#If sincerely you are looking for a perfect combination of experience | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yournowheregirl · 8 months

Text

read my mind

rating: G | wc: 1225 | cw: none

The first word that comes to mind when Eddie steps foot into the Harrington house is ‘chaos’.

Which is weird, because he had come to know Steve’s house as neat and very much put together. It was probably a combination of weekly cleaning and the fact of Mrs. Harrington’s obsession with interior design and keeping everything absolutely perfect, even though she wasn’t there most of the time. But this time there are loose pieces of paper all over the floor and a pile of books in the middle of the hallway, like someone had spent hours researching something.

Eddie also hears some kind of ruckus coming from the kitchen and he prepares himself for the worst. He might not be all that up-to-date with all of the crazy shit that’s been happening in Hawkins over the last few years, but he has been through enough to know that something weird can happen at anytime.

As he approaches the kitchen, Eddie jangles his keys, sliding them between his fingers as a makeshift weapon, just in case. He stomps his feet a little louder than usual and takes a deep breath, preparing for the worst, as he turns the corner.

If he thought the hallway was chaotic, it’s nothing in comparison to what Eddie finds in the kitchen. The clutter of books and loose papers had made its way onto the tiled floor, but it was joined with what looks like miles and miles of tin foil. Eddie’s eyes follow the silver trail to the other side of the kitchen, where he finds the two culprits.

Steve is sitting at the kitchen table with Robin sitting on the floor in between his legs, and while that isn’t something unusual, their accessories definitely are. Because Steve is wearing an absolutely ridiculous tin foil hat, with a pointy end and all, and for a second Eddie wonders if this is a new hair routine for him. Steve is focused on making a hat for Robin, it seems, as he’s wrapping even more tin foil around her head as well.

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

“Babe!” Steve says with a bright smile. “You came at the perfect time!”

“Uh, you invited me, and also, that doesn’t answer my question. What the fuck are you two doing?” Eddie asks again. “Is this the new and improved Steve Harrington hair ritual?”

“No,” Robin replies with a roll of her eyes. “We’re testing out our telepathy.”

Eddie blinks, completely dumbfounded at what Robin had just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, there must have been something in that bunker, or in the Upside Down, something, because we totally have powers now. Like, I always know what Robin’s thinking, for some reason,” Steve says, and oh God, he’s being sincere isn’t he?

“Yes! So today, while I was shelving tapes at work, I was thinking about how the moon landing was totally faked, right? And then Steve just finished my thought, saying ‘oh yeah, they faked it for sure’ like it was nothing,” Robin says excitedly. ”I didn’t even say anything! He just read my mind!”

Now Eddie hasn’t been scared away from the freaky sides of things, it even earned him a nickname, but this is a little too weird. Even for him. There’s no way that Steve and Robin actually have supernatural powers, no matter how hard they try to believe it. But then Eddie notices how excited they both are, and the big smiles on their faces make him smile as well. Sure, they’re being ridiculous right now, but he figures they deserve to be after all they’ve been through.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What can I do to help?”

“Right, so…”

Apparently Robin has raided the Harrington’s personal library on all the science books they had (which Eddie had noticed in the hallway) and cooked up an experiment that will prove once and for all that she and Steve are telepathically connected. All Eddie has to do is a little word association, and if both Robin and Steve write down the same word without looking at each other’s answers, it proves their connection beyond any doubt.

Well, Eddie still has his doubts, but whatever.

Once Steve and Robin are all set, their backs against each other and a piece of paper and pen in hand, Eddie gives them their first word: chocolate. He gives them both five seconds to think of something, but while they look very confident, their answers don’t match up.

“Sorry. Steve said milk and Robin said cocoa,” Eddie tsks. “Not a match.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” Robin scoffs. “Another one.”

“Fine. Your next word is, uh, sun.”

After five seconds, Steve shows his paper, which says summer, while Robin’s says hot. Again, not a match.

“Well, summers are hot, so we’re getting close.” Steve shrugs. “We’ll get the next one, Robs, I can feel it.”

But with every word Eddie throws at them, they continue getting close to a similar answer (Steve answers ‘sky’ while Robin says ‘galaxy’ when Eddie gives them the word ‘star’) but it’s never an exact match. This doesn’t deter them in the slightest; they continue to be convinced of their powers while Eddie starts to believe less and less. Not that he believed it in the first place.

That is until…

“Okay, final one,” Eddie sighs, and because his stomach is rumbling, says, “Hungry.”

Steve and Robin scribble away on their papers and then show Eddie their words in unison. For the first time, they have the exact same word on paper: ‘pasta.’ Eddie must look either shocked or impressed at this turn of events, because Steve positively lights up at the sight of him.

“Did we get it?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at Robin’s paper and beaming when he sees the answer. “Robin! We got it!”

“I knew it! I knew we had a connection!” Robin exclaims. “Do you believe us now, Eddie?”

Eddie huffs in response. “That doesn’t prove anything. You’re just saying that because you were supposed to make pasta today, remember? You invited me over for lasagna?”

“Oh shit. You’re right,” Steve says with a sheepish grin on his face. He carefully removes the tinfoil hat and Eddie tries not to laugh at the ridiculous state of his hair. A very wise decision because he’s rewarded with a quick kiss from Steve. “I guess we got a little distracted. Sorry babe.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute,” Eddie flirts back. “Now, where’s the pasta?”

After the kitchen is cleaned up, Steve starts working on the lasagna. Eddie offers to help, but Steve tells him to just sit back and relax. Well, Eddie can definitely do just that. Robin does get to help though, saying something about the lasagna being her mom’s recipe, so she has the final say with the ingredients.

As Eddie watches them cook together, moving around the kitchen in perfect sync and handing each other spatulas and seasoning without asking for it, he can’t help but wonder if Steve and Robin do have some kind of psychic connection after all.

happy birthday!! @stobinesque 🎉🎁🎂 me and @legitcookie cooked up this little silly stobin brainworm for you to celebrate your birthday!! we hope you enjoyed!

#platonic stobin #steddie #platonic stobin fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things #alice's writing adventures

740 notes · View notes

ventique18 · 1 year

Text

Dreamlike

Malleus x Yuu♀️ (nameless) short one shot.

⚠️ Suggestive warning!

It's a hot summer. For Lilia, summer always makes him think of very specific things: beaches, watermelons, swimsuits. It's the perfect time to enjoy one's youth. Now, he's not actually young anymore to be bothered by such frivolities, but he is bothered anyway. It's because his young master, who is quite literally young and should, indeed, enjoy his youth, is instead spending time cooped up in his musty old library and eating nuts instead of watermelons or mangoes or coconuts.

That simply won't do. So, with the power vested in him as the boy's guardian, he manages to forc--convince him to join a youth summer camp.

Malleus Draconia isn't particularly pleased. But since he's getting bored of the same tomes and scriptures anyway (the scheduled procurement of new books isn't until a few months more), he accepts and uses it as an excuse to loiter around the mountains by his lonesome.

Until one night he isn't quite alone. He isn't sure if it's good or bad fortune, but for the first time in his traditionalist life, he experiences something truly shocking.

He walks in on a woman bathing. In a river, by the forest. Completely, utterly, naked. He watches her a second too long, he's ashamed to confess.

"Like what you're seeing?"

That snaps him back to reality. Flustered, he blinks and his mouth babbles and his hands shift in many different combinations of poses that he dreads the woman might think he's performing an odd sort of avian mating dance.

"No," He speaks quickly, "What I mean is, please do not misunderstand and think that I find you foul or, unattractive. I don't. I do think you're rather fascinating. But it's not that I'm watching you deliberately, goodness no. Please do not be afraid as I do not plan on doing anything more than look. I mean,"

He sucks in a sharp breath. He's not making any rational sense, and he's sounding like a creep, "I am merely curious."

For all his attempts at sincerity, he's failing horribly as he just cannot take his eyes off her.

But she laughs, and with a shake of her head, asks him playfully, "Alright stranger, can you hand me my towel?"

He does, and he almost stumbles from how shaken he is from this whole ordeal.

Much to his surprise, the woman does not think badly of him at all. She, in fact, asks him to come back tomorrow night. Same place, same time. Now, he's no fool and knows better than to fall for such suspicious traps, so he ignores her request and walks through a different trail the following night.

... Until he circles back and finds his feet perching on a familiar stony path; soles drenched and socks dampened by the moonlit water.

There she is, swaying languidly in the clear river. He can fully see every inch and curve of her alluring body, yet she does not bother to hide herself nor reprimand him for his obviously captivated gaze. And whether by pure curiosity or something else entirely, he finds himself wading through the waters and towards her, when she smiles and gestures for him to come a bit closer.

Nothing much happens that night, except for her asking what kind of flower he likes. He answers and asks her in turn if she likes berries, and if she prefers strawberries or blueberries or any other berry. What's your favorite color? Do you take care of any pet? As odd as the situation is, he catches himself looking less and less at the soft slopes of her womanly body and more on the tugs of emotions at the corners of her mouth.

He finds himself visiting her again the following nights. They talk about anything and everything, and very soon he thinks she knows more about him than anyone else he's ever met in his life. He finds comfort in her, and he wonders if she feels the same. He becomes a bit confident that she does, when she asks to touch him a week later.

For the first time in his life, he undresses in front of another not to dress up, but to... simply undress. He cannot fathom what comes over him. But he lets her roam his body, from the tips of his fingers to the ridges of his peculiar horns. From the slope of his nose to the dip of his hip. She stops before she can cross the boundary of appropriate and inappropriate (though one can argue their circumstance is not a very usual one), but rather than taking a step back, she moves forward and asks him,

"Would you like to touch me too?"

He does not reply. He cannot think. And when the head refuses to function any more, it's the heart that takes over the body. He cannot hear anything but the loud thumping of his chest, but he nervously perseveres and places a palm upon her left breast.

Thump, thump, thump.

Is that the blood that runs through his veins, or is that her heart resonating with his, through the red that dusts her cheeks and the fingers that shakily reaches for his own?

Thump, thump, thump.

He doesn't know. He cannot think. Not when her smaller hands intertwine against his much larger ones. Not when her legs coil around his waist, arms wrapping tightly around his back and nails sinking deep across the skin above his spine. Not when his mind is occupied with the soft enamor of her thighs, his fingers squeezing her tightly as he pushes and pulls her against himself; sinful sweat washed away by the unsullied waters.

What a terrifying feeling. He's never felt so out of control. He knows not what he's doing, he has nothing planned out in his head. All he has is this strange electricity coursing through him-- a magnet that draws him to her. He doesn't want to let go. He cannot let go. Not even when a wave of ecstasy crashes through his entire body and threatens to knock him out cold. Not even when they settle on his lodgings and bury themselves in the warmth of sheets and blankets.

Even then, he buries himself in her warmth.

