#the latter is kind of off the table in a world where the gods tangibly exist bc then it just becomes

[j-esbian]

i feel like there is so much to be said about drizzt do’urden’s religious views and how he’s a stand-in for culturally christian atheists. he grew up in a corrupt religious society and has religious trauma, so as a result he views all religion as bad. at first it seems like he’s going to have a “pagan finds jesus” story but he eventually rejects mielikki too, and imo, it always felt out of character that he followed her in the first place so i wasn’t surprised when he changed his mind. he was looking for a name to label his preexisting system of ideals, which feels very much like christians who claim “all that matters is that you live by the bible and live in a godly manner”. many religions are about teachings and traditions as much as they are about “just being a good person and following god’s vibes” (which i feel like is INCREDIBLY standard in american protestantism)

i think a lot of it comes down to the fact that the forgotten realms (and a lot of fantasy tbh) treats the gods as just Very Powerful People instead of the forces of nature personified (and again this is to be expected from a christian culture, where jesus was Just A Guy)

#ik i don’t really post about dnd lore bc most of it sucks ass and i prefer to ignore it lmao #only a very large sum of money could get me to reread those books tho lmao #it’s to be expected that they would apply morality to the gods when dnd has a morality system yk #it doesn’t work imo. but the way they approach religion feels like it was written by someone who is not religious and doesn’t rly understand #it’s the latent catholicism talking but religions aren’t synonymous with moral systems #it’s ethical guidance for sure but more than that #it’s belief AND practice AND also faith that you can’t know everything #the latter is kind of off the table in a world where the gods tangibly exist bc then it just becomes #‘the king is so powerful and better than you and has many secrets that he keeps for your protection’ #in this type of religious system it makes all clerics seem like sycophants or fools #and yet we also have drizzt who says the gods and their worship are pointless #(which is why i never really bought that he was bought into mielikki) #if you want to make a criticism about systems of power. most fantasy still has kings and queens #been thinkin about drizzt and the drow a lot lately after one of my side moots and i were talking lol #and just how. utterly garbage the official lore is. from all aspects #mine #dnd

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

Oh, my love (pour me that jack and coke)

Summary: only one more time won’t make any difference, right?

Warnings: FWB!harry, smut. Just the life I wanted to live, honestly.

Wordk count: 3K (small one, sorry, my job and uni are kind of hard right now)

My masterlist

A/n: heeey guys I’m back this time with a fic for @stylesharrys 10k celebration. I got the prompt FWB!harry: “you’re alright, love? You seem a bit flustetered”. Don’t forget to support the other authors who are participating on the challenge HERE. And the singer they listen at the festival that takes place in the flashback is this ONE. 

PREVIEW

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He was wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever. 

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine paiting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue. 

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean... only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

They were sitting together at the coffee just down from their work place. Y/n was staring at the judgmental eyes of her best friend, Natasha. Her black eyes looked like two grapes because of her wide stare. 

“It’s not a big deal” y/n said, drinking from her cappuccino with a douple shot and a hint of mint essence. 

“He’s your best friend”

“Who can I trust more to fuck me without breaking my heart than my best friend?”

“You don’t think NOTHING could go wrong?”

Nat was raising her voice, a little bit surprised that her childhood friend just told her that Harry fucked her just  6 days ago, at the Lights festival

“I don’t know if I want to know more or ask you to never talk about it”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell you if the rumors are true?”

“You are a little bitch. Tell me all of it”

6 days ago...

She was seeing the worlds in colors. The woman singing on the staged was called Sevdaliza and she had the most sensual music ever.

Harry, just like her, was high and they both ended up loosing their friends in the middle of the crowd. Y/n looked at Harry with his glittery yellow shirt and white jeans. He looked like he fit the part: graduated from film school, always writing poetry and reading them at the coffee next to his house. He was celebrating: his script was going to be shot, the small production office decided to endorse his project and he was on cloud nine.

Quite differently from the time she met him: undergrad student, insecure about his art. She worked as a designer and photographer and met him at a visual arts masterclass a few years back, when they were both on their early twenties. Now, each day closer to reaching the big 30s, they were the best of friends. Always together.

Y/n always thought they had nothing but friendship, but now, so close to him, listening to Sevdaliza voice melt the audience of the festival, with his cinnamon smell so tangible in the air and his bird warmt so close: she wasn’t so sure if it was just friendship.

And she can’t deny, she was curious if the rumors were true: was he THAT good in bed or all the lovers of his she ever met were just easily impressed?

What she didn’t spect was for Harry to also have the same questions. He was just behind her getting closer and closer till both of his arms were around her waist and he was crouching so his face could fit like a pluzze in the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

“You smell good” Harry said in a low voice that was meant just for her

“H, what are you doing?”

“I was just wondering...” he was using his hands to turn her around but not releasing her from him, his nose touching hers, his mint breath blinding all of her senses “we are so good together, always helping each other out, figuring it out exactly just what the other wants. So... maybe... you and I could make quite a pair on the sheets...” that only thing Harry got wrong the night was about the sheets: they fucked in her living room.

Now

If you ask y/n she doesn’t remember who kissed who. But they kissed till the show was over and next thing she knew they were sharing a uber back to her place. Nat was staring at her like she had comitted a crime. She wasn’t planning on telling anyone, thinking it was a one time thing. But she was surprised when during a presentation during work she god a text from Harry asking if she wanted to go back to his place after work and maybe have a repeat of last Saturday and Nat was right beside her.

