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#Some day this will be written

mortuarywriting · 30 days

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If I outline what the fuck i wanna see in my self indulgent au will it give me the kick in the ass to write it.

Obviously relative spoiler/high notes/plot points below

The premise is, so far, nobody has seen where Simon lives. As far as they- they being Gaz, Soap, and Price- know he has a flat in Manchester.

Well leaving base one night(ish, time negotiable), the road they were all taking in their separate vehicles is closed due to a nasty accident. Gonna be blocked for 24 hours kinda mess.

So Ghost offers to let them all stay at his place, if only for a bit or the night if they prefer

Everyone just kinda. Well this isn't what we were expecting but alright. So they follow his car, it's pissing down rain and you can't see shit before you but the tail lights you're following but they've committed and by the time they pull off the road they're fuckin nowhere. House is fairly isolated, separate garage building, coop in the backyard, and a thatch roof cottage. Whose Nan's attic is Simon living in???

Except, not a random old biddie. Just a random fat American?? It's obvious they're familiar enough with each other, giving each other shit and that there's a whole "you got back from a mission here is our you came home routine"

Whole mess. The group stays the night because now they're nosy and wanna find out what the relationship is. You both say roommates. They don't wholly believe that.

Simon and roomie sleep downstairs, he can't sleep in a bed yet after the mission and roomie makes sure there's enough background noise that he doesn't snap into combat mode everything is about to go to shit.

Next morning roomie and Simon team up to make a hodge podge of all kinds of breakfast food and between them all there are no leftovers. Concerns are had if everyone ate enough (and then biscuits and gravy settled).

Its back to routine and roomie goes out to grocery shop to stock back up on "i need to feed myself and a whole ass army dude" levels of food and snackies.

While Simon is trying to get Soap and Gaz to stop making excuses to stick around (all good-natured fun) there is a call. Roomie prefaces this with they're fine!!! But uh. They did get hit by a car. A bit. Enough that there has to be a report. Come get the groceries?

And this is the part where they find out Simon and roomie are married. Have been for y e a r s. Technically the town knows them under roomie's last name as a couple.

After the dust is settled and everyone is back at the cottage the explaining happens. Yes, they're married. Vegas happened. It's been a long time and they kinda glossed over the whole "he's a dead man" legal bit for it. Roomie still gets married rights. How do you think he has a lease as a dead man roomie legitimately wants to know. The cottage is in their name, his isn't on it to keep it all off the record if people come knocking for him.

(He does actually have a Manchester flat, though. Landlord takes cash payments however many months at a time and doesn't ask questions. Roomie gets mail from it every once in a blue moon.)

Relationship is largely "we're married but for tax benefits"esque because they're both some flavor of ace. If he's in town roomie checks on if he wants to go to the Saturday munches or not but that's sir not appearing in this fic.

But yeah. Just fun self indulgence.

Could go write the Vegas bit. Write work "being brought home". Bonding activities. List of things for when he retires. Potentially kidnapping. S o many fun options but I just. Gotta write it.

#rambles from the morgue #Some day this will be written #It's sure as shit not today

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emdeerm · 5 months

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Half-brother?!?!????

Prompt ig. Don't have enough knowledge to pull it off.

So, Dp stuff happen. AGIT too. So PP is gone and forgotten.

ANYWAY. Time passes, and after another huge battle of Ghosts, Maddie dies. Jack is distraught. He wasn't the most attentive parent before and had completely stopped trying to be one after that.

Danny was 17 and Jazz was 19 when they woke up to a small note with an apology.

Jack moved away. He was in his late 40s, the Ghosts were never his biggest interest tbh, it was Maddie and he loved her and her interests to bits. Now that the driving force was gone he just saw no point.

He got back into Uni. Got a degree and started travelling to different sights.

There he met Janet Drake and the rest is history upto your interpretation.

Tim, when he becomes Robin, does a more thorough check of his family and finds out about the possibility that he might have siblings. Adult, independent siblings. He didn't know whether or not to reach out. If he even should. He found records of them searching for his father. Maybe they wouldn't at all be happy to learn about the fact that their dad had a whole new family...

#Danny is not the GK yet. He's a Prince in training #despite being in his late 30s (he has stopped aging after 20.#Thankfully #the Fenton Genes came through before he was frozen in time. Anyway #he will become the King when he turns at least 70).#He is working as a main engineer for some rocket making place.#Jazz is a child psychologist during the day and a nameless mental professional for heroes in her spare time.#dpxdc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #idea appeared #idea was written down #is it good?#idk #here #take this tumblr

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thresholdbb · 2 days

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what's the threshold theory

There was a post about how Tom is the only crew member who isn't really affected by the Borg, and there's a theory that he has so much luck because he saw the past and the future when he crossed the transwarp threshold. He saw the past and the future, all of time and space. There's some subconscious part of him that remembers that experience. In fact, Tom refused to play a part in Chakotay indulging Annorax's temporal incursions, probably because a part of him knew nothing good could come of it.

If we extend that same theory to Janeway, some of her wild luck with time travel and other crack plans starts to make sense. She doesn't verbally hate time travel until after the events of Threshold, since it happens in Time and Again without complaint. Janeway has an uncanny knack for time travel, as evidenced every time she deals with it. She hates time travel, but it might be because part of her knows exactly how to manipulate the timeline. She manages to avoid the "inevitable" temporal explosion in Future's End, saving both Voyager and Braxton. She resets the entire timeline in Year of Hell, and no one else followed her reasoning. She pulled it off flawlessly. In Relativity, she senses the incidents are all related, despite it being just one reading that connects them. By the time she's involved, she has a temporal incursion factor of .0036 and a time travel protocol named after her, even if that may just be Braxton's personal grudge. Then there's Endgame, where she intentionally changes the timeline. Up until this point, she has been dragged into time travel, but for the first time, she jumps in on purpose. How does Admiral Janeway know how to get them home sooner in a way that completely avoids the Temporal Integrity Commission? It's because she has seen all of time, and part of her knows exactly what needs to happen so she can get Voyager home and do it in a way that becomes baked into the prime timeline. Maybe she doesn't consciously remember what happened during her transformation, but the experience lives in her mind somewhere, guiding her decisions.

#every day is threshold day #tldr threshold cemented the time travel shenanigans #we're not counting her disparagement of time travel in relativity i know it's technically before threshold #but they've messed with the timeline so much that her past timeline is also changed.#Time travel is funny because the past is the future the future is the past #so while relativity comes before threshold in the prime timeline her timeline has also been changed in a way that it wasn't before threshol #we could chalk it up to a writing oversight but this is more interesting #not to mention her uncanny luck with the Borg which I think ties in as well #it's part of why her instinct is so strong #also the bio neural gel packs but that's a different theory #listen she's amazing with or without having seen all of time and space but she has seen all of time and that must have affected her somehow #those little salamander babies also have all of the cosmos in their mind #tried to explain as concisely as possible but it is part of my overarching theory #she doesn't second guess herself nearly as much following their jaunt into transwarp #I have more but I'm trying to be brief cause it's written up partially in my drafts somewhere and i have some things i need to do today lol #meta #Star Trek voyager #Kathryn janeway #threshold day #did you expect me thresholdbb to not have a serious threshold theory?#listen I can make anything nonsense and turn anything into a serious theory I was known for this kinda bs in grad school #I wrote a 25 page paper on NOTHING once #I wrote a paper about how corn fields were super gay and it made my professor cry I can spin the bullshit it is one of my skills

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redwinterroses · 3 months

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There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day.

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though.

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes.

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem.

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall.

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye.

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back.

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead.

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.”

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!”

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes.

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there.

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault.

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light.

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

#falsesymmetry #geminitay #red said eldritch gem rights #let her be cheerful and scary too she deserves it #also there needs to be more Vault Hunter fic in the world. and more False content.#this was inspired by a post of some enormous redwood trees I saw the other day with teeny tiny people at the base of them #along with Gem's tree building -- the cherry trees in her hardcore and s9 builds #and the headcanon from hc8 and empires that she's a worldhopper #anyway this is the first thing I've really written in (over?) a year so... I'm quite happy about it.#might polish and put it on AO3 later but for now it's just for the hellsite <3 #redwinterwrites #oh also excuse for creeper/minecraft worldbuilding yaaay XD

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lemony-snickers · 1 year

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"you are the only one who's ever broken me open."

"do not scream god's name, scream mine."

"please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

"your heart is beating so fast." "because i'm happy."

"i want to draw a map of your scars so i can always find my way back to your heart."

"i don't believe in such nonsense." "i'm not asking you to. i'm simply asking that you believe in me."

"is that good? that's all i want, to make you feel good."

"it reminded me of you. but then, sometimes i think everything reminds me of you."

"what a fragile thing, that love can so easily turn to violence."

"why are you doing this?" "because i love you."

"it didn’t feel right when I was always thinking of you."

"i would have felt like the luckiest person on the planet."

"are you gonna take that off or should i keep guessing?"

"i wanted this to be special."

"i can't believe... after all this time... i should have known it would be you."

"i want to be wildly, deliriously happy. wildly, deliriously loved."

"i try always to be too much for you."

"the sooner i leave, the sooner i will return and we can begin again."

"i didn't die." "you were dead to me."

"i don't care if other people see us together, you do."

"and you say i'm the one who should be resting."

"i'm sorry." "for what?" "that you got stuck with me."

"what makes you happy?" "lots of things." "and what makes you unhappy?" "lots of other things and some of the same ones."

"i wish i could give you the world." "the world is not enough. but you are."

"i have never needed anything so much as i need you. and i hate you for it."

#lemony snippets #writing prompts #fanfic writing prompts #smut prompts #romance prompts #angst prompts #i mean i guess they are prompts if you ignore how bad most of them area ;dlsjfasdf #idk here are a bunch of horrible half-formed pieces of things i have written but have either never finished or will never publish #for some other more talented person(s) to utilize as they see fit should they so choose #anyway yeet #this is a queued post #as is almost everything these days lol #gosh re-reading this stuff is so cringe-y help asdasdf

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nonamenonamenon · 2 months

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When most demons are asked about Solomon the sorcerer, most will have a remark about how he doesn't feel like he should be a human, but rather a demon instead.

If Solomon is told about this, he merely laughs, and says, "Do I, now?"

However, behind his cunning smile, lies a smidge of uncertainty on whether he truly is a human. At what point does he cross the line of human and demon? Or something else truly inhuman entirely?

He's conflicted. It's an idiotic thing to be worried about. He's human. He's always on the side of mankind, and always acts in the interest of humanity.

Though, at times, in the lonely permanence of the Devildom's night, Solomon wonders if he truly deserves to be called a human. He forgets whoー or what he is, being around so many demons in his time at RAD.

When you arrive at RAD, being a puny, weak, helpless thing compared to the other exchange students, his curiosity is piqued. Why send a normal person here, where they're bound to be mauled to death by a bunch of demons?