So when he wakes up to find her nowhere to be seen-- not in bed, not in his immediate surroundings-- he no longer feels out of control. He is not in control. The trip has come to an end, and so did his dreamlike encounter.

Only the wanton marks left on his skin are proof that it was, in fact, not a dream.

---

"Malleus, cheer up a bit, why don't you? You wouldn't want to scare your... let me check my notes... Ah yes, your 57th potential wife away, no?"

"And it's the 50th time I am telling you this: no one would ever want to waste an hour with me. Much less a lifetime. You would think the first seven were proof enough."

"Don't you say that! You're a handsome young man, if you would just learn to smile--"

"Enough, Lilia. This is the last time. If this still doesn't work out, I would rather let my bloodline die with me than suffer through any more humiliation."

*click* *creak*

"Hi there, stranger."

"..."

"Like what you're seeing?"

"... You have a lot of nerve, standing me up like that. And suddenly you show up-- out of nowhere-- with a cheeky little smile? This audacity calls for a fitting punishment, don't you think?"

"Ohh, scary. I like it. Lay it on me. Or would you prefer it in me?"

"Witch. You deserve a life sentence. Lilia, take out the marriage papers."

💖💖💖💖

Notes: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE PARAGRAPH LMAOOO! I just wanted to share that I like cheesy cliche stories with a bit of sensual flavor and was just gonna share a rough plot. Somehow it turned into a short fanfic HAHAHA

I really really like the thought of Malleus catching Yuu bathing and doesn't really do anything to hide his interest. He's an honest man. It's a staple in any of the MalleYuu AUs in my brain.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst fanfic

513 notes · View notes

rocketturtle4 · 9 months

Text

Be My Favorite, Lets Reflect

Okaaaay I’ve decided this is happening today after all because who knows what the combined power of Only Friends and Laws of Attraction is about to do to my brain.

Full Disclosure: I’m an optimist and I’m easy to please. If I finish a show, that typically means I liked it. This final episode could have been an actual disaster and I probably would have given this show 8/10 and watched it again in the future.

Tagging the people who have been watching along with me, in case you wish to read my final thoughts, getting to be a part of this experience with you has been an absolute delight no matter how late you joined! @shouldiusemyname @thegalwhorants @plantsarepeopletoo @lurkingshan @pandasmagorica @twig-tea @waitmyturtles @benkaaoi @telomeke @dribs-and-drabbles @stuffnonsenseandotherthings @clairificusrex @williamrikers @grapejuicegay @dropthedemiurge @bengiyo

With all that said here goes

Themes that felt unfinished

The whole thing with any and all parents, but especially Piseangs felt somewhat unresolved/glossed over.

I have no idea what the point of the Kwan/Not storyline was??

Themes that felt reasonably resolved but could have been pushed more

Looking back I kind of like that the fighting for rights storyline was most strongly played out through Max. This was consistent all the way through and while I do definitely think this show could have chosen a different direction and taken a stronger stance, I’m not mad about this.

I genuinely think that the fact Kawi tried and then DIDN’T LIKE the rollercoaster after episode 10’s EXTREMELY ON THE NOSE POINTING (apparently this one still invokes strong emotions huh) kind of make’s ace!kawi pretty close to canon, they clearly still have sex which is totally fine in my books but like, my dude is ace.

Where have I landed overall?

Using my unnecessarily lengthy 5 category system of rating and review this show ended up at 92% 21st out of 82 BLs 12th out of Thai BLs, Greater Recommendation

I want to be clear here, 92% is HIGH and I loved this show A LOT, the ending very much included. Also I normally wait longer to give something a rating so this could waver but likely only by a couple of percent either way

What Was My Takeaway? -It’s about Control

Okay so this is definitely influenced at least in part by my readings of @lurkingshan (here) and @waitmyturtles (here) posts and I loved how the framing of the serenity prayer in Shan’s takeaway (original post by @shortpplfedup here) lined up perfectly with my thoughts so I will put that in here

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I cannot accept, And the wisdom to know the difference

So much of this show was about Kawi learning that control and change isn’t resolved through force but instead through trust and patience. In the first half of the show, Kawi tries again and again to alter things into perfection, and he fails each time. He learns that only his own actions can be controlled, not even his own feelings are entirely within his grasp. He learns to hold on to the things that matter and let go of what can not be.

He father dies but he gets a chance to see him again, and to convey his feelings sincerely building up the relationship before the end.

He learned that even with a second chance, some things can’t be changed, and no matter how hard he tried his dad still died.

He gains a beautiful found family, so different from the family he was trying to build with Pear before he understood himself.

I feel like episodes 10 & 12 dragged my right down into my feels about the things control can change. Because to me, everything that happened in the theme park in episode 12, juxtaposed in my head against everything that happened in the theme park in episode 10 highlighted how much change control can wrought.

In episode 12 we have the shifted perspective, Piseang has come back, Piseang is panicked and fearful and Kawi clocks this immediately, and what does he do, he stays completely calm, in this same time, but in the original timeline (ep10), Kawi is lacking all control. Max has pointed out to him that Piseang probably want’s sex and Kawi is NOT SURE how he feels about that. He tries to regain some equilibrium by taking them out but refusing to ride and ends up more and more prickly and uncertain at Piseangs every nudge.

Opposite this we have our episode 12 timeline where our focus is all different, Kawi is pulling Piseang along with him and encouraging him to accept the future even as they enjoy a lost moment of the past. A moment now filled with much greater joy for both of them because with the pressure gone, Kawi is ready to face anything if it makes Piseang happy.

I have seen some interesting thoughts about Kawi being affected by the knowledge of his possible death, and maybe this is it, but to me this change felt different. For some people it’s easier to be strong when someone else is being weak, because we can’t always be strong for ourselves, sometimes we have to be strong for others. Kawi’s focus in this second timeline was outward rather than inward and it fundamentally changed the experience for both of them.

Piseang hadn’t really been weak much in their relationship, even in the most developed future where they aren’t together, he is there, steady and waiting for Kawi to need him.

In this episode Kawi had to be steady and this put them on more equal footing than ever before because Kawi has grown so much. We have seen his change, his arc was immense and, to me at least, immensely satisfying. Getting to see this Kawi in episode 12, the one who is calm and sure in the face of his partners uncertainty highlighted how these two will work and grow together in the future we had already seen.

It made me like episode 10 more

(I have specific thoughts about consciousness and whether or not the latter scenes in ep10 occur with Kawi’s knowledge of future!Piseang laid out at the bottom of this very interesting thread. In short(ish), my takeaway is that the memories of Kawi’s second day at the amusement day are dormant but present in Kawi’s mind, influencing his actions. To me when he reaches out to Piseang at the restaurant towards the end of episode 10, after Piseang has travelled back to the future

this is an extension of the reaching out we see Kawi doing throughout episode 12

This gif was posted by @wanderlust-in-my-soul as a part of this post which is all the times Kawi and Piseang hold hands in ep 12 (often with Kawi reaching out). Even if Kawi doesn’t consciously know it, he is influenced by the events of episode 12 in the latter parts of epiosde 10, this also makes me feel better about the episode 10/11 sex scene for the record)

It made me like episode 11 more (and I already liked this one!)

It made me glad to have been so wrong about where I thought episode 11 and 12 would go.

Because the finale drew us back in to the core of the show. It let go of the things that could not be finished and brought together the things that could. Making us the audience sit with the very themes Kawi had learned.

@dropthedemiurge actually put it so beautifully that I’ve just stolen (and slightly paraphrased) their words straight out of this post

“the final episode was not here to yell, but instead to speak softly and soothe your worries until you find the courage to live and stay smiling, content with discovering the right way to live”

I was left warm and fuzzy, content and satisfied, I could never be mad at a show for that.

#be my favorite #be my favorite the series #be my favourite #be my favourite the series #be my favorite meta #rturts is wondering #rocket4reviews

55 notes · View notes

interstellarspacecadett · 2 months

Text

DINNER DATE

WARNING!

Do not read if you're not 18+ years old.

Contains strong language

Allusion to sex and bdsm

Control

Alcohol consumption

That day has come. I'm going to eat at the most exclusive restaurant in Gotham city. What an experience! Everyone is talking about this. At the moment, there's nothing more important than "The Experience." Harvey, my colleague and guy I'm seeing, has invited me to have dinner with him, I think this is the perfect time for him to ask me to be his girlfriend. We have known each other for quite a while now, and he likes me. He doesn't even hide his feelings. As for me, this can be a good way to go on with my life after what happened with Bruce. Still, it feels strange to have a partner who is not the one and only Prince of Gotham. He made his choice, we parted our ways, and I don't think there will ever be another story like the one Bruce and I share. As I get ready, I receive a message from Harvey

>> Looking forward to our date tonight :)

I smile, reading the message out loud.

He called our hanging out "date", this is definitely a step forward. I text him

>> don't be late ;)

He's always late, and has always a good excuse. To be fair, he is the most important figure in all Gotham that frightens criminals without wearing a mask. I admire him so much.

At 8 o'clock, I arrive at the restaurant, and to my surprise Harvey is already there, looking handsome and really elegant.

He greets me, kissing the back of my hand. I smiled shyly.

"Ready for the most exclusive experience of out lives?"

"Ready." I answer holding his arm.

We enter, and one waitress guides us to our table. The place is as magnificent as the tabloids describe it. It's luxurious, combining new and old styles. The music is great and the people there are all from the elite of Gotham. What a breathtaking atmosphere.

We sit and admire the interior, and Harvey still looks at me. I smile with wonder, and my eyes brighten up.

As I was admiring the place, my eyes lock with Bruce's.

God, what is he doing here? I ask myself trying to look away. Jesus Christ! His eyes are like magnets pulling mines towards his. My heart starts beating fast, and the palms of my hands start ge sweaty.

I feel agitated, a fish out of the tank. He's not alone. There's a tall blonde girl by his side, another one of his conquests.

He finally calls for me. I immediately paralyse as my temperature is rising.

"Bruce." I mumble, trying to look indifferent, but my voice sounds weak and frightened.

"How have you been?" He asks me.

"G-good." I say forcing a smile.

"T-this is-" He stops me and puts his hand forward to shake Harvey's.

"Harvey Dent. What an onor." They shake hand vigorously.

"I should be the one honoured. Wow, Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, here." Harvey smiles sincerely. I didn't know he was a fan of Bruce.

"We should talk. We can try to put these two tables together." He says, looking at me.

"I don't think we can. This place is really strict with rules. I don't want to be kicked out." I say, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"You shouldn't worry about that. I own this place." Bruce says this with such a simplicity, like it is common for a man to own the most exclusive place in Gotham.

Bruce, with a gesture of a hand, calls for a waiter.

We soon are all together. Bruce is infront of me, next to his his blond bombshell. Harvey is next to me still processing the fact that he met Bruce.