So she had to tell. But judging by Nats reaction, it would have been better if she had lied about it.

“You’re still going to his place. Even if you know what might happen?”

“I mean... is another time really going to make any difference?”

Latter that day

The bus was moving slowly, the 5 o’clock traffic was the worse: nobody had patience, everybody with a 9-5 job was just crazy to finally get home and be able to rest.

From the bus window y/n could see the sky painting the city, the golden light was starting to make itself aware, combining with the aesthetic of the old buildings and bridges.

That’s probably one of her favorite things to do: observe the town she lived in; that city was just so beautiful. There was a contrast of the old with the new. The sun reflecting on the river, calm as ever, while people were running across the streetwalks, dreaming of a homecooked meal and a place to rest.

The bus was taking a left, ready to cross the revolving bridge. Harry’s place was getting closer and she could feel her stomach starting to turn with anxiety  all of it in the forms of butterflies.

Harry’s place was above an old movie place, people say the building dates back to the 1930s: 5 floors, the first being an old movies that still worked, only showcasing indie movies and oldies from the 40-80s. She remembers the first time she ever visited Harry, they talked for hours to end and then they went to the screening of a Doris Day festival. She went home that day singing to herself the theme song of the movie Pillow Talk, thinking to herself why she never went to an old movie theater till that day.

After getting off the bus, she walked just around 10 meters till she was face to face with the old movie theater sign. Today they would have a screening of shorts films from the 40s from 6 to 8 pm and then they would showcase the new movie based on Gloria Steinem’s best seller memoire called The glorias. Maybe if they were done till 10pm she could catch the movie.

Harry’s apartment was on the second floor, with a wooden door, a cat tapestry underneath saying: meowcom. She never thought it was funny but when they saw it at the street fair last year he laughter so hard at it she decided to give him as a Secret Santa gift.

“Don’t you look tired yet dashing this fine evening , miss” said his voice once he opened the door. Stepping aside so she could come in.

She went for a hug, he went for a kiss: they nocked their foreheads.

“Fuck why does your head have to be so big” she asked while taking her shoes off and walking towards his strawberry shaped sofa.

“You can’t expect me to be a movie genius with a small head, right?”

“The question is: what head are you talking about?”

“You know I have both heads quite big, so I don’t know why you asked” he took her purse from her, resting the object on the small table he had set closer to the door so he could always throw whatever he had in his hands there. Y/n took the moment to appreciate how he looked today: baby pink flare trousers and a graphic shirt, he was barefoot but with his rings still on his fingers; she knew he got home not too long ago.

“Harry what is that smell” she was referring to the tangerine smell that was all around his place

“Oh, it’s this tangerine essence oil I got from my upstairs neighbor... you know that one that always reads your tarot?”

“You’re talking about the witch?”

“Yeah, she prefers to refer herself as Wicca but yeah, her. She gave it to me to clean my energy now that I have this big project. And it smells quite nice, doesn’t?”

“Yeah it does” she could feel his eyes on her while she was playing with her nails “so what do you wanna do today?”

“I was thinking we could watch a movie here and then we can see where we wanna go from there?”

“do you have any jack and coke?”

He smirked at her and said:

“With ice?”

The night was young and it was only starting...

After a few glasses and a heated conversation about what movie they were going to watch, they both settled for closer because of the crush they shared on the cast.

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He had changed his outfit, now wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever.

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine painting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue.

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean… only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

With that being said, he turned the movie off and she got up from the couch, going to the bathroom and started to look at herself on the mirror

“You know what you need to do. You’ve never done it yourself but you know, I know he has more experience but he is your friend. Nothing can go wrong because he can help you. You both thrust each other and when it comes to sex consent and thrust are the two most important things. You have both with him.”

While y/n was having a mental breakdown over a lap dance, Harry was excited with the idea, cleaning the pizza they were eating and taking the now empty cups of jack and coke back to the kitchen.

He didn’t tell anyone but he was so glad they fucked last Saturday. It just made everything better. She didn’t have to know about how he always had the hots for her. She didn’t have to know that sometimes he would take people to his bed and picture they were her. And she definitely didn’t have to know that another time does make a difference to him.

Diming the lights and looking for the perfects songs to go on about this night. He was shaking with anticipation. After choosing to just play Childsish Bambino (you can never go wrong with that guy) he sat on the couch and that was the moment she opened the door of his bathroom. She had taken off her pants, just with her social shirt loose on her body, with the buttons down to the middle of her chest, her hair always messy and her very colored lips looking so delicious, just waiting for him to say “come here” and she would go... like a little puppy.

“I have never done this so you need to be nice to me”

“Darling... I’m always nice”

She walked over to him, but stopping halfway, going on her fours and crawling her way to him.

“I still have a lot of bite marks on my boobs that prove the exact opposite” now standing in front on him, on her knees, spreading him open, with her tint hands massaging his thighs, marking her way to his short “you don’t mind if I take off your shorts right” she was with her face inching closer to his legs, resting her head right on top of the tiger tattoo, teasing him “I have never given someone a lap dance but I do know that the less clothe, the better if feels”

With both of her hands she took off his pants while he got rid of his shirt. Standing still she admired his body, why did she waited so much to get on it with him? He was soft on the sides but with a strength beneat the bones, with a few abs and chest bigger than most. Green fucked up eyes and rosy lips. He deserved to be on all of the screens, all of the stages, not living in a small flat above an old movie theater.