However, his expectations were exceeded when he learns of your pact with Mammon, the second born of the seven. He's not all too impressed, seeing how easy it would be for anyone to trick Mammon into forming a pact, but he's surprised nonetheless. He recalls having to wait a few years before he made his first pact. How nostalgic, he thinks.

As the year passed, and as you formed more & more bonds with everyone else, he was intrigued further & further. To have a pact with Lucifer, of all people? The one demon he's been trying to form one with? He laughs to himself, but he sees why, now. You've gotten through Lucifer's walls as well, hm?

When Solomon starts interacting with you, you're a bit scared. They call him a demon, but he looks safe enough. They say he's the strongest sorcerer in all three realms, but he doesn't look all that strong... you think.

You come to grow fond of the feeling of home he gives you. Though most wouldn't consider him one, he reminds you of your humanity.

He feels all too familiarー like home.

To Solomon, with each day he spends with you, a budding seed of love grows inside his chest, bit by bit. It's unnoticeable to him, at first, but comes to realize he's fallen when he dreaded you coming back to the House of Lamentation after a day together.

He notices it when you make him feel something he hasn't felt in decadesー maybe even centuries. He feels something human. He thought he'd shoo'ed away cupid a long time ago, but, it seems that he's been struck by his arrow again.

With this realization came something that, as the strongest sorcerer in the three realms, never thought he'd feel once more.

He felt fear.

Fear that you will be his weakness, and that you'll be put in harm's way, that every enemy he's made will come for you, to exact their revenge on him.

But most of all, fear that he'd outlive you, and he'll be left to mourn at your grave. He's a little too well acquainted with death, having seen all of his loved ones pass away, either of old age, or by something else entirely.

Solomon isn't sure whether he could take seeing you on your deathbed, though.

When he's with you, he rediscovers too many emotions he hasn't felt in years. Love, jealousy, fear... it reminds him that he's still human.

With you, he rediscovers his humanity.

He feelsー no, he is human with you.

And to you, he is a warm reminder of home.

One that you've been longing for, all this time.

#obey me solomon x reader #om solomon #solomon obey me #om solomon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me solomon #conked out rn #thought about solomon the entire day #haven't written this much about a character at all. like #maybe alkaid from lbc but i'll release my drafts at some point #read solomon's train ur story and i love how being human is an important thing for his character #he thought he'd left such feelings in his naive youth but apparently they're still here #i rlly love solomon #if it wasn't obvious enough

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angelizs · 1 year

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[Club Activities - part 2]

Summary: Crowley keeps knocking at your door, quite literally, wanting to hear your club choice. You might as well get this over with.

Notes: gn!reader, humor, it's kinda long, reader is oblivious, mentions of minor injuries but in a funny way dw, it's the looong overdue pt2

Part: 1.0 / 2 (you're here!) / 2.5 (soon!)

"So, have you decided?"

Crowley stands by the doorway. He looks completely normal, a pleasant smile plastered on his lips. You blink, sluggish, resisting the urge to slam the door on his face.

"It's five a.m. on a sunday."

"Yes, that's correct, good to see you're keeping up with the passage of time."

You feel there's a jab aimed at you for taking your time on choosing a club. Or on answering the door. In your defense, Grim was sleeping on top of you and you didn't want to disturb his sleep. Nor yours. You were hoping the Headmaster would just give up and leave you alone, but instead he only knocked louder.

"Well?"

"Uh..." You take a bit to remember the first thing he said. "No, I still have some meetings to go to."

"Were the sports clubs not to your liking? I'm sure you'd do well in one, should you put your efforts on it."

"Nah, I'll pass."

"I see. Then, you'll tell me your decision by the end of the week, yes?"

"Since when did we agree on this." It was a question, but with your drowsy state it just fell flat.

"Since now, of course! I was very kind to let you take so much time to chose a club, but you must understand I'm under some pressure as well to make sure you'll have the best possible education here. We can't afford to lose too much time!"

You blink again, your brain still sleepy. "Oh. Alright."

Crowley claps his hands in an excited manner. "Wonderful! I'll be eagerly waiting for your decision, then!"

Only as you watch his retreating back getting farther away that it finally registers just what you agreed on. You groan, closing the door and leaning against it.

Well, nothing to do about it now. You should really get onto it, anyway. Still, your break will be missed.

Film Research Club (Vil, Ortho platonically)

You had finally left the sports clubs behind, time to try something new, like arts!

Since you've worked with Vil at the SDC, you were already used to his strict personality and thought you'd be able to handle yourself pretty well. You might not have that much experience with acting but you did know how to pretend everything was ok and your life wasn't falling apart, so you think you might have potential.

It was quite surprising to see Ortho there, but the sight of your friend's welcoming eyes and cheer made you feel relieved, relaxing amidst the Pomefiore students. They were intimidating, though in a different way the guys from the Spelldrive club were. The latter looked like they could easily beat you to a pulp, while the former looked like they'd give you a disgusted stare and call you a peasant in such a condescending tone you'd implode on spot. They were all very pretty as well, but you wouldn't let that make you self conscious since you knew no one could beat Vil anyway.

Speaking of, Vil himself comes to speak with you and explain about the club with a professional conduct as he says that Crowley had warned him of your special situation and that he'd let you help out, since they always needed extra hands on deck. You got hopeful at that, perhaps it was time for you to shine and discover a hiden talent of yours! These daydreams are soon crushed as Vil puts you on backstage duty and turns around, having something or other to talk about with the other members.

Well. That was... not what you were expecting. Ortho explains that in order to enter the club as an actor, you must audition beforehand and prove yourself worthy. That makes sense, you guess, so you accept it with grace. Backstage work might not be as exciting as being on the actual stage, but you had Ortho by your side to make sure things won't be too dull. And a side of you wants to make Vil proud of your work, so you suck it up and ask Ortho to lead the way.

Ortho shows you around the set you'll be working on for the day. It's one of Pomefiore's dorm ballrooms, and it's huge. You look in awe at everything, even though it's a bit plain in terms of furniture, it's quite detailed. In moments like this you remember Pomefiore's dorm is a castle, as you feel the royalty emanating from the ceiling, with it's luxurious chandeliers, to the walls, with it's intricate golden patterns, even at the floor, by it's quality.

He teaches you how to operate the lights and sound for a bit while the actors decide on what they'll film that day. You feel just the tiniest bit of jealousy at them, especially because Vil seems to be very focused on everything they say. Ortho must notice this (of course he would), and tries to cheer you up. After all, you're his friend! He doesn't want you to feel bored at the club when there are so many insteresting things to do!

You move from the more technical parts and go to the storage room, where they keep most of the props and extra accessories. You explore it, looking at everything but not touching, not wanting to get in trouble if you break anything on accident. As you're looking at an old mirror, Ortho picks up one of the pink cowboy hats and puts it on your head. It looks goofy, not matching with your uniform at all, and it makes you laugh.

You retaliate by putting a pirate hat full of colorful feathers that's way too big on him. It slides down and covers his eyes, making him look like a little kid trying on their sibling's clothes. Not to mention the feathers, that also clash with his body's design. You both laugh and go to different directions, trying to find more things to put on.

Ortho ends up with a vivid red sash wrapped around his waist and a wooden rod in hands, while you've got a pink feather scarf around your neck and a hollow steel rod in hands. You stare down at each other from your sides of the room, pretending you're on one of those western cowboy movies, even acting like it too. You drawl out something about the town not being big enough for the two of you. Ortho goes along, putting up the worst pirate accent with his robotic voice and telling you to prepared to be boarded.

Between giggles, the two of you meet at the middle, your rods clashing as if they were swords. You make exaggerated moviments that would be impratical in any fight while dropping the most cliche lines you can think of. Ortho dodges your attacks in slow motion and retributes with his own, making it seem more like some funny dance than a sword fight.

You were having so much fun you kind of forgot you were there to do a job. You're quickly reminded as the door suddenly opens and you, startled, let the steel rod slip from your hands mid attack and hit the wall with a loud clang. There stands Vil, hands on his hips as he stares at the two of you with one arched eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face even after almost being hit right on it. You're not looking the most dignified, with your whole attire. Nor is Ortho, which helps you to not feel alone on the receiving end of Vil's judgment.

The three of you leave the props behind and return to the main area. More precisely, to the actors' dressing room part. It's not an actual separate room, but rather a space of the ballroom reserved for this. Most have put on their costumes and are adjusting the finer details, Vil instructs you to help them while he sets up the stage.

You try your best, but every actor sends you a glare as you approach them, making you turn on your heels and try another one. And another. And another. You're not feeling very helpful. How you wish you could just ignore it like Ortho does. The only thing you actually do is helping zip up some clothes when they can't reach their backs and do it themselves. You don't dare to touch their hair or you feel they'd explode you with their minds. There is one instance when you have to lace a guy into a corset, but you get a bit confused with all the laces. Maybe it's like tying a shoe? You pull on it with too much force at first, leading him to complain at you the entire time. In your defense, you've never done this before! You tie it up with a cute lace at the end to make up for it and scurry away before he could release more of his wrath upon you. You settle on following Ortho around like a lost puppy.

Finally, everyone finishes up and you move to the middle of the room, where the scene will be taking place. From what you gather, the movie they are making is about a royal family that's having their heir assume the throne, but there's a plot against him going behind the scenes. The main character seems to be corset guy, who still glares at you whenever you pass by his camp of vision, much to your (un)luck.

Ortho leads you to the first place he showed, since they'd start recording soon. You watch him work with the lights, turning them on dramatically as they start the scene and making it follow the main lead as he monologues about his woes of assuming such a big responsability and how he feels between the sea of people present. The actor does a good job, good enogh to appease Vil, who watches attentively near the camera. The thing is, he's trying to replicate a foreign accent and that, combined with his melodramatic lines, makes you have to stifle a laugh.

You try your best to stay quiet and pay attention to the story, but some of the lines and the way they dramatically deliver them sound so silly you can't help but giggle in your palm. Ortho looks at you inquisitively, tilting his head and trying to understand what you found so funny. You whisper an explanation to him, making him see the words in a different manner. As you laugh, he laughs along discretely, both of you having fun again.

Vil motions for you to keep your volume down, as to not disturb the actors and break their concentration, and you send him a thumbs up. Still, you keep on reacting, even mouthing their words with exaggerated facial expressions. Ortho seems much more interested in what you have to show than the lights, since he misses some of his cues and gets it later or sooner than intended. Which is also funny, since the confused looks on the background actors' faces are very entertaining.

It comes to a point in which you're holding in your laughter so much you're a bit out of air, and you end up bumping into one of the controls, making the background music change suddenly, from a calm waltz to an action scenesque one. Your startled eyes meet Ortho's, and in true friendship fashion you both burst out laughing. Vil cuts the filming and strides up on you two, reprimanding you once again, and you feel like a guilty puppy being scolded by their owner. You must look like that too, since he sighs like an overworked mother and takes pity on you, deciding on something else for you to do and leave Ortho to do his job without distractions.