"See, Mr Dent, I'm a fan of yours. Your work means a lot to Gotham. We need more unmasked people bringing justice to light and not a caped thug roaming the streets at night." He says, sipping his water. He looks at Harvey, studying his face, looking for microexpressions, to see if he's as honest as he wants to appear. I know that look very well.

"Well, Mr Wayne, if I should name someone that inspires me, I would lie if I didn'tsay Batman. He made me think that I could do it. He's a silent presence hidden in the shadows to make sure that Gotham is safe. I would give a million dollars to meet him and congratulate him." Says Harvey smiling.

"I mean, a masked man fighting in tights... that doesn't seem like the type of hero this city needs. This batman dude is not the type of justice we need."

I starte to come back to my senses. Not frightens anymore, not liking the scene Bruce is fabricating.

"Maybe you're scared of batman because you're hiding something." I remark, pouring champagne in my glass.

"Quite the contrary. I'm a public figure. Nothing about me for the public is private anymore.."

He says, sipping more water. He looks through me.

"Batman is doing much more than buying hotels and hanging out with prima ballerinas. You should learn from him and admit that without Batman, this city would have imploded a long time ago." I say irritated. I then proceed to drink all the champagne in my glass.

He seems amused knowing how his presence is driving me crazy.

Harvey and Bruce start talking again, while to hide my real emotions I keep on drinking.

How can he look so handsome?! If only he didn't have that cold manipulative attitude, maybe we would still be together.

The dinner goes on with Harvey and Bruce talking about politics and new laws, while the blonde girl and I look so miserable. Suddenly, Harvey's phone starts ringing. It's one of those calls he can't ignore. He excuses himself and goes talking at the balcony.

All the alcohol I drank makes me tipsy, and little by little, I start to feel very hot.

Bruce keeps looking at me, burning me with his blue eyes.

"You look so beautiful tonight." He says in a low dark tone.

"Not as beautiful as your friend." I say pouring water in my water glass, hoping to sober up.

"You beat her in every category. You're beyond your own understanding, or you wouldn't be saying stupid things like this." He says. I don't look at him. Not anymore. I'm afraid to fall back into one of his traps. It's always like this with Bruce.

Under the table, I feel one of his feet caressing my calve. I try to hide my feet under my chair, but he finds me there with no hesitation.

I smile, finding it cute and nostalgic.

But I'm on a date with Harvey, Bruce has nothing to do with it.

"Bruce, stop." I whisper.

"Is this a date? You and Dent?" He asks me concerned.

"Yes. Why do you care?"

"You're still wearing my ring. That's not a simple ring and you know it."

"What does this have to do with it?." I ask, irritated.

"It does. Since you belong to me and that ring is the undeniable proof that you know that what I'm saying is true." He explains calmly.

Maybe it the alcohol, maybe it's my anger, but I pull off my finger the ring and I give it back to him.

"Here, it's your ring, after all. Keep it. Give it to another girl." I say.

Bruce doesn't seem amused at all. He's frowning, and his fist is firmly closed, turning his hand red.

"We're done." I say grinning, winning once.

He smiles. It confuses me, what the fuck is he smiling for?.

He leans over, and he gestures to me to do the same. I do it, hoping he admits his defeat once for all.

"Baby, come back to me." He says with a sensual tone. I have goosebumps everywhere and I bite my lower lip.

"I miss you, baby. I miss fucking you, raw, on every surface, balls deep inside that tight pussy of yours for hours and hours." Oh, God what a sweet torture! He looks at me straight in the eyes and I can see his eyes burning with desire.

He doesn't touch me, if he would he'd probably burn himself because I'm getting hotter and hotter.

"Tonight, be mine. I wanna give it to you just one more time, baby." I crush my legs. He's so domeering and has this power on me that I can't explain. He's got me on the palm of his hand, and he can do whatever he wants with me.

"Sorry for taking a while. I'm really sorry, but there's a matter I have to deal with." Harvey starts go get ready to leave.

Bruce gets up and he's ready to get rid of him. Maybe he's the mastermind behind all of this.

I hug Harvey, then he shakes Bruce's hand, and leaves. He's gone, disappeared.

The blond girl says something in Russian, and in no time, she's gone as well.

They left me alone with Bruce, and not just any Bruce, but a horny Bruce who wants to devour me.

His eyes are back on me. He's more than amused.

"Where were we?" He asks.

"Would you like something sweet to eat?" Asks the waitress. I get thrown back to reality.

"I'll take this soufflé au chocolat." Says Bruce keeping his eyes on me.

"Honey, is there something appetising that you'd like to eat?" He asks. He's such a pervert. He doesn't refer to any dessert but him.

"N-no, I'm fine." The waitress goes away taking all the plates with her.

"Harvey is not the man for you. You deserve me, a man who can take care of you, who can put the world under your feet. Someone who can make you cum every time you need it."

"I don't deserve you, Bruce. You're not the man for me. You only think about power and dominance, but never about love. Love is all I need. You can't give me that. Not a genuine one, at least." I say, playing with my glass.

"We can try, again. To see how it goes." He look hopeful.

"I don't wanna try. Not with you anymore." I say, feeling all the sadness of my words.

"You sound scared." He affirms putting one finger on his lower lip to caress it.

"I am. I don't want you here. Tonight was just for me and Harvey. He wanted to ask me to be his girlfriend, and you just slided in like a snake to kill a romantic night."

"The night is not over. We can have a romantic date, you and I, here."

"I don't think that's a good idea. We didn't talk for months, you didn't even try to reach me. You closed all your doors, and soon, there wasn't enough space, even for a friendship. There was nothing. And whatever this is, quit it. Stop it." I say, looking at him with begging eyes.

"There wasn't a minute where you weren't in my thoughts. You were the only one in my head. I dream of you almost every night."

"What do I do in your dreams?"

"You tell me you love me, then we have sex, and you end up pregnant with my baby. We're happy, the three of us."

"You always say have sex and never make love. This speaks volumes about how you see me as a person, Bruce. You have sex with someone you hook up with, not someone you love and care for."

"It's a rough session. In bdsm there's no space for lovemaking. And as far as I remember, you like being tight up and spanked. Fucked right until you're a fountain cumming all over my expensive bed sheets."

"Okay, I got it. There's no need to be THIS specific." I say, rolling my eyes.

He laughs. God, I missed his laugh. It's so contagious that I end up smiling.

"I'll make love to you tonight if you let me."

"Bruce, it's better if we don't. We should move on. And I've found the right person to be happy with."

"We can talk about this tomorrow morning over breakfast. I'm sure it'll be a nice conversation I'd love to engage myself in."

The waitress interrupts us, bringing Bruce's order to the table.

"You won't give up, uh?" I ask, taking his plate with the soufflé.

I take a bite of it. It's delicate and delicious.

He passes his tongue on lis lower lip, looking at me eating the dessert.

"No, never. Can I have my soufflé back. I can order a new one for you."

"Order it for yourself. Yours is sooo good."I say, provoking him. I eat sensually moaning at every bite.

"Don't torture me." He says, leaning back on his chair.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just enjoying this delicious soufflé. Do you want a bite?" I say as innocent as possible.

He says yes with his head. We both lean closer to each other, like to magnets. I bring my spoon with on the dessert, and as he was to bite it, I pull my spoon back, eating the soufflé au chocolat.

He smiles.

"Sweetie, you gotta be faster than that. Let's try again." He tries to move fast to eat it, but I'm faster, and soon enough, I'm enjoying another bite.

"One last time." He says. His eyes were shining.

I do the same movement, and he plays his part perfectly, but instead of eating the dessert, he kisses me. Just one small peck to leave me breathless.

God his lips are so good. I missed them.

"This is better." He says pleased.

I smile.

"I want more. All of you."

He's going to be the death of me.

"I have a room. The view from up there is breathtaking. Stay with me tonight."

"I'll give you an answer after finishing MY soufflé." I say, starting to provoke him again by moaning and exaggerating my eating process. He enjoys himself, he's amused, and keeps his blue eyes on me. I put my front zip down to reveal a little bit of skin, well actually a good part of my breast.He moves his eyes, following my hand as I do so. He bites his lower lip, and then he licks it.

"Bruce, what do you think of my dress. Do you like it?" I ask, passing my hands through my hair.

"I adore it." He says, keeping his eyes on my breast.

"Do you like my new haircut?" I ask while bouncing a little bit on the chair.

"I love it." As he was saying so I started to put my slip down

"And what about my perfume?" I extend my folded hand. waiting for him to take my panties and sniff them.

"It's divine." He says after sniffing his fist.

"Do you want a taste?"

"Yes, baby."

I slide my index inside my wet cave, moaning to the pleasure.

I bring it to his mouth and he licks it.

"Fucking good." He says passing his tongue on it once more.

"I just hope your bed is comfortable."

"The best in the world."

"Glad to hear that. You're gonna sleep tight in it, all alone." I say getting up.

Bruce tilts his head, not understanding what I'm doing, but I'm ready to leave.

He gets up, trying to convince me to stay.

"I thought we were playing. We were having fun, why are you leaving?"

"You don't play with people's feelings, Bruce. You did me wrong, and I can't forget that. Harvey will call me sooner or later."

"Can I at least take you home?" He asks. It's a wrong idea. We can not be left alone together, I could give in and lose the power that I have on him.

"I can help you put your panties back on." He proposes smirking with his playboy attitude.

"You can keep them, I have plenty at home, place where I'll drive myself to. Goodbye, Bruce." I say before walking fast to the exit.

These games between us need to stop, I can't keep going on like this. We can't be together, I have Harvey who will take care of me.

As soon as I get in my car, I start to cry. Too many emotions I can't comprehend and accept. Bruce and I share a lot of history. My heart and body hurt, all of me. I start to tremble, feeling trapped between what's right ( moving on with Harvey) and what's wrong (go back to Bruce and try again to work things out).

I clean my face with a tissue, and I drive back home, hoping just to sleep and find peace.

#bale!bruce wayne #dc comics #dcu #batman x reader #batman #christian bale #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne

30 notes · View notes

avatarmerida · 1 year

Note

Pleeeeeeeeease do a one shot with THAT crew art...

You know the one I'm talking about...

(I'm God's miracle)

I do know it. It controls my every thought.

I haven’t seen anyone do it with evil!Hunter (insp @soldrawss) so here’s my attempt at combining the two. In my take of this version, Hunter is aware he is a grimwalker the whole time and basically has to do the Emperor’s bidding to justify existing (nothing new there) but he is aware that Belos is a liar and evil and he also believes he is these things because why wouldn’t he be? In case it’s not clear, this would be after ASIAS in a AU where Hunter keeps trying to recruit Willow to the coven as an excuse to talk to her. It’s less angst and more Megamind (who fully believes he is angsty so) ok bye

---

“Well well well,” came a familiar voice from behind her. “If it isn’t my favorite plant witch.”

