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myrmica · 26 days

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do you have any tips for getting better at drawing anatomy? your poses are always so fluid and realistic

first of all THANK YOU!!! that makes me happy to hear!

under the cut because i got long winded... i hope something in here is useful! some of it may stray from the point, and i have no idea what stuff you already know.

in my experience a lot of it is about paying attention to form/volume. at one point or another i realized i vastly prefer art that emphasizes this, as opposed to flatter more stylized anatomy, as far as things i want to emulate in my own work go (flat styles can be cool when other people do it; this is a huge thing with art i think, developing a sense of discernment when it comes to the art you Want To Make versus the art you like but wouldn't want to mimic...)

so i add contour lines to everything i draw as i sketch because it helps me figure out where the object is in space, in relation to the viewer. doing this immediately establishes where the subject is in relation to the "camera" because lines curving one way mean you're looking up at something, and vice versa. if you've ever seen the coil method of foreshortening before, it's the same principle.

while construction lines won't always be there in a finished piece, you can communicate form in the curves of your lines. the round end of a sleeve is a countour line, so are fabric folds (although they have their own volume too), etc.

the feeling of looking up at someone, or their arm moving towards you, or their back turned away from you, that's where a lot of tension and dynamism comes from--some of the "fluidity."

another thing is to focus on weight, and how things interact when they touch... if you grip someone's arm, how does the skin fold/warp under pressure? can you actually draw it doing that, instead of leaving the arm being grabbed unaffected? stuff like that. a huge inspiration for this (and i think it shows in some of the artistic choices i've been making lately) is margot maison's work. like, check out this panel from bora the brain:

or this one of mine, where i just grabbed my own arm like that to see how it felt and what the skin did...

these are both examples of smaller details but the same principle applies any time you're drawing two people touching, or even a bent leg where the thigh and calf meet. i'm more interested in how skin/fat moves around than i am in getting the nitty gritty details of muscle groups and bones right. knowing the muscles and bones certainly HELPS; my personal favorite bones are the radius and ulna in the forearm, and keeping the way they move in mind Is useful because it reminds you that the arm isn't a uniform tube shape, it's a flat rectangle type thing, and it'll look wider or narrower depending on the angle... etc. see pronation/supination gif below:

they get recomended all the time but the morpho books are my favorite reference for doing actual intentional anatomy practice & in redrawing stuff from them a ton of tricks for constructing bodies have stuck in my head. like, here i was focusing on how they simplify the shoulder/armpit in relation to the ribcage:

(you can download most of 'em for free off of libgen btw.)

you can also get something kinda special drawing bodies from life. if you don't have other people to draw, your own hands/legs work too, and it's good for foreshortening and perspective because you're always seeing them in relation to your own viewpoint:

granted both this and the morpho studies are things i find fun to do. on the off chance that you're someone who finds studies tedious or boring, rather than pushing through it you might want to paint a character you like onto the pose you're practicing or something like that to keep yourself invested?

i also use references gratuitously. usually many pictures at once, where i'm combining them to get the pose i want. either just referencing different photos as i draw different things or literally editing them together depending on what it is. over time, i've gotten better at coming up with dynamic and interesting poses without a ref, because using them has built up my understanding of the body (it's actually way easier IMO to draw a dynamic pose without a ref than it is to draw a dude just standing there without one ?!)

there's sort of a push and pull for me between accuracy/realism ("can the arm Actually bend that way???") and exageration/stylistic liscense ("if it doesn't, does it look cooler like that?") where it helps to KNOW if you're drawing something that isn't technically "anatomically correct."

there's also a lot to be said for tracing over photos for practice!

thank you for the question, i love to talk about these things ^_^

#m #asks

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purpleglitch · 7 months

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I ramble for too long about my art (The post)

(Drawings here)

Thanks again to Nunki and Nov so much for pulling me out of art block 😭💕 I had so much fun drawing all of this and experimenting with poses and colors, etc. that I wouldn't have tried before this!! i'm so sorry this took like 2 months to finish there was lots of stuff going on but I finally finished it and i'm very happy how it all turned out. I made this post just to go through my thought process LMAO

DAY 1: Early SMP Days

This one was inspired by the "he asked for no pickles" meme and how in an early dsmp stream c!dream (in full enchanted netherite armor) asks c!george (half iron/diamond armor) to protect him with a crossbow while they go to l'manburg

At first this one was gonna be a quick drawing but then i got too invested into drawing the armor that it got out of hand and suddenly i had spent 2 days on that 💀

Also all the other drawings were gonna be like this one, a bit simple than what i usually do, but i got too invested x2 and ended up rendering(?) more the rest of drawings

