#you could say maybe it inspired her color pallete?

[taybatwo2]

Another Magic Mixies Pixling Review!!

This time of Marena and how she compare to similar themed dolls.

So many fins and shades of blues!

Here is a close up of Marena herself. She’s really cute (I have been loving the Pixling dolls). She’s similar to the other dolls in the line, with a ball joint in the head, shoulders, hips and elbow joints, a (very nice) fabric skirt, and a molded on top.

She’s supposed to be a mermaid Pixling, but she gives me more of a water nymph vibe…..yup, that’s just going to be my head canon.

A close up of her face up. Her screening is lightly pixelated, but it’s not distracting like what Mattel uses on their Fashionistas. I love the little scale pattern around her eyes and wish that’s what would have been printed on G3 Lagoona’s forehead. Her ears look to be added on as separate pieces and have a tiny bit of glitter in them.

While her shirt is molded on, it is a very cute mold and “ties” around the back. The extra molded detail, paint, and unique design adds to her cuteness (they could have just had the same top design for all the dolls, but instead they have made separate molds for all the characters….so far). Her skirt is silky (but not the paper-like silk that Disney/Jakks Pacific/Mattel uses), hemmed, with a tule around the bottom (along with the cut, it is is reminiscent of a mermaid tail).

Even the shoes have cute little pear, heart and scale patterns (matching her skirt). More under the cut:

Marena was swarmed by some adorable, big haired aquatic monsters. Marena meet the Mermalades! I always like to compare the Pixlings with Moose’s Zelfs. Their ancestor of sorts.

Marena likes the look of these sea buddies.

Mermalade is a darker blue, and the newer Mermalades actually has more fins than Marena does (I wish she did have some webbing in between her fingers and maybe some fins off of her forearms). Interesting to note, that the fins are more curved than the pointy fins Marena has.

She actually has a much closer color pallet to Sealia or Oceana. But I do not own these little guys…yet.

Huh, something scared them off….I wonder what it-

Well that is startling, but not an usual sight around my house. “Is this how you treat your dolls?!?”

No no no, this Taylee Turtle Enchantimal was going to be a Monster High custom…and that’s as far as I got…

“I can’t see anything!! Hello??”

Don’t worry Taylee, you’re doing great.

Enchantimals are about the same height as Pixlings, but have smaller proportions. They also have opposite joints (well, at least Taylee has knee joints, I don’t believe most Enchantimals have these). You can also see how basic the molded (granted I acetoned some of it away) and fabric pieces are compared to Marena. I mean it’s not really a fair comparison because I think of Marena as more of an aquatic mammal, fish, or amphibian and Taylee is more of a:

Here are Dolce Dolphin and Sedda Seahorse.

Yeaaaaah, the skirts might look a bit more inspired, but none of them have fins sculpted to their legs or arms, and their shirts are still kinda boring. Also wanted to compare her to this unreleased mermaid Novi Star, just because her decorations around her eyes and her large ear fins reminded me of them….and actually the large head, small torso and hands are kinda reminiscent or Marena too, huh….

Okay, Taylee wandered off when I was looking at the other Enchantimals and Nobvi Star concept, soooo, let’s compare Marena with Ebbie Blue, the youngest of G2’s Blue family.

“She’s like a mini me!” She is both less and more detailed than you Marena (I LOVE the scales on the arms and under her pigtails, her little fins on her arms, and how the scales merge into her tail, but she can’t tip her head up and can move her arms out).

Also, she’s got widdle, round fingers that look like they have not finished growing.

Let’s compare you to someone a bit older: Kelpie Blue from G2!

“Look at her sharp toe-nails, and those shoulder spikes! I think she’s more sea monster than nymph.” “Is someone saying something down there? I can’t move my head down to see.”

Well….that’s a little better. Kelpie has really cute and unique scales, fins, and shortened webbing in between her fingers, but her articulation is REALLY poor (she can’t move her head up/down, or move her arms/legs out).

Her ears were also added on later, like Marena’s.

“I wonder if all dolls get stiffer when they grow up?”

“I dunno, I have a torso joint that es magnífica.”

“Are you a sea monster too??”

“Sí! But don’t worry I won’t eat you up, you’re too cute like my Señor Squishy.” “Whoa!!”

“Let me introduce you to more Lagoonas.”

After chasing the speedy G2 around, she finally got to look at her tiny little ear fins while playing with her hair, and Freshwater Lagoona and Saltwater Lagoona both couldn’t get over how cute she was.

“Look at the lil’ kindy!”

“A lil’ sea grub!!”

She’s actually closest (design wise) to both G1 Lagoona’s. A lack of scales, she’s in-between both their colors of blue and she has the added pink accents too.

Side tangent about Lagoona:

Thought I should add a quick summery of my thoughts on my different generation Lagoonas. G1 Lagoona:

pros: All the different material used in her clothing, her face-up, her personality, her addition of a diary, her fully webbed hands (with different colored webbing and see through fins). cons: she has an ill-fitting swimsuit, her fins keep falling off, her thin joints make her pretty delicate, glue head (this one is treated with La’s Totally Awesome cleaner, but I still need to treat Freshwater Lagoona, and de-yellow her head), and the elastic hip joints make her floppy. Her character being ALL about Gil in the series (I really don’t hate his character and I LOVE his G1 design, I just wish there were more to her stories than just him).

G2 Lagoona (I’m still looking for the OG G2 Lagoona, so have the Beast Pet one here):

pros: Her softened face is kinda cute, her sculpted scales around her arm and leg fins, her stronger joints, her fins stay in SO MUCH BETTER. cons: I remember her being a lot more hyper and speedy than G1 and it’s an odd choice to me, her eyes were changed from green to blue, her webbing decreased in size and is no longer another color (and many of her dolls didn’t have this much articulation).

G3 Lagoona (I originally gave her braids to make her have kinky hair, but the braids are kinda growing on me).

pros: torso joint on most of her dolls, see through legs, her fins stay on pretty well, larger ear fins, a really fun personality on the show, her joints are stronger/her doll feels sturdier, I like many of her shoes and themes (jellyfish/tentacles/pearls).

cons: I didn’t like her first couple of releases, her pink (while it reminds me of an axolotl) is a bit too sunburnt looking for me…? Maybe a paler or darker pink. I would have liked it if they would have painted her ears/and had a blue to pink fade on her arms as well…also her dots on her forehead should have either been sculpted scales or drawn scales like Marena. Biggest disappointment: should have hand webbing, a diary, and accessories that have to do with her love of telenovelas!!! I’m still getting used to her being really different than G1 Lagoona and would have really liked it had she been her cousin from the Amazon (because I want to see them interact with each other SO BAD).

Anyways, Tangent over:

My last take aways is: MARENA HAS THE BEST HAIR FIBER OUT OF ALL OF THEM!!

okay, now the review is over.

#monster high #monster high doll #aleta’s toys #doll collecting #monster high dolls #dollbr #doll collector #toy collecting #doll review #magic mixies #magic mixies pixlings #Marena #lagoona

[ask-the-sea-wolf-pirates]

Hi

//drops this here and runs (into the tags)

#ne w oc #new ma rin e oc #she's pretty shy and nervous although in constant danger #those cheeks are gonna get pinched i can see it now #she gets often mistaken for her age #alot #and i mean a lot #she's like to cook #and make bento boxes #for others #when she has time #waifu matieral right h e re #She reads in her spare time when there is absolutely nothing to do #her favorite tea is Rose Milk tea #its really good guys #It was my first bubble to drink #i LOVED IT <3 #So I guess #you could say maybe it inspired her color pallete?

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9.3

Boatem had a new member. Joe introduced Foolish to all the Hermits in Boatem but didn’t stay long before heading off to see if he could help X with the server problem. Once Joe found out that Cleo was gone he was determined to find a way to get her back. Grian was glad that X was getting some help, and he couldn’t think of anyone better than Joe when it came to server magic.

Foolish was rather nice too. Unlike the other two Dream SMP members he actually seemed to have a head for building. Grian soon found himself deep in a conversation about design problems and building pallets. Foolish even commiserated with him over interiors.

Pearl and Scar agreed to help Foolish settle in but he seemed pretty capable on his own. He just needed a little help with material collection. Foolish chose to build his house in the space between Grian's house and Scar’s Landboat. He went with a design that used sandstone as the main wall color and used spruce wood for support structures and detailing.

Even though Scar was supposed to be the one helping, Grian couldn’t help it and found himself hanging around as Foolish built. Grian wasn’t supposed to do strenuous building yet but he could still watch. Foolish showed Grian the building plans before he started. It was of an impressive size for a starter house, one that didn’t look out of place next to Grian, Scar or Pearls ridiculously large starters. It was going to be a multi-tiered house that got bigger as it went up taking inspiration from medieval houses. A crooked tower came out of the side of the building on the second floor and broke through the roof.

Grian sat in a lawn chair in front of his house and watched Foolish build, Adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he looked up.

Foolish stood on the roof near the base of the half finished tower. A Cobbled deepslate foundation at the bottom gave way to smooth sandstone, spruce logs made up support pillars at intervals with empty spaces for widows between.

“Looking good,” Grian called up.

Foolish looked back, shading his eyes with his hand, and smiled. “It’s coming along… I’m running low on sandstone though. I am going to need more if I am going to finish the tower. He carefully slid down the roof and climbed down the scaffolding. He brushed his hands off at the bottom and walked over to where Grian sat so he could get a better look at the build. “It could use some detailing, maybe some more color.” Foolish muttered

“Copper might look good. Or maybe some leaves and plants.” Grian suggested.

“Window boxes. That’s a good idea.” Foolish announced, brightening up. Grian watched as Foolish collected some grass from the yard, replacing it with dirt so it could grow back. Foolish walked over to the side of the house, and grew to over double his previous size, before proceeding to build window boxes under the second story windows.

Grian started at the sudden change and almost fell out of his chair “Wait, what? How did you-?”

Foolish turned around and looked down at Grian, “Oh right, this.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is nothing. I usually stay small because it is more convenient, but it’s useful for building sometimes, especially detail work.” He shrunk back down to a ‘normal’ size and looked at his hands flexing them. “Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in over a century… maybe, Like this, I might even be able to-” he looked up at Grian, a new kind of resolve and hopefulness in his eyes. “Grian do you have any gold and some emeralds I can borrow. I need to try something.”

Grian hesitated. This was server magic. That could be dangerous. But he was also curious. He stood up and nodded, “I have a little, how much do you need?”

Foolish came over “Only two emeralds and two blocks of gold.”

“Alright,” Grian nodded “That’s easy enough. What are you planning to do with it?”

“Oh you’ll see,” Foolish said, grinning with barely contained excitement.

Grian had an uneasy feeling about this but Joe had said that this guy had a really solid grasp on server magic, better than anyone Joe had ever seen before, even himself. Grian decided to trust him, maybe he could learn something. Something that could help them fix the crack Grian had made.

Grian went inside his house and opened his ender chest. Taking out the materials requested he handed them to Foolish who had followed him.

Foolish took the materials outside and placed them on the ground. “Alright stay back this should only take a minute,” Foolish said.

Grian watched from the doorway of his house.

Foolish took a deep centering breath and closed his eyes. He held his hand out over the pile of gold and gems. There was a tingle in the air. Green sparks danced along Foolish’s arm and between his fingers. The sky grew overcast with dark clouds and a rumble of thunder sounded.

Foolish shouted a word in enchantment-table that Grian recognized as meaning “Life.” and he was momentarily blinded by a bright green flash of light.

Grian blinked looking around. The sun was out again, the sky clear and standing in front of Foolish was a little girl made of gold with emerald eyes.

Foolish went down on one knee, beaming and holding out a hand to her. “What’s your name?”

She blinked at his hand for a moment then smiled “My name is Genesis,” She said grinning up at Foolish.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Foolish chuckled and picked her up, turning to Grian, “Grian, meet my daughter, Genesis.”

Grian stared in shock, his head spinning. His daughter?

---

Xisuma Immediately felt it. Like someone had just reached in and yanked a piece of the server free. It left him breathless. It was violent, but also precise.

“You ok there?” Joe asked, leaning over the table from where he had been looking through some old books on server magic.

X looked up at Joe from across the table. Fear wavering in his eyes. “You said that our latest visitor had experience with server magic right?”

Joe nodded slowly and frowned, “Yeah, he didn’t seem that concerned about the consequences either. Said he was experienced enough to know how to avoid them.”

“I just felt a surge of server magic. It felt like something reaching in and ripping a piece of its heart out.” X’s brows furrowed and he rested his hand on his chest over his heart.

“It’s heart…?” Joe muttered

X stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor “Come on, we need to go to Boatem and figure out what’s going on.”

---

X and Joe arrived in Boatem to find Foolish surrounded by the other Boatem members asking him excited questions while George and Skeppy watched from the roof of Skeppy’s house. X caught the concerned look Grian gave him as they approached.

Foolish turned around and for the first time X noticed the little girl in his arms. He didn’t need to ask to know she wasn’t an npc. She was a Player. A player who was a child? That was impossible. The second thing he noticed was that her energy matched that of the server.

He pulled up his GUI and checked Tab. She was there. She was listed as Genesis. Not only that but she was whitelisted, and unlike the other Dream SMP members, the server didn’t think she was one of the hermits.

Foolish furrowed his brow with concern, “Xisuma, what’s wrong?”

X snapped himself out of it and looked up at Foolish “What did you do?”

Foolish blinked. He looked genuinely confused. “Um, this is my daughter Genesis.”

“He made her out of some gold and emeralds twenty minutes ago.” Grian clarified.

“Um- Foolish,” Joe started carefully. “You know that’s not normal right?”

Foolish frowned holding his daughter closer.

“What we mean to say is that Players shouldn’t be able to make other Players.” X tried to explain.

“Just because you haven’t figured out how to do it doesn’t make it wrong. You wouldn’t understand, you've never been a father…”

“Whatever you did to the server, didn’t feel right. Normal new player spawning occurs when a server has excess energy that it needs to discharge, creating a player. You just took that energy before the server was ready. What you did was reckless at best, I haven’t had a chance to assess the damages but you may have just ruined our chances of us being able to fix this and send you all home. I don’t even know if that little girl can go with you when you go. She probably isn’t even whitelisted on your server.”

Foolish’s shoulders sagged and he looked off to the side. Genesis tugged at the fabric of his headdress and rested her head against his shoulder “Pa pa, Is this my fault? Are they mad because of me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Foolish sighed and shifted her on his hip so she could see him smile “It isn’t your fault. And I don’t regret anything.”

X softened. What was done was done. It wasn’t fair to the child to hold it against them. Though the idea of a Player being such a young child was still strange to him. “Just don’t do any more server magic alright.” X sighed.

Foolish looked at X, a hint of resentment, or was it regret, behind his eyes, “Alright,” He nodded. X hoped he meant it. Maybe there was a good reason the DSMP locked it’s members in.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #hermitcraft #dream smp #dsmp #hermitcraft au #dream smp au #dsmp au #hc x dsmp au #foolish gamers #grian #xisuma #joe hills #good times with scar #pearlecentmoon #skeppy #georgenotfound #oc!genesis

[prettywarriors]

Mini Mahou March Y2 Week 3

Hey everyone and welcome to the third week of Mini Mahou March! You can find the main post for the event here X.

The Prompt for the week of March 18th-26th is...

Rave Fashion Phantom Thief/Kaitou!

The sub-genre of magical girls that needs more love, the phantom thief has a long history of non-magical girl entries such as Lupin and Magic Kaitou. MGs include Shadow Lady, Saint Tail, Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne, and the recent Phantomirage.

Magical girl kaitou often steal with good purpose- returning stolen goods like Saint Tail, or exorcising demons like Jeanne. With a much smaller pool of inspiration to draw from, there is very little consistency in designs for these characters, although they always have a way to make a quick escape. They often leave behind a calling card, sometimes as a form of cheeky flirting with their officer rival.

Ah raves. Bright colors, loud music, weird fabrics, the antithesis of what one thinks of when they think of a thief. 

I’m only looking for a visual character design, something as simple as a single fullish-body picture, but you are more than welcome to go as wild as you want with trinkets, backstory, information, alt outfits, all that good stuff. Also I say girl but girl boy nb other as long as it’s a magical humanoid gender be damned, thumbs up. (Also nothing 18+ please. Your characters can be, just not your art for this)

Make your post and tag me before end of day March 26th (11.59EST) and I will be re-blogging participants here next Sunday/early Monday, with everything tagged Mini Mahou March.

Saint Tail uses stage magic to distract while stealing stolen goods and returning them to their proper owner while leaving calling cards for her crush who is the detective trying to catch her. Shadow Lady uses a magic eye shadow pallet to transform into different forms depending on the color, and steals, well, for fun until the plot happens, while the local cop is in love with her thief form. Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne transforms with assistance from her mascot to remove demons from pieces of art which makes the art disappears, and her rival is transformed boy who wants to stop her (and her best friend is the obligatory cop) D.N.Angel is the long accept magical boy, and he transforms into his older alter ego to steal magical artifacts made by the ancestor of the obligatory cop who has his own magical alter ego and there’s a love square. 

Phantomirage has girls transform to steal evil jewels from the hearts of people transformed by (extra)evil magic cops, and the head of the magic cops eventually becomes a magical cop Tuxedo Mask just steals jewels because he’s looking for the physicals manifestation of his gf’s soul to get his memories back, and Phantom Ace was an idol who also stole people’s energy because he was a villain but look I gotta post what we have and it’s not a lot okay?