“You know” Harry broke the silence “for one to give a lap dance she must actually be on top of him”

She didn’t answered him, instead sitting herself on his knees not allowing him any more than that touch. With the tips of his fingers he started to trace her face, admiring her. She was a beacon of light, with every color shining inside her eyes, every sin could be found in her lips but every prayer was found on the way she would blush at his words.

Putting her hair behind her shoulder she got closer and closer to him, using her knees on either side of his body to help her move. Feeling his warmth. She didn’t know how to give a lap dance but she knows him. She knows what makes his knees buckle and what makes him shiver. She was going to make him her little puppy. So with all the confidence she could muster, biting his vein that was always apparent on the neck, her hips started to move.

He was semi hard but the more she moved, the more she could feel him getting harder. That was one of the things she loved the most about sex: the foreplay.

“You know” she got back to talking, not stopping her hips, using her hands to tease all of his body “when we are like this is when I remember how much I’ve always wanted you”

“Fuck, love. You’re going to kill me”

“Oh my love, you have not seen a thing” with one of her hands she started to take off her shirt, leaving her with a rose gold brallete that matched her barely there panties “You alright, love? Look a bit flustered.”

She was mocking him, trying to copy his British accent but that only got him a side smile while his eyes were fixated on the way her nipples could be seen through the piece of glittery fabric. She was having so much fun

“You know” Harry said trying to get a bit of his control back “when you talk like this, you drive me fucking mad” with one hand climbing on her back, till he reached for her roots, tugging on it, now she didn’t knew it she was the one in control  “when you mess with my neck, or when I pull your thighs further apart and I can feel just how wet you actually are and then you kiss me and I’m closer to the point of no return”

With a hand behind and knee he got up, changing position and spreading her all over the tapestry on the floor, the fluffy blood red velvet matching with her skin. He now had the upper hand and he was going to make a good use of it.

With his kisses going down her neck, he started to rut his body against her. Her moisture could be felt throught his underwear and there was nothing that Harry wanted more than to fully ravish the defenseless girl panting underneath his tattooed body. Glistening with sweat and moaning without an ounce of regret.

He wanted her to know he was the only one that could do this to her. With his hand playing with her breast while the other was getting closer and closer to her mound, he looked at her. With her open mouth and closed eyes, out of a painting that deserved its place on the Louvre. He decided to use her own words against her:

“You alright, love? Look a bit frustrated”

“You asshole just fuck me already”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you good. But only if you promise to stay the night”

“Is this really a good idea?”

“One more time won’t make any difference, right?”

Laughing at the irony she pulled him closer. They had a deal... because it won’t make any difference, right?

But it did.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #fwb harry #harry fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #fallinharry10k

[deathfrisbeeinthetardis]

The Sky Beast, New and Improved Chapter 2

Yay I wrote a second chapter for the fic!! One of the key plot points is inspired by @q-unsolved‘s amazing art :D

Summary:

Ryan Bergara is 100% human until they shoot the Mothman episode. They didn’t find anything but Ryan might have brought a piece of the investigation home with him. Or: A bit of Mothman attaches to Ryan and he gets pretty cool perks. Shane is a fan.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Ryan goes to work with his wings tucked away, and they go camping for the weekend. Hijinks ensue.

Find it on Ao3 here or read below!

They take a sick day.   

Partly to figure out how to best keep Ryan's transformation a secret from the rest of the world. Partly just because it is all new and exciting, and the two men want the chance to completely regress to boys for the occasion, you know, to celebrate. 

Case in point, Ryan is flapping around his apartment with Shane on his tail, his wings doing all the work to keep them and Ryan's body from crashing into the walls or the furniture. They had taken time before this to clear away everything of value from shelves or tables, of course, they were capable of behaving like adults for a few minutes longer before they totally lost it.

"How's your six-foot-fourness helping now huh?" Ryan shouts with glee, cackling breathlessly as his wings maneuver him deftly away from Shane's outstretched hands, settling him to perch on top of a cupboard. 

"Damn it, why aren’t you obeying the laws of physics?" Shane wheezed, supporting his hands on his bent knees before said cupboard with a giant grin on his face, which brightened even more, "You know what? Your mob name is going to be wings now if I am to be called legs! It's only fair." he declared, straightening with hands on his hips.

"Uh, no way. My wings are totally going to be my secret weapon! I can't go announcing that to all my enemies, also Night-Night is way cooler. You're just jealous." Ryan stuck out his tongue, relishing in the joy of this moment. The past two hours actually, they really haven't accomplished much.

It takes another half an hour before both of them are too exhausted and hungry to continue, and they collapse onto Ryan's couch with a carton of orange juice between them, chugging it down with the fervor of men after vigorous aerobic exercise and several cases of severe laughter-syndrome. 

"So," Shane says when his breaths finally start to even out, "We know you can fly outside the natural laws of this earth. Also, I think I saw you're eyes glint red when the light hit it a few minutes ago, you're not about to go rogue on me now are you?"