C!dream is c!george's baby, like the cc's dynamic 👍

DAY 2: Objects of Affection

THE SHIELD DEMONS GOT ME 👹👹👹👹 also c!gnf keeps the mask even though it's a bit broken :3

C!gnf is a bit dirty because he doesn't shower, also he sleeps on the grass sometimes, he doesn't get sunburnt because XD protects him from that, also c!sapnap is the one that finds him like that and brings him back to kinoko

I think this is the drawing with most layers only because it was for setting the lighting

This one set the bar of how many details can i put on the next drawings haha got too silly and flew too close to the sun

DAY 3: Worship/Devotion

Inspired by religious imagery in renaissance paintings, they're very pretty and detailed and ohgggg i thought that aesthetic fit XDNF's dynamic ^_^

When I finished the drawing i added a canvas texture so it looked like the mentioned paintings' texture

The pose was so complicated but thankfully i hid all the weird anatomy under capes and hair(?) 🤭 and I have a mirror right next to my computer so i used myself as reference for the hands

The halo around c!gnf's head could be a reference to the headcanon of georgeeeHD existing and being another dsmp deity or also hinting at george's "destroying the smp" stream and how powerful and crazy insane he is!!! also the reflection of XD's halos on his eyes, they worship each other i think, xdnf makes my tummy hurt /pos

DAY 4: Visions/Dreams

Inspired by my weirdcore demons :3 i love that aesthetic so much

I did the error pop up on this custom generator!!

Saved a lot of time by making c!dream faceless since it would be covered by the pop up anyway, but it can also be symbolism for c!gnf not remembering his face or something crazy

I again used myself as reference for the hands i'm so cool and epic

Also I used a tutorial on how to make the vhs effect/chromatic aberration on paint tool sai and added grainy texture on the background for more spice :3

DAY 5: Reunion/Post-Nuke

I reused an old sketch of c!dnf side profile for this one, hashtag work smart not hard 😎 except i polished it and changed some stuff and now it looks way better than the old version

The concept was happy reunion, they're happy to see each other!! c!dnf good ending, i say in tears.

c!gnf touching the c!dritties :3 jk he's feeling his heartbeat, he can't believe he's real!!!

I had so much fun drawing the blood on the bandages and c!dream's scars, please zoom and admire them, it took so long,,,,

DAY 6: Roleswap

My demons..... my beloved rs au..... the posts i made some while ago were based on this drawing, i have a tag on my blog now for that au

RS!dnf wear matching chains!! also the concept for this drawing was that someone interrupted their make out session :3

Symbolism moment!! I like to draw characters with nail polish of the color it represents them, in this case green for dream and blue for george, but for this au, their colors are swapped: green for george and blue for dream, it symbolizes how their roles (king/knight) on that story are different and don't match with the canon. storywise, they're so in love they wanted to keep each other on themselves somehow so they exchanged nail polish colors

DAY 7: CC Roleplay/Cosplay

Sisyphus would be proud of me (<- almost gave up before drawing this), unironically i got demotivated when i finished day 6 so i took a break and then i went insane with this one

The concept was c!dnfies wearing cc!dnf outfits, dream specifically has so many outfit options but I ended up choosing the famous "dteam in madrid" outfit plus a cat beanie, and I couldn't find a fortnite jesus poster for george's shirt so i just found a silly cat pic and yeah ^_^

Thank you random twt user for the idea 👍

And that's it! I probably forgot to say some stuff more but i started to get anxious this post would be too long. Again thank you so much guys for being supportive over the wips i showed you and also being insane about c!dnf too 😭 <3

#glitch.txt

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ktffansub · 3 years

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Bijutsu Techo: Boys Love – Interview: Yoneda Kou

This article was first published in November 17th, 2014. Translated from Japanesse to Bahasa Indonesia by kalengjelek and then translated from Bahasa Indonesia to English by KTFfansub. Source: here

When did you first encounter manga?

I was born in a family with three daughters; while my older sister likes reading Ribbon magazine, I like reading Nakayoshi. It was the era of Asagiri Yuu-sensei, when I was in elementary school. My favorite at that time were Kusunoki Kei sensei’s works and Patlabor. When it came to Shonen, I would say I was more into Shounen Sunday. I also loved Kawaraha Izumi sensei’s works. When I think about it, rather than manga that were full of passion, I’d actually prefer manga that had calm and soothing kind of vibe.

Is that so… What about BL?

When I was in Junior High, my older sister showed me Captain Tsubasa Doujinshi by Ozaki Minami and I was dumbfounded, I thought, “So, there’s also a world like this!”. After that, I started to buy BL manga. At that time, the mangaka who left the most impression to me was Nishi Keikosensei. Her works such as Mizu Ga Koori Ni Naru Toki, Tenshi Ni Naranakya have unique openings, it made me reread them many times. Uida Shiuko (now Kano Shiuko) and Yoshinaga Fumi Sensei are also my favorite mangaka.