So uh. Complicated romances & police enemies with possible overlap in those categories, transformations range from ‘new dress’ to ‘new body’, stealing is good sometimes. It’s not my fault there aren’t more Kaitou MGs we deserve this sub-genre c’mon Toei. Pierrot? Anyway there’s always non magical girl kaitou like Skye from Harvest Moon or whatever is happening in Persona 5. Masks are generally not a magical girl thing beyond proto-senshi and a couple of weirder male-target series, but it is a thief thing so your call.

I’ve gone on record multiple times about hating the underwear/bathing suit cut for bottoms on MGs but that does seem to be a legit type of rave fashion so feel free to make something you think I’d personally hate. 

How are you going to rob a museum to return their stolen artifacts back to it’s rightful owners? However you do it, you’ll do it in mesh chaps over a cut out leotard in clashing colors with some truly strange hairstyle.

Oh maybe it’s like that guy who would rob a bank while wearing a truly hideous shirt or something where it was so distracting no one could identify him. But instead it’s stealing back stolen pets from creeps while decked out in kandi and an outfit that stays together with the types of buckles you see on a school backpack and a big furry hat with those paw sleeves.

#mini mahou march #mini mahou march y2 week 3 #text #prompt #art prompt #magical girl #mahou shoujo #rave

[buckysnumberonegirl]

April showers

A fic inspired by the poor weather by me today and a new follower the very lovely @officialchrisbeck

Warnings: fluff, slight animal cruelty(don’t worry it wasn’t committed by our space daddy or the reader)

Possibly 2 parts of there’s interest 🤷🏻‍♀️

Pairing: Chris Beck x neighbor!reader

Word count 1.3k

You paused your music and pulled out your headphones, admiring the freshly painted wall with a smile. The guy at the store said a lady shouldn’t use darker colors, that you should pick something more bright and colorful. But the color of the grey reminded you of storm clouds and rainy days.

Rainy days like today. You looked out the window to see that the beautiful sunlight that was once illuminating your small townhouse had now turned into sheets of rain.

‘THE PLANTS’

You jumped up and sprung into action thinking of the poor seeds and tiny plants you’d stuck outside for a bit of sun, that were now probably drowning.

You shoved your feet into a pair of boots and searched for a jacket.

Milo, your dog, wagged his tail happily thinking it was time for a walk.

‘No buddy, you’ve got to stay here’ he turned his head but walked away. You gave up on a jacket and bolted out the door. You hit the steps forgetting the rain for a split second as you slipped. Falling straight into the arms of your new neighbor.

“Are you okay, it seems like a bad time for a run” the man smiled at you as he held your arm. You let out a little laugh before reaching down to grab a pallet of your violets.

‘The plants they’re too young to have this much water they’ll drown, I’ve got to bring them inside’

The man looked down at the plants and grabbed a sheet, looking at you. You propped open the door and welcomed him in, the two of you carrying in the many sprouts and seeds as you said a silent prayer that they didn’t all die.

You grabbed the last plant, your tiny cactus. ‘I’m so sorry Jerry please pull through this’ you whispered into the little flowering succulent.

The man held your door open for you “I don’t think I got your name when you moved in, I’m Chris Beck”

You set down the cactus and held out your hand ‘I’m Y/N, sorry for not introducing myself sooner I’ve been a little busy. It’s just me and..’

Before you could finish Milo ran out of the house, stopping on the sidewalk. He put his paws to the ground and wagged his tail. ‘Milo please not again’ he took a few steps back towards the house, then took off down the street.

You took a deep sigh when you heard a cough.

You looked over to see Chris standing awkwardly with a jacket in his hand. “Do you have a jacket?”

‘Oh um, I’m sure I do in one of my boxes…’ he held the jacket out to you.

“If you give me a second to grab another and an umbrella I can help you look, there’s a park not to far away from here that he might have run to”

You looked down the unfamiliar streets, ‘yeah I’d actually really appreciate that, let me grab his leash’

You quickly grabbed the leash on the table by your door and went back outside. Chris put up the umbrella and led you down the street.

About 20 minutes of walking you found yourself at a small park, relatively empty due to the rain. It was easy to see why any dog would love it. You and Chris both called out hoping that Milo would come running back.

You spotted a gazebo in the center of the park ‘we should check there, he really isn’t a fan of the rain’

Chris laughed “well then he picked a horrible day to run away”

Before you got there you heard the soft whimpers of a dog in distress. You left the safety of the umbrella and jogged over to see Milo pawing at a sealed garbage bag. ‘Hey buddy what wrong’ you crouched down and Milo walked over to you tail between his legs. He let you put his leash on, but still pulled you to the bag.

Chris stepped into the gazebo and shook out the umbrella. “I’m glad we found him, the rains getting worse” as he spoke a loud clap of Thunder struck.

‘I’m so sorry to drag you out in this, I owe you a coffee or something when we get back’ you looked up and smiled at him only to find his brow furrowed and his eyes on the garbage bag.

“It’s moving”

‘What?’ You turned and looked to see Milo sniffing the bag, it moved slightly reacting to his nose.

Before you could even think it through you grabbed the bag and carefully tore it open. A pair of tiny blue eyes looked up at you.

You reached in and pulled out a kitten, no older than a week or two old.

It let out a weak mewl and wiggled closer to your chest. Milo let out a tiny whine and sniffed the kitten.

Chris bent down and pet the pooch “good boy Milo, I’ve got a steak in my fridge that is all yours if it’s okay with your mom” he looked up at you and reached out to pet the small kitten you held close to you.

It was then that you actually took a moment to look at the friendly neighbor who had helped you save your plants and find your dog. His eyes were gorgeous, so was the rest of him. You hadn’t noticed before that he truly was a beautiful man. You studied every feature as if it was the last time you’d ever see him when he turned to look at you.

“Do you think you’ll keep her?” He smiled still petting the tiny cat

‘I don’t think I can, I had to fight the landlord quite a bit to keep Milo. I don’t think he’d appreciate a kitten’ you looked down, she was sleeping now curled up in your hand so small and weak.

“I could always take her, she’d be right next store and you could visit of course, if you wanted too”

You smiled at him and stood up ‘do you think you’ll get in trouble, they seem to have a pretty strict pet policy’

He looked down and laughed a little bit “I’ve been here a while, and it can be our little secret”

Chris winked at you and smiled.

The rain started to slow a bit, the two of you walked back to the townhouses, you couldn’t help but notice how warm he was every time your shoulders bumped. Or maybe it was just that you were feeling cold, the chill from the rain earlier was finally getting to you despite being in the oversized jacket you borrowed from your new friend.

You got back to your home, invited Chris in and made some tea and hot soup.

You both talked for a while going on as time flew by. He left for a bit to go get supplies for the cat, which he so lovingly named Luna, claiming he just had a thing for space.

You pet Milo smiling at the tiny kitten sleeping in your lap, you heard a knock on the door then the sound of it opening. Chris walked in with a smile and several bags of supplies.

“I hope this is enough for now, I’ll probably go get more tomorrow once this rain starts”

You stood up, Luna in your arms and walked with him to the door.

‘Well you know what they say about the rain’

You smiled at him as he raised an eyebrow

‘April showers bring may flowers’ you gestured to the plants he had helped you carry in earlier that day.

“That’s true” he laughed “maybe when it’s time to plant everything I can help, I’ve always wanted a garden out back”

You handed him Luna and grinned ‘I look forward to it Chris’

Both of your doors shut together, the two of you thinking the same thing.

Chris held Luna up and whispered “you, little one, may have just found me my future”

#chris beck #chris beck fluff #chris beck x y/n #chris beck x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #space daddy #the martian

[variantia]

BELLUM.   before I add the last pallet to this next shipment of feels, have some laughs inspired by some random dialogue from my Chara x reader

Asriel in his early 20s has had a fucking TIME with dating

he had like one serious girlfriend in college and when Lo comes over to visit on the day they broke up she gets treated to this HYSTERICAL story

“ok so what happened was we were hanging out in here with Chara, right, chilling out and watching TV, then I got up to help Mom with something in the kitchen and when I got back -- Chara, what did you tell me happened while I was gone?”

“oh my God, Lorelei, this woman was SHAMELESS.   she turned to me and asked if I was single, said she was into dating siblings, and when I said I was not interested, asked me to not tell Asriel she even brought it up.”

“so, you know, of course, they told me, and this chick was out of here five minutes later.   I tried not to be mean but who sneaks around like that???   like if she wanted to date siblings she could have asked while I was in the room, but.”

“I am surprised she did not ask our mother out!!   but really, Lorelei, you should have seen the look on her face when I told Asriel as soon as he walked in.   all the color drained from her face and she looked like she wanted to floor to open up and swallow her.”

“mannnn ... swing and a miss on this one!   you got any cute single friends, Lo?”

“yeah but they’re all way too old for you”

“oh please!   Lorelei!!   this woman was in her LAST year of a four-year program, Asriel is a cougar chaser!”

“CHARA OH MY GOD I AM NOT, SHE WAS MAYBE THREE YEARS OLDER THAN ME HOLY SHIT I’M GONNA SPIT IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE”

“DO IT, BROTHER, AND YOUR PRONOUNS WILL BE WAS/WERE!!”

and it just derails from there into nothing but laughter and at least Asriel isn’t too broken up that his ex-girlfriend tried to cheat on him and get into his sibling’s pants

better luck next time, Princey

meanwhile Frisk comes home with their new boyfriend who has long hair and they say he’s a nice guy so Lo doesn’t have to worry and Lo is like “I DON’T KNOW THAT!   I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF HE HAS A FACE!!”

#is that a fucking gremlin ?? ( OOC. ) #(( this is all super funny so what I'm saying is FIND SOME SPACE IN YOUR BACK ROOM ESME ))

[allsassnoclass]

Prompt: 28, 10 and Lashton

You said lashton in an art gallery.  I said Off-Screen circa 2017 (aka Luke’s Utah Era).  this might feel a little out of context, because it is. the theoretical prequel that I'm writing would explain more of the surrounding circumstance, but the most important thing to note is that Luke moved in with Ashton in Utah after the end of the SLFL tour.  This takes place in January of 2017.

lashton: “Where are all of my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?” + art gallery

The last guest has left when Luke arrives, the gallery technically beginning to close for the night.  Ashton is tired, all of the frantic energy from the past few months building up to this evening of schmoozing and revealing the deepest parts of his soul to be judged by the art community, and he feels empty now that it has passed.  There’s a glass of some sort of fancy alcohol in his hand, but he hasn’t had the chance to drink it all night, and his suit feels like it doesn’t fit his shoulders correctly.  It’s been bothering him, but he’s been too focused on smiling genially and making nice with every single person who passed through the doors to look at his art to do anything about it.

The sound of the main doors opening is loud in the quiet of the space, and Ashton tenses where he’s talking to the owner of the gallery.  He relaxes once he sees that it’s not another art snob or a random person who got lost, but Luke.  He stands at the threshold awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of one of Ashton’s college hoodies, beanie stuffed unceremoniously over his hair.  It’s getting longer, and he’s been letting it curl more instead of spending hours styling it and trying to get it to sit right.

He looks just as breathtaking as ever, and Ashton is almost overwhelmed with how lucky he feels to be one of the only people to see famous rockstar Luke Hemmings with his guard completely down.

“Luke,” he sighs, relief too obvious.  Luke just smiles and wanders, stopping short when something in a painting catches his eye.

“Friend of yours?” the gallery owner asks, and Ashton turns his attention back to her.  It’s too easy to forget that anyone else exists the moment Luke enters a room.  Ashton needs to get a grip.

“Yeah, that’s my housemate.  Do you mind if we look around for a bit?  He couldn’t make the normal gallery times.”

He logistically could have, because Luke doesn’t have responsibilities here in Utah, but Ashton knows that the idea of him having to look nice, be in a crowd of people, and possibly be recognized almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Sure.  I’m locking up by 10, though, so be out before then.”

Ashton thanks her profusely, and the look she gives him is a bit too knowing for his taste.  Still, she heads towards the back with an artistic grace, and Ashton joins Luke where he’s staring at one of Ashton’s paintings.

“Hi,” he says quietly.  Luke leans into him in a practiced move, shoulders brushing together.  Luke has always been familiar and comfortable, despite how little they see each other.

Ashton knows he should feel bad that Luke felt so lost in LA that he had to come all the way to Utah and Ashton to try and find himself, but selfishly he’s glad.  For a few months, he gets Luke to himself, curled up on his couch and eating at his kitchen island instead of off traveling the world and meeting adoring fans.  Besides, having Luke here helps.  Ashton can’t take care of another person if he’s drunk every night, and meals are easier to prepare when there are two people to eat them.  It’s easier to fall asleep if someone else is breathing slowly next to him.  It’s easier to keep the loneliness at bay with Luke stepping into the gaps in his life.

“Was it a good showing?” Luke asks.

“It was,” he replies, resisting the urge to do something inappropriate like pull Luke closer and tuck his face into his neck just to breathe him in.  “I even sold a few paintings.”

“You did?” Luke lights up.  “Ashton, that’s amazing!  Which ones?  Wait, I want to see them all anyway.  Walk me through them as we go.”

Ashton does, trying his best to remember the thought process and inspiration behind each of the paintings hanging in the gallery.  For the earlier works it’s easier, because objects inside are more defined and they have clearer stories.  For recent creations featuring bold strokes and swirls of color and more ambiguous shapes, the inspirations shift towards ideas.  Some of them he created while drunk, and he has to check the title cards to figure out what he was going for, because while drunk Ashton isn’t good for much, he at least always writes titles in his notes app when he paints.

His professors made him include some of those works, saying that a few are profound and mesmerizing and probably your best work.  It makes Ashton feel like he can’t create anything if he doesn’t have a few drinks in him.  It’s a mindset he’s trying to move away from, but it’s hard.  At least he has endless inspiration with Luke in the house.

Luke looks at a piece entitled Longing for a few minutes, and Ashton prays that he doesn’t ask who or what he was longing for while painting it.

“Come on,” he says when the swirl of blues and purples (with just that shimmer of gold to represent the person of desire, possibly forming a hazy constellation of Luke to anyone who knows what to look for) becomes too much.  “I want to show you the synesthesia section.”

“Section” is a generous term, because it’s actually just four paintings on the same wall.  He has many more paintings for various songs and albums back home, most of them on smaller canvases he can get from the craft store, but there are a few songs that evoke such strong, beautiful visuals that he had to paint them properly.

The first painting has a primarily blue background, mixing with black in short strokes by the edges.  Traveling diagonally across the canvas are an assortment of other colors, mostly yellows and reds until they meet strokes of white in the middle.  The paint is thick, creating textured mountains where the colors meet, and that’s Ashton’s favorite part about painting, really.  He’s not very good at 3D forms, but paint never lays completely flat.  He likes how dynamic it is because of it.

“Gravity,” Luke croons as he looks, “is working against me.”

Ashton loves hearing him sing.  He was worried for those first few weeks Luke came to him, because he rarely heard it, but now he can count on random melodies filling the house at all hours.

“John Mayer makes nice songs to look at,” he says.  Luke smiles at him, then they move on to the next one.

This painting has a bit more variety in color.  Ashton remembers mixing them on his pallet, unbothered by the streaks it caused in the brush strokes, knowing that it was necessary to capture what the song makes him see.  A dark background gives way to a curve of reds, purples, pinks, blues, ending in some greens and yellows and a hint of orange.  He splattered white and black on afterwards, just a little bit near the middle of the curve, and Luke leans forward to see all the small dots.

“This one really does look like ‘Karma Police,’” Luke says.  “Even I can see it.”  He straightens and gives Ashton another grin, and he knows that he can’t capture that smile in a painting (he’s tried, so many times), but he still wants to attempt it again.

“I can’t believe how talented you are,” Luke says.  “It’s almost unfair.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking his head.  Luke nudges him with his elbow and moves on to the next painting.  This one follows a similar pattern to the other two, a dark background with color in the middle, but it’s messier.  Blue and purple feature the most, but there are hints of orange and yellow, and white overtakes the painting in peaked chunks and thin streaks.

“You’d think that for a Prince song, there’d be a bit more purple,” Luke says, tilting his head.

“Maybe he should have written more purple songs, then,” Ashton shrugs.  “‘Joy in Repetition’ has more blue.”

“Wait, is “Purple Rain” even purple?” Luke asks, alarmed.

“Yes, that one fits the title.”  Luke looks reassured at that, and they continue to the last painting.  Ashton feels nerves clench in his stomach.

He didn’t submit any of his photographs or colored pencil sketches of Luke, not even the really good one of Luke sleeping in his bed with an arm over his face that Ashton drew one night when the insomnia was hitting him hard, but this painting could be just as damning.  It’s different from the other three because it’s slightly bigger and oriented differently, vertical instead of horizontal.  The background is also based in white instead of black, primarily creating a pale blue to match the cautious optimism of the song.  More blue meets with seafoam green, peach, and white in the middle, dripping down the canvas until all the colors fade into just the green.  The lines of this one are smoother, blended together evenly, but there are bursts of gold in the middle and near a few edges that he bought a specific brand of metallic paint for.  Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes trace the painting before he turns to the name card.

“Luke?” he asks when a few moments have gone by with him completely frozen.

“Really?” Luke asks, voice cracking.  “This is what you see?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says.  He knew he was going to end up painting the song as soon as he first heard Luke’s voice singing about tasting the ocean.  “It’s mostly “Outer Space,” but I incorporated some of what I saw for “Carry On” at the bottom.”

“Oh,” Luke says, then turns and tucks himself into a hug, squeezing Ashton tight enough that he feels short of breath.  Ashton wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Luke cuddle into him in a way that he’s almost getting too big for.

“I take it you like it?” he asks, just to be sure.  Luke nods, and when he does finally pull away he swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of Ashton’s sweatshirt.