"Wait, really?" He really hadn't noticed, cause that's not how eyes work. It was probably too dark the last time he looked in the mirror that morning for him to see. Ryan sets the carton onto the coffee table and hops over it to get to the window where watery sunlight shines into the room. Using his phone as a makeshift mirror, he wiggles his head until the light catches his eyes at a certain angle and, "Oh wow, they really are red."

"That could be a problem with filming, especially when our cameras are all good enough to avoid red-eye." Shane pauses, then chuckles, "Oh boy, if the fans ever find out they are going to go crazy. All those theorists positing how I'm a demon are gonna come after you now!"

Ryan wrinkles his nose at his reflection, "You're being way too happy about this."

"Hey, you win some you lose some. At least your red eyes are normal-sized, not like goggles or something like in the myths."

"Goggles," Ryan frowns at that, something in his memory sparking an idea, "didn't you recently get those pair of broke-Tony Stark glasses? The yellow ones?" He eyes Shane without turning, "You think they sell red ones? I can always say the red is from the glasses' reflection."

The other man makes a considering noise and pulls out his phone, after a minute his brows climb high on his forehead, stretching out his hand to show the screen displaying an astounding collection of red-tinted sunglasses, "They're supposed to help with visibility apparently, like the yellow ones." He strokes his nonexistent goatee, "Hmm I wonder what character wears red glasses, I gotta get you back for that Tony Stark comment."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan replies almost on instinct, squinting at the screen to pick out the least obnoxious design. There was an optician's a few blocks from his apartment and Shane volunteers to get Ryan a pair while he practices camouflaging into a normal human workplace.

It actually turns out to be pretty easy, just as long as he keeps the thought of the necessity of the invisibility in the back of his mind. Ryan also discovers to his delight and Shane's halfhearted dismay that tangibility does not seem to affect his flight ability much beyond some extra concentration. He'll be fine tomorrow at work. He'll just have to remember to take a break every few hours to stretch or something. 

The shoot on Monday though, that could be a problem. Now that he has gotten used to his wings through one day of intense usage, Ryan has absolutely no guarantees that if he gets spooked he won't just flap away on instinct. 

Shane sleeps over that night to 'observe the Mothman in his natural habitat', Ryan decides his newest favorite sleeping position right in the middle of a five-pillow nest and when he drifts off he dreams about the red-eyed Mothman from the stories.

On Friday, Ryan wears the biggest hoodie he owns to work, just in case his wings pop-out unplanned. Despite the confidence from the day before, paranoia of a different kind creeps up on him as he sits at his desk next to Shane. He almost never comes in this early, but it was better than walking through the office with everyone there. 

He stares bleary-eyed when his computer boots up, taking his new glasses out of the case and setting them on his nose. The color gives everything a mildly sinister tinge and makes him more self-conscious of his appearance than he has been in a long time, but they do their job. 

He's quite proud that he only jumps a little when Jen calls "Nice specs, Ryan!" from six desks away. He also manages to wait until lunch break before he has to race to the bathroom to let his wings out. One of the pros of working at Buzzfeed is that there are constantly so many weird things happening that his abnormal choice in eye-wear didn't draw any attention more than a few comments and even some compliments. 

All things considered, it's a good day. Ryan even manages to get a good chunk of editing done amidst his paranoia and routine banter with Shane, the latter has gradually started to become more and more moth specific. Seriously did the guy research all the moth puns through the night?

"What do you call a group of moths dancing around a light?" Shane leans over to say an hour before they can go home for the weekend, his eyes twinkling, "A moth pit." 

Ryan groans, choosing not to respond as the passive-aggressive way to protest against the excessive abuse of all things moth-related within the day. His shoulders feel stiff, and out of habit he folds his arms behind his head and leans back in a long slow stretch, and it is the most satisfying stretch in his life, as the strain of a whole afternoon of mostly sitting still with his head craned forward just vanishes. He hums a little in satisfaction. 

Simultaneously, the lights overhead go out. So does his computer. And everyone else's. 

"Oh no no no my computer just crashed!?"

"Is there a power outage? What's going on?"

"I didn't save..."

Ryan is frozen in his position as the cacophony of voices barrages his now slightly enhanced hearing, and it hits him a moment later. In a flash, he's hunching down in his seat, trying to seem as small as he can with his face in his hands, while his invisible wings come down to wrap around him from where they had just stretched too, unseen. Fuck. Wasn't there a thing about electrical malfunctions on the nights of Mothman sightings? Oh god, he hopes he didn't knock the whole of Los Angeles off the grid. He feels his face flush, the skin heating up against his palms. Great job Bergara. Fantastic managing of your powers. 

Shane, who had been in the process of returning to his own editing after snickering at his godawful joke, has his hands hovering over the keyboard and a bemused smile on his face as he tilts his head and sees Ryan with the hood of his hoodie pulled down over his face. 

"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbles faintly into his hands, "I didn't think that part would apply to me."

Shane looks at him for a moment, then he claps a hand on Ryan's shoulder and wiggles him a little in his seat as his smile splits into a grin, "Lucky for you, I save my work by the hour. Otherwise, you'd have to fly like hell cause I'll tackle you."

"You'd never catch me," Ryan says, lifting his head a little to shoot a grateful glance at the taller man, "remember yesterday?"

"Oh but I was unprepared!" Shane declares, rubbing his hands and widening his eyes until he resembled a crazed hunter, "Next time I'll have a bow and a ton of those suction-tipped arrows, and I'm bringing you down baby!"

