearing that Sayaka has been hospitalized, you and the rest of the team will go to her. She’ll be in the hospital room, looking pale but otherwise fine. The virus had acted up, like it had done since the beginning, before the MC ever came to the town. She admits that she’s been corrupted. Her core, at least. 

And then she explains something no one ever thought they’d hear; she can’t feel her Persona. It’s like a gaping hole in her chest. It’s not gone, just inaccessible. No one knows what to do, and honestly, they’re all a little scared. Sayaka reassures everyone that she’s fine, and sends you all home.

That night, you will go back to the Velvet Room. Igor and Gilbert will greet you. They have seen many things regarding Personas, many ways to awaken them, they have even seen the power of a Persona transferred from a Wild Card to another. But they have not seen something quite like this before.

They explain it like this; The lack of Persona was what made Sayaka susceptible to the Corruption. Personas act as barriers to prevent the Corruption. If you are already corrupted, then it does nothing, but having a Persona will give you a deeper understanding of yourself, and will usually not allow the Corruption to take shape, or a Palace for it to form in.

Igor explains that Sayaka does indeed have a Palace, though it is incredibly guarded and almost entirely unessesable because of The Plague. Gilbert suggests that because it is Sayaka’s Palace, she might be able to garner entry to it. She, and she alone. 

With this new information, you wake up. 

Later in the day, you go to visit Sayaka before meeting up with the rest of the team. Baby Avis confirms that Sayaka’s Palace is behind the gold door, but it’s too covered in thorns and roses to access. A couple members will manage to get the thorns moved, but even putting the keys in their proper holes won’t work.

You’ll have to leave, discouraged. 

There will be no more than six days of trying to find a way to get into Sayaka’s Palace. All tries will end in failure, and eventually you’ll go to Sayaka, telling her of your findings and the theory of her being the only one who can make it into the Palace.

She’ll become quiet. When, if questioned, she’ll just laugh it off and say she’s become lethargic because of how long she’s been forced to stay in bed. And of course, they’ve put her on medicine to keep her mellow so her heart rate doesn’t go up and spike the virus, and obviously that’s going to make her tired no matter how much it’s helping her, so she’s probably gonna go to sleep now, but she’ll talk to you later, alright?

You take it as your cue to leave. 

You’ll find out the next day Sayaka is almost as reckless as Miyako. Almost. She checked herself out of the hospital instead of running away from it, but no one knows where she is. (You and your friends will check all over the town, but she’ll be nowhere)

Baby Avis will eventually be able to tell you she can sense Sayaka’s aura on the other side. So your team will go to the waterfall, and the door will remain securely closed… for everyone but you. As soon as anyone else tries to get close, it immediately closes. 

“Go save Sayaka,” someone tells you, very likely Yūdai. “Bring her back safely, leader.”

Your first step into Sayaka’s Palace will be alone. It won’t be threatening, at all. There won’t be a Shadows for quite some time. And it’s… beautiful. A mashup of the bright beautiful of Yūdai’s Palace and the mystical, fairytale allure of Miyako’s, though not so creepy or threatening. 

Everything looks magical, shimmering, glistening. The colors are vibrant and saturated. It’s a beautiful place. This is… Sayaka’s world. Sayaka is different in so many ways from the others. The only one who embraced his illness was Yūdai, and even his Palace was obviously hostile. Everyone else had been drowning in their illnesses, allowing for their Corruption to take control and try to hasten their death. Their Palaces had mirrored this pain they were going through, replacing their view of the world, but Sayaka’s is beautiful.

You’ll wander through this magical, fairytale forest in a cutscene for a few moments. When you find Sayaka, she’ll be sitting at the edge of a fountain. But she seems… different. She’ll be acting off when you go and talk to her, and pretty quickly you’ll be able to tell that it’s not actually Sayaka. 

What happens next will be a one on one with the fake Sayaka, and you’ll have to be careful, because it’ll be powerful and use Sayaka’s attacks. During the fight, it’ll taunt you about how it has Sayaka trapped deep within the dungeon, and how she will die there. You will lose this fight and have to run back with your tail between your legs. Being too tired from your excursion, you’ll have to return the next day.

Baby Avis will lead you through The Endless Forest and help you find basically a back entrance to Sayaka’s Palace. Once you go through, you’ll immediately start your dungeon crawl. November 18 - December 2 will be your allotted time to save Sayaka. Sayaka will be unable to fight at your side during this dungeon crawl.