“Can I buy it?” he asks.

“Luke, you can have it for free.”  Luke shakes his head vigorously.

“No, you’ve already given me too much.  I want to buy it from you.  You should be paid for your art.”

“Okay,” Ashton says quietly.  Luke’s eyes are still fixed on the painting, and Ashton comes back to slide a hand around his waist again.  “We can negotiate a price later.”  He presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, because that’s something he can get away with still.

“Don’t try to give me a discount.  I’ve already stolen your food and half your clothes.”

“Speaking of,” Ashon says, “I’m absolutely positive that this hoodie was the last one in my closet.  Where are all my hoodies?  Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?”

“Yeah,” Luke says sheepishly.  “They’re comfortable.  They smell like you.”

Luke is going to kill him like this.  Ashton can’t even be upset, because what a way to go, but things like that are not helping him keep a lid on how absolutely head-over-heels he is.

“I’d be more upset if you didn’t look so good in them,” Ashton says before he can stop himself.  Luke’s breathing stutters, but he doesn’t do anything besides lean a little closer.  Ashton’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Luke says.  “I still want to see the rest of your pieces, then we can go home.”

Home, Ashton repeats to himself.  Luke thinks of your house as his home.

They wander their way through the last few canvases, then stop briefly in the photograph and colored pencil room before stepping out onto the street.  Their hands brush as they walk, and Ashton wonders if he can get away with grabbing Luke’s.  This night feels significant in so many ways.  Something has shifted, and he’s not sure if it has to do with his art career or the man beside him.  He wants it to be both so badly he aches with it.

When they have two more blocks to go before reaching the house, Luke reaches over and threads their fingers together.

A/N: I don’t have synesthesia, but the first three song paintings really exist and can be found here. the one for os/co was made up by me.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #off-screen #this just set multiple things in stone that were undetermined before today #but when (if) I ever write the prequel things could shift and change #also this Ashton has synesthesia. the kind where he can see music #also me writing the piece with os/co: 'oh Helen isn't going to like this' #ugh I had something else I was going to say about this but now I've forgotten #this is a little treat for the people who follow me here after reading it because this is not going on ao3 until after the prequel #off screen

[luvervinyl]

Can you prove that you made your pre made your wallpaper before posting them because your spencer and one of your morcia wallpapers looks ridiculously close to prentisslove

i honestly don't have to prove or say anything to you because without evidence on your side all of what you say is invalid. but because it 6:45 am and I feel like wasting my time on someone who's going off of things by looks. let's play it this way. 

I put the lockscreens together rq to prove this. the ones marked in purple are mine. 

so okay okay I get where you see the resemblance because the background colors ? but frankly it not that hard to go on google and find a color pallet to use ?? because I did exactly that and maybe ryann did too. these colors aren't impossible to find. obviously. 

listen I use my own content. and I make my own original content I decide what I want to do and I do it. I don't need inspiration or the need to copy anyone because I'm just not like that. obviously you don't know me that well then. and this is a game to you so let's play, shall we? 

I take screen caps of my. own. I edit them and I use those. incase you can't tell hers aren't original. she uses the content that other content creators make. honestly I couldn't care enough what she does. good for her then. personally I'm not for it, but we don't need to get into that. but I made and edit my own shit. because if you'd notice I also posted and icon pack with those exact icons. 

if you knew what you were talking about, you'd know that doing your own edits, etc. take a ridiculous amount of time. your accusations are invalid because frankly I don't care what you say. and where is the proof lmao. 

now on the pre-making these. yes I did make these ones yesterday. but I had the idea for them before ryann posted hers. of course you can choose to ignore that and the fact that I make lists of things that I want to make and post. 

if anything "looks ridiculously close to prentisslove" it's probably because she uses picsart just like me and those stickers that I chose to use are some of the easiest to find in search results to I'm not surprised that they look alike. and neither should you. 

it's honestly a stylist choice to have photos lined up a certain way for the affect of it looking better and making use of the space I had there. so I could hit you with the great minds think alike if that'll maybe sway you. and better yet I could go on a whole rant about chosing image positions for better affects because I know. 

and I don't see how you think these look alike. the fonts are different, the images, added stickers, etc. all different. there is a lot I could be saying about what she makes and the way that she makes some of her content as well as previous ones. but keep in mind that that's still there and the resemblance between earlier wallpapers of hers and mine are uncanny. and yes. mine were both made and posted before hers. but I'm not here to shit on anyone so I just I'd throw that out.

till you have cold hard evidence that I'm copying her, that I would need to copy her. then I don't want to hear from you again. obviously you're not a content creator because if you were I don't think you'd appreciate someone accusing you for copying another person without evidence, now would you? probably not. now go find something better to do and someone who actually cares to bother. 

#anon #ask #I popped off bitch 😌💅

[fabulouspotatosister]

Admit One

summary: You’re nervous about setting up a face painting booth for a year-end fair. The Doctor might have a way to help. or “the face painting thing”, according to my Google Docs title.

a/n: can i tell you guys honestly that this was an excuse for me to write gently touching the doctor’s face? like… no plot, no actual reason. i don’t know, i just got inspired by watching my best friend work at a face painting booth and just being like “god, i wish that were me”. big thanks again to @timelord-winchester-22b​ and @allamarain​ (also from the thirsting for thirteen Discord server) for helping me out with some ideas for this fic, y’all are legends and i love you lots.

Deep breaths.

You stared at the ticket pressed between your fingers. It was a nice ticket, colorful and well designed. Printed on the ticket were the words “Year-End Fair”, and below that were different boxes that you could get signed or stamped. Each box had a different label for each booth - a marriage booth, a photo booth, a carnival booth, a movie booth, a lounge booth, and a face painting booth .

Your face painting booth.

You thought it was a good idea. It was just something you wanted to do to give back, use your talents for the community. It seemed like a good idea when you’d suggested it to the organizers of the fair. They’d offered to pay you for your time. It was a good idea.

So what were you so nervous about?

Your old backpack sat on your bed while you fished for all your palettes and brushes that you must have hidden around your room in the TARDIS. The whole art, painting thing was a hobby that the Doctor encouraged you to continue even as you travelled with her. She would dedicate whole adventures to travelling to museums in the future, art galleries in space, auctions on different planets. She’d take you to special stores to buy rare pigments and paints. She had said, once, “Creativity is one of the greatest powers humanity has.”

She was nice like that. She was very nice…

You shook your head, your hand scraping the bottom of a box that you’d pushed under your bed a few weeks ago. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about the Doctor like that . Now was the time to be unnecessarily nervous about something that you’d come up with. You would find time to think about the alien later , when you weren’t stressed out about something that was your problem.

The box was empty. It made you wonder if the TARDIS ever cleaned the rooms, because sometimes things just seemed to go missing. You flopped onto your bed, glancing at the backpack. You’d counted two face paint palettes, and another two that were probably alright for skin contact.

Again, why were you so nervous ? It was just going to be a day of dealing with some excited kids.

“What’s all this?”

You sucked in a breath. The Doctor was standing in the doorway, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants. The first thing you noticed was that her coat was missing , which meant that she looked smaller than she usually did. Later, you would translate that incoherent thought as she looked adorable . She raised her eyebrows at you, and she was right to do so because you were probably just sitting there with your mouth open. “Mind if I come in?”

“Yeah - I mean no , of course, of course.” Why couldn’t you speak ? “Yeah, uh, you can come in.”

The Doctor smiled in response, her messy blonde hair falling over her face, and you mentally punched yourself in the face. She stepped into your room, her eyes immediately settling on the backpack that was still open on your bed. “Planning a trip somewhere?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.” The Doctor frowned. “Some time , then? This is a time machine. If you just want to go anywhere, any time, in the universe, you can always ask me. I’d be happy to help.”

You bit your bottom lip as the Doctor peered into your backpack, peeling open the open pockets. Happy to help, huh? She wasn’t helping at all, walking into your room with her messed up hair and coat-less self. You closed your eyes when you heard her gasp. You could hear her smile in the sound. Why could you do that? You opened your eyes again to confirm that, yes , she was smiling.

“Face paints!” the Doctor cried, picking up one of the palettes that had been thrown into the bag. “I love face paints. I’ve seen some really beautiful ones. Are you getting your face painted?”

“Nope.” The question of the hour. “I’m doing the face painting.”

The Doctor practically jumped, nearly dropping the pallet - careful, that was really expensive - while another big smile settled onto her face. “You? Oh, that’s brilliant.”

Maybe the Doctor was right - maybe the whole face painting gig was brilliant. There certainly was a brilliance to the art form, of making people into living, breathing pieces of art, and maybe there was also a brilliance in the fact that you were getting paid for it. But you were rusty . It had been a while since you’d drawn, let alone painted anyone’s face.

The Doctor seemed to sense your doubt. She sat down on the bed, carefully putting the palette back into your backpack. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

She was . “I don’t know what’s wrong,” you began, wringing your hands. “I shouldn’t be nervous. I know I’m good at this. I don’t know. I feel like it’s been way too long.”

“You are good at what you do,” the Doctor said, sounding deathly serious. Her eyes shone with something that you couldn’t quite describe. “That’s a very good mindset to have. Trust your abilities, and all that. But if you feel like it’s been too long - well, they do say practice makes perfect -”

The Doctor paused, cutting off her talking to smile widely. “You could always practice on me! I could be your first customer.”

If you were drinking something you would have spit it out. You weren’t drinking anything, so you choked on air instead. Was she joking? She had to be joking.

But one glance at her could confirm that she wasn’t joking at all. She was now sitting cross-legged on in front of you on her bed, her face drawn into a smile, looking so very tiny and so very cute . And she had sounded so earnest too. Here to help , indeed.

How could you say no to that?

You sighed, reaching over into your backpack to grab an old pack of facial wipes, a palette, and a brush. You could see the Doctor light up as you brought those things out and laid them on the bed.

“Stay here,” you said, standing up, “I’ll go get some water for the paint.”

The Doctor didn’t actually stay there as you’d instructed - when you came back from the bathroom that the TARDIS had put in your bedroom, she was already standing up and walking around, looking at all the stuff you’d collected over your time travelling together. Small crystals, paintings, sculptures. Most of them were gifts from her. You smiled, staring at the alien who could manage to make you feel so fond by just standing there.

That was it. You had a word for it - fondness . You were so incredibly fond of the Doctor. Whatever it was that you felt every time you thought of her was that .

“Doctor,” you called, softly, and she turned around from her examination of a small frog sculpture, her hair swinging with the motion. “You still up for it?”

“Me? Yes! Of course. Always am.” She leapt towards the bed again, settling into her cross-legged position from before. You were starting to get tired of your internal monologue calling her cute all the time. (You weren’t.) “Ready when you are.”

You sat down in front of her, setting the water down on a side table then taking the pack of facial wipes and pulling one out. “The paints I’m using are water activated, so your face has to be clean when I start - “

You paused, the facial wipe centimeters away from the Doctor’s face. Maybe you didn’t think this through. You’d just found a word for your feelings for the Doctor and now you were going to be very close to her and touching her face. It wasn’t intimate. It felt very intimate suddenly.

You swallowed, feeling your face grow warm. No time like the present .

You kept going, rubbing the facial wipe over the Doctor’s right temple, then moving it down to her cheekbone. Her skin was warm, and maybe you were imagining it but she looked like she was blushing under the not-very-bright lights of your bedroom. Wait, why were your lights like that? Didn’t you have them turned all the way up just a few minutes ago?

“I’ll put it right…” You pulled the facial wipe away, tracing where you had just wiped with your thumb. “…here, I think.”

“What will you paint?” the Doctor asked, making no move to remove your thumb from her face. “I’m alright with anything. I’m sure whatever you’re going to paint will be spectacular.”

You turned away from her to prepare your paints, dipping your brush in the water you’d left on the side table and swirling it into some violet paint. You blinked, and saw an image of the Doctor’s eyes. Stars, you decided, turning back towards her. Lots and lots of stars. Very fitting for someone who lives among them.

Taking another deep breath, you reached out and brushed some of the Doctor’s hair behind her ear. Her earring glinted in the light, but it could have been lost in the shine of her eyes - anyway . You took your non-dominant hand, placing your thumb and your index finger under her chin to stabilize her face.

The Doctor tilted her head so that you could see her cheek better. You didn’t even have to move her - she was a perfect customer. With that all set up, you started to paint.

Painting usually requires a certain level of focus. And talking was getting very hard. You were trying very hard not to stop painting and just study the Doctor’s face while it was still in your hands. Every stroke of your brush was just a chance to memorize the features of her face, every little mark you connected like constellations.

The Doctor, once again, picked up on your thoughts, because she just started talking .

The Doctor was not one to stay still . She never liked sitting around, doing nothing . She was always a bouncing ball of energy, chaos in the body of a blonde woman, and when she talked she was always very animated about it.

“It’s very quiet,” she said, somewhat nervously. “I never did like that. I’ll tell you a story - did I ever tell you about the time I was put in a simulation?”

“No,” you replied, somewhat absentmindedly. You adjusted the Doctor’s face slightly, moving it down - she followed without question. You felt your face heat up again; you hoped the Doctor didn’t notice how red your face was probably getting. If she did, she wasn’t bringing it up. She was nice like that.

“That time was really something. You never know with simulations - either they’re training you to become super soldiers or they’re just experimenting. Anyway, they put me in the simulation - don’t worry, it was a very long time ago, I think I was still a man - and the ones supervising kept going on and on about compatibility levels . I don’t know what they were going on about, they sent me in there alone - and then told me I was their first experiment, which can I just say, for an experiment about compatibility that is a terrible control -”

The Doctor was getting more animated now, waving her hands about. “Doctor, you need to stop moving so much,” you warned, but she didn’t seem to hear you. “Doctor!”

“ Oh - !”

In the middle of a particularly impassioned bit, her face slipped out of your hands and your brush, which was still on her face, left a short trail of yellow from her cheek to a spot near her chin, making the star you were supposed to be painting seem more like a shooting star.

The Doctor stopped talking, suddenly becoming very still. She looked down to try and see the damage, and then promptly deflated, sighing deeply. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”

She was wearing what you would accurately call her “puppy-dog eyes”, big and round and very sad and pleading. You sighed, but one that was more amused and fond , taking her face into your hands again. “No, I can fix it.”

You lifted her chin up. The streak wasn’t very long, and the paint was still wet. You could probably do with just rubbing it away - you lifted your thumb to the area and gently rubbed the paint off, watching it disappear into her skin like it was nothing.

Rubbing the last of the paint away, you very quickly realized that your thumb was getting very close to her lips, the Doctor had gone very quiet which was unlike her, and that because you had leaned in to wipe the paint off, the two of you had gotten very, very close .

Almost too close.

“Doctor?” you asked. The Doctor hummed in response. “I - I think it’s done.”

You moved to take your hand away from her face - but the Doctor reached out and curled her fingers around your wrist. Her grasp wasn’t tight, it was gentle, but it definitely kept you from moving.

Your heart felt like it was in your throat. “What -”

“Wait,” the Doctor said, her voice wavering. “Wait, I -” She swallowed, suddenly looking very unsure of herself. Like she was about to make a stupid decision. “May I?”

“May I…?”

Your heart was beating wildly against your chest now, thudding painfully with every passing second. The Doctor was just so close and she was holding your hand close to her face like it was a lifeline. And then, with another exhale, she murmured -

“ May I kiss you ?”

The best description for what happened next would be your brain short circuited . Like a computer faced with an unsolvable problem or a complicated paradox. If there was something you knew about the Doctor it was that she could be impatient, but while you were mentally keysmashing she was waiting patiently for an answer.

There were no words. What could you say? What could you say to the woman who you had been travelling with for the longest time? What could you say to the alien who had taken you to such amazing places and treated you with the utmost care? What could you say to the person that you were so fond of?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t no .

You just nodded.

The Doctor breathed out, a sigh of relief, and turned her head, pressing her lips to the inside of your palm. The press of her lips burned your skin, the action so tender you were sure it was going to make you cry.

She moved even closer to you, her breath fanning across your face. You had never seen her eyes this close before, and you decided that you had made a very good decision to paint stars on her cheekbone - where else would you put them, if not next to her eyes, where they belonged?

The Doctor paused. Your eyes searched hers, desperately looking for something that would tell you that this was all a dream, and that you would wake up next to your backpack with a ticket in your hand. There was nothing.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she said softly. “Are you sure?”

You let a smile slip onto your face. “Always am.”

The Doctor smiled back, and - oh - she pressed her lips to yours.

It wasn’t like most kisses you’d had - most of them were rough and demanding and not at all enjoyable. But the Doctor’s kiss made your lips burn the way she had made the skin on your palm burn, and now perhaps all of you was burning, set alight with just her lips. The Doctor let go of your wrist and let her hands rest on your hips. You raised your other hand to gently hold both sides of her face, smiling against the kiss.

She was burning all of the old you away, leaving only something entirely new behind.

The Doctor pulled away. She rested her forehead against yours, grinning. “Well, don’t tell me you’re going to kiss all your customers like that.”

“Only you, Doctor,” you whispered. “Only you.”

The Doctor hummed in response, satisfied. She leaned back slightly, showing off your handiwork. “Well, what do you think? Does it suit me?”

“That’s not a fair question,” you said, laughing and folding one of her hands in yours. “I made it. Of course I think it suits you. But I do think it’s missing something…”

The Doctor raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Do tell.”

In a daring move, you leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of her lips, right where the streak of paint had ended.

“There,” you said, puffing your chest out with pride, “now it’s perfect.”