"You're unbelievable." Ryan huffs with a laugh, glancing around the pandemonium that has descended onto the BuzzFeed office and what seems to be the street outside as well, "Ugh, wanna head back now? We're gonna have to walk, uber is definitely not going to work."

Shane nods, chuckling silently at the whole situation. On their way out, Ryan desperately avoids eye contact with anyone and stares at his red-tinted feet, only snapping out of his inner guilt tirade when Shane pokes him in the rib.

"Stop looking down and hunching your shoulders, makes you look more guilty." He chides, the stupid grin still on his face as he tugs Ryan's hood back as they walk onto the sunlit street. "They'll just blame it on PG&E. The whole thing will teach everyone a lesson to be on top of their job and not rely entirely on technology and big electrical companies to save their work."

"You're just smug that you didn't get affected as much." Ryan retorts, but the comment didn't have any actual heat behind it. 

"You bet I am. Come on, buck up buddy. We've got the entire weekend to have fun with this!" The taller man gestured to the general area on Ryan's back where his wings hung hidden, "Don't you want to go into the wild and see what happens?"

Ryan would never tell Shane this, but his wings stir and shudder a little at the words as if they were dying to show the extent of their abilities. Traitors. 

They end up in Monrovia Canyon Park after an hour-long drive that afternoon, since they figured most of LA's population would be out in the city doing fun Friday night things, so the chances of anyone seeing a figure flying through the trees of the park are greatly reduced. Fortunately, they arrive with around an hour of sunlight left to hike in and set up their camping gear. Unfortunately, the light gives Ryan the opportunity to read the sign at the trailhead. 

"Fuck no." Ryan yelps, pointing an accusing finger at the picture of a black bear with the words 'warning, you are entering bear territory' emblazoned in black under it. He's terrified of bears, those things are the apex predators of the land, and Shane knows that because they've argued about this multiple times, on camera. It's probably why he chose this damn park over the others. "I am not camping here with those things around."

The man shrugs and the tall backpack on his shoulders rise up at least half a foot with the motion. "It is the most heavily wooded park in the area, and I do have this bear mace here," He says innocently, though his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight seem to issue a challenge that riles up something in Ryan into a frenzy. "And in case you forgot, you can fly, Ryan, no bears are gonna get you."

"I hate you," Ryan mutters darkly, shooting the other man a look that was something between affection and scorn. What Shane said makes sense, logically, and Ryan is beyond annoyed when stuff like this happens on the regular. Speaking of powers, he wonders if there are any more tricks up the Mothman's sleeve that he can use to give Shane a good getting back at. 

Ryan half stomps over and yanks the canister of anti-bear from the side pocket of the taller man's pack, scowling at his snicker and latches onto the cool metal with a death grip, finger crooked into the trigger. Shane is right on one account, no bears are going to get him on this trip, or he'll get a face of mace and whatever cool shit Mothman can do when it's spooked. 

They dump their bags in a patch of grass amidst the trees, far from any established trails or camping grounds just to be safe. With a sigh of relief, Ryan's wings materialize at his back, dark against the dimly lit forest around them, dwarfing Ryan with their span. It seems they hadn't been at their full size that day in his apartment. They now stretch twelve feet in total, drawing a sharp awed inhale from Shane as the powerful limbs flex and stretch in their freedom. The best part? Ryan didn't even have to take off his hoodie, the wings found their own way through the material without really altering it. 

Ryan rolls his neck and relishes the warmth that the cracks leave behind as the soreness melts away, and he grins at Shane. "What now?" he says, a little breathless already.

"Whatever feels natural, Ryan." Shane says with a wolfish grin of his own, "Just let go of all the stress and embrace mother nature." 

So Ryan lets his eyes flutter close and gives in to that wild part in him that has started stirring since their investigation in Virginia. When he opens his eyes again, their red glint sharpens his vision as his wings carry him straight up into the air. The wind whips at his face and he has his arms spread wide, laughter bubbling out of him as his previous fear of heights dissolves into the crisp rich air.

He rides the soft winds, weaving through the semi-dense woods around their campsite and listens to his new instincts as he twirled in the air performing moves that he had once seen professional divers do. He feels free in there, and even though the falls and dips in height still send his stomach clenching, it's more in anticipation of the thrill of control, of pulling back at the very last second to glide just a few feet off the ground, rather than fear. He flies and perches on various treetops and swoops again, all to the whooping and cheering of Shane from down bellow. 

"Hey Ryan! Look what I brought!" He shouted, and Ryan glides down to a lower branch to give the not-so-tall looking man a questioning glance, the man was smirking with mischief, holding out a hand to wiggle a bright camping lantern in his direction, "Since you're Mothman, d'you feel anything for this here light?"

Ryan was about to adjust his grip on the branch to only using a certain finger on both hands when suddenly Shane yelps and starts to do a twitchy dance with his upper body. For a second Ryan panics, but he was just close enough for his enhanced night vision to see that the strange behavior is, in fact, not caused by a demon possessing his friend. 

"Oh, fuck is that a wasp?" Ryan bursts out laughing at the way Shane's face contorts a little at the tiny insect buzzing uncomfortably close to his face and did not feel sorry at all for his friend. Nope. Ryan was almost squealing in delight as Shane batted at the wasp as best he could, flapping his long arms around with a panicked look on his face. 