When was the first time you draw manga?

I seriously began drawing manga in my first year of junior high. At first, I drew a pair of man and woman, but after page three, I felt something was off. So, I tried drawing BL for the next one. Just like the present, I’ve always loved less expressive and less-talkactive main characters (laughs). But the more I draw, then an attentive senpai with good personality and short haired ones like Togawa in Doushitemo Furetakunai also appeared. At that moment I thought, “Oh, this is it!”

You really weren’t embarrassed, are you? (laughs)

Well, it’s because it was embarrassing, that’s why I’m not really open about my drawing manga activity.

(laughs) But you debut as professional mangaka eventually, how did that happen?

Yes, after that… I worked as office lady. I got married not long after, but then, I was getting through a marriage blues. At that time, I was invested in Kakashi and Naruto shown by my older sister along with Comiket catalogue.

The power of moe beats out your anxiety (laughs)

It’s true (laughs). Escaping from reality, I checked a lot of circles and opened some sites. There I found a work from a novelist (now has debuted professionally) that I really liked. This is why I started writing novel at first, not drawing. I have a lot of ways to accommodate my moe needs. I also once drew Doujinshi but due to my inability to use a proper diction, the result wasn’t optimal (laughs). After drawing slowly and more at ease, I got into Katekyo Hitman Reborn fandom and drew a lot of doujinshi for that series. A year later, I was contacted by Taiyou Tosho publisher.

“With that publisher, Yoneda Kou published Doushitemo Furetakunai which has been adapted into a movie. Since the beginning, Yoneda Kou didn’t draw one-shot but serialization. For the movie, even though it only tells a story of daily lives, but the directing, composition and dialogue are impressive. About 4,5 years later, the second volume of Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai that had the yakuza neighborhood setting was released. This has completely different feeling compared to Doushitemo Furetakunai.”

My first work was actually published in Drap, so I had it adjusted to be a less-heavy work. That’s why I ended up switching to another magazine.

Was it a demand from the editor?

Of course I only draw what I want to draw. But without realizing, I always draw them to fit the magazine. And it seems like Taiyou Tosho prefers me to draw more simple work.

So, sensei is the type who pays attention to editor’s suggestion. When you wrote the first chapter of Saezuru Tori Wa Habatakanai, did you already want Yashiro to be the main character (for longterm series)?

Right. I didn’t explain it in the first one-shot, but I always believe that no matter how you look at it, Yashiro really loved Kageyama. And (even though he’s drawn like that) he is actually a neko (uke). I think he is an interesting character. When I drew highschooler Yashiro and others, it had been decided that I wanted to write a serialization for this.

And only then the character Doumeki was born?

At that time, the character Doumeki didn’t exist, but I thought very hard about what kind of partner that would be suitable for Yashiro. I took a break from drawing for about two years. I only worked on illustration during that time, until one morning an idea suddenly came to me, “That’s right! Erectile dysfunction!”. I immediately sent an email to my editor: “A perverted impotent man!” (laughs). Afterwards, I finally worked on the first draft.

(laughs hard) Finally, the combination of Yashiro and Doumeki who are the opposite of each other was decided. What an amazing couple that can even make the readers losing sleep.

I do have this particular interest in people’s decision and behaviour resulted from a contrasting relationship that is full of conflicts. Because there are so many characters in Saezuru, I have this excel file compiling the plot for each character chronologically. Otherwise, I would’ve forgotten about it. If I didn’t seriously research (the setting of my own story), I wouldn’t be able to write anything when I made name. But even though I got through it, drawing a family with no blood ties like yakuza was still difficult. If I don’t focus, the story might turn out like Nagara Sakugyou*. That’s why now I’m just focusing on doing Saezuru.

*) nagara sakugyou: other work that being serialized at the same time

Up until now, Sensei has published 5 volumes and all of them have beautiful covers with varied tones.

Actually, the cover color for Doushitemo Furetakunai should’ve looked like red wine, but it seemed like there was an error in printing so the pink was contrasting into it. But it turned out to be good.

Then about the cover for the Saezuru first volume. It’s so impressive! The stepped-on man! All the people around me also had high appraise for this.

Actually, there were so many things happened in the process. By taking the request (it isn’t clearly explained whether it’s from editor/designer) of “Yashiro sitting alone”, I first submitted that illustration to the book designer. However, I couldn’t throw away the idea of Yashiro being stepped on, so, during the next three days I was stressed out. I’ve finally asked them to keep my idea and that’s how the cover of the first volume ended up the way it is now.