“Hello to you too,” Willow asked, unfazed by his “dramatic reveal” as she was so sure he had intended it to be. She did not look up from her comfortable spot on the ground where she sat, gathering soil into her little pail. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Golden Guard? Did you follow me up here or were you just waiting menacingly in the shadows for me to show up?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the business of the Emperor’s Coven with a civilian,” he said, giving her a non answer. “If you’d truly like to know why I’m here I suppose I could entrust that information to a new recruit.”

“Hmm pass,” she said, staying focused on her task with her back to her but feeling his eyes on her. He wouldn’t ask what she was doing, he would either pretend he already knew or ignore it all together.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, uncharacteristically small. Hmm,that was new. He was clearly hoping she’d have a more elaborate response and the prepared retort he had up his sleeve wouldn’t make sense, not that digging in the dirt made any more sense.

“No, I’m almost done,” she said, shoveling the last bit of soil into her pail. It was excellent soil, a shimmering dark turquoise that helped plants be more lively and vibrant. It was well worth the distance Willow had to travel to obtain it and collecting it was relaxing. It was quiet out here, an abandoned building made it seem off-putting to other people but Willow welcomed the calm atmosphere. There was hardly anything out here to capture the attention of the Emperor’s Coven.

But that seemed to be the case wherever she found herself lately.

“Ya know it’s dangerous to be out here by yourself,” he said, kicking at the ground not expecting her attention to linger elsewhere.

“Well I’m not here by myself now am I?” She asked with a smirk he could hear. Months ago she would be terrified to find herself alone with him, especially knowing what she knew now about the Emperor’s Coven. He did not deny it when she confronted him about what the Coven and the Emperor were really like. He was not ashamed, he claimed, rather he was content with his place and what that meant. He was delighted with the rumors depicting him as ruthless and cruel (and this was mostly from the mouths of her friends) but somehow her experiences with him differed.

He loved a crowd, a perfect chance to act boastful and righteous and flaunt his status. But when it was just them his insincerity did not seem very sincere. She suspected he never spent enough time with anyone for them to see beyond his little character, but she had seen enough repeat performances to pick up the inconsistencies. By now she could tell when his words were empty, when he was leaning into this character that he was forced to method act. But she could sense he didn’t know who to be around her, and she felt that was some of his best work.

“Ya know, the Emperor’s Coven has tons of dirt,” he tried to say casually, feeling things had been silent for too long.

“What?”

“Uh, well that’s why you’re here right?” He sputtered.

“Oh so your business can stay a secret but mine can’t?” She said as she stood up and turned to face him. She could’ve sworn he stood straighter when she did.

“The Emperor makes it a point to know everyone’s business,” he said in a low, cool voice as though he himself was the Emperor. He tried so hard to intimidate her but she somehow always remained composed, as though she was merely humoring him. She wiped her hands on her dark green skirt, the access dirt blending in nicely and shook her head at him.

“Well then ask him what I’m up to,” she shrugged walking past him, purposely brushing past his shoulder as she did. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat, as though she had said just the right thing.

“I’m not so sure he’d be pleased with you trespassing, little plant witch.” the Golden Guard said with a cocky smile. He has stopped wearing his mask around Willow, maybe because it was easier to see or maybe because he thought she could be swayed by a pretty face. She’d have to ask him one of these days.

“Pssh ‘trespassing?’” Willow laughed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “There’s nothing to trespass out here, it’s totally abandoned!”

“Exactly,” he said, following slowly behind her. “There’s a reason for that; it’s condemned. Strictly off limits.Dangerous.”

“Aww so did you stalk me all the way here because it’s dangerous and you wanted to make sure I was safe before you kidnapped me again?”

“Pssh, what?” Hunter could never place her tone, how it was both sweet and sour, how it asked a question that seemed to already hold the answer. It was like an argument that he wasn’t sure how to win. “Of course not. W-why would I care about what happens to a foolish half-a-witch like you? If you’re foolish enough to come here, you deserve to learn the consequences first hand.”

“Hmm, I could say the same thing about you,” Willow sighed, looking over her shoulder at him. “But which half-a-witch is more foolish? The one who came here or the one who followed her here because he wanted an excuse to talk to her?”

“It’s business!” Hunter insisted, picking up his pace as his voice got higher. “My job is to enforce the rules and will of the Emperor and the signs on the perimeter clearly state-.”

“So are you gonna arrest me?” She asked, quickly turning on her heel causing him to nearly bump into her.

“I-I could.” He stuttered, his eyes unable to decide where to look.

“Hmm, well you can’t join the Emperor’s Coven with a criminal record so... okay, go ahead.” She set her pail down and placed her arms out as though she was ready to be escorted to prison.

He was taken back. Very rarely did his banter get a response let alone ones so calm and silly. But she always managed to call his bluff and he couldn’t tell if she was wearing him down or winning him over. Either way, what a fine addition to the coven she’d be..

But she was right, and Hunter could hardly back down from what he said without contradicting his whole deal and risking losing the advantage he thought he had. This girl wasn’t scared of him or intimidated by him, heck she wasn’t even annoyed by him. His usual tricks didn’t work on her and as much as he wanted them to, it was somewhat refreshing. But either he had followed her here and hadn't stopped her or he was waiting for her and didn’t speak up right away. He barely understood why he mentioned the trespassing, the Emperor didn’t care about this area he would find the time wasted unless Hunter had actually caught a wild witch.

He was working on it.

“So um yeah I uh-.” But before he could verbally dig his own grave, the ground began to shake. A large crack formed between him and Willow and they both kept back to avoid falling in. The crack quickly sped up and reached the remains of the building, causing it to fall forward, heading towards the pair. They quickly jumped out of the way as the rest of the buildings followed like dominos.

As the walls came crumbling down around them, Hunter went to teleport away dodging the debris as he located the way out. As he looked out of the corner of his eye to see which way the plant girl was going, his heart or the equal equivalent sank when he saw her laying on the ground. A large collection of bricks had fallen on her foot and Hunter watched her remove them as a look of pain overtook her face.

She was so focused on her current situation that she didn’t see another pile was headed her way. By the time Willow did notice it was almost too late and all she had time to do was close her eyes and brace for impact.

But she was not met with the impact she had been expecting.

The next thing she knew, she was in a blur of light. Settings came in and out of focus, the constant, jagged movement made her dizzy but it was somehow sort of mesmerizing. She looked up and saw her savior, serious and sorrowful looking ahead at his destination and not being distracted by the wide eyed girl who clung poetically to his chest.

He darted from point to point, the ground growing more unstable by the second. His focus and grip never wavered as Willow took the opportunity to memorize his features. They seemed to compliment him in every sense, they made the transition from stern to soft so seamlessly. His edges were sharp, his jawline so defined it seemed to direct her to his eyes like an arrowhead. Willow had never seen this in his eyes before; it was less certain than the way they held anger but it was softer than the fear they had known.

She wanted to see them closer, but she felt the look would vanish if she entered his sight.

When Hunter felt they had traveled a safe distance, he stopped and hid behind a wall, making sure no other threats had followed them. Willow watched in wonder as he panted, his eyes desperately scanning their surroundings to make sure there would be no more surprise demolishment. He brought her closer, as though shielding her from unseen doom as Willow’s head fell instinctively on his shoulder as she listened to the sound of him breathing.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, close enough that she could see a fresh wound above his eye, another for his never ending collection.

“We should be safe here,” he said, more to assure himself than her, not quite answering her question. Something about him saying ‘we’ and not ‘I’ or ‘you’ made her heart spin.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“You can put me down now.” Willow said, feeling as though Hunter had forgotten she occupied his arms. He held her like she was nothing and everything at the same time. Like he didn’t want to risk dropping her. Like she was precious to him. Like he wanted her close. A boy with no good in his heart as he so adamantly claimed to be could never hold someone like this. She wondered if his kindness was hidden from him or by him. She wondered if it felt familiar or forced, because it felt nice to be close to.

“Oh, right.” He said as though it was really no inconvenience and had simply slipped his mind. He suddenly became conscious of how tight his grip on her was as he gently placed her back on her feet. It felt unnatural to do something so gently, but something about her made unnatural things happen easily. As her feet touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up her body and she winced as she shifted her weight. Hunter instinctively crouched down back to her side for her to lean on him to take pressure off the leg “Sorry about that.”

“‘Sorry?’” She repeated, the shock distracting from her pain, She gave a small laugh. “D-did you just apologize to me?”

“Uh, I mean I-.”

“Were you... worried about me?”

“What? No!” Hunter’s face turned bright crimson, in embarrassment, in anger, infatuated.

“You were!” Willow exclaimed victoriously, as she summoned a large flower to sit on, as Hunter was desperate to pull away. “You were worried you might hurt me!”

“No! I meant sorry for...”

“Oh my Titan, you can’t even think of a fake reason!” Willow accused in delight, adjusting her dress as she made herself more comfortable. “It’s true!”

“Shut up!” He spat, contorting his mouth into a twisted frown. “I-I didn’t even mean to say it!”

“Exactly!” Willow said, pointing her finger at him, small yellow flowers bursting around her to emphasize her point. “You didn’t even mean to! You did it without thinking! Deep down inside of you, there is good!”

“Shut up!” He said again, but this time the embarrassment in his voice outweighed the anger. He tried to walk away from her but his pace was not a quick as it could be, he had no destination in mind.

“You did follow me to make sure I was safe,” Willow said smugly, hoopping off her her seat to skip beside him as tried to avoid her direct gaze. “You care about me.”

“No I don’t!” He insisted, hastening his pace.

“Really? Then why am I over here where’s it safe? Would’ve been easier to have just left me, ya know. Let me ‘learn the consequences first hand’ and all that, right?”

“I was looking out for myself and you were in my way,” Hunter lied quickly. “You just got lucky, but it wasn’t on purpose!”

“You had plenty of chances to put me down,” she pointed out with a bright smile, summoning a vine to carry her to adjust to his speed. Her knee high sock had gotten torn and she could tell her leg was slightly bruised and scratched, but she could worry about that later. “And I’m pretty sure you told me to ‘hold on.’ Now why would you say that to someone whose safety you didn’t care about?”

“I owed you one,” he grumbled, pausing for a moment to try and figure out where they were.

“Would someone truly evil care about his debt to a mere half-a-witch?” Willow stopped behind him, removing her hair from her braids to redo them. She knew he wouldn’t leave with a question like that in the air. He stopped too.

He did not have a response, but he wished he did. He could not blame it on a code of honor because he knew that she believed that he believed he did not have one.

“You care about me.” She stated sweetly. It was not a question.

“So what if I do?” He asked softly, trying to appear as though it was no concern of his, whether or not it was the truth. “The amount someone like me can care about someone doesn’t add up to much. I wouldn’t let it go to your head.”

“So what if I do?” Willow said back, mocking his solemn tone as she twisted her hair back into a braid. “Maybe I care about you too.”