"See what you get? This is what you get! Yes! Take that for--" Its a shame that his victory speech is cut short when a wasp materializes right in front of his own face, sending him tumbling backward off the branch with a high pitched screech. 

A part of his brain thinks that if people heard what he had just uttered, there are going to be reports of the first Mothman sighting in Los Angelas. 

For some life-fucking reason, the wasp--actually three of them now-- tormenting Shane decide to refocus their attention on the flying creature instead of the sasquatch. They obviously haven’t taken physics or learned about surface area.

Ryan threads his way through the trees with much less of his previous flare and joy, flying for his life as the few wasps quickly grow to a swarm, despite a small voice in his head encouraging him to stop, to take a stand. What the fuck did he ever do to them?? It's not like he kicked their nest or something. Frustration and exhaustion combining is never a good look on Ryan, and after what he estimates is four minutes of high-speed air chase, he dives to the ground. Landing softly, he lets instincts take over, whirling around to let out a snarl at the swarm that races for him, wings arched at his back and shaking slightly to make rustling sounds.

The wasp swarm halts before him with a jerk.

Ryan's teeth are bared, which is kind of dumb, cause he doesn't have fangs so that image must not be very scary to anyone. But the wasps hover before him, their formation shifting uncertainly, and Ryan can see the detail on each and every buzzing insect with crystal clarity. A deadly calm washes over him.

"Heel." He growls, and his own voice startles himself. With all the macho, gangster bits they've done on Unsolved, he has never heard his voice go this low and guttural. Ryan blinks, and the heavy blanket of calm is gone. 

The wasps hold still, their formation now in a fixed sphere as they buzzed quietly. Respectfully, a part of Ryan's mind supplies, they serve him now. What the hell just happened?

A crackle of a boot on dry leaves has Ryan whipping his head around to see Shane approaching him with a flashlight and bear mace in perfect Harries position, concern and something like dread tightening his face. "Ryan come here, get away from the wasps." 

"They're not a threat anymore Shane," he said, tone stiff and tired. "They obey me now." The taller man looks doubtful but after a few flashes of light at the swarm produced no change in the wasps' motion, he slowly lowered the mace can. 

"I-I didn't know what to do so I just grabbed this," he said, lifting the mace a bit and then letting his arms drop back to his side. "Ryan are you okay? Your hands are shaking."

"What?" Ryan says absently, and there are tremors running through his hands. He clenches them into fists and tucks them into his hoodie pocket. A flick of his head at the swarm has them dispersing, buzzing back to wherever the hell they popped out from. "We're losing light, we should set up the tent," he says as he turns to walk back to where they had dropped their bags.

Shane stands his ground and reaches out a hand to catch the smaller man's shoulder when Ryan tries to walk past him, and his eyes widen slightly as Ryan's wings bristle at the contact, but his grip is firm. "If there's something wrong, Ry, anything at all that feels off about this whole Mothman thing, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, big guy." Ryan offers the taller man a small smile, though it might have wavered a little. He can tell that his friend would have liked answers to a great many questions about how he felt, about the mad chase and about that final showdown, but the man didn't push. He trusts Ryan to reach out if he needed it.

The problem is, Ryan has never been that good with emotions.

But at the moment he feels... okay. The excitement of the ordeal seems to have canceled out his energy. So he smiles some more, "I promise." At Shane's not at all satisfied expression, he nudges the taller man with the tip of a dark wing, "Come on, help me light a fire. I'm dying for some smores."

And so they did.

#fanfiction #inspired by awesome art #I love Mothman!Ryan so much #alex writes #Ghoul friends

[kimnamjelly-blog]

Thicker Than the Water of the Womb

Write a self para about your character of at least 1800 {total is 2684} words about their love life and/or their wished for love life.  {a day late but i’m not trying to qualify so eh}

Peaches irreparably reminded him of Ares—from that first day he spoke to him, the first time he dipped down to touch lips and tasted traces of homemade peach ice cream left from it, falling asleep during his lessons under the peach trees... There was a tendency for the three of them to compare Ares to an angel. In some ways it was a joke, because no people knew better than them what Ares could be like, but it was also hopelessly genuine. Peaches and angelic smiles. That full-body laughter that made Namjoon’s heart ache like it’s too small to hold so much warmth. Those looks Ares gave him sometimes, like he was the whole world in some ways, and Namjoon was sure, absolutely sure, that he would die for him. Maybe die because of him.

Jazz was a king, the gentlest man, the youngest, silently still, soft stars. He was more than skin and scars and tattoos could contain. Meeting him was a fluke, and inarguably a brilliant blip in time. Those deviations persisted until he could feel harmonies singing under his blood. Jazz was his strength in ways he could never imagine, given that he saw him a few days a week past midnight like the universe’s most beautiful, captured dream. He imagined his fingers interlocked with his when he hadn’t quite learned for himself what steady hands were, and Jazz’s were the steadiest. There were fences he didn’t realize he could climb until Jazz was on the other side, asking him whether he had the strength to come along. He did, he found out, and wanted that love that didn’t leave him gripping the edge of the sink and sobbing. That love that was tucked into the soft smile Jazz got, that forgave him for things Namjoon hadn’t even gotten to yet, that asked him questions and sought answers he hadn’t realized were worth giving. Where Ares was still yet an unreachable seraphim, Jazz was tangible and more than enough. More than enough to realize his perspective on support and smiles was completely wrong. Love wasn’t a fluke like first meetings could be, it wasn’t an act of providence, it wasn’t just in passerby or just the local angel. It was close by and steady as a rock, even when its cracks showed.