I see! For the second volume, it’s totally different, isn’t it? It’s a scenery, but when you do a double take, there are Yashiro and Doumeki!

I always want to give a different vibe in each volume. Actually I’m also a fan of the way Tsumugi Taku-sensei draws scenery.

Hoo-, sensei is a fan of Tsumugi sensei! Talking abough NIGHTS, when you open the cover, there’s a surprise in it!

Yes, if you look at the rough sketches there were 4 pages of picture that were interconnected. In the end, the desainer took picture number two as the cover and number four to put it on the bottom of the back cover. For Soredemo, I didn’t get any guide from the book designer. I combined the the feel of the story with a touch of water paint. At first, I actually wanted to make Deguchi pulling Onoda’s hand to get out of the train, but it ended up looking like Deguchi forced Onoda to stay (with him). So I decided it’s Onoda who’s getting off the train by himself with Deguchi waiting on the platform.

Do you do the coloring with computer? How about the non-colored script?

I use SAI for coloring but for monochrome I usually draw by my hand until the inking, then I do the tone using photoshop.

Do you self-learned drawing?

Well, I at least bought a lot of ‘pose reference’ books often. When it comes to buy things, it feels great, doesn’t it? But when it comes to manga, we draw to tell our moe concept.. well, I love drawing moe concept, but the thing is- I’m not really good at drawing. I like thinking about moe stuff, I also like to combine colors (inside my head) but when I do, I have no desire to draw I, even though that’s the important part. There are often times when I feel like drawing is a handful. In short, I want to draw something that isn’t too troublesome.

But, isnt it because you’re doing manga seriously that it feels difficult?

Because I’m too serious I feel like the story can be boring. Not only the work but also the author (laughs). I often read comments saying my manga is ‘down to earth’. I guess it’s shown obviously in every each of my works

Sure, there are people who think like, “In real world, there’s no way a wakagashira can be as masochist as Yashiro”, but apart from that, Saezuru still gives an impression of it being realistic. In drawing the important men’s arms and muscles in your work, sensei has done your best. Getting into the story, the characters also put extra effort to look elegant. Despite the young age, in a positive sense, sensei’s works feels like having Showa* vibe.

(*SHOWA ERA: 1926~1989)

I’m no longer young, though (laughs). Maybe this is why my works often get called “JUNE”. Especially Saezuru, I think it really fits (JUNE concept).

Are you an organized person?

I’m actually a person who have no chill (laughs). But I have this side of myself who tend to see things as a whole, look at my surrounding then step on the brake. There is also a side of me that is so energetic in creating my own moe that I turn into a selfish person. I guess that’s also my flaw.

It seems like sensei is the type who has her own editorial meeting inside her head (laughs)

I wish it’s not true, but unfortunately, I’m the type of person who is embarrased to admit that I have a relationship with manga. Even until now I have yet told my close friends about this job (as BL mangaka). I’m not that kind of person who like to share or tell others about my moe situation inside my head. When my moe concept is being visualized in public I would scream, “Don’t look! But if you want to read it, I’d be happy”. Yes, I’m that kind of person.

I wonder if sensei’s works are the manifestation of sensei’s own self-contradictions..

#saezuru #doumeki #saezuru tori wa habatakanai #yashiro #yoneda kou #interview

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ushidoux · 3 years

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Look at Me, Senpai - Hinata x Reader x Daichi

Summary: Reader starts to see Hinata in a different light once he returns from Brazil. It turns out Hinata’s inability to give up isn’t just something restricted to the court. (~3.6k words)

Warnings: fem!reader, nsfw, infidelity, a touch of the yandere

A/N: This got really long so I split it in half lmfao, expect part 2 in a couple of days.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

Senpai, I like you.

As you continued to sit courtside, watching Karasuno’s team overtake the opposition led by your boyfriend Daichi Sawamura, your eyes briefly settled on Hinata, the orange-haired first year. When the ball finally sailed over to him, and he hit it with an inhuman speed, the middle blocker’s signature, you thought briefly about his frank and surprisingly serious confession earlier in the day. How bold! You hadn’t taken it seriously of course - your affection towards him was nothing short of motherly. Plus, he was well aware of how serious you were about Daichi.

What an odd joke, you thought, but you had played along with it despite the fact that you knew he meant what he said, dismissing him with a laugh and a pat on the head.

I like you too, Hinata! You’re very fun to be around!

His smile had only wavered slightly at your words but you could feel his eyes get just a little darker as the twang of rejection set in.

But he was just a baby and this was just puppy love. He’d get over it eventually, right? He’d eventually find someone his own age.