Sayaka’s dungeon will be different from previous ones in that there won’t be different Shadows as minibosses, it’ll all be Sayaka’s Corruption. Each time you face it, it’ll take the form of each of your teammates and use their attacks. It’s an imposter. (We’ll have to figure something out for Masahiko too, as he’ll also be a miniboss) The forms of your friends that the Corruption takes will likely be the forms their Shadows took in their own dungeons. 

The final form Sayaka’s Corrupted Imposter Syndrome and boss battle will be of the MC, though this one will be in their winter weekend outfit. They’ll use copies of the same weapons you have equipped and will summon several Shadows at once, though only those seen in Sayaka’s Palace. 

You’ll win, you have to, because there’s really no other option. Winning will see Sayaka’s Corruption defeated, and you’ll be able to find Sayaka. She looks nearly identical to her Shadow, unconscious and looking dead to the world. The only way you can tell the real from the fake is the Greek Theater mask her Shadow wears. 

You won’t be able to cure Sayaka’s Corruption, not fully. The outer edge of her core will remain black, no matter how much you try. And you’ll try until it almost kills you. The Plague will appear, get pissed, and expel you all from Sayaka’s Palace, Sayaka included. 

Sayaka will go to the hospital and remain there until December 5. She’ll apologize for being reckless, and thank the MC for trying to save her. She’ll explain that no where she goes, no matter what she does, it’s always felt wrong, like she was living a lie, taking someone else’s place. The only place she’s ever fit in is with the rest of the team. 

Sayaka’s release party will double as a holiday party/fancy dinner, Everyone will bring their families to Masahiko’s house (re:mansion) and dress up all fancy, and yes, it’s totally an excuse for them to wear formal outfits and get dressed up pretty. During the party, you’ll be able to sneak away with a special someone or hang out with your family.

Enjoy this happy, fluffy time, because it wouldn’t be a Persona game without a tragic betrayal. And it will be brought into light next time. 

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#persona #persona series #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #persona 6

[fictionrevealed]

this was many months in the making, on & off. this is based on a pregame thread i had with @compulsivelylied​ that was so cute i couldn’t not expand it into a full on fic. ~1.6k words.

“shin-kun, not to be rude or anything, but you haven’t told us where we’re going,” your friend pants, quickening his pace to match your long strides. 

“you’ll see,” you say, beating back a wide smile with every ounce of restraint you had. it’s not like you to keep minor secrets –– it doesn’t take much for you to start dumping any information you had on the lives of danganronpa actors and upcoming seasons. but when it came to matters of the heart, you keep them locked away in the depths of your conscience. up until now, yuuto couldn’t know. he shouldn’t know, for if he did, you might feel rejection’s sting. but now you have no choice. yuuto is moving schools in april, and you can’t let him go without at least telling him. he is the only person you could trust in this shithole anyway.

“...that’s not creepy at all,” he mumbles, but in this abandoned hallway, his words are as loud as thunder. you scoff and roll your eyes. “come on, it's not that bad. it's...”

admittedly, the choice of venue is a little makeshift, but you know that it will give you some much-needed privacy. you always came to this classroom when you needed time to decompress or just to let your thoughts wander. no one has set foot here for many months, so you know that you’re safe from the prying eyes of hall monitors and the staff.

as you take yuuto’s hand in yours, his gaze flickers toward you. he gives you that look of confusion, and the lump in your throat returns with a vengeance. it twists around your tongue, squeezing it like a boa constrictor until you’re not sure if you can speak. you’ve rehearsed this moment in the mirror until all you could hear was your script... so why were you feeling this way? how do you explain what you’re about to do without freaking him out? how do you tell him how you feel if you don’t know if he’ll reciprocate? 

that is, until a tendril of an idea unravels from its coil, its bright light piercing through the clouds of doubt. pulling out your phone, you scroll through your music library, muttering under your breath as you try to find the perfect song. perhaps if glancing out of the corner of your eye, you can see yuuto's brows furrowed in confusion.

the incredulous “shin-” floats into the background, replaced by a gentle guitar. and as if guided by its strings, you tentatively take yuuto’s hands and start swaying side to side. a gentle smile curves upon your lips, encouraging him to join you. his words halt in their tracks as he lets the music enshroud him like a warm blanket. for a while, he stares off into the distance, those eyes tracing patterns in the specks of dust suspended in the sunlight. then it seems to click –– his playful laughter floats in the musty room, mingling with the soft duet of voices. he lays his hand on your shoulder and you almost jump at the sudden touch. but upon glancing at his expression, your body relaxes. he’s nervous too, but there’s something in that gentle smile that eases your worries–– like a weighted blanket pressing on your shaking body. you place a trembling hand around your friend’s waist and ease him close to your chest. 