“Another foolish decision on your part,” said Hunter, regaining the steady control in his voice as he summoned his staff, knowing he couldn’t risk staying with her longer. “But I know better than trying to tell you what to think. You’ve made it clear that my opinion is of no value to you.”

“It has value,” she said slowly, disliking the braid she had made and undoing it, giving up on the endeavor. “It values me, so it’s not composed entirely of bad taste.”

“I’ve been very upfront about-,” he said loudly as he turned around to face her, not realizing how close she was standing to him. The vine she summoned for support elevated her slightly so she was at his eye level, her hair free and forming small curls around her face in a way he had never seen before. Their faces were mere inches apart but she did not flinch or pull away but he swore she held her breath. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “-about your value to me.”

“For the Coven, right?” She said gently as though she had to remind him. “It’s just that, I feel like during our meetings lately, you’ve been trying more to change my feelings about you, and less about the Coven.”

“The coven and I are essentially the same.”

“To you, maybe, but I have no interest in the coven,” said Willow, allowing her vine to set her down as she tried to apply gently pressure on her leg. “So how is it that I spend so much time with the coven head?”

He turned his gaze to the ground and did not answer.

“I highly doubt you pursue all candidates this thoroughly, I highly doubt you have the time,” continued Willow. “With all the time you’ve spent chasing me you could’ve found about ten more qualified recruits. Can you honestly say I’m worth ten scouts?”

“You’re easily worth 100.”

“How?” She asked, honestly perplexed. “Because I have potential? So what? Plenty of people do. You said the coven is no place for emotions, well that’s where my power comes from. Recruiting me would remove the thing that made you want me in the first place. You’re smart, surely you’ve realized that.”

“It's because you’re stubborn, “ he said, looking up at her like he believed he was invisible to her. “You aren’t swayed by fancy words and status and it’s not because you don’t see their worth. Your approval is guarded, it’s selective, and rare things tend to be valuable things.” His voice did not ooze its usual smugness, he said it like he was reciting a poem to her. His voice held something back as though he could not bring himself to say too blunt a compliment. He removed his worn glove and reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind. He could not place the reason for the gesture.

Willow let out a small gasp, half lost in the complement half breathless from the cold touch of his hand lingering against her cheek. He turned around to walk away, hoping it looked convincing that he could get very far this time.

“So if I had liked you when we first met, you wouldn’t value my opinion?” She called after him.

“If you had liked me when we first met you wouldn’t have really known me.” He called back.

“Does that mean you’ve changed?”

He stopped for a moment and thought about what that implied. She liked him now? Is that what that meant? How? He hadn’t changed as far as he was concerned, but he had never been someone else’s concern before. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He vanished into a flash of gold before appearing in front of her again, no other destination in mind.

“What’s to stop me from kidnapping you?” His voice was cold and demanding, the way it was always supposed to be. “You’re weak, you’re hurt, you’re helpless! I could take you to the castle and throw you in a cell! I could bring you before the Emperor and frame you for any number or crimes! I could-! Er... I could...”

“That’s what you could do, but what will you do?” Willow winced, the pain in her leg growing. “I think if that’s what you wanted to do you would’ve done it by now. But you haven’t. Because you’re worried about my comfort and you’re thinking about what’s best for me. You’re stalling because you don’t know what you want to do. I feel like true evil doesn’t hesitate.”

He inhaled sharply, cursing himself for hesitating to respond to her. He should be long gone by now, or at least be pretending he was in control of the situation. But he had saved her with no ulterior motive in mind, and the reason that did come to mind was impossible. He didn’t like her seeing him like this, but why did he care what she thought?

“I see how you fight,” said Willow gently, reading his thoughts. “You antagonize and trap and dodge, but you rarely strike. You love to talk and it’s like you’re trying to distract from the fact that your blows are never fatal. You refuse to attack unless it’s totally necessary. Doesn’t seem very bloodthirsty to me.”

“It’s called strategy,” he said. “It’s smart to preserve energy, it’s efficient. That way you don’t end up hurt and in your enemy’s clutches.” He gestured to her current state as though it proved his point. But Willow only smiled. She did not consider him an enemy but did enjoy her time in his clutches.

“So you know I wouldn’t have left you there either,” she said and he just groaned at how she was able to see more than what was supposed to be there. Everyone else accepted he was no good and scary, why couldn’t she? Wasn’t he supposed to want her to?

“Well. since you value loyalty, let’s see you try and join another coven now after the Emperor’s Coven saved your life,” he scoffed as though that had been his plan all along and he hadn’t just thought of it.

But she could see there was no true flair to his actions or ulterior motive lurking in his words, he was simply not used to going against orders in a way that he could not justify. It would have been fitting for his persona not to save her, it would have been tactical to lure her into an agreement before doing so and taking advantage of her position. So why hadn’t he? Why would he risk his life and have nothing to show for it?

“Thank you Hunter.” She said softly. She was the only one who said his name like that. His name was not freely given, but she had managed to weasel it out of him. She hadn’t had to try very hard.

“When you join the coven you won’t be able to address me so informally.” he said, putting his glove back on.

“I think that’s one reason you’ve become less insistent that I do.”

“You have many?”

“I think you’re scared,” said Willow. “I think you’ve been doing what you’re told and are trying to convince yourself that it’s what you want to be doing but it’s not. But you’re scared because you know what Belos is capable of doing if he ever found out. I think you feel trapped and alone so you don’t listen to the part of you that wants something different because you don’t believe you’re allowed to. Because you know that’s what Belos believes.”

“So you think about me often, do you?” He said, hearing what he wanted to hear or at least trying to make it seem like he did.

“Or maybe you’re just impossible,” sighed Willow, seeing she wouldn’t make any ground in that subject matter today, standing up as much as she could.

“Grimwalkers are supposed to be impossible,” Hunter pointed out. “We’re taboo, an unforgivable sin, we’re damned from the moment we open our eyes. We can be nothing but ruthless...”

She rolled her eyes, as he continued his classic “born to be bad” speech. She should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he needed to prolong his presence with a monologue.

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled, believing him less and less every time. The speech was more to assure him than her at this point.

“It’s true!” He insisted, the tips of his ears turning red. “I am heartless! And cold! I-I haven’t even asked you if you’re okay besides I don’t care! Because I-.”

“Because you’re checking my vitals like you think I can’t tell,” Willow finished, noting that while he did not say anything he eyed her injury to ensure it was leveled properly to reduce the pain. He was no healing expert, but he had suffered enough on the job injuries to know a few tricks. “You’d leave any other recruit out here to fend for themselves, so why am I any different?”

He looked up at the sky, it was getting late. He was tired and hungry and he knew Willow was meant to home before dark. He would think of something clever to say another day.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Hunter quietly as he swiftly went to scoop her up again. Consciously picking her up allowed Hunter to overthink it. He cautiously placed his arms around her back and under her knees and held her close and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, locking her fingers together to keep her close. If not for what he would later label his momentary lapse in judgment, he would never have the opportunity to be so close to her without seeing fury in her eyes. Now, they held a calm flourishing field of green, they held pleasantly surprised gratitude and maybe... admiration.

He didn’t teleport unless it was necessary, certain the sharp movements would aggravate her injury and flying was no better. So he held her in his arms and walked back to the path, traveling in silence as Willow tried to make sense of the moment.

But it was all in his head. Because at the end of the day, he knew what he was.

He knew he was the latest and therefore the greatest and maybe the last in a long line of disappointments. He was born heartless, his emotions were nothing more than a clever manipulation to imply there was variety beyond disgust and anger. He was told what he was and what he was meant for and he was oh so good at doing exactly what he was told.

He would outlive the others. He would see the plan through. He would not be distracted. He had never had an issue sticking to these mantras until he found himself risking everything to keep a silly plant witch around. He dared to think he could keep her around if he could convince her of the benefits. But why did he want to keep her around any way he could? How was he supposed to explain the twinge in his chest when he became overly aware of how close she was to him, resting safe in his arms?

No one had ever looked at him this way. Her eyes weren’t sizing him up or predicting his next move or scanning him for signs of weakness. Her eyes graced him because she was glad he was there. His eyes weren’t reverting to her every so often because he was monitoring her for a surprise attack or suspected her disloyalty or because he thought she was impressed by him. He wanted to see her face because it made him feel safe, it sent a shot through him that envied fear and lighting.

“Is the whole ‘you care about me’ theory completely off the table?” she asked once their surroundings became familiar again.

“Grimwalkers can’t feel love,” he said casually, as though it was a common fact and not something so devastating. It was a rare truly serious moment so Willow did not cheekily mention the fact that she had not said the word “love” as he set her back on the ground, her house not far from here.

“Well, that doesn’t make you a monster,” said Willow. “Plenty of people don’t fall in love or feel attraction, but that doesn’t mean that-.”

“No, I mean...” Hunter loved correcting people, but his evidence against her claim came with a personal toll that he hoped she wouldn’t ask him to clarify and act as though it was something he didn’t mind about himself. “...I mean, we cannot feel love and we cannot be loved. We can feel fondness, I suppose, and gratitude but no more than is required to know the value of something. But our skin is thick, an armor, meant to deflect any type of affection that threatens to weigh us down. How can a creature without a heart ever feel-.”

Willow interrupted his latest monologue by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him down to her to place a strong but gentle kiss square on his lips. Despite her warmth, he was frozen. Sweaty, shivering, stunned. Her lips curled into a smile and Hunter’s thoughts were consumed with why. Was she delighted in the action alone or was it all done for his reaction? Had she frozen time or has they been in this moment forever? Was she just trying to shut him up? He’d ramble on forever if this was the punishment. But his chest felt like he had drank of water from the boiling sea, fizzling and burning and bubbling and the warmth spread to the rest of his body and numbed him like her touch contained venom.

He was melting from the inside out and somehow it was painless. His eyes widened in shock at the source, blissfully unaware of the ailment (or maybe she just showed no visible signs?) as she held him in place. It was as though then their lips touched, the world around them became more colorful. Willow had her eyes closed, perhaps because she already knew how colorful the world was. She was the brightest thing in it, after all. Had that always been the case?

His chest was on fire as she pulled back to look at him again, her hands lingered on the sides of his face which was now entirely red. He felt dizzy and dopey and turned around, had this been a trap she had planned for him the whole time?

“What have you done?!” He demanded angrily with a rage Willow had not seen in him before. She couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t speaking only to her. “D-Did you just curse me? My existence is already a curse! Why would you want to add onto it? Why would you-?”

“I didn’t curse you, I kissed you,” said Willow simply as though the two were often confused for each other, her voice carried an airy giggle. “It’s a way to show affection. It’s a gesture of thanks and... love.”

“Is that what this is?” He screamed, referring to the waves of fireworks in his chest that she could not see but somehow understood. “You gave me the ability to love?!”