Suddenly across the court, you could feel Hinata’s gaze fall on you again, and he smiled again, but this time it was different. Maybe it was bleed over from the boundless confidence and determination he had whenever he stepped on the court, but something about the way his eyes flashed just for a moment as he looked at you made your face grow just a little bit warm.

[Years pass.]

“So when’s the wedding?!”

Your grandmother’s voice blared through the phone in raucous joy as you laughed and tried to field her many follow-up questions. She, like almost everyone else you had told, was incredibly excited about your proposal, and despite the fact that it was only three days later, the high was already starting to fade and you were getting tired of answering the same questions.

When’s the wedding? Where’s the wedding? How excited are you? Are you already pregnant? Are you going to move into a house?

Between your grandmother, your parents and siblings, your wonderful friends, your neighbors - honestly, literally everyone and their mother - you were feeling incredibly supported during this time. But still, somehow, something felt wrong, and you couldn’t exactly place why.

Once you had finally answered Grandma’s questions to her satisfaction, you hung up the phone and flopped backwards back into your bed with a sigh. Holding up one hand in front of you to display your engagement ring, you inspected the stone carefully, letting it glimmer in the slowly fading sunlight beaming in through your bedroom window.

“Mrs. Sawamura,” you tried out the name in a soft whisper. It had a nice sound to it, ____ Sawamura. This was what you had always wanted, ever since you had met and started dating in high school. You’d always wanted to support his dreams, whether it was excelling at schoolwork, volleyball, joining the police force… and what better way to do it by agreeing to be his wife and spending the rest of your life with him? So many years had passed with you by his side, this was only the next natural step.

So what exactly was this reticence inside of you? You knew he would be good to you, no matter what, even if you felt that something about your relationship had already started to lose its spark. He had been working longer days and later nights, leaving very little time for you, and with all this time left alone, sometimes you regretted not having spent more time in high school or even later on making friends outside of those people he knew. The problem was that the volleyball team was so warm from the start, and you were so invested in caring for them as Daichi was… maybe this was some form of delayed empty nest syndrome, solidifying as the members all grew up and grew apart.

You checked the time on the small wall clock before you. Daichi wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours, and again you couldn’t fault him for this. The ring on your finger looked quite expensive, so he’d clearly worked hard to afford it.

Maybe you would draw.

Minutes passed, maybe even an hour, and as the sun finally set, you set down your pencil and reached over to your window to close the curtains so that the neighbors couldn’t peer into your home once you turned on the lights. Clicking on the bedside lamp, you settled back into a cross-legged position before your large sketchbook again, now taking a second look at your drawing.

An ordinary but hyper realistic-looking crow now peered back at you, almost as if it were wondering why you had decided on putting it to paper out of all the things that could have come to mind. You looked at it carefully and remembered a single fact about crows:

Crows never forget a face.

---

The next morning was Sunday and Daichi was fortunately off work for the day so you sat with your new fiancé at the kitchen table, listening to him talk excitedly about the week as the two of you shared a large omelette and munched on toasted bread.

“Honestly, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I see, babe, it’s really something.”

His laugh was always hearty and you couldn’t deny the sparkle in his brown eyes as he shared work shenanigans with you, so while you were uncomfortable with the idea of him being in harm’s way so often as a police officer, you couldn’t help but smile with him whenever he did. His happiness was infectious, especially when he held your hand tightly and squeezed it just like this very moment, interlocking his fingers with yours as he ate with his other hand.

Once he finished eating, he leaned over to kiss you on the forehead, threading his fingers through your hair.

“Thanks for breakfast, baby,” he whispered, his voice smooth and lowered an octave. With his gaze, he drank up the image of you only in his oversized t-shirt and panties before pulling you towards him so that you straddled his hips as he sat on the chair. With you pressed close to him like this, between his hardening cock and the edge of the table, you could feel your breath hitch ever so slightly in your throat. Years had passed and you were still like this - you were still the shy, bashful girl who dared to date the captain of the volleyball team.

“Daichi…,” you trailed off, as he started to litter soft kisses on your collarbones.

“Do you want to uh…,” he paused and pulled back, a smile spreading across his features, as one of his hands found its way up your shirt to palm your breast, “... start off our morning right?”

He didn’t bother waiting for your reply before his lips met yours for dessert.

---

Parted thighs and many soft sighs later, the two of you lay side by side in pleasant exhaustion. You stared at the ceiling, your cheeks flushed as you pulled air into your overworked lungs. Daichi’s head found its way to rest in the softness of your abdomen and you languidly caressed his hair, your body still buzzing from lovemaking.