“ah… is this okay?” you whisper, loosening your grip so he could slip out at any time. “yeah, it’s fine...” he says, a gentle smile blooming upon his lips. “i...kind of like this.”

you nod, and the music drapes itself in a silver cloak, protecting you from the burdens of the world. it’s just you two, spinning and swaying around the empty space. you laugh in earnest for the first time in forever, tension melting into the dusty air. you can’t count how many times you’ve accidentally stepped on yuuto’s foot or almost bumped into a wall. still, you smile as your heels click brightly on the classroom tile.

as you dance past the window, yuuto steps into the dying sunlight, gilding his frizzy, dark hair in pure gold. the light erases every worry line and faint scar, leaving behind a face that shone with such gentleness that you forget how to breathe. his mismatched eyes glisten like a pond in an enchanted forest, framed by long eyelashes that emanate magical light. it takes you every ounce of restraint to not fall under his spell. you sigh and spin him further into the light. you want to suspend him in this sunbeam, gaze into those eyes for just a moment longer…

the song fades into the musty air, the last note ebbing slowly into nothingness. now the silence is as pure as the sunlight filtering through the windows, surrounding yuuto in a warm cocoon of light. in that moment, you see all of him, his joys, his sorrows, and you finally realize that his arms are the home you've been seeking for so long. 

"what?" he laughs, his unrestrained grin gleaming gold. "yuuto-kun..." it's strange... despite your heart pounding against your rib cage, his name flows off of your lips as smooth as melted chocolate. you can't wait any longer. all the hours you spent rehearsing your speech in the mirror... all of the awkward smiles and accidental touches... everything you shared with him has led up to this moment.

"i..." anxiety bubbles in your throat, threatening to trap your tongue in its sticky grasp. breathe, shinichi. it's going to be okay regardless of what happens. worse comes to worse, he'll just let you down easy and you'll just… keep being friends. the void in your heart is familiar to you –– what’s another few years with it?

"so uh… i know you’re moving soon, but... there's something i've been m-meaning to say to you s-since... well, since i first laid eyes on you." confusion flashes across his face, tilting his head ever so slightly. his thin lips form a small “o” as he sits atop one of the desks, inching his fingers along the sides. go on, i’m listening.

you swallow down the lump in your throat before continuing, "e-ever since we first met, i knew you were s-special. not in like, a creepy way or anything but there's something about you that always made me comfortable. y-you're always there for me, and just..." you pause, letting your thumb trace mindless shapes into his back. you know he doesn’t mind the touches –– it always calms him down. you're almost done. just... say it. "that's just what i love so much about you, y'know? the fact that you can d-deal with s-someone like me...i-it's just incredible."

and just as incredible is how much you've leaned into yuuto's space –– you're so close you could count every single freckle on his marble skin. “shinich–” he begins, but you kiss the last syllable away, soft and chaste. he clenches onto your shirt and your heart stands still. is...is this really happening? you want to bite your lip to ensure this isn’t a dream––

but before you can say anything, he returns the kiss. it’s just as soft and gentle, and although there’s no fireworks or sparks, it’s better than that — it’s a wave of warmth that fills you up, spilling from your heart to yuuto’s chapped lips and rushing from his body to yours and back again. from the crooks of your elbows to the tips of your ears, every inch of you is saturated in love. after a few moments, you pull away, heat surging through your cheeks. try as you might, you can’t hold back the “wow,” that slips past your lips.

and just as you lean in for another, he laughs once again. his laughter slices through the silence like a machete through a forest of sugarcane, and you want to make a home in the earth with the rats and cockroaches. pathetic. weak. you expose your heart for once in your pathetic life, and all he does is laugh in your face. until you notice the wine-colored flush upon his cheeks. take a good listen: is there real malice in his soft voice? 

no, of course not. yuuto watanabe would never hate you for opening up to him, not after everything you have been through. you push your glasses up your nose to distract yourself from the tears itching at the corners of your eyes. you can’t cry, not now. that’s not what real men do. you turn back to your friend, forcing your eyes to meet his. “s-so... do you like...want to be my b-boy...boy...” why can’t you say it? it’s two simple syllables — you can do it.