“Well, I don’t think I gave it to you, but I think that maybe you-.”

“Well, take it back!” Hunter demanded, pulling her close to him by her shoulders and joining their lips as she had done in a swift motion. Unlike the way his hands had flailed behind him when she initiated the contact, she got over her surprise very quickly and leaned into it, reaching up to put her arms around his neck to return the pressure and keep him steady.

It felt just as scary as the first time but somehow easier. She was smiling again and while Hunter had no idea what he was doing, he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it wrong. As he relaxed and allowed his eyes to fall closed, he could still see the dazzling display of colors as he tried to inhale the faint smell of wildflowers in her hair . Relaxation did not come naturally to him so he was quickly brought out of the moment as he suddenly remembered how he had gotten back into whatever this was and pulled away. Willow followed him as though she wasn't ready to part and when he looked at her, he saw her face decorated in a kindred flush as though she had just done battle. Another trap! Surely staying too long in the “kiss” allowed her to send the curse back to him because he felt so compelled to brush her hair out of her face again and that must be why.

“Curses aren’t really a plant magic thing,” Willow whispered, her hands still clinging to his chest. He wondered if her leg was still bothering her. He wondered why he even cared. “Just so you know.”

“Well, then it’s a reaction to one of your flowers or pollen or something,” he said. “I’m just having an allergy attack.”

“Or maybe you were raised by a liar,” said Willow. “Who convinced you that you were immune rather than neglected because he allowed no examples of any form of love.”

“Maybe...” Hunter began, dwelling over her words. He stepped back as his eyes widened when he found a solution that pleased him. “Maybe... I am the Titan’s miracle.”

“Oh geez,” Willow groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as Hunter’s ego increased and he began to pace, drafting a speech of what this could mean. “Well I’m getting out of here before you make me regret this. But… see you tomorrow?

He stopped. Something about the nonchalant way she said the words tickled his ear like there was something more buried in the words. He had just been thinking about how much her magic had improved in mere weeks, thinking about how powerful she would be if given months. He thought about how her power could benefit the coven. He thought about her often. He thought about her outside of her use to the greater good, he thought about her smile, her laugh, the way she placed her hand beneath her chin when she said something snarky, the soft peridot color of her eyes and how they shined beneath her glasses when she rolled them at him and the way she-.

The way she was the only one who made him feel this way. A way that wasn’t worthless or vindictive. A way he wasn’t supposed to feel.

“Do you intend on needing rescuing again?” Hunter inquired, looking at her over his shoulder his throat suddenly feeling tight like the question he really wanted to ask was stuck and struggling to be known. This tight dizzy feeling that he felt whenever she was around, this growing need to be beside her, did she feel this way about him?

In response, she sent a detailed yellow flower with long dramatic petals littered with pale red stripes. She sent in on a long strong stem so it reached his eye level taking in every detail. It was a remarkably unique flower and did seem particularly special at first but as he brought it closer he saw just how intricate its details were, the small patterns within the petals invisible to the casual onlooker. The scent was sweet but subtle, a pleasure you had to be close to in order to experience. He could tell this was not a flower found in nature, this was of her own design.

The flower’s vine wrapped itself around his wrist like a corsage, twirling around his pinky link it was sealing a promise. She had made her way safely into her house by now and they had an unspoken agreement that this space was off limits. But he knew their paths would cross again. He could use returning her pail of dirt as an excuse to see her. He could say her injury was a liability of the coven and he was obligated by the Emperor to monitor her.

Or maybe he didn’t need to explain himself, he was the Titan’s miracle after all.

#huntlow #huntlow fanfiction #willow park #evil!hunter #toh #the owl house #winter toh #megamind vibes but you have to read it like megamind #hunter toh

144 notes · View notes

halfmoth-halfman · 9 months

Note

I sincerely hope we get to see a new form of Canary after all this carnage. Like she went through hell, scraped out of there barely alive, barely together, and on the other side of this she finds this special kind of confidence. A confidence that lets her stand on her own without feeling the need to run from Graves. It'd be the kind of confidence that burns cities down, make her horrible father grin from the grave, have Price and co. looking at her in pure disbelief.

But I also hope she doesn't. As much as I love that kind of post trauma transformation, I feel Canary's path takes her to rescued animal mentality. She's grateful but she is oh so skittish. She'll run if you get too close too quick. Price won't be able to comfort her through touch (that's gone, buddy.) It's going to be sitting in silence, slowly reacclimating to not living in fight or flight, learning to rewire and trust her mind and her body again. Ptsd is a complex and tricky bitch. It's gonna rock everyone's world.

I loved the coat scene. It was so tragically beautiful in the depiction of that pure panic that comes from the fear of an abuser. It felt real and authentic. I always find panic attacks the hardest to write/read because they're so easy to get slightly wrong, and this was perfectly done. I love that Ghost is the one who got her in that moment. He's the perfect one to see it for what it is and rescue her from that spiraling pit.

This fic is a hard read only because of how heavy it gets. Yet, it's that very heaviness that pulls you in and makes you stay. It isn't self-indulgent in these dark themes. Each is used carefully and purposefully to create a world in which your readers feel their chests aching with each disaster that strikes Canary. You've gotta be ready to walk into this one, and I appreciate how thoughtful your warnings are before each chapter. I felt adequately prepared without anything being spoiled.

I didn't intend to write so much, but your fic has plagued me since I read it all in one sitting the other night. There are so many layers to it that I enjoy watching reveal themselves with each new event. I'm genuinely excited to see what happens next. Canary has been severely injured. I have a feeling there is going to be some temporary mobility issues/needing help frequently that is going to bring a lot of this trauma to the forefront right away.

there's only so much i can say without going into spoiler territory, but we'll def get a different canary after this. i feel like it's a combination of the two, she's confident and ready to burn everything to the ground when it comes to graves and makarov, but in private, when she's alone or with the 141, a lot more of that skittishness and paranoia comes out.

we've seen that touch is like the go-to form of comfort for a lot of the 141 so there's going to be difficulty navigating how to comfort her when she doesn't want to be touched. it's gonna be a long and complex journey for everyone involved, esp canary because there's things that she probably didn't even realize have affected her but now will come to the forefront because she's in a much more relaxed environment.

the coat scene was one of the first scenes i had fully planned out for the series! i wasn't fully sure who was going to be the one to find her (originally it was valeria and farah) but i knew it'd be a moment where canary was so panicked that it wouldn't matter how scared she was of the 141 member that found her, she just needed to get the coat fixed because graves and makarov being mad at her was worse than anything the 141 could do to her. in the end, it just felt right that ghost would be the one to find her, since he was the one who accused her in the first place. it's a very "here's the direct consequences of your actions" moment for him.

i get what you mean about panic attacks in fics, but i know they're hard to nail down since everyone can have different experiences with them. most of the panic attack scenes in designer dress i pull from my own experiences and things i've felt with my own anxiety.

i knew when i started doing a mob!au that there were going to be some dark themes since that's very common in this genre, but i tried/am trying to make sure it's not a dark fic if that makes sense? i, myself, am very sensitive to certain triggers so i always try to make sure i give the proper warnings for every chapter and am always open if anyone needs something tagged that i may have missed (within reason ofc)

i appreciate you going into so much detail here omg, this is very thoughtful and so sweet. things are def going to be difficult for canary going forward, but there's a more hopeful vibe to it—she's healing and getting therapy and relearning how to trust again which won't be easy but will be better for her in the end.

#obi-wansorrow #moth answers #answered #cod ask #private

33 notes · View notes

iuteamstarcandy · 5 months

Text

[TRANS] Last Fantasy Album and Song Introductions

ALBUM INTRODUCTION

IU, who filled the whole world with ‘Good Day’ last year, is finally coming back with a new album for her fans. IU's new album [Last Fantasy] is a full-length album that she has released 2 years after her 1st album [Growing Up] and this album was produced by Cho Young-chul, who created the ‘IU Syndrome’ last year. Producer Cho Young-chul focused on approaching and expressing IU's musicality in more diverse ways through this album.

The meaning behind the title of the new album, [Last Fantasy], is that the album depicts all the thoughts, imaginations, and fantasies of IU as she looks upon the beginning of her 20s, in this moment at the end of her teenage years and the album contains various sides of IU that music fans want from her through her songs. This 2nd full-length album, which contains a total of 13 songs, attracts much attention with the participation of the best musicians and composers in Korea. Musicians who need no further explanation, including Kim Kwang-jin, Yoon Sang, Jung Jae-hyung, Lee Juck, Kim Hyung-seok, Jung Suk-won, Kim Hyun-chul, Yoon Jong-shin, Lee Min-soo, Corinne Bailey Rae, G. Gorilla, and Ra.D, all participated in IU's full-length album.

As this is IU’s first full-length album in a long time, she put in all her efforts and sincerity from many different angles, to make the album more perfect. In addition to putting her own self-composed song on the album, IU participated in writing the lyrics for a number of songs, showing a more mature side to her musical sensibility and carefully considered what the right tone would be for each song, as she did her best to improve the completion of the album.

First of all, the first track, ‘Secret’, is the work of composer Jung Suk-won, showing intense charm as a song that opens the door to IU’s second full-length album. Featuring an arrangement that emphasizes a clear story development and contrast, the song begins with IU's clear tone and a lyrical melody, then develops gradually with vocals that become more powerful and the grand sound of rock opera. Standing at the center of the song, IU showed powerful vocals that led all the music with her. The second track, ‘Sleeping Prince’, is the work of Yoon Sang, a composer who brought out IU's deep emotions with ‘Only I Didn't Know’. This song, which was brought to life again with an innocent charm that only IU can show, allows the listener to experience clear and bright emotions as if one were watching a fairytale. Just like how composer Yoon Sang felt that it was fortunate that IU sang this song when she was a teenager, IU's cute vocals and the warm arrangement meet to produce this high-quality song.

The third track, ‘Holding a Star in My Heart’ is a song by Kim Kwang-jin that conveys a deep sound that cannot be described with words. IU's vocals that sound like she is calmly reciting the song, together with the slow-flowing melodies, give a comforting feeling and Kim Kwang-jin's voice at the end of the song is touching to hear. The song, infused deeply with composer Kim Kwang-jin’s unique emotions, appeals to different generations. The fourth track, ‘YOU&I’, the title track of this second full-length album, is a collaboration between composer Lee Min-soo and lyricist Kim Eana, who created ‘Good Day’, and conveys IU's diverse emotions and upgraded musicality. ‘YOU&I’ is a song that once again showcases the charm of IU's vocals, with a mysterious and strange concept of a teenage girl who travels through time into the future. With a composition that crosses minor and major chords, a musical arrangement that stands out with its colorful and fantasy-like feeling of real sound using instruments rarely found in pop songs such as harp and horn, the song also allows you to experience IU's diverse vocal expression ability.