The kiss made the Time Lord gasp slightly, and then she smiled, awe filling her features. She looked at you the same way that she would look at distant stars, or beautiful plants, or machines and inventions that she admired. She looked at you the same way a mortal man might view a celestial being. It was something you recognized, a look you knew well, because she looked upon you with the same adoration that you had looked at her with just a few moments ago.

(You had made art on her skin, but to her, you were the most beautiful masterpiece the universe had ever created.)

“You’re going to have to pay me for that.”

“What?”

“You don’t have a ticket!”

“Oi, you never said anything about a ticket!”

#cute shit #soft very soft content #literally my xcuse to be gay and soft and yearning #writing this made me SAD man i want a girlfriend SO BAD #jess writes #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #the doctor imagine #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader

[roci-by-book]

Nemesis Games [WIP]

“Towers of curved ceramic and steel made great piles, denser than mountains. Hair-thin wire hundreds of kilometers long stood on plastic spools taller than Filip.” (5)

“Filip shuffled down the rows of welding rigs and metal printers. Tubs of steel and ceramic dust fine than talcum. Spiral-core mounts. Layers of Kevlar and foam strike armor piled up like the biggest bed in the solar system.” (5)

“At the emergency ward, he found himself wheeled into an automated surgical bed not that different from the ones on the Rocinante.” (158)

“The passage was the usual design of inflated Mylar and titanium ribs.” (221-222)

“The curve was like the airlock on the Roci, and the design of the latch. Martian design. And more than that, Martian Navy.” (222)

"The bridge looked like the Rocinante's younger brother" (222)

“She pulled herself out of her crash couch and walked out to the common room. It was so much like the Roci’s galley that her brain kept trying to recognize it, failing, and trying again.” (262)

“Magnetic pallets locked to the decks and walls in neat rows. She wondered idly where it had all come from, and what promises had been given in exchange. She went to the nearest, plugged the array into the pallet, and popped it open. The crates unfolded.” (263)

“A toolbox in the machine shop had a bent hasp and, given a few minutes, could be forced open. The Allen wrenches inside would open the access panel on the lift wall between the crew quarters and the airlock, which was where the secondary diagnostic handset for the comm array was stored.” (304)

“While she worked, pressing the plastic into the seams, scraping out whatever had gathered there, doing it again, she tried to fit the new information into the larger scheme of things.” (306)

“When the deck was clean, she dropped the spatula into the recycler, stood, and stretched.” (307)

“In her bunk, her fingers laced behind her neck, she stared up at the blackness on the ceiling. The interface screen at her side was dead.” (311)

“The ship lurched hard, snapping the gimbals of the couches forty-five degrees to the deck.” (329)

“One bulkhead failed to open, reporting vacuum on the other side, and they had to backtrack.” (330)

“The comm array was unable to transmit either broadcast or tightbeam.” (330)

“She popped the straps loose and sat up, pulling her leg away from the needle.” (338)

“In the lift, she selected the machine shop and gripped the handholds as the mechanism dropped her down the body of the ship.” (338)

“The machine shop was empty, all the tools locked in place, but with enough tolerance that when the ship lurched, they all rattled: metal against metal like the ship itself was learning to talk.“ (338)

“She stumbled, her head crashing against the metal shelves.” (339)

“All the wrenches, epoxy welders, voltage meters, and cans of air and lubricant were strapped in place, She flipped through the close-packed layers to a line of Allen wrenches and plucked out the 10 mm.” (339)

“She gathered up a voltage tester, a wiring crimp, and a light-duty soldering iron and stuffed them in her pockets.” (339)

“She killed the lift between the crew quarters and the airlock, bracing herself so that the deceleration didn’t leave her trapped in the middle of empty air.” (340)

“The access panel was fifteen centimeters high and forty wide and opened on the major electrical routing through the center of the ship. If she cut though all the cables there with a welding torch, all the traffic would have rerouted instantly to other channels. Apart from a few warning indicators, nothing would happen.” (340)

“The screws were integral to the plate and didn’t come free, but she felt it when the metal threads lost their grip.” (340)

“Ten. The plate came free. She scooped up the handset, checking its charge. The batteries were nearly full. Connection read good.” (341)

“Channel eighteen was a comm array using the D4/L4 protocols that the Rocinante did for broadcast.” (341)

“Hand over hand, she pulled herself along the shaft and then into the corridors.” (342)

“The narrow corridors of the crew deck seemed too wide.” (344)

“The occasional ticking and popping of the expansion joins adjusting to shifts in temperature were like the knocking of ghosts.”(344)

“He undid the straps on his couch, floating forwards.” (346)

“He stopped at the med bay on the way to his quarters.” (346)

“Fred landed feetfirst on the wall, ankles hooked into the handholds like he’d been born in the Belt.”(348)

““All the bunks are the same,” Holden said. “Except mine. You can’t have mine.”" (349)

“The halls had the same anti-spalling covering that the bridge and the mess had, but marked with location codes and colored strips that would help navigate the ship. One line was deep red with HANGER BAY written in yellow Hindi, English, Bengali, Farsi, and Chinese.” (355)

“Across the corridor from Alex, Prime Minister Smith was huddled behind the lip of a doorway.” (356)

“Another burst of fire sang past, tearing long black strips from the walls and deck and filling the air with the smell of cordite.” (356)

“She drank the same version of chamomile tea that the Rocinante made, and it felt like having a secret ally.” (364)

“The mess was empty, the screens turned off and the crew set away.” (364)

“First drawer: gauze and bandages. Second drawer: one-use blood cards for maybe a hundred different field tests. Third drawer: emergency medical supplies like decompression kits, adrenaline shots, defibrillation tape.” (368)

“The medic had her sit up, the cushion of the medical table crackling under her shifting weight. The analgesic was a spray that went in Naomi’s mouth. It tasted like fake cherry and mold.” (369)

“The cabinet doors were open, spilling test cards and preloaded hypodermics across the floor.” (369)

“She fell to the side, her belly to the deck, decompression kits the size of her thumb pressing into her face as Miral writhed around to kneel on her back.” (369)

“She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t, so she just watched as Karal opened the door then closed it behind him. The lock slid closed.” (371)

“Wet with her saliva and no bigger than her thumb, it was the sort of thing any mech driver kept with her. A tiny ampoule of injectable oxygenated artificial blood and a panic button what would make an emergency medical request for an airlock to cycle.” (371)

“Fred held up the coffee cup. The name TACHI hadn’t quite worn off the side, red and black letters half-erased by use.” (381)

“The crash couch was bolted to the deck with thick steel and reinforced ceramic canted so that any direction the force came from was compression on one leg or another.” (407)

“The drawers were thinner metal, the same gauge, more or less, as the lockers. She pulled them out as far as they would open, examining the construction of the latches, the seams where the metal had been folded, searching for clues or inspiration.” (407)

“The tiny black thumb of the decompression kit, she kept tucked at her waist, ready to go if she could just find a way.” (407)

“The mirror was polished alloy built into the wall. No help there. If she could take apart the vacuum fan in the toilet...” (408)

“A simple EVA suit hung there, suspended in the null g by thin bands of elastic.” (423)

“The indicator went from green to red under her thumb.” (424)

“The airlock door closed behind him, the magnetic seals clacking.” (424)

“The lock was small enough he could put flat palms on both doors.” (424)

“Naomi thumbed the emergency override. Three options appeared: OPEN SHIP DOOR, OPEN OUTER DOOR, RETURN TO CYCLE.” (424)

“Without magnetic boots, she’d have to reach it with bare handholds, but she was close.” (426)

“She plucked the black thumb out of her belt, twisted it to expose the needle, and slammed it into her leg.” (426)

“The airlock indicator on the Chetzemoka’s skin blinked, the emergency response received, the cycle starting.” (426)

“There were handholds on the surface – some where deigned, but others were the protrusions of antennae and cameras.” (427)

“Maneuvering thrusters lit along the warship’s side, an ejection mass of superheated water glowing as it jetted out.” (427)

“And then, Mfume was gone, bolting up the ladder toward the cockpit faster than the lift would have taken him.” (431 - 432)

“Holden tapped in an order for another coffee.” (432)

“Finding Sun-yi and Gor wired into gaming googles shooting the crap out of each other in simulated battles – because as weapons techs with no one to shoot at they were getting antsy – stopped being weird and edged into sort of endearing.” (432)

“The hatch to the cockpit was closed, but Holden could still hear the wailing of the raï that Mfume liked to listen to during his shift in the pilot’s seat.” (433)

“Holden sat on the couch beside Fred’s and leaned in.” (433)

“The first disappointment was that the controls were in lockdown. She tried a few passwords – FreeNavy and Marcoisgreat and Filip – but even if she got it right, there was no reason to expect that they’d left the biometrics profiles turned off.” (448)

“The three EVA suits that remained didn’t have batteries or air bottles. The emergency rations were gone. She expected the toolboxes to be gone from the machine shop, but they’d taken out the racks that held them too, the drawers from the cabinets, the LEDs from the wall lights. The couches were all slit open, gel and padding pooled on the deck beside them. The drug delivery system and reservoirs were gone. The only water was in the drives; ejection mass to be spit out the back of the ship. The only food was the residue in the recyclers that hadn’t been processed back into anything edible. The stink of welding rigs and burning still hang in the air, so the air recycler was probably running unfiltered.” (449)

“The deck shook under her, the vibration of thrust setting up resonances that no system even tried to damp down.” (449)

“There should be a way through the machine shop. All machine shops were supposed to be connected at the back.” (449)

“The EVA suits weren’t powered and didn’t have bottles, but they had seals and reinforcement. She could take the cloth apart, and salvage some lengths of wire. Maybe something solid enough to cut with. And could she use the helmet clamps as a kind of vise grip or clamp?” (450)

“In a real ship, it would all have been protected by conduit. On this piece of crap, the wiring had all been fixed directly to the hall with a layer of yellowed silicone epoxy.” (452)

“Across the space, maybe four meters away, an indicator light went amber, and she was falling sideways. With the extra illumination, she could see the round, tree-thick body of the maneuvering thruster. She put out her arms, catching herself against a steel strut.” (452)

“Three sorties ago -- number forty-four -- she’d thought there might be a diagnostic handset. Not that should could speak into it, but she might have been able to tap out a message. But despite the fact that handsets like that were standard and required, there wasn’t one” (454)

“She scrambled down, moving from strut to strut, watching her hands and feet with every movement so she wouldn’t midjudge.” (455)

“The air in her suit didn’t feel stale or close; the carbon dioxide scrubbers worked well enough on passive that she wouldn’t feel the panic of asphyxiation. She’d just gently pass out and die.” (455)

#nemesis games #the expanse #roci by book

[divineluce]

Under the Needle’s Point || Morgan & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Timing: August 13th

Tagging: @mor-beck-more-problems & @divineluce

Notes: As a result of a scheduling mix up, Morgan winds up getting a tattoo done by Luce instead of Ulfric. The two have a nice little chat.

Warnings: Needles tw

Morgan couldn’t stop thinking about the dead supernaturals she’d brought out of that witch’s lab. Not even bodies, just pieces jarred and labeled according to parts, their usefulness. She’d sourced some weird shit from shops back when she was alive, but something about these just waiting, knowing what it was for, seeing the way Jo had looked her over as if she was prime stuffing material for her magic turducken. There were no names, no conveniently left behind ledger to tell Morgan the story of who these remains had been. They were just pieces, next to nothing. And what was left of her? Of the person she’d been? No one at work even knew she’d died, except for Anita. There was no family to notify. If she hadn’t dropped off the radar for two weeks, no one would have realized. And sometimes it seemed like people thought the person she’d been before was still in her, whole and bright and unchanged. How could she tell them any different. She didn’t know how to explain what “I” and “Me” signified now. She didn’t have any alternate words to pick from without drawing too much attention to her deadness, which was usually not the best idea. But even if some of her pieces had come back, Morgan felt different and rearranged all over, and she could only talk Bea’s ear off about it so long.

Walking into Ink Inc, Morgan tried to let the stupid, angsty knots inside her unwravel themselves. Ulfric usually had something good to say, and her idea of a solution would at least provide a few hours’ distraction. “Hey, Ulf?” She called. The shop was quiet, though she wasn’t sure how busy it usually was. “I’m early, but maybe we can get started--Oh.” When she saw Luce Vural approach the front desk, Morgan found her stomach knots switched out for a whole new platter of them. “You’re...not...Ulf.”

Flipping through the ancient book that lay on her workstation, Luce frowned as she looked at a few strange sigils drawn in the margins. What did these have to do with ghosts? She wasn’t familiar with anything surrounding ghosts and it was times like this when she wished she knew a decent exorcist. But, even in a town as magical as White Crest, there weren’t many of those running around. Luce mimicked the circular wards drawn in the book with the tip of her finger, tracing the shapes into the wood of the table. They didn’t feel like anything she’d ever drawn before, but she’d never been good at wards to begin with. What exactly did these things mean?

The sound of the bell ringing over the front door caught her attention and Luce shut the book and tucked it away into her backpack. She didn’t need people asking her what she was reading. As she emerged from her room, Luce launched into the typical speil, “Hey there, what can I do--” Her words trailed off for a moment when she saw Morgan standing in the middle of the shop. Leaning against the receptionist desk, Luce’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Shit. The last time she’d seen Morgan was… fuck, when they’d rescued Remmy? Christ. “What gave it away? The height? The distinct lack of a red hair and a beard?” She asked, the sarcasm coming out on reflex.

“Wow, you really are this friendly all the time, even to people you haven’t lashed out at.” Morgan deadpanned. The irony of lashing out was not lost on her, but it was too late to take the words back now. And as far as Morgan knew, Luce hadn’t exactly tried to smooth things over with Remmy since stomping on their heart. “A-ny-way...I have an appointment. A rib piece. Ulf and I talked it over already. I think there’s already a stencil and stuff, but I don’t know if you need anything fancy for working with um, zombie skin. Are you gonna be able to help a dead girl out?”

“What can I say, I’m a ray of goddamn sunshine.” Luce said, tone matching Morgan’s. If this was how this was gonna go down, she could play the game. She wasn’t sure why the woman was coming out swinging like this, but she could hazard a guess. Morgan was someone who cared about Remmy and… it wouldn’t surprise her if Remmy had told her about what went down at the carnival. “An appointment. Huh.” Blinking, Luce looked over at the computer and scrolled through the schedule. Well shit. Ulf had definitely booked her, but it looked like their evening receptionist has fucked up and double booked him. “Looks like there was some kind of scheduling fuck up, but… Yeah. I can do that.” She said. If the stencil was already drawn up and Morgan had already put down her deposit, she wasn’t going to argue. Work was work. “C’mon back. And, no, no fancy tools needed.” Luce thought back to the day Remmy had entered the shop, when they’d met the first time. Oh, for fucks sake. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Of course there is…” Morgan sighed. Not for the first time, Morgan wondered if Constance had made some backdoor bargain with the universe to keep the suffering going as long as there was some miserable creature named Morgan Beck on the planet. She had come here for herself, for the promise of having a sustained goddamn feeling that didn’t strain Deirdre’s muscles, for the talk about the universe and their personal stresses they always shared, and...not Luce and her crabby emotional bullshit. But this was what Morgan had. She’d sectioned off this day carefully and timmed the distance from the start of fall semester so she could have it done, follow ups and all, before classes. No one at work would see, but she liked the idea of having something complete and beautiful that was a part of her. Maybe she just wished marking herself with sigils still did any good. 

Morgan followed Luce to the back, explaining, “A rib piece, with color. It’s sort of sizable. I was talking about breaking the whole thing up into sessions, maybe.” She cleared her throat. “Does that, uh, sound good…?”

“Does Ulf know that you’re… a zombie?” Luce asked as she scrolled through the shared files on her laptop. Thank christ they had a good internal filing system for shit like this. She was able to locate the design that Ulf had already drawn up without too much difficulty. It wasn’t her personal cup of tea, but their styles weren’t that far off and she could do color nearly as well as she did black and white. “I ask because I’ve-- I did Remmy’s tattoo a while back.” She said, unable to hide the stutter-step in her voice, the slight hitch in her words. “They healed almost instantly. It’s how I knew they weren’t exactly human. So, you might not actually need a couple of sessions. Could save you money.” She said with an offhand gesture before pushing away from her desk. “This look like the one?” She asked, gesturing for Morgan to look over at the stencil that was on her computer screen. 

“Yes,” Morgan said. “He said he’d never done one on, you know, someone like me before. But that’s good to know. Maybe this isn’t gonna be the worst idea after all.” She kept her eyes on Luce, watching as she choked on Remmy’s name and stiffened with awkwardness. “If you’d rather we get this done in one go and it won’t mess with your schedule that sounds fine.” She stepped closer to Luce awkwardly and took a look at the design she’d worked out with Ulf.

There was a deer skull, positioned at an angle so you could see the two wide holes where its eyes once were without feeling them looking straight at you. Bluebonnets and Evening Primrose and rich red Winecups, flowers she hadn’t seen since she left Texas, sprouted from one of the sockets. The blues, pinks, and reds on their petals were dappled with color as if from the tip of a watercolor brush. More flowers, goldenrod, blackberry, and meadow-rue, hung from the antlers, garlanded loosely in a way their real stems would never allow. A fine chain studded with small pentagram stars and crystals settled between the horns like bunting and dangled down beneath the skull by several inches. It was elaborate, but Morgan felt better about herself looking at it already. “Yeah, that’s the one. If you can do it, I guess we better get started.” She pulled off her shirt, bunched it around her chest, and waited for Luce to take on the challenge and show her the way.