“ah, yuuto-kun, w-will you go out with me?” you blurt out, a little too loudly. after everything you’ve been through, this had better not be a fluke. wiping away your tears, you force yourself to look into his eyes, big and wide and gleaming in the dying sunlight. your heart beats out of your chest, hammering out: say something, please.

the “o” on his lips spreads out into a wide smile, and he leans in once again, catching your tears with every kiss. it’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. perhaps it’s the ticklish sensation of lips on your cheek or the sheer joy welling up in your eyes, but you can’t stop the soft chuckles bubbling from your throat. his dark hair brushes against your skin up and down in a vigorous nod. yes, yes, yes, i'll be with you.

you've only experienced moments like these vicariously through your vast collection of movies and t.v. shows, preserved in pristine silver. but if this is real life, you don't ever want to let go. you clutch onto your new boyfriend’s hands, tracing promises of fealty on his soft skin.

#drabbles. –– investigation notes. #in character. –– & on your back; you carry the moon. #saiouma / #005: pregame. –– i won’t hesitate to smile while you suffocate & die. #[ #i couldn't not repost it from my ao3 but! #gosh i love them! #i will die for my good boys #hope you enjoy! #]

[low-budget-korra]

The Legend Of Korra_Book One : “That’s Dark”

So reviewing TLOK made me not only caught up in the nostalgia of this wonderful and special animated show but also reflected on the journey not only from Korra but also from all Team Avatar.

 (Remembering that all this is just my opinion and some of the various interpretations that I have about the show)

 Book 1 is in my opinion the second best of TLOK and the darkest of all.

And reviewing I think I've noticed why.

Book One is the most "real" of all. All the problems there can be seen in the most different societies.

We have an ideological political clash in an environment where segregation between benders and non-benders is still a reality.

I think the whole atmosphere of Republic City is more dark , so at the very beginning we are introduced to those problems that I honestly think we can all understand. Fear of violence, lack of confidence in figures who hold power, a "savior" who appeals to the fear of this population and take's power, conspiracies for power, politics shit , social inequality , etc

Problems that are real at a international  level. I here in Brazil can feel and understand this in the same way as a person who whatch’s the show in Canada. I think 

Not to mention the urban colors and shades of grey and brown more saturated and not so bright (especially at night) , showing that the city is kind of a trap, something “Too good to be true." Its beautiful and scary at the same time.

So we have Korra, who in book one has 17 years (the same age as I when i started to watch the series) and as it is visible in her’s first moments, is that she has the “spirit of a kid”.

I think the expression "kid's mind in a Woman's Body" can define the Korra in Book One. She is naive, immature, spoiled, a bit arrogant, very self-confident, playfull...

I think it was one of the things that enchanted me in her and undoubtedly was what made me connect with her, because I was also, especially,  naive as she.

Korra comes with the glare for just being at Republic City, that childish naivete of thinking that everything will work fine, without consequences.

And it is precisely when she, for the first time, is confronted with the possible consequences of the  fight that she has just entered, she breaks. But before we talk more about Korra, let's talk about her nemesis here, Amon.

 Amon is a white and heterosexual man representing the patriarchy .... lmao im joking, or not...

Anyway, Amon ... The way he uses to subjugate and dominate his enemies, the violation he makes to achieve this ... I find it almost impossible not to parallel this with cases of sexual violence. Amom takes some of these people for himself, he forces something into them, they get devastated and depressed after losing the benders to him and also they look kinda of feeling humiliated by that.

So we have the terrible and beautiful  episode :"The Voice in the Night". Here we see  this 17 year old girl, absolutely terrified by the idea of ​​confronting this man who must be in his late 30′s.

I think that when Korra saw what Amon was capable of , it was the first time in her life when she felt truly afraid. And for us girls, being afraid of a man, especially when walking alone in the night , sadly still is a reality.

Anyway, going back to the show ...

After being coerced to fight on the front line against the Equalists for Tarrlok ( I will speak of him soon), Korra gains confidence and in her naiveness, invites Amon to a duel.

Amon not only arrives late as he is disloyal and does not come alone. An adult man ambushes a 17-year-old girl in a dark place with the help of his crew ... Man, this is dark ! And all the lighting and animation of the final scenes of the episode are excellent because it resembles more a horror story than a kid’s show.