The fifth track, ‘Wallpaper Pattern’ is the work of composer Yoon Jong-shin, which shows IU's subtle emotions. It is a song that combines lyrical melodies with IU's warm tone and IU's interpretation of the song stands out as she perfectly interprets poetic lyrics that express ordinary emotions experienced in our daily lives. In particular, composer Jung Suk-won participated in the arrangement, giving it a more detailed sound. IU's song of encouragement for all the uncles in the world! The sixth track is ‘Uncle’ with composer Lee Juck. This song was completed with a discussion between IU and Lee Juck and IU's ‘aegyo’ (cute) tone captures the hearts of uncles along with the bouncy melody of the song. Lee Juck's rap made by IU's forced(?) request and IU's shout-out to her uncles are highlights to pay attention to in the song.

‘Wisdom Tooth’ is the work of composer G.Gorilla, who is loved by fans for his unique emotions, and is a song about the heart of a girl who suffered the heartache of her first love. As it is her first love, IU participated in writing the lyrics, to express more strongly the heartache from the perspective of a teenager in a pure and fun way and IU actually wrote the lyrics of the song after talking to her mother, expressing her honest feelings. ‘Everything's Alright’, the eighth track with a fast tempo and exciting feeling, is the work of composer Kim Hyun-chul. The song, which depicts the cold atmosphere of fighting with a lover, brings out that atmosphere by combining the warm sound of the actual performance and the harmony of IU and composer Kim Hyun-chul, who also featured in the song, and has a charm to it that leaves a lasting impression.

The ninth track, ‘Last Fantasy’, is the work of composer Kim Hyung-suk, and sounds even larger in scale than you would imagine a movie soundtrack to sound like. This song, which contains the grandeur of the 50-member orchestra, is a grand song that lasts more than six minutes and overwhelms its listeners. It is an impressive song that expresses IU's present state at the end of her teenage years with lyrics that ask someone to hold her hand so that she doesn’t fall into her dream when she opens the door to reality. The tenth track, ‘Teacher’ is by composer Ra.D, which IU also participated in writing the lyrics for. It is a song customized for IU from the start and a lot of time was invested in writing the lyrics to include all kinds of thoughts and concerns that 19-year-old IU had. The calm acoustic sound and emotional vocals of IU and Ra.D are combined to complete the charming song.

The eleventh track, ‘The Abandoned’, is a self-composed song written by IU. ‘The Abandoned’, which gives the feeling of a deep darkness, is a song that IU has worked on for a long time, and goes contrary to the bright side of herself that she has shown so far. This self-composed song by IU brings out her deep inner emotions that we never imagined her to have, instilling another kind of expectation from her fans with regard to her potential. The twelfth track, ‘4AM’, is a song by British singer-songwriter Corinne Bailey Rae, with lyrics written by IU and the song was completed with a collaborative effort between the two. The lyrics draw attention with their depiction of the unstable emotions at 4 a.m. and IU's deep vocals that she has not shown before allows the song leave an impression on the listener. IU sang this song by Corinne Bailey Rae, a musician she has said she loves the most since her debut, and that makes the song mean a lot to IU.

The finale of the full-length album, ‘L'amant’, is a song that allows the listener to experience the musical emotions of composer Jung Jaehyung as they are, through his work. IU’s mournful and thick vocals that flow through the sorrowful jazz melody add to the flair of the song. This song, which was fully completed with IU’s song interpretation ability, is a song that allows us to imagine the future of IU who shows that she can pull off a variety of genres. IU's second full-length album can be said to be a record that will remind the digital music generation of the ‘value of the album’ just by the team of participating musicians and the high quality of the songs. Let us all listen to the ‘charm of music’ that IU, who is highly anticipated by fans for her musical ability that combines musicality and popular appeal, will present through this album.

Translated by IUteamstarcandy

Source: Melon

#IU #last fantasy #album introduction

8 notes · View notes

narbevoguel · 4 months

Text

Hello guys. It's been a while since I made a post like this, but today I wanted to talk about my art. I haven't posted something proper in forever, and to say I haven't spent this entire time at least doodling a thing or two would be a lie, but there's a reason why I haven't been posting much and just keeping my art semi private, or multiple, let me explain (I'll have a TLDR at the end if you don't wanna bother with this, but written awfully):

First, I believe you guys deserve more than some stupid sketches. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy sketching, aesthetic aside, drawing multiple sketches a day is how I pushed myself to experiment new things and just get better overall, plus I draw them fast, so I could pull a bunch of sketches in the time it takes me to color just one, so I could spill one silly idea after the other. I don't know why or exactly when I started to feel like this is just not worth it for you guys, that you deserve more from me than what I put out, that maybe I disappoint you immensely. This isn't even about reach, I don't care about that, this is about me showing something worth to see.

Second, is how I chose to spend my time. Last year was a very busy year for me overall, my job became increasingly demanding at times, lotsa personal issues that stressed me out immensely, which resulted in me using my remaining free time doing other activities, including spending time with people I shouldn't have been so permissive with (except my gang, that's why I made it a New Year's Resolution to annoy you guys more, you know who you are), it became a thing where I was even afraid to say no to them in favor of my art or other me-activities in fear of them taking it the wrong way, which, in a weird way, ended up happening anyway and resulted in long term passive aggressive conflict, and well, all of this negativity and then some, especially combined, made me reluctant to pick my pen up most of the time, which leads me to my next point.

Third, not drawing as often made me lose my momentum considerably. I could draw stuff comfortably without much artblock, if at all, or something I thought looked ugly. It just came out naturally, sometimes without even using references, it was crazy, but I feel I lost that momentum; don't get me wrong, I don't think my art looks worse than before, far from it, I did a comparison a couple of days ago and I noticed that despite all these issues, I have indeed improved a lot, thing is, I still feel it doesn't look good, I can't seem to know where I want to go with it, or what I want it to look like, I have no idea how to describe this feeling of "I hate immensely what I've been doing", maybe I'm beating myself up too hard and this is a result of not sharing anything with you guys, but I want to be comfortable with the characters I always draw before I bring them out again (although for some reason Purah's perfection always makes my doodling easier, she has become my ultimate comfort character it seems, hah).

All that said, I want to change things this time. I'm not sure if I'll post more like I did before, or if I'll post less than I used to, but I want to post things again. Maybe won't start soon, but will definitely do it. I've even been stocking up on traditional materials to pick the pen back up in other ways as well (haven't done this since my college days, so I'm a bit excited), I don't want to make promises I can't keep (you guys know I'm terrible with keeping up with stuff lol), but I will try my hardest to post more finished pictures and less sketches. It might result in me posting less art and/or jokes as before, but we'll see where that leads me. I'm still not sure if I'll continue to keep the sketches to myself or not, but one step at a time, step one is to just stop beating myself up, turns out my negativity knows how to throw hands. If you read ALL to this point, my most sincere thanks, I know it isn't easy to put up with my crap, and if you didn't it's fine, I still love you, in fact, I'll sum it up for you below.

TLDR: I'm a stupid piece of crap that didn't know how to manage my free time which resulted in me developing a very serious case of imposter syndrome and I'm throwing hands back in hopes, no, in expectancy of walking out of it a victor, for my sake, and for you guys as well.

Anyway, thanks for reading, short or long version, and remember, a Purah a day, keeps uh, the heart happy and brain mushy, or something like that.

#long rant #random ramble #I don't know why I wanted to say all of this #I just did #I couldn't contain it #It's like word vomit #It just came out like bluaghgahgaghahg #I'm sorry guys #I love Purah

4 notes · View notes

formicaindia11 · 11 months

Text

Enhancing interiors with formica surfacing substances: exploring cora ornamental laminates

When it comes to developing lovely interiors that combine beauty and capability, formica surfacing materials are a popular preference among designers and homeowners. With their extensive range of colours, textures, and patterns, cora by formica gives endless layout opportunities. Allow’s delve into the arena of decorative laminates and discover how they could transform your area. Versatile layout solutions formica’s cora ornamental laminates are designed to cater to numerous design choices. Whether you’re seeking a modern and sleek appearance or a conventional and rustic experience, cora has you protected. With a wide palette of colours, from bold and colourful to subtle and impartial, you may create the perfect backdrop in your indoors layout vision. Captivating textures texture adds depth and visual interest to any floor. Cora decorative laminates provide a selection of textures, which includes excessive-gloss, wooden grains and stone-like finishes. Those textures create a tactile revel in, making your surfaces visually fascinating and alluring to the touch. Whether or not you’re aiming for a pricey marble look or the warm temperature of herbal timber, formica’s ornamental laminates have a texture to fit your fashion. Enduring sturdiness formica surfacing substances are engineered to withstand the needs of each day life. Cora surfacing substances feature a excessive-stress laminate creation that ensures high-quality sturdiness and toughness. With their capability to maintain their splendor even inside the face of normal use, these laminates provide long-lasting value. Creative programs the flexibility of cora ornamental laminates extends past countertops and cabinetry. These laminates may be used to revamp furnishings, wall panels, doorways, and different indoors surfaces. From accessory walls that make a formidable announcement to fashionable cupboard doors that add man or woman, the creative opportunities are sincerely limitless. With formica’s premium surfacing substances, you may transform any area into a customized haven. Smooth renovation maintaining your interiors searching clean and delightful is a breeze with formica’s ornamental laminates. Their non-porous surfaces withstand moisture and stains, making them easy to easy and keep. With their low-renovation nature, those laminates are an excellent desire for busy households and business spaces. Formica’s cora decorative laminates provide an array of layout options to decorate your interiors. With their versatile shades, charming textures, and enduring durability, those surfacing materials empower you to create areas that reflect your particular fashion. From kitchen countertops to furnishings and past, formica surfacing materials provide a canvas in your creativeness to flourish. Revel in the benefit of protection and the knowledge that you’ve made an eco-conscious preference. Allow your creativity shine as you transform your area with formica’s surfacing materials.

Formica India is a leading provider of branded, High Pressure Laminates solutions for commercial and residential customers worldwide. For More info visit our website. https://formica-india.com/ Formica India do laminates, fenix , kitchen laminates, laminates for kitchen cabinets, kitchen laminate design, decorative laminates, best laminates in india, top laminate brands in india, best laminate brand in india, laminate sheets, laminate designs, high pressure laminates, designer laminates,etc.

2 notes · View notes

lorata · 2 years

Note

Do you have any more temeraire stuff because oh my gosh I love your writing and seeing that crossover fic was like finding $20 under my couch :0

I have 6 canon Temeraire fics on AO3 (four for various pairings and, hilariously, two for Volly and his captain!)

I checked my files and I have two more crossover mini-ficlets I never posted bc they were short, so here you go. Dragon!Alec and Dragonrider Electra (who can never exist without critiquing systems).