Vil gives you the role of an extra to play, just for you to have an idle conversation with the protagonist that won't last even five minutes. He shows you exactly how the scene should go, taking hold of your hand to conduct a dance and dropping casual chatter with you, looking you in the eyes, with a conduct that's so charming you're sure you feel your heart skip a beat (too bad it's just acting though). You feel like you can do that as well, so you hurry to change into one of the formal outfits and repeat the line Vil told you over and over again in your head, heart beating way too fast.

There is just one thing you didn't count on: you apparently have a bad case of stage fright. Or perhaps it's happening especifically because you know Vil will be watching you like a hawk. As you position yourself amidst the other extras, you feel your heartbeat accelerating and your hands start to sweat. You try to relax your tense shoulders and clear your throat, looking at the floor to steady yourself.

As your cue approaches, you move closer to the corset guy, whose attention snaps at you as soon as you enter his vision field. Even if his face looks polite, like a prince, you can feel the glare he's still sending your way, just on a more subdued level this time. You can also feel the stares of the others on your back and your tongue seems to have been tied. Your head comes up with a blank when you try to remember what Vil told you to say. Oh, this is not good. Why did this have to be so nerve wracking?

Time passes slowly, seconds feels like hours as the protagonist waits expectantly for your words. Trying to not disappoint, you blurt out a joke improvisation line, like the ones you see on movies sometimes. Unfortunately, your sense of humor is vastly different from Pomefiore's students', and the joke falls so flat everyone has to take a moment to recover. You wish for the ground to swallow you as Vil yells a "Cut!" and the other actors look judgmentally in your way. Maybe if you close your eyes it will go away? You can still hear the other's whispering, and although you don't understand what exactly they're saying, you can only guess they're mocking you. Welp, guess it's time to become a hermit at ramshackle and never show your face at school ever again!

It takes only a minute, but as soon as Vil has recomposed himself he commands everyone to be quiet. You open your eyes again, gathering all your courage to see the disappointed look on his face, but you're surprised that's not what greets you. Instead, Vil's got a nasty glare that's sharp enough to cut a man, and it's not directed at you at all! Vil procceds to reprimand the rest of the cast for being so inelegant as to make fun of a begginer and even mocks their need to feel superior. You've never felt more grateful for him in your life, maybe you can still go to classes after that, since no one will dare to mess with you and risk his wrath.

As the others look ashamed for being yelled at by their leader, Vil pulls you aside and tells you that maybe it's better to try something else if your stage fright is going to affect your performance so much. He sounds strict as always, but he has an almost soft look in his eyes as he congratulates you for trying to overcome that fear and that you did well enough for someone with no experience. You feel a lot better after that and thank him sincerely, promising to give it your all at whatever other job you can do to help! He smiles at your enthusiasm and it's as if the clouds have parted ways for the sun to shine. (The other club members look amazed, as they've never seen such a soft smile on Vil's face before.)

He then asks you if you know how to work with a camera. If taking pics with Cater to post on Magicam counts then yes, you do have some experience with it. Vil says he's got the perfect job for you: being part of the camera crew and helping to film everything. You accept, after all, how hard can it be, really?

Apparently, a lot. Vil had just left out a little detail from this job: you'd be filming the aerial angle of this scene. Which meant using Kalim's magic carpet. As you recall, you're not the most adept at riding it, flashbacks from winter vacation entering in your mind. Still, you had promised Vil you'd help on this, and you weren't sure if he'd find you another thing to do or get your complaining the wrong way, so you decide to give it a try anyway.

You wobble on it, camera propped up on your shoulder and secured by a sling strap just in case you losen your hold on it. (Which is very likely). Surprisingly, you manage to get the carpet off the ground without many complications, so things are looking up (quite literally)! And then comes the part where you have to guide it and you're almost thrown out of a window with the force it makes a turn. Your grip on it tightens and you try to wrestle it into submission, with little success.

Things procced like this, you trying to learn how to drive the carpet while making turns on the air and holding on for your life. (And making sure the camera is safe. You don't want a repeat of the chandelier accident from the start of the year, so you're not taking any chances). Anything you might have tried to film is probably so shaky and blurry it isn't even usable, but you have more important matters to worry about.

That goes on until you make a particularly sharp turn, causing the carpet to lose control and go spiraling straight to the floor. Luckly, you manage to land on a convenientely placed couch (has that been there before?) and doesn't get much hurt. You're clutching the camera to your chest in a protective manner, so it isn't damaged either. At least, not much, but it isn't anything the Ignihyde guys can't fix.

Vil and Ortho are by your side in an instant, asking if you're alright. Vil extends his hand and pulls you up like a gentleman, fixing your hair softly. He's really close to your face and you can feel your heart beating faster, though you're not sure if it's due to that or the adrenaline of the fall. Ortho reassures you that not even him got the hang of piloting the carpet, as it seems to only actually obey Kalim, and that you did your best!

You really did try, so you can safely say you won't discover any hidden acting talent any time soon. Time to check out other clubs.

(Ortho tells you to drop by another time at practice and watch the recording with him, since he had a lot of fun! Vil tells you that should you wish and work hard for it, you may have potential and he'd be willing to help you reach it. You agree, since it was very nice to visit and, most of all, to get to see Vil on his element like this. There's an added bonus of you not having ended up at the infirmary as well, which is enough to put the club on a positive light in your books. It's a bit sad that's the standard, but oh well, nothing to do about it.)

Science Club (Trey, Rook)

Alright, art may not be for you, but maybe science is! Or... whatever it is that they do in this club.

It's a bit intimidating since there are way too many people there, more than you've seen in any other club. What could they possibly be doing to attract this many people?

Rook, as observant as ever, notices you before you've even set foot inside the lab, coming close to greet you and ask if you were going to join them for the day. You relutanctly agree, staying close to his side as he leads you deeper into the room, opening the path. You make sure to not bump into anyone and cause an accident.

Trey is at one of the work tables at the back, sharing it with Rook. He sends a calming smile your way and explains that it's a club with a vast variety of activities, as long as they're not of the physical sort. You sigh in relief, listening to him reciting things such as plant cultivation and chemistry experiments. You already have to do those things on your regular classes, so you're confident in your ability of succeding for once. Rook adds that this flexibility in activity has attracted many people, creating a beauté diversity of members. (Trey explains that there's a lot of odd people as he side eyes Rook).

You sit with them, since you don't know anyone else. Rook goes on about the experiment he'll be doing this time, something that will leave a beautiful impact and stay on the mind of anyone looking. It sounds a lot like what happens when you partner up with Ace and Deuce at alchemy class, that is, stuff is about to be blown up. You scoot closer to Trey.

Taking pity on you, Trey reminds Rook that there's an ingredient missing, since they had used all from the lab's storage on their last class, and offers to get it at the botanical garden for him, inviting you to come along. You jump at the opportunity, agreeing and getting up to follow him. Rook thanks his generosity and explains that there's no way a gentleman like him would leave all the hard work onto the two of you, so he follows along. Trey looks a bit annoyed, but you only wanted to get out of being roped into a crazy experiment so you don't mind much, as long as you keep Rook away from any potential explosive plants.

The fresh air from the gardens is much better than the stuffy feeling from the crowded lab, and you take a deep breath to appreciate it. Trey takes you to the temperate zone, the path filled with beautiful flowers of all colors and scents. The sound of the little river below you only adds to the pleasant atmosphere, the sun rays warming up your skin and soul. It's wonderful. You'd like it if your club classes were to take place there. It might be enough to convince you to join, the nature so full of life energizing your mood, a smile blooming on your face.

You pass by an area that has thicker vegetation and stands out from the whole, attracting your curiosity, so you ask Trey what could be there. He warns you to not wander to that side of the garden, as there were carnivorous plants being cultivated by the third years. You wave him off, saying you had those back in your world and they were pretty harmless. Trey looks at you in doubt, but decides to not question it, aceptting your answer and going back to his search for the missing ingredient.

Since you have no idea what you should be looking for, you leave the boys to it, deciding to observe the flowers instead. Distracted, you end up getting farther away from them, the flora enticing you and putting you under a spell, demanding your attention. It's not until you bump into a tall... something, that you realize how far you had gone. You lift up your head, wondering if you had bumped into a tree, only to find two open hinged lobes dripping with sap closing on your face.

A scream gets caught in your throat as you take in the gigantic carnivorous plant in front of you, that's only coming closer. You didn't know that when Trey had mentioned them, he didn't explain that they aren't like the one from your world at all. Not only were they huge, but also seemed ready to eat a human at any given chance.

You're pulled by someone behind you, falling into a secure chest and feeling strong arms embracing your waist as the plant's jaw's close into the air where you were just a second ago. The sigh you let out shakes your whole body and you let your weight be supported by your saviour. You find out his identity soon enough, as a familiar voice by your ear calls you chéri and asks if you were fine.

After thanking Rook, he guides you to the main area of the garden with a protective hand behind your back, making sure you wouldn't stumble into any more potential dangerous plants, as he goes on about how they were "the hunters of the natural world" and how "such danger has it's own alluring charm, non?" You don't catch the glint in his eyes as he asks the question, too busy trying to get your heart beat back into a normal rhythm.

Trey scolds you lightly for ignoring his advice, but he seems busier trying to equilibrate the plants he harvested in his arms and glaring at Rook, probably for leaving him alone to do all the work. Rook stays unbothered, putting his hands on your shoulders and staying close as he directs you to the exit, his usual smile stamped on his face.

As you put the fresh ingredients near the others that Rook had selected earlier, you notice some strawberries in the mix. You shot a questioning stare at Trey, making him laugh and explain he took the chance to harvest some of his hand grown special strawberries. He takes some from your hands, brushing your fingers together before lifting them up to inspect closely. The strawberries are a beautiful shade of red, making you salivate only by looking at them. Trey has a contemplative expression as he murmurs he should use them as soon as possible in order to make the best use of their ripeness.

You suggest him to make a strawberry tart with them and offers your help, on the light price of getting to eat it as well. He smiles and agrees to your proposal, telling you to follow him to the kitchens. You do, happily so as you carry some of the strawberries in your arms, leaving Rook to take care of the potions experiment. Really, you feel like you've killed two birds with one stone, so you pat yourself on the back for doing a good job.

Back at the first month of classes, you remember cooking with Trey, Ace, Deuce and Grim, and how much fun you had, despite the circumstances. With the group reduced to two, it might be more toilsome, but you were confident it would be worth it.

Trey finds an extra apron for you, tying it himself to make sure it would stay in place. He gently explains the steps to prepare the ingredients, helping you whenever you didn't understand something. It was quite nice, seeing Trey look so in his element, an unconscious soft expression on his face, as if he was enjoying himself. It's domestic, even, how you dance around each other in the kitchen, passing bowls and cutlery back and forth. He is good humored as he recalls stories from the club, making you laugh whenever he bemoans Rook's experiments.