“It’s your call. We can do whatever works for you.” Luce said, her voice measured and careful to avoid the halting tone it had taken on with the mention of Remmy. “Why don’t I get the outline of it done first and then we can see how it goes? It’ll be a long one session, but I don’t have anything up on the schedule. I was just hanging around in case we got a walk in. And… low and behold. A walk in.” Besides, she needed the money. Hospital bills were still rolling in from her stay after Bea’s resurrection and at the rate that Nell was going, she’d probably need to help her younger sister out too. 

Staring at the design, Luce found herself marveling at Ulf’s work. He was, after all, the one who had inspired her to take up their chosen profession. His linework was impressive, the color pallet beautiful, the composition well balanced and perfectly in line with the mystical elements of the tattoo itself. She’d studied his work long enough to be able to emulate it-- the shading might not be quite how he wanted it, some of the lines might go thin in places where he preferred something a bit more bold. But, they could duke it out over beers at Dell’s if it came to it. “Alright, let’s get rolling.” She laid out her tools, fixing a new needle in her machine, laying out her pallet of inks on the rolling tray she kept by her chair as the stencil printed. The placement came easily enough and Luce snapped on a pair of gloves before settling back on her stool. “Just let me know if it feels like it’s too much and we can take a break.” She said before turning the machine on and putting the needle to Morgan’s cool skin.

“Well that’s nice and completely non-committal,” Morgan said. Probably because Luce was giving her an out. And, if she really wanted, she could take it. She could throw her money and her tip at Ulfric instead. She could forego, what, at least eight hours alone in a tattoo parlor with Luce Vural? It made a certain kind of sense and Luce would know how Morgan felt about the way she handled her bullshit with Remmy to boot. But Morgan had come here with the intention of getting her tattoo and she was not going to let her anger and bewilderment at Luce get in the way of that. They could handle a transactional meeting. “But if you’re really free all day, let’s get started.” She settled down on the seat, glancing over her shoulder at Luce to see how she was muscling up to the prospect.

“Oh, please,” she snorted, dryly. “I had a pole go in one end and out the other. I don’t think anything is going to be too--oh!” Her sentence died in a squeak as the needle made contact. There was...something alright. Like a deep scratch on her insides, one that reverberated throughout her whole body. She couldn’t remember any sensation this immediately potent except for the punches Mina threw in their practice sessions.  Morgan dug her hands into her shirt and squeezed tight. “Jeez. That’s one hell of a rush.”

A part of Luce had almost hoped that Morgan would decline the offer for a full length session. It was a huge tattoo and the lengthy sessions always left her drained, her back sore from leaning over someone, her hands cramped and tired. But, the other woman seemed set on getting this done, and who was she to argue with it. “Yeah. Like I said, we can play it by ear.” She said, her tone calm and neutral.

As Morgan reacted to the sting of the needle, Luce raised an eyebrow as she continued to work. “You good?” She asked. When she’d done this on Remmy, they’d hardly reacted at all. It’d been a big part in how she’d known they weren’t human. It wasn’t that they were being macho about it, like most of Luce’s clients, they just hadn’t seemed to feel any of it. There hadn’t been any involuntary twitches to the muscle when she’d been working, nothing. “I’m guessing it must be weird, going from not feeling hardly anything to being able to feel this?” She asked, the echoes of a memory that belonged to Morgan returning in a swift wave. “Like I said, if it’s too much, we can break this up into different sessions.”

Morgan had to keep her laugh somewhere tight in her chest. “Oh, it’s definitely weird, like the world’s tiniest jackhammer is dancing on my bones. But the other thing is I have to do a whole round of mental gymnastics to trick myself into feeling things or almost feeling things, or I just get in a really great tension workout trying to make myself press into things hard enough to feel like I’m really here. But I guess you kinda know how that is, huh?” She turned over her shoulder, eyeing Luce’s reaction. For someone who pretended to have the emotional capacity of a toothpick, she’d taken Morgan’s memories mostly in stride with the brain biter and her own valuable memories had been full of feeling too. “You’re good, Luce. Although, we should probably pass the time with more than just complete awkward silence, right?”

“The tiniest jackhammer? Never heard that one before, but sure.” Luce commented blithely as she kept her hand nice and steady, following the smooth curves of the stencil, tracing over the skull design. She was already planning out how she’d do the shading of the eye sockets, the way the flowers lay against bone, but Morgan’s words took her out of it for a moment. Blinking, her hand faltered before she focused back on her work, the needle continuing to move. “Yeah. I guess I do.” She muttered, reminded of the fact that their memory swap had been just that. A swap. Morgan had seen her memories, had experienced them. The moment from her childhood when her sisters had sat on the living room floor, braiding each other’s hair. One of the many midnight margs celebrations, usually done after coven meetings or some other ritual. Morgan had seen good memories, happy memories. Memories Luce didn’t share with anyone. “Depends on how you want to fill it.” She said as she dipped the tip of the needle back into the small container of ink and resumed her work, “Are you going to try and talk to me about Remmy? I know you two are close.”

“You brought them up, not me,” Morgan said. “But yeah. We’re pretty darn close. I don’t know how much you’ve been keeping up with them or how much you actually care, but they really have been through the wringer lately. And that’s on top of all the other stuff they had to deal with before, including me.” She sighed as Luce’s needle brushed against her bone again. Who knew that something so sharp could feel so much like relief. Was this why people got hooked on getting them? “What I’m trying to say is, handle with care. Remmy can take a lot of hits, but that doesn’t mean they should have to. And maybe figure your shit out before they get their hopes up again.” She drew in a shallow breath and tried to extend her attention around her body, feel the novel tingles of air and the buzzing prick of the needle as it traveled away from her bone again and grew faint. It was all she could do not to pout. Everything about existing was work, was an act of management in concentration and willpower. At least when her bones were catching onto a feeling for her she could let go. But that would’ve been easy, and universe forbid Morgan have anything like that for long.

Luce let out a sigh as she continued to draw, machine buzzing in her grasp. Well, shit. She had been the one to bring them up. Fuck. But, it was better to rip the bandaid off now, right? Better now than to sit in awkward silence or let it hang over their heads while she worked. “Yeah. I know they have.” She said off handedly. She knew that Remmy had been through it. How could she not know? She’d held them that night when they’d re-lived their experiences at the Ring, she’d seen the collar around their neck drop them to the ground, she’d seen just how fucked up they’d been after the rescue mission. And now, the latest pile of bullshit-- she’d seen Nadia drag them out of Pat’s Place, seen them brought to their knees by poison. She knew. “Including you.” Luce echoed, remembering what those words meant. Remmy had been the one to turn Morgan, to save her. “You think I don’t know that they shouldn’t have to deal with all the bullshit life’s thrown at them? I’m real aware of that fact.” She said, though her words lacked bite. “They don’t deserve any of the fucking stuff that happens to them.”

It was hard for Morgan to get a read on Luce while she was halfway down her torso, inking out the curves of deer horns. She sounded tense, bitter, but those might’ve been part of Luce’s factory settings for all Morgan knew. “Well, I couldn’t tell from here,” Morgan said, more accusatory than she’d meant to sound. She frowned, waited a moment, and tried again. “I’m glad we can agree on Remmy needing a break. I’d guess we could also agree on Remmy deserving some basic kindness. We can’t control their circumstances much, but we can be good to them, right?” She didn’t think this was a controversial point and so didn’t wait to press on to her real question. “So I guess I’m just..really curious about why you handled your side the way you did. I know you tend to come out swinging, which I don’t follow either a lot of the time, but this...wasn’t that.”

Lips pressing together into a thin line at Morgan’s tone, Luce said nothing and instead focused on her work. She wasn’t going to fuck up Morgan’s tattoo just because the other woman was being a bitch about things to her. Even if she really wanted to. All it would take is a few little lines-- nope. She valued her work too much to fuck up someone’s tattoo on purpose. Drawing the machine back, she wiped the stray flecks of ink off with a paper towel, not bothering to ease up on the pressure. Morgan wouldn’t be able to feel it the same way people did. She dipped the needle into more ink and set back to work. “What do you mean, how I handled things?” She asked flatly, her tone emotionless. “They wanted more, which wasn’t part of the deal. From day one, I made my intentions very clear.” Luce said as she started on the curves of the deer’s eye sockets, staring blankly back at her. Almost accusingly. Oh, fuck off. 

Morgan waited for Luce’s words to settle before speaking again, just in case she started snapping all over again. This was, technically, not her business. But she was upset with Luce for how her words had affected Remmy and how it had surprised her as well. She didn’t even know what, specifically, had happened. But even the vague strokes were so unlike the person she’d thought Luce was. “You were cruel,” she said at last. “What you want or don’t want to intentionally invite into your life is your business, and if you want to put boundaries around how much you really care about Remmy, go for it, whatever, I guess. But you can still be kind when you’re telling someone ‘no’ or ‘not right now.’ You can try to make the hurt as small and possible. I didn’t think you were the kind of person to do that, especially to someone kind of close to you. Which, okay, we don’t even know each other that well, really, so maybe it was my mistake. But it was still...really weird to hear about, after all you did for them.”

“What can I say, I’m a bitch.” Luce said callously. A nosy bitch, getting into other people’s business, doing things that pissed people off just because she could. And she was more than happy to live with that reputation. It was fine, it was normal. As Morgan continued to talk, Luce began to start on the outlines of the flowers, their delicate petals requiring a lighter hand. She rolled her eyes at that-- a lighter hand. People would like it if she handled things that way, wouldn’t they? If she was kinder, if she wasn’t as rude, as rough, as angry. “They weren’t close to me.” She insisted. “We just fucked.” Luce said, though the words didn’t hold quite as much weight as they once had. They hadn’t just fucked. They’d held her that night when she’d broken and told them about Bea, she’d done the same for them after they’d been torn to pieces. She’d broken them free from the Ring, destroyed the building, taken lives… for Nell, yes. But, for Remmy too. Looking at her gloved hands, Luce’s jaw clenched. “I did shit because I wanted to. Not because of them.”

“Okay, I know you didn’t just fuck,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “I know you made yourself emotionally present for them in some really rough, vulnerable moments. They told me how safe you made them feel, and how it seemed like you were opening up. And you were ready to kill everyone at the ring before you knew they had Nell too.” She gasped as the needle circled over her rib bones again, making her insides almost come alive. “And maybe we’re not close, but I know enough about you to know you’re not just a bitch. What I don’t get is why it’s so important to you that other people see it that way. No one is vulnerable about everything all the time, and for some people...yeah, kindness and softness has to be earned. But...you still haven’t answered my question. Did their question make you feel...betrayed or upset somehow? Were you scared?”

Luce sucked in a breath at Morgan’s words. Of course, Remmy told her about shit. Of course they did. “Maybe I got a taste for it. Who knows.” She said in an offhand tone, brushing past her quick leap to destruction. She continued to do her work, keeping her hand nice and steady as Morgan continued to talk at her. So they’d swapped memories once, that didn’t make Morgan an expert on her, or her feelings. She didn’t fucking do feelings, not like that. But, at the last question, her eyes widened in surprise. If she didn’t have literally years of experience, of people saying stupid shit that caught her off guard, she might have fucked up her lines. Instead, her hand remained steady. Even so, there was no way to hide how her breath hitched slightly. “You don’t need to know why I did what I did. You’re not Remmy’s keeper and you’re sure as hell not mine.” Still the word echoed in her mind. Scared. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. Wasn’t she?

Morgan caught the way Luce doubled down on her tension. So, getting warmer, maybe creeping up on a nerve. It probably shouldn’t have felt so surprising; fear made fools of everyone. Hadn’t she learned that one a dozen or so times over? “You’re too interesting to be selling yourself short like that. But…” She gasped again. Why couldn’t she just shut up and enjoy this again? Luce was right, she wasn’t Remmy’s keeper, and even if she was still mostly playing by their request to ‘not yell at’ Luce, she was...definitely skirting around things. But it itched at her worse than this needle, knowing Remmy had been hurt out of, what, recklessness? And Luce was cutting herself off from a relationship she had seemed to care about right until it was brought to the surface and made real. “You’re right,” she said at last. “We don’t have to get into this. We can go though the next eight hours talking about something else. Like...this is the first feeling-almost-feeling I’ve had that didn’t give someone at least an arm workout...well, actually, I guess you will have one by the time we’re done, but, it’s the concept for the thing. Or uh…” Stars, they really didn't have that much in common, did they? “You know, if this thing that doesn’t matter to you at all is also for some reason too much to talk about, maybe you should pick.”

“Damn right we don’t.” Luce said firmly. She’d dealt with longer sessions with worse people before. Then again, they weren’t usually people she had to deal with outside of the shop. But, someone who knew her the way Morgan did? Someone who knew her family? It made things trickier. She knew she could keep her cool about this, that she should just keep her mouth shut and deal with it. So Morgan wanted to bitch at her about how she’d hurt Remmy. So fucking what. She could handle it. Then why did she feel anger creeping in the pit of her stomach? Pulling the machine back from Morgan’s skin, Luce tossed the machine down onto the tray next to her with a loud clatter. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, Morgan, which is exactly how I like to keep things. You don’t get to tell me what I should do, that I need to pick and choose. I already made my decision, I already chose. And you don’t need to know why I did.” She said, staring at the woman with fire in her eyes. 

Morgan groaned deep in her throat. Now she wasn’t even feeling anything. But now without having the precision of the device to worry about, she could turn and look at Luce fully. She was angry alright, but nothing she was saying was making sense. “I am very certain I already conceded that first point, she said. And as for the rest, I didn’t say literally any of those things. Which makes me wonder who exactly is? Who is telling you what you need to do or that you have to pick and choose between...whatever it is you think your binary options are? Or that you can’t change your mind about your decision later? Because I just wanted to know why you went out of your way to be mean to someone we both care about, and then I offered you an out. So what are you really upset about here, Luce?”

Startled, Luce stared at Morgan for a moment. She had said those things, hadn’t she? Or had Luce been reading too deeply into things, looking into things that didn’t exist? Either way, her outburst had dug herself an even deeper hole than she’d started in. Fuck’s sake. Luce rolled her eyes, though the action was more for show than anything. It was a way to get people to leave her alone. But, she couldn’t unhear the other woman’s words. What was she upset about? Really? “What am I upset about? The fact that Remmy went off and fucked everything up. Things were fine, just the way they were. It was all just for fun. And then they wanted more. I fucking told them that I’m not interested in more, because I’m not go-- I don’t do more.” She said before rolling back from the chair, her hands up in the air. “Look. Ulf’s appointment ends in ten. Get him to finish your tattoo. I’m done.” Luce said with a shake of her head.

“Luce…” Morgan said softly. “Hey, you...are a good person, Luce. You’re good. I mean, I kind of hate that word, it’s so arbitrary, but as far as I’m concerned, you are. And I’m not the only one, okay? Whatever it is you need out of your relationships, whatever you choose, as long as it’s really what you want and need, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re good. And if your needs change, you’re still good. You’re good and you deserve to be happy, whether that includes ‘more’ or not, or Remmy or not. You deserve to be more than just okay. You know that, right?” She cleared her throat, looking down at her wrinkled shirt and the only mostly done outline of her tattoo. “But uh, if you need a break or you’d just rather not anymore, that’s...fine.”

You deserve to be more than just okay. Luce had said similar things to Remmy before and now they were being turned onto her. She wondered if they felt just as false to them as they did to her. She didn’t deserve someone like Remmy, didn’t need someone like them in her life. Because what would happen if she did let them in? If she said sure, let’s try, let’s be something? She’d open up to them and that scared her. But, Luce was startled to realize, what scared her more than the vulnerability of it all was the wanting. She wanted to open up to them. To be honest with them. But, what would happen then? Nothing good. Staring at the outline on Morgan’s side, she sighed. “I’ll finish it. But,” She grabbed the remote to the stereo system from her desk, loud music filling the room. “No more talking.”

#p: morgan beck #p: utnp #wickedswriting #needles cw

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x Reader Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Warnings- SMUT/NSFW

Chapter 5- Nebulousness

“Blurring all the lines, you intoxicate me.” -Camila Cabello, Never be the Same

A knock on the door had Y/n dragging herself off her sofa and padding barefoot towards her front door. Without thinking twice of it, she undid the chain lock and pulled it open, grinning giddily at the sight of Keanu; standing in the hallway with his helmet wedged between his arm and his side, riding back still over his shoulder. “You’re early,” she greeted after taking his hand and pulling him inside, giving him a quick peck at the side of his lips.

“I am,” Keanu held her for a minute in a lingering hug and then continued, “And I brought wine,” from his backpack, he produced a dark tinted bottle of white wine, offering it to Y/n.

“Thank you,” they walked to the kitchen and Y/n made a place for the wine in her refrigerator, “I made pasta,” she gestured to a covered pot on the stove.

“I didn’t think you were much of a cook,” Keanu joked as he helped her set up a couple plates and then open an already chilled bottle of red.

Y/n made a noise of mock offense, her hand, almost swallowed up by her over-sized cable knit sweater going to the center of her chest, “That’s a bold assumption, I’m offended.”

“No you’re not,” he laughed. They set the plates on the table near the floor to ceiling window and before he joined her, Keanu shrugged off his jacket, drapping it to where she pointed to on the sofa, near a throw blanket laid on the back. “How was work?”

Y/n’s shoulders shook as she put her glass back down, “It was work, I’ve been working on projections for a product we’re launching this Christmas, if it goes well I could get a raise.”

“That’s great. What’s the product?” He probed, and Y/n’s insides bubbled excitedly at his genuine interest. The few men she had gone out with usually thought that her job was all numbers; a bore, and the couple who hadn’t; had accused her of being superficial for working in the beauty industry. 

“It’s an entire winter inspired line; a partnership with a beauty influencer,” for a couple minutes Y/n excitedly went on about the specifics of an eyeshadow pallet and some of the expected profits.