Daichi was clearly apologizing for passing out the moment he came home, you knew, and you appreciated his thoughtfulness. As you continued to softly scratch his scalp, the soft glow of the late morning sun warmed the two of you up even further and you knew that this feeling had to be what ballads were all about.

Love.

You loved Daichi. Right?

His fingers traced up and down your thighs, just barely avoiding the dampness of him releasing inside you just moments earlier slowly leaking from your center.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as his fingers traveled your skin. He always told you this, reminded you were the most wonderful girl in the world.

And he was the most wonderful man on Earth. How incredible it was that you had found each other, you thought, as you lay together for what felt like hours and found yourself dozing off in each other’s embrace.

Yes, this was enough.

---

“You don’t have to go all out babe, it’s just the guys!” Daichi’s loud voice carried from outside the bathroom as you perfected your mascara. You ignored him with a playful roll of the eye even though you couldn’t see him, focusing on perfecting a winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man. It had been a while since you had dressed up, and it didn’t hurt to really go all out. This was a sort of mini-reunion anyway and what better way to make your fiancé proud than to make all his friends jealous?

“I thought you said I was pretty this morning,” you called out, as you dabbed perfume behind your ears and at the center of your chest. “Don’t you want everyone else to know?”

With that you posed dramatically at the end of the hallway, cat-walking with a face so straight it was ridiculous until you reached Daichi who stood at the front of your door, holding in a laugh. You burst into laughter once you reached him, falling into his chest.

“Let’s go see your old team!” You said, quickly pushing him away playfully when his eager hands settled too comfortably on your ass. He nodded, deciding to grab your hand instead as your cab approached.

Your car ride was short and your mind started to wander as you idly rubbed the knuckles of Daichi’s hand with your thumb. You remembered him telling you vaguely about one of his teammates returning to Japan, prompting the reunion, the orange-haired one named Hinata who you recalled was nothing short of a ball of sunshine and had confessed to you once.

Senpai, I like you.

Well, he would probably have gotten over that crush by now. It had been years.

The restaurant was loud when you entered, following Daichi closely. A table full of young men almost erupted in praise once the two of you approached.

“Captain!”

Tanaka, who you recognized easily from his shaved head and brash attitude came sailing over to essentially crush Daichi in a headlock, but before he could reach him, the orange-haired boy who had just graced your thoughts a couple of minutes earlier beat him to it, slapping him heartily on the back.

“You finally made it! Did you miss me?” Hinata said, with a grin and for a split second, you thought you saw his eyes flit to you. Without warning, your mind started to race, realizing that immediately your face had started to warm as you watched your goofy little underclassman with a crush talk and tease your fiancé animatedly-

And to your dismay, you realized you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

---

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had you unsettled throughout the lively dinner - was it the fact that even though you sat by Kiyoko, the previous team manager, she seemed to be more focused on eating quietly, a smile on her face as she basked in the glory days with the boys? Or was it the fact that you could see Hinata’s rare but noticeable furtive glances towards you, the ones that Daichi seemed to miss now that he was more than a little drunk judging by how red he was in the face? Maybe it was the fact that you were trying to understand what was this sudden gravitational pull you felt towards Hinata at first glance, something that made very little sense to you and seemed oh-so-very-wrong.

Was it the fact that while he was still shorter than average for a volleyball player, his time in Brazil had tanned his skin nicely, bringing out the well toned muscles in his shoulders or arms? Or that while his eyes were still bright and kind, the angles in his face had grown sharper and his smile had made the very slight shift from determined to confident and almost even cocky?

What the hell was it that had you suddenly so distracted?

You fiddled with the ring on your finger above the table between bites of grilled meat and poured sake, trying desperately to make small talk with Kiyoko, only to be disappointed by how unsuccessful you were in engaging yourself in meaningful conversation.

Eventually you decided to get up for some fresh air, giving Daichi a little nudge on the back to let him know you were stepping out and took a seat in a small chair set outside the chilly restaurant meant for smokers. It was nice to have a little more quiet, and you briefly pondered if Daichi would be okay with you going home first.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and it was about to get way worse since it turned out that Hinata had followed you out.

“Heya!” Hinata’s voice startled you as he approached, quickly taking a seat beside you. Your face flushing for the second time today (you blamed it on the alcohol, of course), you eked out a hello, mentally shaming yourself for being so awkward.

“You were quiet in there...”

“A-ah, yes! It’s just I haven’t really seen any of you guys in a while and we weren’t close, so it was a bit hard to follow the conversations…,” you trailed off, not making eye contact. You decided that a good way to politely add distance would be to re-introduce yourself even though you knew exactly who he was now, and you knew he remembered you.

You stuck your hand out to greet him formally with a handshake.