The stories he tells are very captivating, so much so that you don't look at the recipe book, doing the steps on automatic. Once or twice you almost spill what you were mixing or use too much force to cut something, but it's salvageable every time, so you don't comment on it. You leave the crust on the oven for a bit too much, but it's only slightly charred, so you're pretty sure it's still edible. One of the flour bags slips from your hands and falls on the sink, covering your face in flour powder. Trey helps you clean up, but he's laughing at you and your now white hair. It comes to the point in which you're mixing the crème pâtissière and you get too close to the stove, making the ends of your sleeves to catch on fire. Trey quickly puts it out and runs your arm under cold water. The crème ends up a bit too lumpy, since neither of you were stirring it for a while, but it's not too bad.

Alright, maybe you're not the best at cooking. Still, arranging the strawberries in a circle on top of the tart was pretty fun. The last thing left to do is to let it cool. You lick your lips thinking about eating it once it's ready. You're about to help Trey clean the mess you've made in the kitchen when Rook bursts through the door, looking excited. He tells you there's no time to explain and takes you by the hand, dragging you back to the laboratory. You send Trey your best regards and wish him luck in cleaning everything alone. He sends you a pitying look back.

You should wish yourself some luck as well, since the motive for Rook to have brought you to the lab was for you to help him with the new formula he thought for his experiment. He explains that the one he was trying didn't have it's desired effects, as you could clearly see from the scorch marks on the table you were sitting before. He says that for the new formula, he'll need help to get the ingredients prepared and handed over, since he couldn't stop stirring it until everything was added in. You don't know how he came up with this solution, and honestly? You don't want to know.

Having no other choice, you agree to help him. He reminds you to put your gloves and safety googles on before starting, making a comment on how your cute apron would do as your lab coat. After getting into place, you follow all of Rook's instructions, preparing and handing over the ingredients he asks for. You have no idea what it is that he's going for, as your potions classes are still on a basic and more theorical level, but you decide to trust that he, as your upperclassman, knows what he's doing.

Dread pools on your gut as you watch the ingredients going into the cauldron. There's a hissing sound and bubbles emerge from the deep purple concotion. You have no time to react as Rook thows his arm in front of you just in time for the explosion to take place. You grip onto the table tightly and manage to stay upright, thanking the Sevens for your safety googles. If it were not for them, your entire face would be covered in a sparkling purple powder, some getting into your hair as well. Rook laughs and tells you that you shine bright like the sun. You look on unamused. Trey appears, having heard the explosion, and sighs, clearly being too used to this happening. He tells you and Rook to clean up as he starts to clean your mess, bless him.

Rook takes you to the nearest bathroom available, both of you trying to wash the explosion's results off. It has stuck like glue, and you have to splash your face with the cold water over and over for it to go away. You think there's still some of it on your hair, but can't bring yourself to care much. The apron wasn't enough to cover your body, so your clothes weren't spared either. Rook doesn't comment on it, but you can see him looking at you funny by the corner of your eye.

As you enter the lab, you see that the students that stayed after the first explosion had left. Rook wonders out loud on why they didn't like the innovation of his experiment, sighing as he goes on about the beauty of curiosity. You and Trey exchange glances as you clean everything together. You feel like you stayed way past the club's scheduled time and your arms hurt from moping the floor. At least you get to share your wonky strawberry tart. It doesn't taste as good as Trey's usual ones do, but you like it. You can't decide if it was worth all the trouble though.

Grim laughs at you once you get back to Ramshackle, your face is itching for the rest of the day, there's some sparkles in your hair for the rest of the week, your slightly burnt arm won't stop aching, you sent your clothes' laundry bill for Rook to pay. As much as you respect scientific advances, you feel that being involved in the research isn't for you (nor the cooking). Time to check out other clubs.

(Rook keeps approaching you at the halls to update you on how he's thought of possible changes to make the potion work. Trey comments he liked having company in the kitchen and help for cleaning up for once. They aren't very subtle. You don't even have to agree to visit the club again another time, as Rook has already volunteered you as his lab assistant and Trey has gifted you a recipe book with markings on which recipes you'll try to bake next. Guess you have no other choice but to go back now.)

Pop Music Club (Cater, Kalim, Lilia)

And back to the arts you go. But this time, instead of performing, how about playing some music? Joining the school band might be fun!

You're surprised to only find three people in the club. All the others had a bunch of people, but in this one, once you enter the classroom you're met with three of your friends hanging out in a couch. Why was there a couch in this classroom in the first place!?

It's not just three random people, either. It's the chillest and most extroverted people of the school, the ones that got along with everyone and were very popular. They whip their head so fast to the direction of the door once you enter you get a little worried for their necks. They seem elated to have a visitor, so you suppose this won't be so bad, even if you don't feel confident enough to play an instrument in front of other people.

Kalim jumps at you and envelops you in a big hug, a smile shining on his face as usual. Lilia pats you on the back, pushing you closer to the center of the room and welcoming you. Cater takes out his phone and takes a selfie with everyone, declaring it would go viral to have the cutest people of the school all together in one place and gushing over how many likes he'd get. They sure are a lively bunch.

Lilia plops you down on the couch, telling you to feel at home and winking. There's a center table with food containers in front of you, Kalim offers you a bite, explaining they made the snacks to bring to their club meetings, and Cater proposes to make it a culinary competition, in which you'd judge which one was the best. You were pretty sure you had left the cooking behind at the science club, what did it even had to do with music? Well, you weren't going to complain about getting free food!

Cater insists you try his first, a round tupperware with fried corn tortilla chips and guacamole in a dipping bowl at the center. It looks amazing, making your mouth water a bit. You take one of the chips, lightly lower it on the dip and take a bite. It's overall very good, the consistency and the crispness are wonderful, there's just one little problem: it's very spicy. Very spicy. Not the "oh no there's a tiny bit of spice in my otherwise bland food" type but the "my eyes are burning my thorat is burning my stomach is burning I'm going to burn from the inside out" type. And that's how you feel as you fan your face and drink the water Kalim brings you, though it only makes the burning worse, spreading it throughout your mouth and making your eyes water. Lilia appears upside down, hanging from the ceiling and scaring you, and offers you a glass of milk instead. You gratefully take it and chug it down as quick as you can.

Once you've calmed down, Lilia explains how he keeps milk around for Cater's food, that's way too spicy for his liking. Cater looks at you with puppy eyes, asking if you liked the chilli peppers he added to the recipe. You didn't, not really. It would be one thing to add some, sure, but it's like there's more pepper than anything else. You weakly smile at him and explain apologetically that it might not suit your tastes so much. Cater seems a bit down, but he only shrugs and jokingly says that not everyone can have good taste.

Kalim bounces up to you next, shoving his container in front of your face and telling you to try it. He proudly says he made it all without Jamil's help and that he hopes you'll like it. You look at the fried dumplings, remembering it's a sweet called awameh. It looks good as well, although a bit burnt, nothing that would stop you from eating it. You take one, getting surprised by how crunchy they ended up being, the sweetness exploding in your tongue. It would be very good, but you have the impression Kalim must have used the wrong measure of the ingredients. Yes, it was sweet, but it was way too sweet. Not only that, the sugar mixed with the cinnamon on the syrup also left you thirsty, as you downed another cup of water. It was like cinnamon was impregnated on your mouth, there was definetly too much.

While you accept your tongue will never be the same after the combo of strong flavours, Kalim reveals he tried to follow one of Jamil's mom's recipes for it, declaring it to be the best he's ever proved. He just got a bit confused when taking the measures for some ingredients, but he was proud of his work! You make a mental note to try to eat one of Jamil's awameh later, sure that it would taste delicious, and compliments Kalim on his efforts, suggesting gently to ask for help next time he has trouble with it.

The last one is Lilia, and you start dreading what might be hidden on his container. He seems preppy that someone will get to try his food, telling you that he's the one that cooks dinner at Diasomnia and how Silver and Sebek love his food. Cater and Kalim look at you with pity, shaking their heads. You've heard of Lilia's infamous cooking skills before, so you have to mentally prepare yourself before looking at what he prepared. It's... uh... something alright. Though it's unrecognizable, a dark glob that just looks sticky and burnt after the point. Your desperate look does nothing for Cater and Kalim to try to save you, as they look away furtively.

Aceppting your fate, you take one of the spoons Lilia brought and take the smallest bite possible while he stares at you attentively. It tastes foul, as expected, as if something had died in your mouth. You resist the urge to gag, trying to go for a smile and ending up with a grimace instead. It's horrible, there's no other way to describe it. All the rumors don't do it justice, it's way worse than what they say. You suspect you will get food poisoning later, as you down another glass of water. At least you're keeping yourself hydrated. Lilia seems to either not notice or pretend he didn't, as he keeps his cheery attitude and asks if you liked it. You nod weakly, hoping it would be enough for him to not force you to take another bite. He mercifully looks satisfied with the answer and you sigh with relief.

In the end you tell them you don't know which one was the best (you side eye Lilia's, thinking on how you knew which one was the worst at least). They don't look disappointed, content in having you prove their food as each munchs on their own snacks happily. You wonder how they manage to do it. Suddenly you miss Trey's baking and the wonky strawberry tart you've made.

As everyone sits together, Cater puts on some electropop song on the background that reminds you of the famous vocaloids from your world. You have an epiphany that Cater would listen to Hatsune Miku. You're not sure what to do with that information, staying quiet in shock as the other three talk between themselves. You remember him mentioning something like it when you went to do the SDC auditions, but you had other things to worry about and it must have slipped your mind. Once you've recomposed yourself, you ask what the food had to do with music, since the question had been burning in your mind for some time (not as much as your tongue burned tho).

They explain that the pop music club doen't really do much music, as the name suggests, they mostly just hang around to chat and chill. It has gotten them in a bit of trouble with the Headmaster, as they don't do anything that could actually be considered a club activity, causing him to have threatened to disband the club. Not to mention there's no new members for a while, no matter how much they try to attract more students. You consider joining this one just to spite Crowley. They clarify that they do play their instruments every once in a while to cover some song, but with their different music tastes they never reach an agreement on what to play most of the time.

You're curious on how they might sound as a band, sure it would be a chaotic but entertaining sight. You would ask to see this, if it was not for Cater excitedly declaring it's "gossiping time". They put on elevator music to play at the background and huddle close together, leaving a spot open for you to join their little circle, as if you were about to be in into the school's secrets. And that's exactly what happens, as the three of them seem to know about everyone and everything that goes on Night Raven College. There's so much drama you've never heard about, and you feel you know way too much about the lives of people you've never even met, but it's nice to create conspiracy theories about what would happen next in the soap opera that was other people's lives.

The topic changes to Magicam, since you were lowkey stalking the boy that had caused a ruckus in the cafeteria the past days. Cater likes his account's aesthetic, saying it passes the bad boy vibes he has, and whines about their club's magicam page. You weren't aware they even had one, so you ask to see it. It's... not what you were expecting. They might as well not have an account, since there are no photos other than their icon, which was the symbol of the club. Cater complains that they couldn't come to an agreement on how the page should look and were too lazy to try to work something out, so it has stayed like that for months.