When she was finished, Keanu was still wearing a goofy smile, but it was mostly out of second hand excitement. Co-owning a company had given him a considerable amount of knowledge when it came to projected profits and pricing, hearing her talk about make-up though, that was something that he had trouble following, “I know those words mean something, but I have no idea what cream eyeshadow is. Is that like a color or....”

“It’s a type,” she corrected, “It’s better during cooler weather, very versatile. Well, enough about that, what about you, how was your day?”

“It was okay. My agent sent me a couple scripts a while ago and I finally got around to starting on them,” he explained nonchalantly.

Y/n raised her brows with silent intrigue, “Anything you like?”

Her cool interest was refreshing compared to the extremes of barrage of questions from those who were too interested and the blank stares of those who thought his job was reserved to what happened on camera. “Not really, they were okay, but they aren’t really for me.”

“Well, you’ll find something soon,” the light from the full moon filtering in, coupled with the dimmed blubs imbedded into the ceiling washed Y/n’s delicate features with a cool glow. With her face free of product and half of her hair only held back by a tiny black hair clamp, strands fell out the sides, casting dark shadows on her skin; she looked almost ethereal. 

“Yeah,” Keanu nodded, “But I don’t know, I’m enjoying the down time more than I usually do,” by then, his free hand had reached across the table, meeting hers half-way, his thumb tracing her knuckles. In response, Y/n just blushed, biting her lip as her cheeks took on an almost unnoticeable shade of pink.

When they were finshed with dinner, Keanu helped her clear up and afterwards, they had moved on to their second bottle of wine, lingering in the kitchen long after they had finished with the dishes, when Y/n’s eyes widened, “I almost forgot, I wanted to show you something.”

“What is it?” Keanu laughed, watching her grab the bottle and encourage him to follow her lead.

They walked down the hallway he had seen on his first visit to her place, when he picked her up for their first- well, ‘forth’ date. It was just a bit longer than the front hallway, but was lined with doors on both side, going about thirty feet in and ending with a simple set of white double doors. Y/n turned the knob of one side, pushing it in, and Keanu followed her as she flicked on a light switch; presumably, her room.

It was nice, and Keanu wasn’t sure what he expected, but it somehow suited Y/n. A large bed at the center of the room, was pressed with it’s head to a cream wall, a set of abstract paintings hanging a couple feet above it. The wall to the left was interrupted by two doors, both with shiny gold hooks, set about five feet apart. The flooring was a dark colored hard wood but her bed sat stylishly upon a fluffy white rug that came out a few feet on all sides. Furniture was minimal; a couple shelved nightstands, both topped with matching antique lamps, but only one packed neatly with books, a couple chargers and other little trinkets. There was a dresser, and finally at the awing, full length window, covered by pale gold drapes, a wide vanity, the top decked with various perfumes and beauty products.

“You room?” Though the answer was plainly obvious, Keanu asked anyway. 

“Yeah, you can sit on the bed. Or where ever you want,” she gestured around, pointing out a printed floral, accent chair and the other at her vanity. When he opted, for a reason that he couldn’t attribute to anything other than the wine, for the floor, Y/n giggled musically, “The floor?”

“Yeah, it looked comfortable,” he patted the spot next him, and Y/n sank down, cross legged holding a carved wooden box in her lap, “Is that what you wanted to show me?” He questioned, intrigued.

“It is,” taking a long swing of her wine, Y/n set her glass a little ways from the rug, then cast the cover of the box aside. From where he sat, it seemed to be filled mostly with pictures, mixed in with a couple odds and ends; key rings, a tiny stuffed animal and some other telling treasures. The printed photographs were her focus though, and she sifted through a few, looking for the right ones. “Here,” she finally offered, depositing a few in her lap, “I know I said you’d never see them, but I thought about it, and maybe prom pictures weren’t so bad.

Keanu placed his glass a couple feet away, looking through the memories Y/n had handed him. Most of them were in fact, from her prom, and on the white backs, they were dated for 2009. She looked almost the same, though, her hair was longer and she looked a more of a child than the woman he sat next to. What a difference ten years could make. Most of them were of her and Julie, though there were others taken with a large group. The remainder appeared to be from college, mostly taken on places around a campus. 

“This was taken on spring break during my last year in college,” she pointed one out, of her and Julie and two men, probably their age, one with his arm loosely around Julie, the other hugging Y/n from behind, “That’s my college boyfriend, Andy. I met him after my run in with the I.T guy.”

“Miami?” The beach seemed familiar, though Keanu couldn’t readily recall the last time he had been there.

“Mhm,” she hummed her response, “Julie planned the whole thing. Well, if you call, going to the airport and booking the cheapest last minute flight ‘planning’. That trip was a mess,” she continued and her smile suggested that even with all the bumps along the way, her last spring break as an undergrad had been more than memorable, “We weren’t exactly rolling in money, so we all had to share this one tiny hotel room, with one bed and a bathroom the size of a matchbox. And if things couldn’t get worse, the guys thought it would be cost effective to save money on street food, and ended up spending the first two days with food poisoning.” 

“That sounds terrible,” Keanu scoffed, mirroring her amused smile, “How’d it turn out?”

“With the exception of their pride, they got over it pretty quickly. And afterwards, it was actually really fun. We skinny dipped on a private beach, almost got arrested for trespassing on that beach. We got drunk, went hiking and at some point, Julie talked onto this boat party thrown by a pro league footballer. It was awesome.”

“Sounds like fun. What happened between you and Andy?” He wasn’t jealous, it would be ridiculous, but Keanu was curious, always eager to learn more about her.

“Nothing really,” Y/n shrugged, “He wanted to move to New York, go to grad school. I wanted to stay here for my MBA, so I did,” for a minute, Y/n continued looking at the picture and her face fell a little, “He asked me to go with him, and when I said no, he.....” she scoffed, “He said that I never really loved him.”

“Didn’t you?” Besides Y/n’s head resting on Keanu’s shoulder, they weren’t touching, their thighs kept apart by about an inch of space.

“I don’t know.....I don’t think,” she paused, swallowing thickly, “I don’t think I’d know if I did. I mean, how do you even know? Do you just wake up and decide you’re in love with someone? Do you feel the same way you did before? How do you know if you can’t make sense of it; identify it, measure it”

Keanu mulled on her words for a while, thinking carefully before he spoke, knowing his next words might be risky. He shouldn’t say them, he thought, but he did anyway. “Maybe you always know; from the beginning, when everything changes, when you can’t them off your mind and the thought of them makes you smile. Maybe its simple, and all it takes is one night,” Y/n shifted and their eyes met, something that should have been new, but was instead, oddly familiar flowed between them. A little reminiscent from the first night on the balcony, but more so on their first ‘in person’ date and on their afternoon at the beach. Bits and bits of whatever it was during their lengthy phone conversations; the ones where they'd spend so long talking, hours into the night, that they’d fall asleep, the line dominated by even breathing and soft snores until one of them would rouse, barely awake and whisper a quiet ‘goodnight’ to the other. “Or one day,” he finally added in an attempt to cover his tracks.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled questioningly. Even if she knew what he meant, she still wasn’t willing to believe it. Would she know it if she felt it? What if Keanu was wrong and it was too soon. Like Julie and his friend had said. They were supposed to be going slow.

“I really like you,” he said quietly, breaking the short bout of silence, his face close to hers. Y/n could smell the alcohol on his breath and the cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes. On anyone else, it might have been off putting, but something about Keanu, it was just.....intoxicating, “I want to kiss you.”

“We’ve kissed before,” Y/n breathed nervously. No moment had ever felt that way, so private, like there was something buzzing around them, pushing them together. Her hand slid from the softness of the rug, resting on his thigh, a silent signal that she wanted it to happen.

Keanu’s hand rose to cup her cheek, tangling with escaped dark strands; they felt like strands of silk between his fingers. He had known her for two weeks, they had been doing....whatever it was that they were doing for a measly one week. But still, Y/n was unlike many of the woman Keanu had gone around with, she was like a breath of fresh air, and if people were water, she’d be champagne. “We have,” he cocked a faint half smile, “But not the way I want to kiss you right now.” Taking a deep breath, Keanu pressed his lips to Y/n’s cradling the back of her neck with his free hand.

His lips melded with hers easily, like two puzzle pieces just being put together, working so well with each other. His tongue slipped passed the barrier of Y/n’s teeth, tangling with hers and she found that he tasted unsurprisingly of wine. So much was poured into the gesture; passion and lust with notes of something softer and more lasting. Something that would make it past a steamy encounter, that Y/n wasn’t sure if she was ready for, but wanted to hold on too.

As things grew more heated, Keanu pressed her against the base of the bed, and Y/n adjusted her legs, spreading them so he was kneeling between them. His tongue swirled around hers between teasing nibbles on her bottom lip, and her hands roamed his strong back, eventually tangling in the ends of his hair. 

Soon enough, Keanu found the hem of her sweater, pulling it over her head clumsily, before Y/n did the same with his t-shirt, not caring where it fell as she tossed it aside, “I thought we were going slow?” Y/n questioned against his lips, smiling as Keanu’s fingers hooked into the waist of her yoga pants, urging them into a laying position.

He hovered over her, taking a moment to admire her bra clad chest, cleavage pushed up a little by cups decorated with light grey lace and silk,  before peeling her pants off at a tantalizingly slow pace, “I can go slow,” Keanu smirked, lifting her left leg, placing an open mouthed kiss on her inner thigh, near the lacy edge of her underwear.

Y/n’s breath shook and her toes toyed teasingly with the button of his jeans, slowly running the length of his crotch, watching him inhale sharply. When Keanu dropped her leg and leaned over her, Y/n reached for the fastenings on his pants, letting him kick of his shoes before pushing them off.

His lips made contact with the warm skin in the valley of her breasts, favoring the left with his hand after he  had quickly slipped it beneath the cup of her bra, groping and squeezing enthusiastically, “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, his lips still against her skin. Y/n’s bare heels rubbed against Keanu’s calves, her hands tangling in his hair.

Eventually, his hands slipped to her back, holding her to his chest as he clumsily undid the fastenings of her bra, helping her out of it and then letting it join the rest of their clothing. “Is this what you want?” Keanu asked, suddenly a little unsure of himself, not wanting Y/n to feel pressured just because they had gotten carried away.

“Yeah,” she exhaled with a steady smile, inviting him with her touch; fingers running along his back, nails barely grazing his skin, sending shivers though his body. With her other hand, still tangled in Keanu’s hair, Y/n urged him down into another passionate kiss, her legs wrapping around his middle, grinding slowly though encouragingly against his erection.

Once again, one of Keanu’s hands travelled to her front, fondling her breasts, and for the slightest second, Y/n faintly recalled the night when Julie so surly determined that Keanu was a ‘boobs man’. Though, the memory was pushed hastily aside when two of his digits invaded her underwear, startling her as he pumped slowly. His ministrations, the rough yet gentle texture of his fingers, touching her, sparked pleasurable shocks throughout her body, ones that Y/n swore she could feel in her fingertips. Her back arched, yearning for more, “Keanu,” she breathed heavily.

His response was a low hum as he continued favoring her chest, his tongue swirling around her hardened nipple, the fingers of his free hand pressed into the silky skin at her hip, probably already making bruises that that Y/n would have to remember the moment by. 

Y/n’s manicured nails sunk deeper into his back and she pleaded again with his name on her tongue, “Keanu,” she begged, sucking in a sharp breath when his fingers started going faster, her panties consequently slipping down her thighs, creating an excitable friction. When the flimsy lace garment was low enough, Y/n let her legs shake them off, gridding against Keanu’s stocky fingers. “More,” she begged.

Groaning when his still clothed erection brushed her thigh, Keanu let Y/n aid him his getting rid of the last bit of clothing between them; a pesky pair of grey boxers that didn’t make it too far. It barely took a minute for Keanu to line himself up with Y/n’s entrance, easing into her, admiring how her jaw slackened at the new sensation. 

With slow thrusts, Keanu marveled in how tight she was, feeling her warm, slick goodness around him, “You’re so tight baby,” he moaned through gritted teeth, the side of his head pressed to hers. 

Y/n’s grip dug into Keanu’s shoulder blades as she moaned a garbled plea, “Faster, go faster.” With a low, carnal groan, Keanu picked up the pace and as their bodies moved, the rug below Y/n felt oddly rough, rubbing against her bare skin. He felt so good inside her, stretching her, his generous length reaching her deepest point of pleasure. As they kept going, Keanu reached between again, them, his index and middle finger rubbing her cilt and Y/n moaned breathily, shutting her eyes and biting her lip at the added sensation. 

Eventually, the coil in the pit of her stomach was about to snap and Y/n was clawing at Keanu’s back, her nails raking across his skin, hard enough to leave angry red bruises, “I’m gonna.....god Keanu,” she moaned loudly.

“Do it,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse and low, his face buried in her hair, “I want to feel you come around me.”

With her breathing still ragged and heavy, Y/n moaned Keanu’s name again, clenching around him as he rode though her orgasm. Her legs, which were still around his waist, held their hips close and shook with pleasure as her back arched and she threw her head back.

Keanu was close behind her and when he was about to pull out, Y/n tightened her legs around him encouraging, “Come inside me baby,” she suggested, the overwhelming desire to have him lingering in her like that, giving that to him, clouding her judgement.

“Fuck!” He managed, the word muffled by his lips on her neck as he shot his hot release inside of her, his formerly controlled thrusts going sloppy and their thighs growing sticky with release.

Even after his own orgasm, Keanu lingered between her legs, and eventually, when he pulled out, rolling onto his back, Y/n winced at the emptiness. Their breathing slowed as the high took its time to fade, and as they adjusted on the floor, Keanu pulled Y/n to his chest. They didn’t speak- there wasn’t much to say, at least not right then, but Y/n and Keanu both knew that soon, they’d have to.

*******

Tagging- @baphometwolf666  @kindainlovewithkeanu  @a-really-bi-girl  @soarocks  @harrisongslimited

#Keanu Reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #Keanu reeves x you #Keanu reeves fanfic #Keanu reeves fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick #the one that stays #the one that stays chapter 5 #chapter 5

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Parent Trap 4/10 (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: Annie and Hallie are twin sisters who never met until they end up in the same summer camp together. They decide to switch places to see how the other lives. Hallie heads to Los Angeles to meet Keanu, owner of Arch Motorcycle Company, while Annie goes to New York to meet you, rising fashion designer and their aunt. Their plan is simple: get their parents together to make the perfect family. If only it could be that easy… Previous chapters: prologue | 1 2 3: 

Author’s notes: So here we are, back with parent trap. I shall remember for future references that I can’t manage two series at once. Anyway, let’s get to it and as usual feedback is always greatly appreciated.

Wordcount: 3404

Warnings: none. Just lots of fluff

You looked away from the blank page of your sketchbook and across the cashier’s counter to Hallie. It had been a couple of days since the girl had returned home and to your surprise, she asked to come to the store with you.

It wasn’t completely unusual for her to come. There was a nice bookstore a couple of stores over and she sometimes liked to spend time reading there. The elderly couple that owned the place pampered Hallie with cookies like she was their grandkid and in turn, she helped them with computer stuff and small tasks around the shop.

What was surprising was to see Hallie browsing the racks of clothes in the store, picking up a few pieces and bringing with her to mirror to check it out, adding this and that accessory to see how she could look on the outfit. Once in a while, she would ask if there were any of them in her size and if she could have it.

That along with all the other odd things you had been noticing about your niece were starting to, well not exactly worry you, more like get you to notice and pay attention even more than usual. It was all small little things, like going off meat and making sure to stylish her hair every morning or how she would try to sneak some ham pieces to Salem to get the cat to come over or how she was always on the phone…

Of course, you didn’t expect her to stay the same forever. Hallie was a teenager, she was growing up, discovering herself and what she liked, who she wanted to be. It was just weird to witness the process and how fast it seemed to be happening. You didn’t remember going through so many changes at once. Then again, your teen years had been spent under Mary’s shadow since she demanded so much attention from your parents.

You were the quiet kid, the one that didn’t give any trouble. Maybe that was why you didn’t feel like much had changed for you. You were always the one that spent hours in your room, either reading or drawing, Mary was the one with all the friends and parties and behavior issues. Now here you were, raising her child, while Mary…

Letting out a sigh at your gloomy thoughts, your attention shifted to the board you built as inspiration for your new collection. Color pallet and textures, geometric figures and flowers and movies and songs, they all called to you whenever you were trying to create, but it almost felt like this time you couldn’t get anything down on paper and it was getting so frustrating.

“You have that look on,” Maggie said, coming from storage with a few new outfits to change the mannequins. “The I can’t draw and I want to punch something look. It’ll come to you. Just be patient.”

“I didn’t know you had a name for it,” you chuckled, setting the pencil aside. “And I can’t afford to be patient, we have bills to pay.”

Once again you sighed, reminded of the three envelops of overdue charges that you stuck in your drawer on Friday. You needed a new collection ASAP and it needed to do well otherwise the store would have to close doors and everything you and Maggie had fought for would be over.

She had been with you since the beginning, the marketing and sales guru to your artistic tendencies. Maggie was the one to suggest the store in the first place. The one who built the website for online shopping… Basically, she was the one that made all of this possible and you couldn’t even deliver your end.

“We still have some savings to hold us until next month,” Maggie assured, squeezing your shoulders. “Just go easy on yourself, enjoy your time with Hallie and it will happen.”

At the mention of your niece’s name, you turned your attention at the girl again. She was spotting one of the dresses on sale, along with the personalized denim jacket you made for her, her battered old converse and a pair of aviators from the store. She looked amazing and stylish and you stood up, picking up the camera you kept in the store.