ALEC:

The night is crisp and clear, the stars a brilliant scattering across the velvet sky. All around the covert the dragons lie sleeping, happy in their little groups, curled up together or stretched out in blissful solitude, snoring away. A perfect scene of calm and quiet, if only Alexius could join them. And yet here he is, awake as the moon rises high above the horizon, staring at the stars while his mind continues to whirl inside his skull.

A harsh flap of wings, the thump of feet on the ground next to him. He turns, startles to see the mottled grey of the most dangerous miniature dragon breed in all of Europe land beside him, eyes narrowed in the moonlight. “You are sighing,” says Selene, the feral whose terrifying reputation reached Alexius before he was Alexius, a hatchling still in the shell. “It is very tiresome. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” Alexius says, surprised and not a little alarmed. He didn’t realize Widowmakers had such good hearing. “I wasn’t trying to be loud.”

“You aren’t loud, you’re being very quiet and polite about being sad and sighing over here all by yourself, and that is loud, and I do not like it,” Selene says, all perfectly understandable words on their own but which together do not make sense. “Tell me where the problem is, and I shall bite it for you, and then you will not be sad, and I can go to sleep.”

Alexius can only stare at her. He is a young dragon, still coming into his size, and the older dragons in his formation terrify him with their importance and the combined weight of all their experience largely terrified him into keeping his distance. And his captain, a handsome, sincere young offer, somehow eager and serious all at once, wanted so much to be a good captain, and deserved a dragon so much better —

Selene’s tail slams the ground, jolting him out of the mental spiral. “You are still sighing,” Selene snaps. “You’re starting to make me think the answer is biting you.”

Alexius laughs before he can stop himself, too startled and confused to do anything else. “Sorry! I just — I don’t know what I’m doing. Don’t you ever feel like that? We hatch, and we’re given the harness, and a captain, and we’re told that here, you’re going to be fighting the French for the rest of your life, have fun, try not to die or get everyone else killed with you. Don’t you ever feel … pressure?”

Selene scratches an itch on her hide with one long, wickedly curved claw. “I like to fight. I don’t like the French. I don’t want to die. I don’t see the problem.”

This time Alexius does sigh, not the metaphorical kind Selene found so offensive but a real one, deep and gusty. “I know. You and everyone else. I’m the one who’s strange.”

She gives him that sideways look again, all glinty eyes, too cunning by half. “What about your captain?”

Alexius tilts his head up to watch a sliver of cloud dance across the moon. “Creed is — my captain is — he’s the son of an Admiral and a Longwing captain.” Invictus is still in the Corps, and like his captain, utterly terrifying. Alexis can only thank the stars they decided not to put mother and son in the same formation or his wings might tremble so hard he never makes it to the air. “He’s been on dragonback since he was an egg. He’s a very good captain.”

Selene’s tail lashes. “I’m still not hearing anything that I can bite.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Alexius bursts out. It feels like sticking the surgeon’s knife in an awful boil and watching the pus bubble out, ugly and bad to look at but also so satisfying. “I don’t like it. I don’t like hurting people, I don’t think the soldiers and dragons who actually have to fight the war are the ones to blame for all this horrible things, I hate looking another dragon in the eye and having to try to claw it to death, I hate watching someone else’s captain die, I hate — I hate all of it.”

Her nostrils flare. “You’re afraid.”

Now it’s Alexius’ turn to strike the ground with his tail, and he’s larger than Selene even being younger and she pulls back, hissing. “I’m not afraid! I can fight. I can kill as well as anyone. That’s not the point. I don’t want to. But it’s not like there’s a choice. There is no other life for dragons except the breeding grounds and I’m not — I can’t — do that.” If his choices are to breed or fight, he’ll choose fight, but it’s the better of two awful options.

Selene studies him for a long moment, thoughts practically visible as they roll around her mind. “You should tell your captain.”

“I can’t tell my captain, he’s wanted this since he was an egg, and his parents as well —”

“Then you should run away.”

“I can’t run away! Dragons who run away are cowards.”

She blinks, slowly. “You can’t not do both things.”

“You can’t give me two impossible choices!”

“Then I suppose you do nothing and be terribly unhappy and sigh a lot until I eventually bite your head off,” Selene says in a voice that promises perfect reasonableness, quite unfairly.

Alexius stares at her. “You are being quite impossible.”

“I think we have just proved you are the one who’s being impossible,” she says, unperturbed. “With logic, just now. Misha taught me about logic, it’s very fascinating. I don’t like it usually but I can see how it can be helpful.”

Alexius continues to stare, but finally something snaps within him and he laughs again, wild and helpless. “All right, fine, I will tell my captain. I’ll tell my captain, the perfect aviator, that I don’t want to fight, and what I really dream about is becoming the first dragon surgeon, and everything will be absolutely fine and no one will be angry at me at all.”

“There, you see?” Selene rises up on her haunches and spreads her wings, glittering in the moonlight. “That wasn’t difficult at all.”

Maybe this was all a dream, Alexius tells himself after she’s gone. This entire conversation was one massive hallucination caused by eating a sheep with some kind of disease. That’s a thing, he’s heard of that. But the funny thing is, he curls up, tucks his head under his wing, and actually falls asleep.

ELECTRA:

Devon stood at at the edge of Ceylon Port, breathing in the tang of tar and fish from the incoming ships. Around him the gulls squawked and sailors shouted commands at one another, ropes slapping against the sides of the boats as crates bumped against the hull on their way up to the deck, and he took a long moment to soak in the familiar chaos. The dragon frigate lay anchored just offshore, undertaking repairs after a storm laid waste to the rigging, and merchants strode up and down the docks, arguing with the various shipmasters over their cargo.

Ceylon was a beautiful island by all accounts, though Devon had not had cause to explore much further than the British dragon coverts. While in most of the country the changeover from Dutch to British rule had gone without incident, the eastern province of Kandy had been suffering from guerrilla warfare tactics in an attempt to drive the foreign forces out, and Devon preferred not to overstay his welcome. The most he’d ever done was take his dragon to go flying over the far-reaching cliffs that stretched up above the jewel-green tree cover, and even that was breathtaking.

Finally the ship he’d been waiting for arrived, and the runner brought Devon the oilcloth packet of letters from England. Devon gave him a few coins and a clap on the shoulder for his trouble, then headed back to the covert to deliver the letters to the others. They had been in the southern peninsula for a few weeks now, and news from home would be welcome.

Devon had nearly reached the covert when he noticed a girl standing near the entrance. Perhaps twelve years old, with warm, brown skin and serious dark eyes, the girl wore a simple sari and an intense, watchful expression, hands curled at her sides. Devon glanced around, but if she wasn’t waiting for him specifically, clearly she meant to waylay the next aviator who returned, and he could think of a few who might be less diplomatic.

“Can I help you?” Devon asked, first in English, then — hazarding a guess and hoping he wasn’t about to cause massive offence — in Tamil, although that sometimes backfired. Occasionally responding with his limited command of one of the native languages would cause the children to assume they could talk to him at full speed, leaving him overwhelmed and squinting as though flying into a full-force gale.

The girl narrowed her eyes, then apparently came to her own conclusions about how far Devon’s grasp of her language continued. “I want to join your dragon-riders,” she said in English. “Take me with you.”

Devon studied her. The girl seemed well enough, no scars or signs of mistreatment, and her feet weren’t swollen or bleeding to indicate she’d walked a long way on her own. Better than Lyme’s pet Claudius, at any rate, so there was that, at least. At the same time, the Corps had very firm rules about picking up native children at every country they made port, otherwise the coverts would be crawling with foreign recruits. Even after the war, the Admiralty continued to insist that the Corps maintain its ridiculous — and exclusionary — adherence to British blood wherever possible.

Several answers rolled through Devon’s head before he abandoned them, feeling more than a little helpless. He’d turned away eager children before, back at the various coverts in England, but most of them hadn’t been serious, more dared by their friends to see how far they could get. Most captains developed a sense of which potential recruits possessed the mettle. And this girl —

Devon avoided the issue of rules and regulations for now. “Why?” he said instead. “You would have to leave your home.”

“My home.” She spat. “The Dutch stole our country from us, but when their war was too expensive they gave it to the British. My king fought, but his own men betrayed him and sold my people to the British too. When they found out the British were not the great, kind, wonderful leaders they thought, they went to war to drive them out. Now many are dying.”

Devon listened to her speech, tightly furious and hissing, the fire in her eyes and the hands that clenched into fists. She spoke an older person’s words, yes, Devon recognized a child parroting the familiar rant of a parent or trusted authority figure, but she believed them too. This was no young one repeating words she did not understand.

“What would your family think if you left?” Devon asked, although he suspected he knew the answer already. “Wouldn’t they worry?”

Her mouth thinned. “Many are dying,” she repeated. “Many are dead.”

Devon nodded. “So you want to be a dragon captain?”

The girl tossed her head. “No,” she said. “I am a dragon captain.”

Before Devon could process that statement, the girl placed two fingers in her mouth and let out a loud, piercing whistle that undulated in an odd, almost musical pattern. A moment later Devon heard the telltale heavy rasp of wings cutting the air, and a red and gold dragon dropped to the ground next to her, tongues of flames dripping from its jaws.

“This is Nīti,” the girl said, lifting one hand and resting it against the dragon’s neck, the pose looking to Devon like it should be engraved in gold upon the side of a temple dedicated to an ancient queen. “She came to me when my village burned and now I ride upon her back. I will not stay here and watch my country burn. I will not watch it buckle and bow to invaders. I want to go somewhere and fight. Somewhere in the world there is a place with evil men and good men who fight them to protect the people. Yes? Take me there.”

Devon still had not caught his breath, not yet. This dragon was no Greyling; a girl this size, of such a young age, should never have been able to captain her on her own, but the beast had clearly chosen her — not from an egg but as an adult, by all rights a feral — and the girl wore her captain’s authority with pride and utter conviction. And a fire-breather too, one of the rare breeds from deep in the Indian peninsula that no one had managed to procure for the British side.

“There is always someone, somewhere, who needs protecting,” Devon said. “I won’t lie to you; no war is truly just, and no cause is blameless. But if you’re seeking justice, then yes, I think we can give you that.” He looked the girl right in her hard, blazing eyes and asked, “What is your name?”

For the first time her expression flickered, and the pain that crossed her face held no undercurrent of determination or pride to give it strength — only hurt and sorrow. “My parents named me in the language of our people,” she said. “Now my parents are dead and my people betrayed. I do not want to hear the British butcher my name like they butchered my country.” Devon winced but only nodded, and the girl tilted her head, expression turning thoughtful. “But you have interesting stories, you foreigners. You can call me Electra.”

Something pulled in Devon’s chest, as though someone lodged a hook in his breastbone and yanked hard. Right then he knew he could never laugh at Lyme and her propensity for adopting strays ever again. “I am glad to meet you, Electra, and Nīti,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

#lorata answers #anonymous #we must be killers: tales from district 2 #my writing

16 notes · View notes