Since you know how much he cares about this stuff, you offer your help! After all, it could be a lot of fun, and it'd feel as if you're the manager of the club. Cater lightens up with joy, throwing his arms around you and bringing you close to affectionately rub his cheeck on the top of your head, thanking you for being such a prestative underclassman. You enter your business mode, thinking on how you could go about this. It makes sense to promote the club doing something other than hanging out, so you tell them to pick up their instruments and pose.

You go around them and try many different angles. Kalim and Lilia have fun doing weird poses that makes very clear they aren't playing at all, but there's a charming genuine smile on their faces. Cater poses with his guitar like a professional, making captivating facial expressions that make even you swoon, only encouraging him to make different ones. He could be a model, you think, with how he knows all the right ways to smile at the camera and tilts his head just so to make him look cute and alluring at the same time, fingers skillfully positioned at the eletric guitar's chords, eyes lidded, hair messy deliberately, body facing forwards with confidence. He has everything to ace the rockstar persona, at least in looks.

You try taking some of them together as an unit, but none pleases you enough. There's something missing, but you can't quite put your finger on what. You give his cellphone back as you ponder about it. Cater looks through the photos, commenting how one looks "super cool~" and in the other he's "slaying". He decides it'd be a great moment to take advantage of his cuteness streak to take a photo with everyone together, yourself included. Cater drapes his arm around your shoulders and keeps you close to him, cheek coming to rest at your forehead. Kalim and Lilia make poses behind you two, laughing at how silly they look with all the filters Cater tries on.

He ends up telling you to decide which photo looked better, as he couldn't chose just one, something like: "any photo with you would look cute, of course I can't chose!" You look through all of them, but only one gets your eyes, the only without a filter. Everyone looks genuinely happy, making your heart warm. Cater's is not looking at the camera itself, but slightly to the side, where you are, with such a soft expression you can't help but be endeared by it. It's him, not a forced smile and exaggerated pose, just Cater, happy. That's what the other pictures were missing.

You show it to him, insisting it's the best and should be the first photo on the club's Magicam page. He pouts about the lack of filter, saying how the other ones look much cuter, but you explain that you like the real him much more than any filter, since nothing could ever come close to the real deal, no filter in the world could make him justice. You're very genuine with it too, since it's the truth. Cater stares at you, caught by surprise, and turns his face away from you, ears tinted pink, taking a minute to recompose himself, leaving you confused. Lilia looks on knowingly, smirking at him. You weren't alone in your confusion, as Kalim seemed to be just as clueless as you.

Your argument manages to convince him, though, as he soon comes up with an eye catching description and posts it, grumbling that you should be happy now. You are, actually, so you simply smile at him, giggling at his playful eye roll. Only after the picture was already posted and you entered on your own account that you notice your eyes were closed. You yelp and try to convince Cater to change it to another one, but he refuses, telling that you were the one that chose it so you should stick with it, sticking his tongue out at you in a childsh manner. You whine some more before giving up. Cater seemed really content with the choice, if the soft smile on his face as he glanced at it meant anything, so you let it be, resigning to your fate. You weren't even a member, so you hoped you wouldn't attract that much attention. (You really hoped Ace wouldn't find it, otherwise you'd never hear the end of it.)

He suddenly gets an idea to decorate the classroom to make it look more "magicamable", dragging Lilia with him to get the decorations. Lilia whispers something to him that makes him glance back at you with a red face, quickly scurrying away and leaving you and Kalim to look on in confusion. How weird, what had gotten into him?

At that moment, the playlist shuffles, coming up with a song that has a very upkeep beat. Kalim jumps in excitement, saying that was his favorite song and he couldn't not dance to it. You can't help jumping your leg and moving your head to the beat, swaying to the contagious rhthym. Kalim notices and extends his hands in your direction, inviting you to dance with him. You know you're nowhere near his skill level and you'd look clumsy compared to his fluid moviments, but his earnestness convinces you to give it a try. You were sure he wouldn't make fun of you, so why not have a good time too?

Hand in hand, the two of you move together, not completly in sync, but in a rhythm that feels right, that's only yours. It's nice, seeing his content expression up close, foreheads almost touching, feet following the other's steps, hips swaying together. You spin once, laughing, he spins once, grinning wildly. You're lost in the trance of the hypnotizing beat of Kalim's heart.

The song gradually comes to a stop, making both of you calm down too. Kalim has one hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. You hold onto his shoulder, your noses touch, breaths coming in puffs, his eyes crinkle and it's warm, he's warm. Your chest follows his in it's rise and fall, your stomach does pirouettes, to the point you're dizzy, your cheeks feel hot. You start worrying you might have really gotten food poisoning from Lilia's cooking.

Before either of you say anything else, the sound of Cater's giggle burst your bubble, bringing you back to the real world. You whip your head to the door, watching as Lilia and Cater giggle deviously, Cater's fingers working fast on his cellphone's keyboard. You separate from Kalim's burning touch, your hands suddenly feeling cold, and stride up to them, demanding to look at what they found so funny. Lilia shows you, on his own phone, a videoclip of you and Kalim dancing together, nearing the end of the song. Your focus is initially on Kalim, as he glows, movements showing years of expertise, it's... beautiful. Then your gaze averts to yourself, and how, like you suspected, you were looking goofy near him, not matching the tempo at all.

You whine up at Cater again, asking him to delete the stories he posted, but he refuses, saying it was way too precious to miss. You lightly hit his chest and look up your lashes at him, pouting. His teasing expression falters, as if you were on the brink of convincing him. Lilia pulls you away and explains it was only on close friends anyway, so you needn't worry about the whole school seeing it. Kalim agrees that the video is very nice, beaming as he watches you two having fun. You sigh and give up, not having the heart to be a killjoy.

Lilia and Cater's hands are empty of any decorations, so you question them about it. Cater frowns exaggeratedly, drowning on dramatically on how they couldn't find any and how it was such a pity. Lilia covers his hand to hide a giggle, only making the action more obvious. Cater glares at him subtly. Kalim notices how the club's reserved time is almost coming to an end, deciding that to make a grand finale you should play an instrument, after all they should at least pretend they did something club related for you to report back to the Headmaster. And it'd be a lot of fun for you to play with them!

Lilia claps his hands together, agreeing it would be a most gleeful experience. He insists on teaching you how to play the bass, not wanting to hear whether you already knew how to or not. He gives you the instrument and shows how to hold it in the right way, trying to teach a few chords. It's a bit difficult to understand the confusing terms he uses, so he sighs and comes behind you, taking your hands in his and doing the movements, pressing his chest against your back, his deep voice right by your ear as he explains. You can't pay attention to it all, for some reason. You kind of feel dizzy again. Perhaps it's the food poisoning for real this time?

His fingers guide yours along the strings, gently pressing on the right spots, strumming the chords at the bridge. He murmurs the instructions, voice ressonating like the low pitch of the instrument, hot breath tickling your skin. You let him do as he pleases, dazed. The simple notes ring in your ears, lulling you into calmness, eyes closing as you let your sensations take the wheel, the frequency making your heart vibrate in your chest, as if dancing along, your head floating in the clouds.

It's all good and well until Lilia starts singing along. Or whatever it is that he calls "singing". In reality, he starts screaming some punk-rock lyrics right by your ear. Your heart jumps so quickly you swear you almost had an arrhythmia, your soul leaving your body for a second. Your eyes snap open so fast the lights from the classroom blind you and make black spots appear in your vision. You elbow Lilia in your surprise, thankfully making him stop trying to burst your eardrums. You get away, taking off the strap of the bass and giving it back to him. You think that's enough practicing for now.

Later on the day you confirm your food poisoning suspicions to be true. You've gained a new found respect for Sebek for enduring the poison Lilia calls cooking everyday and still managing to keep that impressive disposition of his. At least you helped the pop music club get more followers on magicam and spread their word out there. A bunch of people sign up to know the club, so you're all really happy! You felt like you've done a good job. (In the next week, the people arrive and see no sight of you, only of the dynamic trio. They don't show up again, leaving the members number back to it's original three.)

It was pretty fun, all things considered. You didn't get hurt other than in your pride and your social image, so it's a win in your books. Still, you're not sure you could handle their energetic and chaotic personalities combined like this evey week and risk getting deaf or suffering stomach failure. Time to check out other clubs.

(Cater comments on how the photos you took together got the most likes, insisting you come over again for a photoshoot. Kalim says he's got new songs to dance with you and that he's asked Jamil to help him cook for the next club meeting. Lilia tells you that you still have to take some more bass lessons to get the hang of it. Well, you suppose you could pass by sometime to be in the know about what goes on at the school and to get to prove Jamil's cooking. And to enjoy your friend's company, of course!)

Masterlist

#twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #trey clover x reader #rook hunt x reader #cater diamond x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #kalim al asim x reader #ortho shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #new tumblr user angelizs lore drop: I used to be part of the theater club back at school #I did two years of it. I miss acting sm #Ortho and MC are the besties ever #Rook and Trey act like rivals from a shoujo manga lmao #I was inspired by the culinary crucible and decided to make MC suffer the same thing they make the judges go through: Lilia's cooking #oh and also by Lilia's ceremonial robes vignette #I've been dying to prove some awameh it looks so yummy. I want it too !!!!!!!#now I have smth to confess. I've had this written since 9/3. but once I've reached the board games club I got into a writer's block #and I wanted to post all the other clubs at once so I tried to write it and couldn't come up with anything good #and that's why I took so long to post pt2. bc I don't have the board games club written yet to this day 🤡#I'll try to write smth I'm satisfied with for them! until then pls enjoy pt2!#wonderland wonder

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dayurno · 3 months

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this is somewhat of a vent post & something i said i would not do again but has been plaguing me enough that i think getting it out might feel better. so. has anydoggy else been. Baffled and upset by nora sakavic’s refusal to speak on how terribly aftg has treated its characters of color? with the author of the series coming back with a new book and starting up on her online activity again, and questions of what she’d change about aftg bubbling up, it’s particularly glaring to me that we are all playing this very long game of pretend where we ignore how badly the non-white cast has been treated & her lack of thoughts on it

and i understand not wanting to bring up nicky and thea because people pick on her for it. i’m not trying to discredit nora sakavic’s terrible history of getting harrassed online by aftg fans. but i think it is very cynical, and it is very juvenile, and most of all very cruel, that she gets to ignore the very real ways the books have set up these characters to be hated. i think it’s obvious why the characters who get the most hate are the only canonical characters of color, and i think we do not get to treat this like a deliberate decision on the fandom’s part when the books have put these same characters in degrading and embarrassing and terrible positions in the first place. aftg is not a story about nice characters with clean pasts, but there is a very specific nastiness to the only characters of color being a brown man who sexually harasses and later assaults the main character, a black woman whose only scene is her lashing out at her love interest after being ignored for the first two books, and the japanese villain who gets maybe two lines of complexity before he goes back to being a terrible person. the white cast, in comparison, while not at all free from flaws, are never shown to commit mindless evil; all of their actions are ultimately justified. the book goes out of its way to give them concession after concession. we know exactly who to side with, because aftg tells us who these people are. does nicky’s assault ever get addressed in the books? does riko’s reasoning to be the way that he is ever gets more than briefly aluded to? is thea reserved even a shred of humanity or grace in her one scene?