You were hoping to sneak a picture since you knew Hallie hated them, but as soon as she saw the camera, she actually struck a pose for you. Deciding to think about it later, you snapped several pictures of the girl noticing she had a natural talent for modeling.

“Put this one on, please,” you asked, giving Hallie one of the daisy overshirts from the latest collection and she dutifully obeyed before you led her outside where the light was better.

You got lost in the process of taking pictures. It had been quite a while since you had done it. Usually, Maggie was the one to take pictures for the store social media so you forgot how this could be fun, especially with such a willing model. Hallie worked effortlessly through the suggested poses, only pausing to change outfits, always with a wide smile in her face.

“What do we have here?” the familiar smooth baritone of Jason brought you back to the present and you realized it was almost noon. “Hallie willingly letting her picture to be taken?”

You put the camera down, tilting your head to receive the kiss Jason pressed on your cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back as he looked over at Hallie, which made your attention turn to her as well.

Hallie loved Jason. He was like an uncle to her, but right now she was looking from him to you to the point of contact between you two with a deep frown. You didn’t know why her stare made you self-conscious, but you stepped away so Jason was no longer touching you and offered him a quick smile.

“I guess she was feeling generous,” you joked weakly and Jason at least flashed a smile back, but Hallie didn’t react at all.

“Well, I hope I’m not interrupting. Just thought I could take my two favorite girls to lunch.”

His smile widened all white teeth and sweet dimples. His blue eyes warm and hopeful and you felt the familiar warmth in your chest as you nodded, glancing at Hallie once again.

“That sounds great, doesn’t it, Hal?”

“Sure,” the girl replied dryly. “I’m gonna change.”

She was gone before you could even think about saying anything else, leaving you to stand alone with Jason in awkward silence.

“Is everything ok?” he asked, with a confused frown and you just shrugged because you had no idea.

The walk to the deli was made in a strange silence because every time Jason tried to strike up a conversation, Hallie would just give him monosyllabic responses and whenever he tried to talk to you, she would just give you two this look and any conversation would simply die down.

You wished you knew what was happening, why she was being so cold with Jason, but you couldn’t just ask when he was right there. It would be rude.

“Did I do something?” Jason asked when Hallie excused herself to go to the restroom. “I mean, she’s usually hard to please, but today…”

“I don’t know,” you sighed and shrugged. “She’s just…” you trailed off, unsure what to say because how could you definite it without being weird?

“Anyway…” Jason started, thankfully moving on from the subject. “I ran into Becky yesterday.” You just arched your eyebrow at him in expectation, because whenever he ran into his ex trouble seemed to follow. “She’s helping to organize this fashion show in Los Angeles and one of their designers dropped off last minute so I kinda showed some of your stuff and she was interested.”

You froze, bagel halfway to your mouth. Did you just hear Jason right? He had asked his ex-girlfriend, a woman you couldn’t stand, for a spot on her fashion show on your behalf.

“I know what you’re thinking…” Jason started and you snorted.

“I don’t think so.”

“Seriously, I know you have your issues with Becky, but this a real chance for you and the store.” You hated that he was right.

“When is it gonna be?”

“In two weeks,” he said with a grimace. “And it has to be all-new pieces.”

“Fuck!”

You had been struggling for a month to get anything on paper and now you had to have an entire collection ready in two weeks. You wiped the cream cheese filling that has spilled from your bagel on the napkin and looked out the window. There was no way you could do it. But if you didn’t do it, you’d be missing a huge opportunity.

“Alright,” you sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Tell her yes.”

“You can do this,” Jason said with a smile, taking your hand across the table. “I believe in you.”

You wished you could be as confident in yourself as Jason seemed to be, but right now a knot of anxiety had just formed in your belly, the loose ends snaking around your chest, squeezing your lungs and making it harder to breathe.

“I should get going,” you sighed, grabbing your things just as Hallie finally emerged from the restroom, her expression lighting up as she noticed you were getting ready to leave. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye Justin!” Hallie called out over her shoulder with a barely disguised smirk as she followed you outside, her own uneaten veggie sub in hand.

“What was that?” you asked with a suspicious frown as the two of you made your way back to the store. “Justin?”

“I messed up his name. Sorry.” She shrugged looking to anyone else like the picture of innocent, but you knew better. So you just stared Hallie down, eyebrow crocked up in expectation, arms crossed over your chest. “Fine!” she sighed. “What’s up with you and Jason?”

You weren’t expecting this question and it took you by surprise, making you start walking again as a way to avoid Hallie’s piercing green eyes. She always had a way to look at you that made you just talk about anything even if she was just a kid and you shouldn’t just tell her everything you were feeling.

“He’s a friend, you know that,” you said trying to take the safe path out of this mess.

“Who’s clearly in love with you and you know it, Dave,” Hallie pointed out, quickening her step so she could step in front of you, making you halt. “Do you love him back?”

Of course, it would be Hallie to voice out the question that had been running through your head for years. Did you love Jason back? A part of you wanted to say yes. He was your best friend and had been with you through thick and thin.

He had been there through your parents’ death and Mary’s crisis and her death… He was there through all. He was that person you called when everything turned to shit and part of you knew you loved him. Of course, you did. You just…

“You love him but you’re not in love with him,” Hallie said with a soft smile and you huffed a breath, relief mixed with surprise. When did your kid turn that perceptive?

“I guess,” you shrugged, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so you could restart their walk. “I don’t really know why. He’s great, he’s just not…”

“What you want,” Hallie cut in, as usual, reading your mind and you nodded. “But do you know what you want?”

You thought about it for a moment, considering all the men you had been in love through your life. It had been many, especially not since Hallie, but there were two or three that left you wishing it could have turned into something more.

“He has to be good with kids,” you said at last. “And have a good sense of humor. He needs to understand that you and the store are my priority right now and he needs to have his own thing. I don’t like clingy guys.” You mused a little more, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “He needs to be kind, you know? And loving and supportive.”

As you spoke, you could see Hallie’s smile growing, her eyes looked brighter and excited like she was in on a secret that you weren’t, but you decided to let it go for the time being.

“And he needs to know how to cook, because you know I’m hopeless,” you joked, making Hallie laugh. “So if you know anyone like that, please send him my way?”

“Absolutely, Dave!” Hallie said with a quick wink just as you reached the store.

---

Keanu hummed happily as he busied himself with kneading the dough, a big smile on his face at his family was together joking and laughing as they got everything ready for pizza night as per tradition. It was the first since Annie returned from camp so he was determined to make sure she enjoyed it as much as always.

He would never admit it aloud, but ever since she asked for the camp, Keanu had been silently panicking. Annie was the most important person in his life right now and the thought of her growing up and slowly distancing herself, learning to be more and more independent, terrified him.

Keanu knew that he was being irrational. Annie wasn’t a baby anymore. She was a teenager and of course, she needed her independence and he needed to give her that. Help her build her life. And it wasn’t as if he was one of those parents that live for their kids. Yes, Annie was his priority, but he had Arch and his friends and family. He had a life. Which mostly consisted of his work life lately, but it was still a life, right?

Even if he couldn’t remember the last time he went on a real date with someone he really cared about. Maybe it was time to put himself out there again. Keanu wasn’t getting any younger and even if he had more or less gave up on his idea of the perfect little family, he still wanted to have someone in his life. Someone to share things, to love and support and who would do the same for him. Someone who understood Annie’s place in his life as well as Arch’s and how that didn’t mean Keanu would love them any less. Someone to share the wins and losses, someone to be his partner. Someone…

“Ke, I think the dough is good,” Karen called out making him snap out of his musings and look at her.

She was giving him a half-amused, half worried look from where she was cutting up the veggies for the topping. In her eyes, Keanu could see the silent question: was he ok? Did he need to talk about it?

He sighed and surveyed the kitchen. Annie was working on grating the cheese, while her cousin Daisy worked on the sauce. They were talking quietly and laughing like the great friends they were and Keanu smiled.

Even if he didn’t get that partner that he envisioned, he still knew he would be a pretty happy man. He was luckier than most.

“I’m good,” he whispered to Karen, wiping his hand on his apron, so he could pick up the pizza trays and olive oil spray so they could start spreading the dough. She just nodded in reply, her attention turning the two tweens to check their work.

It took longer than usual to get the two pizzas ready for the oven. One completely meat-free for Annie and Daisy and a pepperoni one for himself and Karen. Keanu really admired his daughter's stances on animal cruelty and he knew she wanted to go completely off animal products, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let her. Not yet at least. And it became something they could bond over, cooking together and the least fun bit of cleaning up together too.

“How long until they’re ready?” Annie asked, gathering the topping ingredients to store in the fridge. “I’m starving.”

Keanu checked the timer before turning to Annie to reply just to freeze as she casually popped a piece of pepperoni in her mouth. He glanced at Karen and his sister had the same bewildered expression that he sure was in his own face.

“Annie, what are you doing?” Daisy exclaimed, her tone getting high pitched and Annie stilled, looking at her. “We don’t eat meat!”

Keanu thought Daisy was overreacting a little bit, but the younger girl idolized Annie, following her around like a shadow whenever she came over to spend the summer and mimicking Annie in all possible ways, from her clothes to favorite music genre and lifestyle choices. Daisy had even gone off meat as well and he knew it was more to impress Annie than out of any real belief of her own.

“Right!” Annie said, looking alarmed as she glanced at her cousin. “Well, the camp had such terrible vegetarian options that I have to go back to eating it, but I’m going off again.”

She put the bowl of pepperoni away almost as if it had burned her before flashing a small sheepish smile to everyone in the kitchen. Keanu just shrugged. Sure it was weird because he was pretty sure he remembered something about the vegetarian menu in the camp as a criterion for her choice, but maybe it was just bad?

To him, it wasn’t a big deal. Annie was learning about herself every passing day and she was bound to go through changes. And sure, ever since she came back from camp, those changes seemed more prominent and it almost felt like Keanu was faced with a brand new Annie, but she was his daughter. She would always be his daughter, no matter how many little or big changes she went through.

So he pushed out of his mind, heading off to the back porch with Karen and some wine so they could watch the stars and talk while Daisy and Annie went to her room to do their hairs or something else.

Keanu laid back on one of the porch chairs, keeping a bit of a distance from his sister as he puffed in his cigarette, deep in thought. He could hear Karen shifting in her own seat, her intense gaze, much like his own, set on him.

“So mom is coming over next week,” she said conversationally and Keanu just nodded. He knew it already. “She has news to share.”

“Which usually means she has a new boyfriend,” Keanu sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Hope he’s not a dick like that Richard guy.”

“Me too,” Karen snorted. “How come our mom has a better love life than us?”

“I have no idea,” Keanu replied with a chuckle of his own. “Maybe we should ask for tips or something.”

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe we should accept the fate that we’re gonna die single and alone,” he joked dryly and Karen snorted.

“Aren’t you cheerful person, tonight?” she said, giving him the sideways glance. “Is that what got you so moody? Singlehood?”

“Not moody, just…” he paused, considering his words, but he couldn’t find a way to really describe it. “I’m 55. Maybe it’s time to just let go. Dating, I mean. I have my family and Arch and my friends… that’s enough, right?”

“Ke…” Karen let out a long exhale and once again he could feel her gaze on him, heavy and worried. “You’ve always wanted to get married. Maybe it’s taking a bit longer, but you’re gonna find that right person. I’m sure of it.” She reached over to squeeze his hand. “I bet they’re somewhere out there and when time is right, they’ll come into your life. I do believe in fate, you know?”

“Well, could you tell fate to hurry the fuck up?” Keanu joked with a grin, squeezing Karen’s hand back to let her know he was alright and that she didn’t need to worry about him.

And even if she was wrong. Even if that person never came, Keanu knew he would be alright. He had everything he needed right here.

xxx (tbc) xxx

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Tag list for Paren Trap

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#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #fanfic #alternate universe #parent trap #series #request

[thechampagnelovers]

@theleavesoflorien tagged me! Thanks love 💓

Answer 10 questions and come up with 10 questions of your own

1- You can go on adventure/a quest with one fictional character. Who do you pick and what do you do together?

Hands down Finn from Star Wars, he’s my favourite character from the Star Wars franchise ever. He can be the strong one and I can be the funny one, and if we both combine our half a brain cell we can come up with a good plan to save the galaxy or something, AND he has the force (fuck Disney, he has it okay) and that could come pretty handy in any moment. The only problem I could think of is that I have a bit of a crush on him and that could be catastrophic or amazing

2- vampires, werewolves, sirens or ghosts?

Werewolves guys, and here you have your two reasons why: Jacob Black and Remus Lupin

3- describe your ideal home

I would say my grandparents house at the beach is the closest to my ideal home: it has huge windows, a fireplace, and a balcony where you can see the ocean. Also it’s like half a block away from the beach and it’s surrounded by trees. Maybe my ideal home could be like that, but a little bit more modern on the inside

4- if you were only able to read one book for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

Ahhhhhhh this questions is impossible to answer lajdjskdj how can I choose just ONE for the rest of my life? I’m gonna cheat a little bit with this one and say Harry Potter, but all the 7 books, I’ve read them so many times already but I could never get tired of them

5- what animal do you identify the most/ what’s your patronus?

I have no clue, I’ve been told lions or tigers and I really like them but 🤷🏽‍♀️ also I don’t remember what my patronus is (fuck pottermore) but I’m pretty sure it was a cat. So, I guess some type of feline?

6- you get to ask one question to your favourite celebrity or historical figure. What do you ask and to whom?

I want to meet Malala! I’m not quite sure what I would ask her tbh, but she’s been such an inspiration to me and I think she’s an amazing person. Again I’m gonna cheat with this question and just I would let the conversation flow and see what happens.

7- what’s one song cover you’d like to see happen?

I need a Louis cover of Good Riddance, Coming Clean or Amy by Green Day. Basically I need to hear Louis singing anything from GD

8- if you were a colour, which one would you be?

Let’s get a little imaginative here, I would be a mix of green and red (not brown, but a new color) because I think both colours represent the both parts of me. It’s the calm and the excitement, the peace and the riot, the life and the death wow that sounds so poetic for a Christmas tree pallet

9- what real of fictional person would you like to take on a platonic or romantic date?

lkaksksksjsjs if you don’t know the answer to this we’re not mutuals. NIALL OBVIOUSLY and it wouldn’t be platonic at all, it’s gonna be very romantic. If he doesn’t write a song about me after our date then consider it a failure.

10- what’s one skill you wish to gain or develop?

I wish I could dance dude, I dance like a muppet.

✨💖✨💞

This are my 10 questions for the people I’m tagging:

What’s your favourite concert you’ve been to and why?

What are 3 things you like about your country/culture?

If you could travel through time, would you go to the past of the future and why?

What’s a hidden talent you have that few people/no one else has?

If you can only eat one food for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

Pick 3 mutuals to go on adventure with and explain why would you choose them?

If you could change bodies with one person for a day, who would you choose? (You live their lifes for a day)

What’s your pet peeve?

Pineapple on pizza, yes or no? Elaborate your answer (I’m gonna judge you with this one)

Would you get tattooed a poop emoji for $500.000 dollars?💩💩💩

And that’s it: I’m tagging @flamboyo-xx @loveonniall @moonlwt @strawberryhabit @lgbtlouis and @rainberrycurses-archive (you don’t have to if you don’t want to) xx 💓

#oh this was SO FUN #i love this #tag game #personal

[umbrahighpriestofgiratina]

Pallete

Here it is, my entry to the Origins Kanto contest on the Serebii forums. I had to do some edits to try and fix the more glaring flaws the judges pointed out, but I liked how it turned out regardless. The following fic is written like a children's fable, influenced heavily by too much Okami and Undertale on the author's part. Presenting, Palette