There were laws in order that suggested when paths intertwined too many times without meaning, the world would conspire to make them meet. Burned cheeks under layers and layers of sunscreen, hands awash in painted rainbows like a gay pride parade, and the distinct memory of laughter caught under his tongue and an earnestness to know. There was a humor to Hazel that was aglow in the boniness of his arms, defiance and strength met head-on that had seen things Namjoon simply hadn’t yet. In so many ways, Namjoon yearned to be loved. He asked it of Hazel, and somewhere, somehow, he’d given it over because he was gentler than Jazz and sweeter than Ares under his bruised, grumbling eyes. He could have met him amongst honey bees, or under Jongup’s steady hands and ink, but he met him alone, surrounded by sunlight and brick and an almost-toppled glass of water. For a time, he was most afraid of failing him, of being less than Hazel had imagined him to be—especially when he had a moat, a cave, a whole decrepit childhood castle of worthlessness and injury—but somewhere, somehow, he realized he’d failed to see Hazel as so, so, so human. And that’s when he fell in love, sitting at the apartment table across the room and doing nothing. Nothing of import.

They’d snuck into his heart like he’d never had walls there in the first place, and he was pretty sure he’d let them. If there had been a fight, they bore no bruises. No stretch marks (no, he’d been to slow for that). Just him trying to remember when, exactly, he’d given them the key to the front gate one by one, and how they managed to see him broken and bleeding and bruised and sobbing and still wanted him.

Calling it a miracle wouldn’t do them justice.

Eventually, they’d find and ask about the journal he’d forgotten about, with entries so old his handwriting was not only chicken scratch but almost completely illegible. But they wouldn’t know about its companion for some time, and Namjoon kind of preferred it that way. It wasn’t that it was filled with horrors and nightmares. It was, in fact, the first’s exact opposite. Writing out all the bad things to make sense of them was nice in theory, but once the pages started being filled deep into the latter half of a hundred, the negativity was overwhelming. So he’d been given a second journal where the first twenty-three pages were in smudged lilac pen and the rest would make do in varying shades of purple. Most of the lilac pages were crowded with Kijung, sometimes Kitae or Jiha, and he’d memorized the pages where his parents had made it in so he never had to read them until he was ready.

But around when the magenta fountain pen had started being used, and what was Korean turned into shaky English, there were mentions of Ares. Right when the violet pen started running out came Jazz, and with the pinky-lavender was Hazel. He had a vague idea of what he was doing when he wrote about them, harboring a suspicion that if he looked back on these things he’d want to hide this journal both from himself and somewhere deep where no else one could find it either.

So he usually wrote with as much maturity as he could muster for the sake of whatever future self decided to self-inflict embarrassment, but still things like, “He’s so cute I’m going to vomit” made it in there. Luckily, given most contexts, he couldn’t really blame himself. It was still relatable and applicable and probably always would be.

2011/8/8

Didn’t mean to not write for so long. Hyunja locked me out of our room. The roof is better than sleeping next to him, anyway. There are some really bright stars even with all the street lamps on. Maybe I can sneak out to visit the library? To look up constellation names or something. Kinda need sleep, though, and the shingles aren’t exactly God’s best mattress. Work was gross today (temperature was in the high thirties and I wanted to peel my skin off), but the peaches are really pretty. They get this kinda reddish color. I expected them to be lighter for some reason. More pinkish. I met Park Jimin yesterday. He’s younger than me, I think? I was really embarrassing, but he made me smile. Some guy was being dumb and Jimin-ah punched him. I’d let him punch me, too. If he wanted. Forcing me to take credit for the peaches he picked was as close as I’ll get, though, probably. Equally as humbling. I was kind of thinking of his ears the whole time because I said some stupid things (I didn’t really expect him to speak Korean, actually, which I guess was pretty stupid of me) but he also has nice ears. If he blushes they go more pink than the peaches. The whole of him is really nice though. And I mean whole. He punched someone but I would have, too, if I were him, and he’s really nice. About as nice as his parents, so I guess it runs in families, huh? Gotta wonder about me, then. But if Jimin-ah liked me okay, I must be nice enough, too. (Consensus: “nice” is the word of the day) Remember when I said I thought maybe I could be gay? He was really cute. I wonder if he’s okay being called that? It’s probably not better to call him pretty, but. Yeah. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to if I see him again.

2011/8/9

On a scale of petty, where would I lie for locking Hyunja out of our room? Just hypothetically, really. I don’t feel like getting scalped today. Or ever. Update: Jimin-ah’s laugh just about killed me today. He still hasn’t punched me, but I’m waiting. It’s an open (unspoken) invitation. For the record, he did laugh that first day but I was kinda distracted by how embarrassed I was to be me. Existence is a real struggle. I’m fully prepared for this crush. But he’s not too distracting, which is nice. I mean, he’s distracting if he can be distracting, but I’m still getting plenty of work done. Accidentally broke some shit today and was ignored, which is better than literally any realistic alternative.

[...]