anyway. it’s been years of talking about this and the fandom has been constantly hostile to criticism in this regard, and more recently any criticism at all, and it’s Grating to be on the other side of this discussion. it’s exhausting to know that in ten years we do not get even an acknowledgment besides the author saying she will not answer questions about nicky and thea anymore. it’s upsetting and it’s ugly and i wish no one had to talk about this again, but we do because what i thought was common sense has been washed away by a sudden influx of no-nuance adoration for the trilogy. basically i hope we all explode

two hours later edit: you're allowed to reblog this! sorry about the confusion

#this has been so upsetting to notice but 🥹whatever #there is a different kind of bitterness to thinking about how ten years have passed #and we are getting new content that changes and maybe even rectifies many of the ways we see and interact w aftg #and none of it not a bit of it addresses the racism #how it’s been ten years and the only thing we really get to show it is a book about a ship between two white men the fandom came up with #after seeing them be Suggested to interact in canon #i understand not wanting to hurt nora sakavics feelings by asking her about this #but imagine how tired we are. Imagine how tired we are #do you know how bad it feels to read through nicky’s worst moments in aftg #and know that he was written this way because he looks like me?#do you understand how exhausting it all is. can you imagine?#the fandom has been so quick to undo the criticism fans of colors have been making since day one #and for what. for what! my doves. for what?#have we come out of it any greater? have we done anything but lie to ourselves?#and anyway this is not some mindless pessimism #this is not me telling you that aftg is bad and you cant love it; cant have it mean anything to you #this is me saying that when we acknowledge these things it makes us better readers and better people #nora sakavic if you are reading this from whatever hellhole america you find yourself in #grabs you by the shoulders. This is not the end #this is not something to sit back and feel bad about #you have opened the floodgates of hell with tsc. kick the door in and release a revised version of aftg #there is a real material way for you to make this better. it is possible and it will not kill you #i would read a revised aftg. my mutuals would. many many many many fans would #making mistakes is not just a human right its a human inevitability #but we do not have to let ourselves get defined by them. We can do hard things #lets go of nora sakavics shoulders. anyway. where were we #aftg #txt #tsc

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writeouswriter · 2 years

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I love commenting on so called “older” fics because personally I have no actual semblance of the passage of time, if you commented on my fic from 2017, I’d be thrilled because in my mind, I wrote that baby last week, that’s nothing

#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #comments #commenting #ao3 #writer things #my one finished fic out there was written 5 yrs ago but also no it wasn’t it’s been days #sometimes I wonder if some of these people still see the emails or notifs #thinking about the time I commented on a fic originally written in 97 reposted in the early 2000s and the author responded so fast #it was unexpected but so nice to see

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popponn · 7 months

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coincidences and flickers.

i - a painting.

notes: fem!burnout artist!reader x pro-player!isagi yoichi ; pro player / post canon au ; self depreciating thoughts towards one's own work ; fluff, with slight angst (burnout) with a happy ending (a slight hurt/comfort) ; unreliable narrator. a.n. at the end.

summary: isagi yoichi is a passionate soccer rising star with pleasant mannerisms and you were trying to not look at that painting of yours. it happened as simply as it was by chance.

series masterlist. ; next.

In hindsight, that painting truly was awful.

You stared indifferently towards it from the other side of the room. Beyond the passing bodies dressed in elegant night dresses and suits, that painting hung across you. You leaned your back against the wall behind you, your brows furrowing into a harsher glare as you observed the fruit of your labors—a commission from a rich client, a congratulatory piece for some soccer players they sponsored.

The party was bustling with chit-chat and pleasantries, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to join them. It felt like despite the invitation given to you, you truly felt like you didn’t belong here to celebrate with them that night. You once again let your eyes bore into your work once again.

The way the colors were used felt all wrong, too bright in some and too gray in others. The silhouette of the point of interest is too strong it gives ‘tackiness’ as an impression rather than the eye-catching effect it was supposed to have. The composition is too simple and thus makes the whole painting fall flat. The theme is not expressed clearly enough—even you as the painter would never have enough courage to say you stayed within it.

It’s a mess that made you look at it and feel nothing afterwards.

That painting of yours was a failure.

Finding no more strength or will to watch that ruined piece, you glanced down towards the untouched glass of champagne in your hand. The overwhelming sourness in your mouth only emphasized how you really were not in the mood for a party or a celebration tonight. You should have rejected that client’s invitation.

Though it was hard for you to remember every details given by your client at that moment, you could recall the theme given by them clearly. They were a part of a big business, saying they wished to give an appreciation for U-23 members who came from project Blue Lock, a soccer program sensation back in your high school years. And for that, you were requested to made a piece with “Celebration of Ego” as the theme.

Quiet frankly and obviously, you messed up.

Compared to the other seven paintings said client commissioned, each from a different artist, yours—a depiction of a lone figure outlined by a jumble of colors—stood out simply by how terrible it is. You felt like throwing up at that thought. As your eyes flew from each corner of the wall, looking at each painting with furrowing eyebrows, an unpleasant feeling crawled up and forced your attention back to your champagne. You really did not understand if this luckiness or unluckiness for you to stand in a place where you could observe each of them with clarity.

You sighed and chuckled under your breath, closing your eyes. “Ah, well, at least it’s finished.”

It was a job, after all, you noted. Just like it had been for quite some months already, it was simply a work to do. Nothing more.

Finally finding a way to settle down the gnawing heaviness inside of you, you lifted your head once again and scanned through the room. At the very least, you perhaps could find a distraction.

The party truly was lively in a very sophisticated way. The huge ballroom was dressed in various decorations and the guests’ clothing all stood out excellently under the gentle golden lighting. It was quite glamorous in a way that made you wonder what this party was for in the first place. You knew it had something to do with soccer, however beyond that you could barely think of anything.

However, before you could observe more to answer such a question, a heavy sigh was suddenly heard a few steps away from you.

You glanced to your right almost immediately. There, you found a figure of a man in a black suit, a shade of blue similar to his eyes decorating his dark hair. From the back of your mind, a voice of a newscast supplied you with a name—

Isagi Yoichi, the current rising star of Japan’s soccer.

Idly, your eyes fell on him. Of course, someone like him would be here in an event to celebrate something related to soccer. He could perhaps be one of whom the painting was for—if your memory of him being in Blue Lock back then was to be believed. Though you truly felt sorry if he really was one. Remembering how the TV sang praises for him, it only made the value of your work even lower.

With such thought in mind, you smiled spitefully. However, as you were about to turn away, Isagi Yoichi turned towards you.

Both of you blinked blankly at each other the moment your gaze met.

Awkwardly, the two of you stared at one another in silence, contrasting the ongoing bustling party around you. You slowly felt your face forming a smile you reserved for clients, Isagi Yoichi mimicked you the moment after. A smile more awkward and less empty compared to your practiced one plastered itself on his face as he greeted you, “Uh, good evening.”

He sounded ragged as if he just managed to escape a group of people who tried to pull and push him everywhere—which wouldn’t be surprising, considering how his reputation even reached someone like you who barely watched any soccer match in your life. In an act of sympathy for fellow party victims, you eased your smile into a friendlier one, “Good evening to you too.”

Realizing the shift in your expression, a stiff line in Isagi Yoichi’s expression and shoulders loosened. You nearly laughed at how transparent and young he seemed to you all of a sudden. True to your impression, Isagi certainly couldn’t hide how he felt obligated to have a conversation with you. “Uh,” he tried to begin.

You felt bad, really. But you faced enough situations to realize that even if you meant well by leaving him alone there and then, it would only make it even more awkward and stiff should the two of you meet again someday, no matter how small the chance was. As a compromise, you decided to just attempt a meaningless talk, “Enjoying the party?”

“Eh, uh,” Isagi Yoichi replied. However, while it seemed like words were still stuck in his throat, seeing your demeanor clearly eased him out even more. As he leaned against the wall, he answered, “Yeah—yes, I think.”

“No need to be so formal,” you said upon his correction. “I’m just a no-name wallflower in this party and I think we are around the same age too—”

Isagi Yoichi's eyes widened. So, quickly, you added, “—if the articles about you are correct, that is, Isagi Yoichi-san.”

Then, as if he just remembered the fact that he was famous, Isagi Yoichi responded, “Oh.”

“Did the party run you ragged?” you asked, taking a small step to get closer to him, just enough to speak to him in a lower voice while still keeping a considerable distance enough for four people between the two of you. “Even though I think I could guess your real answer.”

Dumbfounded, he stared at you for a second, before letting out a nervous cackle, more tired and sheepish than before. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, saying, “Is it that obvious?”

You gave him an answer in the form of a pitying grimace, which made him let out another long sigh. A hunch told you that someone would nag him for being too easy to read. Tough life of a public figure indeed. In an attempt to comfort him ever so slightly, “I would never know how you fared out there minutes ago. Perhaps it’s just now that it became obvious, Isagi Yoichi-san.”

“I really hope so,” he groaned lightly, before turning to you once again, remembering to ask something. “Ah, I’m sorry, and you are…?”

As he asked for your name, you soon realized that your attempts to be friendly were quite meaningless already. “Excuse me,” you said before introducing your full name to him, bowing slightly towards him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isagi Yoichi-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you too,” he greeted back with a bow similar to yours, putting his hands behind his back as he leaned back to the wall. “And, please, just Isagi is okay.”

“Isagi, then,” you agreed, before returning back to your previous position. “I’m sorry for interrupting your rest time though. If you mind, I wouldn’t mind too—”

“No, no. No need for that, really. I mean you were here before me. If anything it’s me who is interrupting you,” Isagi interrupted you swiftly. “…should I—?”

“Do take it easy,” you cut him off this time. “You interrupt nothing. Though I do wonder why one of the party’s main guests strayed himself here.”

“Well. About that…” he seemed to be about to continue, before choosinh to answer with an exhausted glance back directed at the rest of the crowd. “...I get a bit tired...?”

Sympathizing with him yet again, you offered a weak nod, “I understand that socializing during this kind of party could be tiring sometimes, especially when everyone seems to chase after you.”

At your comment, Isagi flinched slightly, as if you just brought forth a terrible recollection. However, he didn’t offer any further protest. With another heavy sigh, he slouched against the wall, “Yeah…”

“If it helps, no one really looks at this plain corner of the room,” you said, gesturing towards your calmer surroundings. “Everyone here is either too drunk, too tired, or too out of place. The second best place for you to take a breather.”

“Second?”

“After ‘going home’, of course. This place doesn't seem to have any garden or balcony after all.”