“I don’t know if you still remember me but I’m ____ -”

“I know,” Hinata interrupted curtly, without looking directly at you and your hand fell to your side slowly and returned to your lap. He stared out at the street with his face unsmiling, a look that appeared almost unnatural for someone like him and then turned back to you to give you a wide smile anew.

“How have you been? I didn’t think I’d see you here again!” He was cheerful again and polite as always, but for a moment you felt mildly insulted, as though he’d implied that maybe he didn’t expect you to be with Daichi for this long.

Maybe you were just overreacting.

...

Yeah, you were just overreacting.

“Mmm, things have been great!” You replied earnestly, fiddling subconsciously with your engagement ring again, only to catch him laying eyes on it but making no comment. For some reason, you didn’t feel like it was worth mentioning either.

Silence sat between the two of you as you stared out into the road again together. Two strangers who’d known each other briefly. You wished he would go back in and the night would be over and you could forget the fact that you were suddenly attracted to him.

Ah, that was it. And that would be it.

Hinata spoke again and your heart thumped at his simple question, “Are you happy?”

You gave him a look of confusion but you could already tell what he meant just by the look in his eyes. The same look he gave his opponents on the court, the one that demanded to be taken seriously.

While, it wasn’t exactly the same look that he gave you when you brushed his confession off those many years ago, it was pretty darn close.

“Y-yes?” You asked, feigning incomprehension. He smiled in response but not with his eyes.

“When’s the wedding?”

The shift of his tone back to excitement was jarringly unnatural, especially since you hadn’t even brought up your wedding, and now you wondered how one person could be confident enough to appear out of nowhere and ask bold questions to a complete stranger.

“I’m not sure yet… we haven’t planned yet.”

“Great!” He interjected suddenly, and rose to his feet. “I still have time!”

Time?

He turned to re-enter the restaurant as you looked at him in shock and incredulity. “Excuse me, time to do what?” You asked, immediately questioning why those words had come out of your mouth the moment they did.

Hinata turned to face you, his smile only mildly sinister when compared to the seriousness of his gaze.

“Time to convince you, of course. I've always liked you from the start, ___, and I think… actually I know that I can treat you better than Daichi does.”

And with that he turned the corner, re-entering the restaurant and leaving you in a complete and utter shock.

---

Who would believe you?

Sweet little Hinata threatening to break up your upcoming marriage?

Sweet little Hinata planning to steal your heart right under his senpai’s nose?

Sweet little Hinata texting you suddenly at 11pm the next day while you got ready for bed just to let you know that he was “thinking of you”?

You looked at the phone incredulously, your other hand still holding your toothbrush wondering how to best respond to the message. The obvious answer was to block his number - you weren’t exactly sure how he’d gotten it anyway, but as your finger hovered over the button, you paused.

Then Daichi turned the corner of your bathroom door and startled, you fumbled and dropped your phone.

“You okay, Shakes?” He joked, as he reached for your phone, but you grabbed it quickly, locking it and placing it facedown on the bathroom sink. You quickly nodded, continuing to brush rapidly.

“Can you believe he grew taller?”

Your eyes rose.

“H-he?”

Daichi laughed. “Hinata, of course. He was such a shrimp, remember? I mean he’s still not that tall, but he definitely looks a lot more like an adult, right?”

“Y-yeah…,” you agreed, sheepishly, as Daichi hopped into bed, leaving you to squirm at the sight of your own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

---

The next morning, you woke up to no new messages on your phone and breathed a sigh of relief, assuming that your non-response had sent the point across to the young volleyball player. With that odd guilt now off your shoulders, you occupied yourself with the first steps of wedding planning, spending most of the day browsing through websites and calling companies. You were determined to do this mostly yourself and do it right.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were trying to prove but over the next couple of weeks, you dove headfirst into flowers and venues and elaborate table accents and fancy invitations and ignoring Hinata’s messages that had now upgraded to thirst traps that kept your eyes lingering on the phone way too long, while Daichi spent more and more time at work, and less and less time with you, until suddenly…

“Daichi!”

For the fourth night in a row, Daichi had come home in the middle of the night and wordlessly crawled into bed beside you as you tossed and turned waiting for him to come home, because that was all you did: waste time until he returned to you, of course. What else could you do? Your world was so small, after all.

And it would only get smaller once you got married. Your miniscule sphere of existence centered around Daichi and you were beginning to resent it.

Was that the reason you were starting to save every one of Hinata’s dirty pictures?

Dirty was an overstatement - you had seen everything up to his V-line and while your artist’s eye could now trace every single bit of his anatomy from memory, you couldn’t say anything he sent you was truly risqué, could you? Maybe he sent those pics to every girl on his phone, or maybe you were different...