2011/9/3

Hey, America? English sucks. Kim Namjoon Kim Namjoon Kim Namjoon Kim Namjoon Park Jimin Park Jimin Park Jimin. He has good p a handriting. That looks wrong. I didn’t He’s really, really nice. I think noona would have liked him? I miss It was cooler out today because it rained last night. Grass grows really fast. There’s already some green everywhere, so I hope it rains again (even if I can’t go out at night). I miss the flowers.

[...]

2011/12/20

Somehow no one has noticed I d have my ears pierced. It has been more than two weeks. Eiht Eighteen days. They said six to eight weeks, so I will listen to them. My ears feel okay, though. It will be worth the money to buy earrings. Small circles? Hoops. If Hyunja sees them, I think he will rip them out, but I have been sleeping out on the roof again. I forgot the word, sorry. I was right. Jimin looks nice. I do not know how to describe him. Not in English, but I promised I would practice. Verb tenses are worst. Writing this has taken a long time. He looks at me sometimes and I do not think it. I freeze up and want to cry kind of. I have to leave this job soon, though, and I do not want to. I will miss the peaches. Jimin goes to the same high school as me. I will not miss him as much. Because of him I am far in my English classes even though it is not my language, but it still takes time to read assignments. I do not have a lot of time. The CHSPE does not need good grades before though. I will do my best.

[...]

10/21/2012

I still think America writes their dates... stupidly. I just took the CHSPE and I’m sending Jimin kisses for all he’s done for me (like I’ll ever kiss him aha). And my English teachers, of course. The test didn’t go so bad, but it’s hard to tell until we get the results back. I have to wait for those and pretend like someone’s not going to have my hide if I end up failing. The math was easiest, but I feel an okay sort of confident. It still sucks not having any classes with Jimin, but I never have. Also, Halloween still makes me laugh. If Hyunja goes to answer the door this year I’ll hit him with a frying pan. He can keep his gross hands off of the children dressed like Darth Vader and stuff. They’re so little every year oh my god. I mean I have my nieces and nephews but it’s different. Plus mine don’t dress up like Snow White, you know?

[...]

2/28/2013

okay okay okay okay I’m so gay it hurts. I’m okay.

So I met someone on one of my midnight things. It was the frozens section and I was embarrassing as usual but oh my god he had the cutest smile and I’m still hurting. His name is Moon Jongup, which I’m writing down so I don’t make a fool of myself when I see him again. I had to show him something so I asked him to find me on the street off of where I went when I was avoiding the dead body in our room. Which is morbid I guess but the place is really pretty, and it’s not like I’m going to tell him why I went there? I hope he likes it. It’s far enough from home that we should be okay. I wasn’t really thinking when I asked and now I’m really nervous. But what’s done is done and I’ll meet him. Bring a book, maybe, just in case he doesn’t show up. Which would make sense. I’m reading a really good book right now. I’ve been reading it for ages, though, so it’ll be nice to have an excuse to maybe get past chapter seven. I haven’t seen Jimin a lot lately, but sometimes he’ll drag me to sit with him at lunch if he finds me cleaning. Someone should tell him he’s beautiful since I’m in too deep to properly do it. He might hear it all the time, actually, but telling someone their appearance is beautiful is different than telling someone their personality is beautiful, you know? I’m usually really tired by lunchtime because I don’t know what sleep means, but he brightens my day if he’s there.

3/3/2013

So I had another gay awakening with Jongup, right? But that’s kind of whatever, because he’s just really easy to talk to. And that’s better than any gay awakening. We have to keep agreeing to meet each other because he doesn’t have a phone (he’s younger than me, which like wow. Where does he get off looking like that at 15? That feels really young, by the way, but only when I realize I’m 16, which still doesn’t feel real). He told me about constellations. We didn’t end up waiting for sunrise because the sky was cloudless and those sunrises are kind of boring, but it was a really nice night to look at the stars, and he seems really passionate about those. It suits his family name really well. Also, he has a few tattoos already and I know not to ask about them, but he’s kind of amazing. For making decisions like that already, and they’re really good looking. They’re just these small details, and I obviously can’t know if the ones I’ve seen are all he has visible because it’s cold as balls at night still and long sleeves are a survival measure, but yeah. They look good on him.

[...]

8/19/2014

I told Jongup about the artist who’s painting the side of the restaurant, and even if I didn’t make the artist laugh, I made Jongup laugh. So I’ll settle. Which yeah by the way, there’s an artist painting the side of the restaurant. Because I think there was some miscommunication about lunch, I ended up giving him some of mine. I don’t know the details, but it was super gross outside, so I figured he’d want something. Water and stuff. His art is really beautiful. He was painting this lily when I went out to talk to him first and... I guess I wouldn’t peg him as someone who paints flowers, but it’s really beautiful so far. I can’t wait to see it finished. Also, I hope he doesn’t get heatstroke. If I had a standup umbrella or something I’d bring it for him. Think I can make him smile? It’s gonna be a feat when it looks like he’s been running on two hours of sleep and has been sitting out in the sun for hours on end, but I kind of want to see it.

[...]

13/19/2014

GUESS WHO MADE HIM SMILE. It took fucking forever and he’s just about done with his mural but hey guess what. It’s really cute. Turns out grumpy artists paint the best flowers and have the best smiles. I gotta go but I had to make that announcement at least. Bye!

#self:past #namjoon:self #yankee:wildmustard #yankee:witchhazel #yankee:verbena