“Right.” Isagi gave you a low chuckle. Then, his gaze trained itself on you shakily, “…and you are here for the same reason?”

Recognizing his attempt to keep the conversation going, you hummed. “Not much. I’m too out of place, I think. I’m not exactly someone who is very involved with soccer and sport or anything at this party,” you offered as you remembered why you were here in the first place. “Or most of them, at least.”

“Ah… I see…?” Isagi responded. You could feel his curiosity. However perhaps out of courtesy, he refrained from asking more.

“Well, a nobody like me aside—I suppose I should congratulate you for something, shouldn’t I, Isagi? Though I have to admit I really am not updated with what this party is for,” you swiftly tried to change the topic.

Isagi looked at you in confusion, before finally catching what you meant, he replied with a chuckle, “Ah! It’s nothing really, there isn’t much going on yet, so congratulating me for now is a bit…”

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrows at that for a moment. Offering him a teasing smile, you continued, “Oh, well, then let me congratulate you for every past achievement then, Mr. Ace Striker. Even a commoner with no knowledge of soccer has heard of you.”

Isagi grew bashful at that nickname, all while looking as if he was preening and proud of such title. Still fully looking at him, you tried not to seem too amused by his reaction. He laughed as he looked away, facing the view in front of him instead, “Ha ha—thanks.”

“My pleasure. But, really, I would have thought something was going on with all these,” you gestured towards the ballroom, “you know.”

At the mention of the lavish decorations around him, Isagi's eyes looked around him. “Yeah, it’s kind of… something, isn’t it? I mean…”

Isagi’s words drew to murmur as his eyes landed towards what laid somewhere in front of him, his attention seemed to be taken away by something. Out of curiosity, you followed his line of sight.

Only to have your own art at the end of it.

“Huh…” Isagi uttered under his breath, barely whispering. Quickly, his eyes moved to the other paintings, giving each seven of them a look of astonishment.

You struggled to hold back a frown from forming in your face. But, in the end, dissatisfaction still seeped through your words despite your act of indifference, “The paintings?”

Isagi blinked out of surprise at your tone. Promptly, he apologized with a wave of hand, “Ah—my bad! I lose focus—”

“It’s okay.” Despite your best effort to smile politely, you didn’t know what sort of face you were making, Lucikly, Isagi was still entranced by the paintings he just took notice of.

“…are they all in the same theme? The party organizer really put so much into the decor, huh…” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You hummed mindlessly. Debating whether to stop the conversation or to continue it. Taking Isagi’s politeness since the start of this interaction into account, you settled to do the latter. “Did you just realize their presence now?”

Isagi nodded slightly. “Yeah, I didn’t really have the opportunity to look at them just now… they are pretty cool.”

“…well, those artists have to fulfill a minimum standard in some ways to get paid, so of course they do, I suppose,” you supplied, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible. “Commissions do work like that after all.”

“You seem to be an expert in this kind of thing,” Isagi noted at the confidence in your comment.

“You could say that,” you said. Unconsciously, your eyes wandered towards your painting, once again staring at it with a gaze that was flat, full of distaste, and detached.

Isagi took notice of your stare and observed that painting once more. “What’s with that painting?” he inquired, wondering what sort of opinion you had of it to stare at it in particular.

“It is messy, clutered, and suffocating, in my opinion, technique and all-around wise,” you elaborated, all while swallowing a tired scoff. If people said what someone made reflects what was inside them in some ways, you wondered what that meant to you.

“…is that so?” Isagi asked back, sounding unsure. “I think it is nice though. All of them are nice.”

Your hands clenched themselves discreetly at that. The more distasteful, arrogant part of you sneered at Isagi’s comment—on how superficial it probably is. While the more pitiful one felt like it let out a laugh of someone who was undeserving to be part of such genuine, harmless praise.

You truly hoped that your expression did not twist into something unpleasant as this conversation went on. You truly did not wish to make this topic a conversation any longer than this.

“Art is subjective after all, in one way or another. I could understand why you say that.” You decided to end the subject there and diverged the conversation back to Isagi. “Do you like art, Isagi?” you questioned him.

“Kind of? I like it, I mean, but I never really get into it that much too,” Isagi said. After taking a moment to try to remember something, he added, “I think the last time I got a chance to do anything with it was during high school?”

What was the chance—for the only person you talked with tonight to be not only one of the party's main attractions but also someone who has at least a bit of interest in art?

“I could imagine that, with how focused you must be in soccer,” you mused. Somewhere from the back of your mind, you could imagine what he tried to imply. To have a passion so close to your heart and get the chance to have it as a big part of your life—it would be hard to put your interest in anything else afterward. Thinking of it, a curiosity sparked itself in you. “If you don’t mind me asking, since when have you been playing soccer, Ace Striker?”

“You will really keep calling me that, huh?” a lopsided smile placed itself on Isagi’s face.

“You look happy with it. So why not?” you told him lightly, before quickly adding with a polite tone. “Ah, but if I’m too nosy—”

“Nah, really, take it easy. It’s nothing like that,” Isagi shrugged off, visibly more relaxed. “I played soccer since I was around four, actually.”

“That’s early,” you said, not shocked at all by his answer.

“I guess? I know some people who started even earlier though.” He ended with a short laugh. Isagi then looked up, as if he was in thought, remembering many things that only he fully understood. “But it really has been a long time since then, huh?”

Watching your companion’s profile closely, you recognized the determined strength he wore. It was easy to read and feel despite the fact you were not privy to his tale. If anything, the fact that his passion for it could be felt by a stranger like you only served as a testament to how deep it is.

“…you must have loved it so much, huh, soccer?” you asked him quietly. A mix of envy and wonder etching itself within your heart.

Isagi’s grin grew wider, slowly turning into something more confident, filled with a sense of nostalgia and pride in them. In every word he spoke, there was no shred of doubt in them. “I do.”

Hearing such answer spoken so honestly and firmly, you found yourself watching him silently.

In Isagi’s eyes shined deep passion and tenacity. It was as strong as it was youthful in a sense. It was raw and strong that it felt like it was larger than the man himself in many ways. It was captivating. Yet, at the same time, it made a heavy emptiness panged somewhere within the cavity of your chest.

Were you like that, somewhere at some long ago, towards your craft? Where you put every single part of your heart and mind into it. Where you were proud of what you do and do it again and again and again and still somehow have fun with it.

It was supposed to feel like that, wasn’t it?

It was supposed to be burning, easy, and light, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to be heavy and choking as how it was for you since who knows when. It really was something else to watch it in someone else—it was wonderfully enviable yet astonishing at the same time.

Feeling such ugly emotions crawling up, you pushed it down towards the deepest pit of your stomach. You tried to offer an understanding, soft smile towards Isagi, “I see. Good for you, Isagi.”

“Yeah,” Isagi replied to you with eyes still staring far ahead. Then, he returned his focus towards you again, a grin plastered on his profile, “Thanks!”

Seeing something as bright and genuine as that, you didn’t bother to try to stop yourself from replying Isagi with one as well, albeit more reserved and dimmer than his.

Feeling the conversation ending, you took a chance to check your phone. The numbers displayed 23.41 the moment your screen lit up. Perhaps it was an appropriate time for you to exit, even if Isagi Yoichi’s presence wasn’t a bad thing in itself. Straightening up your posture, you failed to realize Isagi who was opening his mouth to resume your conversation once again.

“What about—” Isagi stopped, interrupted by a ringtone and a vibration from his phone. Taking it out, Isagi’s face soon fell ever so slightly, “—ah. Seems like I have to go back soon…”

Seeing that both his and your time were up, you politely nod at him. “What a timing, me too. It appears that we both have to cut this talk short. It was a nice talk, Isagi,” you excused yourself, pushing yourself off and emptying your champagne in one go. With an empty glass in hand, you waved him a good bye. “I wish you a better time at the party. See you.”

“Ah—yes, see you,” Isagi replied, catching himself before hurriedly adding a left behind afterthought. “Good talk.”

“Oh, also—” as you had taken steps away from him, you stopped, turning towards him, smiling for one last time as you decided to give him a little hint about yourself, to make it equal, “—I hope you enjoy all of the eight commissioned paintings. ‘Celebration of Ego’ is a theme tailored for Blue Lock, after all.”

With that one last message to him, you walked away, mingling with the crowd without waiting for his reply. Blankly, Isagi Yoichi could only stare wordlessly at your form as it slowly went out of his sight. His eyes then wandered once again towards the painting the two of you had talked about in particular.

“…how…is she…?” Yoichi muttered under his breath, stunned for a few seconds. It took a few blinks and once again, he stared at the painting the two of you had been talking about. A part of him felt a growing hunch from his gut.

That painting was indeed suffocating in a way, as you had commented before. However, undeniably, it was beautifully eye-catching. And while Yoichi admittedly is no expert in art, he would still call it good. He likes how the swirl of colors and gray outlined a figure who stood triumphantly in the center of the painting. The moment someone knew of the theme, it wasn’t hard to grasp its meaning. It also felt like there was more meaning to it that common people in art like him couldn’t grasp.

All in all, despite how critical your comments had been towards that painting’s execution and techniques, Yoichi still could boldly say that it is a sincere, heartfelt painting.

Still and alone, Isagi Yoichi stood in that corner. Mulling over a wandering curiosity left by your encounter. Then, his phone rang once again and Yoichi soon walked away from the corner he had just shared with you. As he walked away, he spared one last glance towards the colorful painting.

Maybe, he would check if it truly was yours later.

series masterlist. ; next.

a.n.: while outlining all the five chapters, i had fun. i hope you, the one who read this, also had fun reading it too, even for a moment. and for everyone who says they want to read this, thank you and i hope it was enjoyable at the very least. writing this with also isagi's pov in mind is an interesting experience tho, it's like doing it twice but only typing down one. unreliable narator is a fun thing to play with. also could you see where my effort goes? one of them is taking that one canon fact isagi likes art and p.e. then going to town with it. lastly, if i open taglist does anyone want in...?

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock scenarios #isagi yoichi #blue lock imagines #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi fluff #im excited and scared for this for some reason #this thing got a 7k outline written out in two days

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tumbleweed-run · 7 months

Text

Puppet On a String

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober 2023 Day 14 Selfcest/Cloning

“He’s a bit like a doll,” Gale said looking over at you.

You were focused on him, well another him.

“ A puppet?” You offered, hand straying to the necklace you wore.

Real Gale’s head cocked to the side in consideration before giving a short nod. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The puppet just stood there in the center of your bedroom and blinked. You hadn’t activated control yet so this very accurate puppet Gale was more or less a lifeless toy.

You’d met a version of him back in the Shadowlands, one that beckoned you to a clearing and to Gale. It had piqued your interest that night, he’d been corporeal in a way that most mirror images weren’t. But you’d forgotten about him for some time, other things taking precedence.

After about the tenth question regarding this puppet, Gale had offered to create him. It was more than an incantation, something requiring numerous ingredients to create the shell. You could now appreciate the work Gale had put into him while on the road, all an effort to make that night special.