The way they hold her on her knees, making her so small in comparation to him, who looks even more frightening. But not only this, because “be on knees” historically and culturally associated with submission and she was forced to be in that position. The way Amon holds her face makes it clear that the avatar was totally impotent since her rival had already crossed the “touch barrier” by touching her face.  The Touch for many people is something intimate and touch someone face is not only something more intimate but also associated with caring and love. And this motherfucker just crossed this line 

Amon accepted the challenge with the goal of destroying the Avatar independent of who she was. And thats terrible and scary, but also, so real for so many people.

After he leaves, Tenzin arrives and  ask if everything is okay and all. Korra then says that she still has her bendings and finally opens with him over her fears as she cries in his arms.

Then after, we have an episode more focused on love triangle and comedy. Cause its a kids show right?

 How will Korra deal with Amon now that she has already lost the first battle?

Honestly I dont think she overcame her fears there, I think she just buried them for the greater good that was defeating him. Something like “im scared as fuck but im gonna do it anyway”. And you need to be brave to do that

And after losing her bendings to the enemy in the final episode, when her worst nightmare comes true , she has nothing left to lose. And in desperation to save her friend and crush from going through what she had just been through, Korra discovers she can airbend. And this new wave of confidence makes her defeat Amon at his own game, exposing him as the fraud he is. But is that enough? I see later that she still suffering for losing all the other bendings, she’s still broken until Avatar Aang pass by to say “hey” and give her all the bendings back

(This scene had me on tears)

Tarrlok is a character that I just did not like. And guys since he saw Korra, he directed all the attention to her.

Of course he wanted to use her to climb the ladder and take Republic City's political power for himself. But seriously ... I know that maybe you find yourself thinking "Damn, you will put sexual subtext and sexual interpretation where they do not have". But listen to me.

Tarrlok is an older man who does not accept Korra’s "no" for his partnership proposals.

Then we have the episode where her confrots him by the arrest of her friends. Of course Tarrlok used the bloodbend on her cause she was ready to burn his ass down.

And it is logical that he would disappear with her so she does not unmask him to everybody. Now, though it seemed like something got at the moment, Tarrlok had it all ready. The place where Korra would be taken  and where he kept her arrested .

Of course, the most obvious answer is that the place might have been prepared to receive Amon, though he did not know that he was a bender so he did not need that metal box because a normal cell would work, but with all that happened , Tarrlok had this change of plans. I think he may think that she could bring problems to his plans and the let this as plan B

But then an now unmasked and hunted by Republic City police force and just before Amon invades the place, he tells Korra that he will run away and that he will take her as his hostage.

But why? If he had hated her for ending his plans, he could just leave her there to die of hunger / thirst. Not to mention that, Korra would definitely fight and delay him in his escape, so why take her ?

Another thing, Amon wouldnt hurt Korra, he doesnt even saw her as a person, he only saw the symbol, the Avatar and that must be destroyed but all costs. Tarrlok in other hand wants to use the symbol but also know the person behind, he knows the 17old Korra and would hurt her if he has to.

The politics, the intimidation, the haressament, the fear, the power dinamics between those 3 characters...

 **

Mako and Bolin do not have much development in book One . Mako is the love interest and Bolin is the comic relief.

 **

Asami has a very remarkable moment. She has to choose between her father and what is right.

And the Fire Ferrets certainly helped her in that choice. Especially Mako, Asami's mother was killed by benders, probably fire benders cause they kinda murder people parents sometimes, and Mako is a firebender. So relating to him might have knocked over all the rest of prejudice and anger she may have for benders until that.

This arc between Asami and her father is also about the loss of innocence. In that case, lose the innocence of thinking that our parents cant be bad people.

And even more, from then on, Asami is shaped much more like someone who makes right choices in difficult times, even if those choices are heart-breaking.

 **

Tenzin leaves his comfort zone. He will train Korra, who is someone who almost totally contradicts who he is. And right away, we see that he is an excellent teacher. All your patience, your diplomacy is inspiring and will certainly help to make Korra the most conscientious and mature woman at the end of book four.

He also has tough choices, and shows himself steadfast in them, doing everything to protect his family and friends.

 **

Lin, there's a moment I think is incredible. When she sacrifices herself to save Tenzin's family. Lin does not flee the fight. Just like her mother, she is determined in her goals. And we have more depth development  in Book 3.

**

In another post i will talk about the book Two cause this is already too big.

So i believe one of the main sub themes or simple stuff that i can see on book One is the Loss Of Innocence 

#the legend of korra #avatar korra #asami sato #korrasami #mako #bolin #tenzin #lin beifong #avatar #avatar: tlok #lets talk about