--------- KANTO, LONG LONG AGO ----------------- Sunlight filtered through the trees on a warm summer evening. Pidgey chirped, Caterpie crawled, it all seemed normal. In reality, the various forest Pokemon were trying to avoid setting off the gods in their midst. In a clearing in the forest, three majestic birds- one red, one blue, one yellow - perched across from a pink sprite, between them a plate of food. "Thanks for taking us out to a picnic!" said the yellow bird, Zapdos, to the pink sprite, a Mew. "The food is quite lovely," said the blue bird, Articuno. "And you probably needed time off from your duties as Kanto's chief guardian." "This event is peaceful, yet full of passion!" said the red bird, Moltres. The Mew chuckled. "Glad you're all enjoying this!" Shortly after, however, she worriedly glanced over at a pot set aside from the food, one stewing with some strange energy. "What is that?" asked Moltres. "Er, hehe," said Mew, "that's Giratina's special sake brew! I was going to deliver it to my father Xerneas after this!" "Sake? Neat!" said Zapdos. "Hell yeah! I could use a drink!" said Moltres. "Don't mind if I do," said Articuno. "Wait, wait, don't-" said the Mew. Too late. The legendary birds had tipped over the pot. Instantly a black sludge spilled out and started spreading rapidly and seeping into everything. The legendary birds and the Mew flew upwards in a panic and watched in horror as the blight spread as far as the eye can see, draining color from everything it touched. "Well," said Mew. "What I was about to say is that when not properly refined by my father Giratina's special brew has some... reality-warping effects. And you three spilled enough to curse and drain the color from the entire Kanto region!" Zapdos cowered as much as he could in midair. Moltres looked around nervously while Articuno merely sighed. "We're sorry!" said Zapdos. "We didn't mean to unleash a curse!" "This can be fixed, right?" said Moltres, looking around at the color-drained landscape. "No point in panicking," said Articuno. "Let's hear what Mew has to say." "I know what to say all right. As punishment, you three are going to fix this." "Er, roger that," said Zapdos. "'We'll get it done in no time!" said Moltres. Articuno sighed. "This is going to be a headache..." ------------- The color-drained landscape stretched on and on. The three birds were increasingly intimidated by the sight of it, and as time went on Zapdos started to lose hope. "Geez... We really messed up, huh... I dunno if it can be fixed." "It'll be fine," said Moltres, "We just gotta do what Mew said and find something to restore color with." "Question is where..." said Moltres. It was then the bird trio heard a loud whimpering. "Er, is that you, Moltres?" said Zapdos. "Why would it be me?!" said Moltres. "Look, over there," said Articuno, pointing to the ground with a foot. There where Articuno pointed was a small, quivering, colorful lump. ...Wait, colorful? "Hey!" said Zapdos, "we can use this to restore the colors!" He swooped down to claim the lump only to be met with a scream. The lump, in actuality, was a child, swaddled in a colorful blanket. Moltres tsked tsked. "Calm down, Zapdos! It's just a kid!" Articuno eyed the child curiously. "Maybe we need a gentler approach..." Things were still for a moment. Then three Pidgey - one red, one blue, and one yellow - fluttered down to the child hesitantly. The child giggled and attempted to pet the Pidgey as they darted out of the way. The yellow Pidgey, Zapdos, looked the kid over. "We need that blanket to bring the colors back... but we can't just take it away from this kid." "Maybe we lead the child where we need them to go?" said Articuno. "Good idea!" said Moltres. The multicolored Pidgey gripped the child and effortlessly started carrying them away. The child giggled the whole while. -------------- The group eventually emerged in a small spot in the trees were a village had taken root; the village consisted of a few small houses surrounding a larger, central one. The color had been drained from all of them, and the people and Pokemon were so drained they looked like uncanny phantoms. "Now what?" said Zapdos. "We should start by restoring color to here, right?" said Moltres. "Question is how," said Articuno. "We have the blanket but little else." Articuno inspected the child. They noticed they were playing at a thread in the blanket butthat seemed to be it. But then they looked closer and noticed it wasn't a thread. "Is... is that a wisp of color?" Indeed, as the viridian wisp drifted down it started restoring color to the grass. "It's so little though... do you think there's enough?" said Zapdos. "Only one way to find out," said Moltres. She grabbed the wisp of color in her Pidgey beak and started spreading it around, soaring over the village. The color dripped down as if paint, filling in the village and surrounding trees. The child laughed and clapped at the spectacle. Soon the whole village had been restored to normal, at the cost of the viridian square of the blanket now being a dull gray. "Ha! Easy!" said Zapdos. "We'll take care of this color thing in no time!" "We'll cover all of Kanto in brilliant colors!" said Moltres. "On to the next village then..." said Articuno. The group headed off. Something in the uncolored areas shifted and twisted. --------- Zapdos was sitting by himself, in Pidgey form, snoozing. Then, however, he felt a poke, and heard a giggle. He opened one eye to see the child peering at him curiously. "Look, kid, you need to be fed again?" The child giggled again. "Ornery aren't you. Kinda like me when I was your age." He stopped and stared. "Lugia that was a long time ago..." The child gave him an odd look, then scooped him up in a hug. The Pidgey-Zapdos squaked but then leaned in. "Heh... This is actually kinda nice..." ----------- The next city the group came upon was a port, one that would be normally bustling and thriving but instead was still and listless from the curse. "Okay," said Zapdos, "we just need another color from the blanket again and..." He tried tugging at a cinnabar patch with his Pidgey beak, but only got thread. "Hey! What gives?" Articuno sighed. "Perhaps we need the right color for the job..." The child clutched the blanket tightly. "Problem is the kid's blanket has a lot of colors," said Moltres, shaking her Pidgey head. "How do we know which is the right one for the job?" "I suppose we look around," said Articuno. And so they did, passing wisps of humans and Pokemon until they reached an awe-inspiring sight: A statue of a samurai and his Arcanine. Zapdos paused to read the inscription at the base of the statue. "Dedicated to Hideki the... the... and his Arcanine companion Kamiya... Something's missing!" "Let me guess," said Moltres, sighing. "It's the solution to this puzzle." Articuno noticed the child had wandered off to play with a Pokemon that was noticeably less wisp-like than the rest; specifically a Growlithe. Articuno hopped over to the Growlithe. "Excuse me, ma'am, we're on a mission; can you tell us more about Samurai Hideki?" The Growlithe tilted her head before barking affirmatively. "Aye! Hideki and Kamiya are very famous around here! They're heroes!" "Did Hideki have a title of some sort? Perhaps a color?" "Oh yeah! The title just got knocked off the statue during the weird color blight! For some reason no one can remember it! I think it started with a V? Pet me!" The child obliged, while Articuno put a wing to their chin in thought. "So a color that starts with V... Viridian? No, we already kinda had that... violet? No, that can't be it..." They noticed a bright red similar but distinct from the cinnabar on the child's blanket. "Wait a minute." They tugged gently on it. A color wisp, not thread, came out. They brought the wisp over to the blanked engraving on the statue. In an instant "Hideki the Vermillion" was restored, and from their color spread out to affect the entire port city in cascading waves. "You did it, Articuno!" said Zapdos. "I sure did," said Articuno, giving a bird smirk. "Pet me!" said the Growlithe. "Come on, guys!" said Moltres. "The rest will be a cinch at this rate!" The group headed out of the port. The non-colored shadows continue to shift. --------- Now it was the child's turn to sit by themself. Zapdos fluttered to their side. "Hey kid." No response. They were just kind of slumped. "What's wrong?" The child looked wistfully off. "...Let me guess you miss your parents." The child nodded. "Well , don't worry. After this color mission is over we'll get you back to them. I promise." The child hesitated, then hugged Zapdos again. Zapdos cooed. ---------- The next town the group came across was another port, and in a similar state to the last. This time, however, the group noticed what in particular was off really quickly: "What's with the water?" said Zapdos. Indeed, the water, which in addition to being drained of color like everything else, seemed to be made of roiling sludge now. "Ick." said Moltres. "Is this some kind of pollution?" "Seems like it," said Articuno. Maybe we should-" Before they could finish their sentence something emerged from the water. It looked like a Seadra, but its features were off, almost distorted. Its nose was stretched out, its fins were the wrong shape, and its scales had a grossly different pattern. Its entire body seemed to be made of strange, tiny, interwoven blocks. Its eyes stared at the group, cold, unfeeling. Then the Seadra lunged at the child as they screamed. Quickly, Zapdos intervened, shifting out of his Pidgey form just enough to zap the Seadra with a Thunderbolt. The Seadra immediately burst into black motes that quickly disintegrated and vanished. The child collapsed, sobbing. "What the hell was that?" said Moltres. "No ordinary Seadra, that's what," said Zapdos. "This color curse also seems to be summoning monstrosities," said Articuno. "We must be careful on our mission." Zapdos glanced worriedly at the crying child. "Are they gonna be OK?" "I think they'll be fine. Kid's been pretty tough so far." said Moltres. "They should still be good to help us with our journey;" said Articuno. "Speaking of..." The child had stopped crying and was starting to stroke the blanket affectionately. A cerulean patch of the blanket had started glowing. Articuno took the glow and placed it on the ocean waves. The glow overtook the ocean, replacing the sludge with crystal-clear cerulean water. The glow then spread outward and onward to the rest of the port town, coloring it anew. "Well our work here is done," said Zapdos. "What about the Seadra monster?" said Moltres. "Creatures like those may very well be lurking in the uncolored parts," said Articuno. "We must be careful." And so off they went. ---------- Once again, Zapdos approached the child when the others were resting. This time, however, he noticed the child trembling. "What's wrong?" The child kept shaking. "Was... was it that Seadra monster?" The child nodded. "Ah, ah geez..." said Zapdos. Here. He tucked his head under the child's arm and cooed. The child started petting him. Despite it all Zapdos thought to himself. Me and the others need to talk. --------- The group at this point was headed through a dark, de-colored forest, with the darkness of the woods and the lack of color and wisp-like mons bearing over them. The child looked around cautiously as the birds carried them, but they weren't the only one that was nervous. Zapdos was worriedly looking between the child, the other birds, and back over and over before he finally spoke. "...Hey guys?" "Yes?" said Articuno. "What is it?" said Moltres. "It's about the kid. Don't you think we're being a little too hard on them?" "What do you mean?" said Articuno. "Well, we've been... Been acting like they're a means to an end," said Zapdos. "Not a person." "That's ridiculous!" said Moltres. "We wouldn't do that, now would we?" "We've been lugging them all over Kanto just stopping to rest, eat, drink and restore color and yet we barely acknowledge them otherwise," said Zapdos. "They're there for the blanket. And they almost got killed back there." "Well, we need them," said Articuno, "and will protect them as needed." "As needed?!" said Zapdos. "That's kinda cold considering we used to be humans once!" There was silence. Moltres shuffled awkwardly. The child looked at them oddly. Articuno sighed. "We will never demean or forget what Pandora Mew and Lugia have done for us." said Articuno. "But Kanto needs us. We will do what we can for the child but the whole is in greater danger." "The whole? The whole is made of individual parts! Every human... Every Pokemon... They're all important! Like... colors in an artist's palette! That kid's part of that just like everyone else!" "Can we just keep going?" said Moltres. "We won't accomplish anything debating how to treat the kid." Indeed the child stopped observing them oddly and started walking ahead. Zapdos ruffled his Pidgey feathers. "Fine..." They left, carrying the child off. And were silent a good while. ------------------- The next town they got to was a dim, bleary town even factoring in the lack of color. The group looked around warily, not sure what to think. A tower loomed in the distance. "Well," said Zapdos, "Where do we start here? This place is spooky." "The tower seems like an ideal spot." said Articuno. "Yeah, seems like a safe bet for... shenanigans," said Moltres. The three approached and entered the tower. It was quiet, and the group could tell from looking around that this was a holy place for honoring the dead. So why did something feel... off? The four advanced slowly. Then they heard a wailing. "Ack!" said Zapdos. "Of course this place is spooky..." "Something's off about it though..." said Articuno. "It sounds like a cry for help!" said Moltres. The group rushed over to find a cowering Haunter. The child giggled and played with the ghost's tail, causing her to wail more. "Is something the matter?" said Articuno. "Monsters!" said the Haunter. "Like us Ghosts but... scarier!" "More of them here?" said Moltres. "We ought to take care of them..." said Zapdos. The Haunter suddenly screamed and dove into its own shadow. "They're coming!" Indeed, several gray, distorted, block-woven Gengar approached. Like the Seadra, they converged on the child, who screamed and hid. Unlike the Seadra, they spoke. Muttering the word "home" in strange tinny voices over and over as they clutched and lunged at the child and their blanket. Articuno and Moltres shifted to their true forms, attacking the bizarre Gengar with ice and fire blasts. Zapdos covered the child with his wings, the monsters trying to pry him off. "I could use a little help here!" he said. "We'd try but they keep coming!" said Moltres. Indeed more and more Gengar kept coming from the shadows, their cacophonous cries of "home" getting louder and louder. Zapdos looked down at the cowering child and saw there was a glowing lavender patch to the blanket. Zapdos took hold of the patch with his beak and threw it at the ghosts. Instantly, they faded away peacefully as the color spread, taking over the whole tower and then the whole town. "You did it!" said the Haunter. "They're go-" She stopped and stared at the three Legendary Birds before her. "Oh great holy ones!" said the Haunter. "Thank you so much for saving us from those abomina-" "Pipe down Rebecca!" said another, male Haunter. "They're probably insulted by you groveling!" "Well I don't see you showing any respect, Wrathbert!" As the two ghosts argued, the birds shrank down to their Pidgey forms, the child giggling and patting their heads. "You should have had your priorities straight," said Zapdos. "We know, we know," said Moltres, rolling her eyes. "At the very least," said Articuno, "we know for sure the monsters want the source of the colors, which also somehow dispel them... And they want something to do with "home"." "Well we're probably not going to find out here." said Moltres. "Let's keep going." And they left the tower. --------------------- This time, Zapdos had dragged the other two birds before the child. "Talk." The child waved. "They don't talk is the thing!" said Moltres, fluffing her feathers indignantly. "They've been silent ever since we met them!" "Calm yourself Moltres," said Articuno. "I think we can work with this." They approached the child, her blue Pidgey form hopping over. "Hello. Do you need something?" The child reached over and pet Articuno. "Ack! That... Oh, that actually feels good." The child started scratching under their chin. "Yes, right there..." "Hey!" said Moltres. "I... I want some!" She scooched over to push Articuno aside, getting pets and scratches herself. "Heh... Guess you were right about the kid being a nice one," said Articuno. Zapdos just gave a big beaky bird grin. -------------- The group eventually reached another town, by the southern coast. It was plain, gray, quiet. Once again something felt off. The birds looked around while the child's face seemed to light up in recognition as they searched for something. The the group heard wingbeats. They looked up to find three monsters in the shape of three beings in particular: Articuno. Zapdos. Moltres. The child, the birds, the wisps in the village. All were paralyzed with fear. Then the monster birds lunged for the child and the blanket. Immediately the true birds shifted to their true forms to ward them off. Each darted to meet their doppelganger - Articuno moved to freeze the monster Articuno's wings with Ice Beam, Moltres attempted to counter the monster Moltres' flames with Flamethrower, and Zapdos tried to fry the monster Zapdos with Thunderbolt. But the monsters barely budged, screaming "home, take us home!" in their tinny voices. "What the hell do you mean by that?!" said Moltres. She looked around and saw the child fleeing, dragging the blanket. "Wait... The color banishes these things... but does it also send them... Home?" In her distraction, however, the other Moltres broke free of her assault and rushed the child, charging up an attack. Moltres panicked and rushed over to grab the child, just as the other Moltres fired a strange-looking Fire Blast. The child was saved. The blanket was not. "No!" said Moltres. Upon seeing the blanket destroyed the monster birds screeched in rage and agony. "Home, you took home from us, you will die die di-" Suddenly they were attacked by a powerful psychic blast, sending them flying back. The birds turned to see the Mew floating in the air above them. "I'll hold them off! Get the kid to their house in this village!" "Which house?" said Zapdos. "...Moltres! Let them lead the way!" said Articuno. Moltres placed the child down and they ran toward one particular house in the village. The door opened. Two women opened the door, saw the child, and embraced them. Everything was still. The monster birds sighed as if freed from an incredible pain and faded away. A wave color spread out not just from the house but to all of Kanto, flowers and trees sprouting alongside it. The birds looked along in awe. "So... What just happened there?" said Zapdos. "I think I know," said Articuno. "The potential to bring color back was not in the blanket, but the potential of the child themself." "Sounds about right," said the Mew. "Heh... Guess you were right, huh Zapdos?" said Moltres. "Aw yeah, I love being right!" said Zapdos. He then looked over to the child and their parents. "...Are they gonna be OK?" "They're with the ones they love," said the Mew. "They'll be fine. Perhaps go on to do great things." "If you say so..." said Articuno. "They look happy at least," said Moltres. "Anyway," said Mew. "You three want to have a normal picnic now?" There were several cries from the birds of "heck yeah" "for sure" and "agreed" before the group flew off. ------------------ "...And that's why even hundreds of years later and even after the Kanto Civil War the towns and cities of Kanto have color names!" "Really?" said the Pikachu. "I don't remember hearing that from my Trainer... Then again he was always the silent type." "Heh, I know what you mean... Pass it on to your teammates at least?" "Oh, I will," said the Pikachu, running off. The Pidgey he was talking to gave a bird smile and stretched his wings. Zapdos flew off. *** As a note "Wrathbert" is a cameo of a character by my friend CorvusAtrox.  And I hope whoever reads this enjoys it!

#fanfiction #pokemon #yangverse #zapdos #kanto

[starspatter]

WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments.  (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.)  I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right?  Don’t worry, it’s really simple.  One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh?  A ‘demon’?  But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear.  Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within.  She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then?  Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others.  It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time.  (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~)  For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes.  The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars.  With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for.  ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building.  His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table.  Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair.  That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi.  The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another...  Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself.  (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love.  But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this.  This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates.  I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be.  In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters.  For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it.  As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes.  Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright.  The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat.  The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao.  I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger.  “In all this time, why didn’t you come back?  You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child.  But he wasn’t a child.  Children were forgiven for their mistakes.  And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder.  “It’s the way this town works.  We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world.  Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia.  She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry.  It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze.  Over 10 years, huh.  But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering.  It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend).  *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories.  (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;()  What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all).  I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training.  I mean that in an intuitive sort of way.  Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else.  Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about.  Perhaps not.  Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this.  As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards.  It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly.  She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes.  She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze.  She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know.  This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL).  In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher.  So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again.  However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence.  As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*).  So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference.  (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now.  They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below.  The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought.  I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real.  The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this.  I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage.  I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic.  I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia.  The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend.  I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right.  I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun.  The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved.  This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted.  However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag.  One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead.  Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It.  Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch?  It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her.  Twice she nearly caught one.  Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands.  The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone. 

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol.  I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting).  I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination.  Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East.  She knew about the Light that came from Outside.  There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through.  She had always done well to avoid them.  The brightness was like poison to her skin.  But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely.  He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream.  She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was.  Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”.  In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn.  But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway.  She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread.  I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference.  (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

#Kagerou Project #Tateyama Ayano #Mekakushi Trio #Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu #ItsuHaru #ItsuYuki #Pokemon #Gary Oak #Molly Hale #fanfiction #starstories #astrologista #atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine #benditlikegumby #cryptoriawebb #ibmiller #iceperialprincess #otherwise uncolonized