The form wasn’t permanent, Gale assumed he’d last about a day unless dismissed. He also couldn’t withstand much in the way of damage, that didn’t matter tonight. Because as soon as Gale had offered to recreate him your mind had turned down a far less academic road. Which Gale had, of course, realized.

What he didn’t realize was that the reason you wanted to control the puppet was for a far more depraved reason than desiring a two-person threesome. You’d get to that.

“He’s very accurate,” you mused taking the time to appreciate that little fact.

The puppet was conjured naked (which explained why he’d worn Gale’s armor that night) and was very accurate in all ways. Gale seemed amused by your reaction. He was also the only one in the room with any clothes on. You’d stripped and climbed onto the bed not long after the puppet was made.

“So I just repeat the incantation and I’ll be in control of him?” You wanted to be certain.

“One must think in directives but yes,” Gale agreed, but he paused, “Are you sure you don’t wish me to control it?”

You shook your head, “I’m very certain of what I want.”

Your wizard had the sense of mind to look concerned.

You repeated the incantation as Gale had taught you and almost immediately you felt the link. It was not unlike the link the tadpoles had formed between you and the others, this felt more like being linked to emptiness.

All you had to think was about walking and he did. You were impressed, you’d assumed it would be clumsy like other magical creations but he did a very passable job of imitating Gale. Or maybe that was because your mind had given the puppet that knowledge. It was a strange thought and one you didn’t wish to focus on right now.

The puppet came to a stop before Gale once more.

“Shall we start?” Gale asked looking to you.

You nodded but the puppet didn’t move.

Gale glanced between the two of you for a moment. “Dear, what exactly did you have in mind?” His voice had risen.

You did your very best to adapt a wide-eyed pleading look, which was admittedly difficult given how turned on you were getting. With great joy you realized the puppet was doing the same. “I was thinking,” you drawled, “I could watch.”

Gale swallowed harshly. You didn’t know how to read the flush crawling across his skin, he didn’t seem angry though.

“Do you really think me that conceited?” He asked sounding offended.

Immediately, you shook your head. “No, it’s not you,” you reminded him rising up on your knees, about to go to him, “It’s me, I control him. So it would just be us, like normal.”

“This is very not normal,” Gale asserted.

“Is it really any different than when you pleasure yourself?”

“Yes.” Gale was very firm in that belief apparently.

You pouted. “I want to watch you fuck yourself,” you did your best to make it sound like the most normal request.

Gale froze and you breathed.

“If I say yes,” he began.

“Oh please,” you begged.

“If I say yes, you cannot breathe a word to anyone.”

“I will keep this locked in my head forever,” you promised.

Vaguely, you realized Gale was giving in rather quickly. Too quickly. It occurred to you, not for the first time, that this may not be the first time he’d considered fucking himself with this puppet. Or maybe it hadn’t been him those other times, maybe he’d created puppets of someone else.

Either way, his quick consideration left you with a million questions.

“He doesn’t feel,” Gale reminded you, “I had considered trying to find a way to give sensation feedback to the controller, but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Now you were certain he’d at least considered this.

“He can speak though,” He continued unaware you were on to him, “try.”

You drew on the experience from your former parasite.

“Hello.” The puppet spoke.

“Oh,” you said breathlessly, “I can do a lot with this.”

Gale, again, had the sense of mind to appear a bit alarmed by your reactions. You grinned at him, wickedly.

The puppet reached forward and place a hand on Gale’s hip, fingers holding on loosely to the material of his shirt that hung there.

“Are you sure?” The puppet spoke.

Gale was enraptured by the puppet now, eyes skating over its form. Then he nodded, licking his lips as he did. You smiled, and the puppet did as well. Wizards and their egos.

Gale was unusually passive as the puppet removed his shirt. Not resistant just not participating as you’d hoped.

“Touch me,” the puppet said, and delighted you realized his intonation changed at your whim.

Gale’s eyes dashed to yours. You pouted rather dramatically, very careful to not transfer this to the puppet. Gale reached out and resting his hand against the puppet’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly enough for you to continue. He was pliant as the puppet pulled down his pants, instead of letting them fall to the floor he knelt, guiding them the whole way.

Gale’s brain may have been unsure, but already his cock was interested.

The puppet remained kneeling, though he braced his hands on Gale’s thighs, looking up at him.

Your breath was stolen for a moment, immensely distracted by the tableau in front of you.

Slowly, giving Gale all the time in the world to back out, the puppet leaned towards his cock. When Gale didn’t object, the puppet pulled him into it’s mouth. Gale moaned, his head dropping back. This part would be a little tricky, you realized, normally, this was done by sensation. Not knowledge.

“I need you to help here,” you warned him, “don’t hold back.”

Gale nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did.

The puppet began working it’s tongue. Gale moaned, a hand immediately coming up to thread through it’s hair. His hair.

You drew on every memory where you’d been in the puppet’s place. It seemed enough because Gale was moaning freely. The brief glimpses you caught of his cock when the puppet pulled back confirmed he was completely hard now.

“This is very, very wrong,” Gale groaned, in contrast to his words though, his grip in the puppet’s hair had tightened.

You saw an opportunity.

The puppet pulled back. “Fuck my mouth?” it pleaded, turning overly familiar puppy dog eyes upwards.

Gale looked down, eyes blown wide before looking to you. “Is that… is that how I sound?” he was torn between the two of you.

You laughed, “yes and no. But,” you supplied helpfully, “that is how you look.”

Gale swore but gripped his cock. He led it back to the puppet who eagerly swallowed it down. Both of Gale’s hand went to it’s hair though he paused. You worked hard to remember the feeling of your own throat when you went pliant below someone. Subconsciously your own muscles did just that. It worked, it seemed, because Gale slowly began thrusting into the puppet’s mouth.

As you watched Gale fuck his own mouth, you slid your hand between your thighs. Unsurprisingly, you were wet, you had been just at the idea of this little venture. But to see it actually come to life was lighting things within you that could not be normal.

You’d never been normal.

Gingerly you began rubbing your clit, careful not to lose focus on the puppet’s controls. You moaned, and then the puppet did. Gale followed, enjoying whatever sensation the sound had brought on. He was fucking into the puppet’s mouth far rougher than he’d ever dared to do to yours.

You rolled your flattened tongue, imagining the weight of Gale’s cock on it. Gale cursed under his breath, hips slamming into it in a way that would have damaged a real person.

You were thrilled to see him this uncontrolled.

“I dont…” Gale began, and immediately, the puppet stopped it’s ministrations with it’s mouth. “I don’t want to come in his mouth,” Gale continued after taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Do you want to fuck me, or him?” You asked breathlessly.

“You, always,” Gale answered pulling away from the puppet.

Quickly, you straightened your legs, and then he was there. Gale’s fingers found your center before he’d even gotten onto the bed. One digit immediately slid into you.

“You’re so wet,” He said sliding his finger in and out of you, you whined, falling back onto your elbows. “There is so much wrong with us,” Gale said softly before adding a second finger.

You smiled, happy he hadn’t singled you out in the wrongness of this situation. Instead, it was the two of you together, as it would always be. You moved the puppet behind him, taking care for it to walk noisily so as not to take Gale off guard.

“Oil on his fingers,” you directed, the puppet lifted it’s hand.

Gale pivoted slightly and then there was as sheen across the puppet’s fingers, dripping down it’s palm.

“You inside me first” you directed breathlessly.

Gale grabbed your hips and dragged you further down the bed. In the same motion, he slid into you. You moaned. Locking your legs around Gale’s thigh you shook your head in an effort to focus. The puppet inched forward a little and when Gale’s head dropped down into your shoulder you knew you’d been successful.

For a beat the slick sounds in the room came from only the puppet as he worked his oiled finger into Gale. You felt when he hit home, Gale’s cock twitching inside you. A short time later Gale began to move inside you finally. Almost immediately he was fucking you hard, no doubt slamming his hips back onto the puppet’s fingers.

You moaned at the thought, desperately wishing you could see. Gradually it became difficult to focus both on the puppet and your own arousal building as Gale fucked into you.

“Fuck,” You moaned, hand gripping his shoulder as your head fell back onto the bed, “I can’t keep-”

Whatever else you wanted to say was lost as Gale grabbed your leg to pull it up, thrusting into you deeper now.

“Let go,” Gale ground out through his teeth.

And you did. You came with a yell hips snapping up to meet Gale’s. He followed not long after, spilling into you with a groan, head buried into your shoulder.

As you came back to yourself, you moved the puppet away. Gale keened into your skin as the puppet pulled his fingers from him. You reached up and pulled the necklace from around your neck, it dragged through your sweat-slick skin.

“I would not be opposed to doing that again,” you said breathily.

Gale, the real one, groaned.

#Gale x reader #Gale x tav #Gale x Gale #???????#selfcest #kinktober 2023 #I will not be held accountable for this work #hahaha this is probably some of the weirdest shit I've written #sorry it's so late I've been sitting in the rain at soccer games all day #only to come how and write this offense to the gods

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highdefinitions · 5 months

Text

when dew first changed from water to fire, he cut his hair. left it all over the bathroom for days until he finally let mountain into his room to check on him. mountain cleaned it up silently, behind a closed door and choked sobs.

and by the time he actually even goes down near the lake again, his hair had just grown down past his jaw. he didn't go swimming again until it was nearly past his shoulders.

the first time dew went swimming again, he nearly drowned. it had been months by then after his transition into a fire ghoul, and he hadn't been able to sleep—burdened by the urge to go down to the water. so he does. he gets up out of bed and wanders the halls, pausing just outside of the new water ghoul's room. he almost knocked, almost asked rain to come with him, but he stopped himself, and went alone. he went down to the lake alone, and stood at the end of the dock, and then closed his eyes and jumped in.

he failed to consider that he wasn't going to be as good as he used to be in the water. he couldn't hold his breath for as long, couldn't go as deep as he wanted to, and it nearly cost him his life. because he tried. he tried to swim down to the bottom and just be, to quiet the noise in his head, to stamp out the draw to the water that was no longer his. he couldn't hold his breath for as long as he used to, couldn't handle the pressure—couldn't even make it more than halfway to the bottom. he couldn't swim to the surface as fast as he used to be able to.

so his muscles screamed from the strain. his ears popped, eyes felt like they were going to explode. his lungs burned. for one feeble moment, he felt like he was actually going to die, that he'd never make it to the top and the one thing that had previously made him was going to kill him.

but then he broke the surface, swam to shore. he dragged himself up onto the sand, soaking wet and shivering. he drew his knees up to his chest, let his head hang between them.

and he cried for everything he just lost.

#percy writes #this was longer than i wanted it to be but. blurb. i guess #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #ghost the band #this is just like. bullshit by the way but have it #i've had this sitting in my docs for forever and actually had like half a fic written for it but it didn't pan how i wanted so (flopped)#have some angst #i told you listening to mumford & sons for days on end would have an impact #called it end of the water (feel) for a while

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