That was besides the point. The point was that suddenly the man who lay beside you every night was no longer doing it for you.

“___,” Daichi whispered groggily, revealing that he really had just passed out the moment his head hit the pillow. “I really need to sleep… what’s the problem?”

You faltered, unable to come up with something to explain why you’d just thrown a mini-tantrum.

“... there’s no problem, I was just… never mind.”

Too many things bubbled inside you and were left unspoken that night, and so in order to express yourself, you settled on, or rather on top, something way worse.

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect it to be this easy.”

Hinata didn’t mean to be offensive - howcouldhebehewassuchasweetboyafterall - but the pang of guilt in your chest said otherwise, as you inhaled and exhaled softly under the weight of his muscular body pressed against yours.

Maybe you felt bad, but the feeling was short-lived because once Hinata’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips and gripped you tightly, firmly, so much so in fact you were sure it was just to prove that for all these years you had really belonged to him, he thrust into you so sharply and precisely that you let out a gasp as the intense pleasure blinded you.

“S-Shoyo!”

“Say it louder,” was all he whispered as he flipped you over before slamming you down onto him hard, sending another wave of intense stimulation through you.

You screamed his name again, tears now coming to your eyes as he bucked his hips against you, bouncing you up and down his deliciously large cock at a brutal, energetic pace, knowing very well that you couldn’t keep up from the short, unintelligible sounds now leaping out of your throat.

“You’ve always been mine, ___. You just didn’t know it yet.”

Warm wetness streaming from your face almost as much as from the space between your legs, you couldn’t find the words to protest. Did you want to protest? Was he right? Wasn’t he right?

Your mind was too hazy for thought, and instead you let selfish desire overtake you for the rest of the night.

#mae.writing #hinata x reader #daichi x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #hinata x reader x daichi #not sfw #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo #sawamura daichi #hinata #daichi #daichi smut #hinata smut #series: look at me senpai

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Note

omg all this rudy talk makes me think... can we get a snippet where one of masons friends comes over and notes how well behaved they are, and asks if theyre for sale? and clyde isnt worried about it but rudy is

Whoooo the first part to this new arc! Thank you anon and sorry it took me a while to get to this. Honestly that is just my brand at this point.

TW: Pet Whump, dehumanization/animalization, conditioned whumpees/pet whumpees, condescension, alcohol mention in passing, human trafficking discussion (aka buying and selling people)

[Masterlist] [Arc Tag]

There was a new trainer at work. Another young guy eager to prove himself and build his own practice. Mason could tell, after seeing enough of these new trainers come through. He was posed to take over the academy someday, so it would be good to start getting pieces in line underneath him. This new guy was green, really green, but maybe he could use that to his advantage.

So he invited him over.

Casey brought a six-pack with him, which made Mason smirk. “You trying to shmooze me?” he asked, taking them regardless. Not cheap shit, either. Casey smiled.

“Maybe.”

Clyde milled around the kitchen as Rudy pretended he wasn’t anxiously awaiting this new visitor. He loved guests! They would talk with him and perhaps even play for a bit. And, a long time ago, Master used to let guests give them both treats. That wasn’t as common anymore, but it did happen. Clyde liked them too, even if he didn’t show it the same as Rudy. Guests meant conversation, and spending the evening on the couch with Master listening to the conversation above his head was one of Clyde’s favorite things.

A sharp click caught their attention and both boys looked up to see the two men walking into the space. Casey smiled and stepped forward to play with Rudy’s hair.

“There they are! The pets I hear so much about - such a cutie” he said the last part to Rudy, messing the mop of hair Mason kept meaning to take to the groomers but just hadn’t yet.

Rudy smiled wide. It made him so proud to know that Master had been talking about them - bragging even! They were good! Not ignoring the older pet, Casey leaned over to rub under Clyde’s jaw. He smiled as well, content with the affection.

“Well food’s almost done - just a few last touches. Rudy; out,” Mason stated. Without hesitation, Rudy gathered up the pencils he had been drawing with and headed to the living room.

“What’s that about?” Casey asked, leaning against the counter and opening one of the beers he brought. Clyde hung around the outskirts of the conversation, appearing to look out the window into the backyard.

“I don’t like Rudy in the kitchen while I’m cooking. He’s a sweet thing but I don’t trust him not to poke a lit stovetop cause it was glowing.”

Casey laughed, and ended it with a little amused but sad “aww”. He peered out into the living room to see Rudy peeking around the corner. He hadn’t gone far. The boy flushed red and retreated quickly. Casey smiled.

“You didn’t train that out of him? I thought you were the master trainer,” Casey joked, waving his hands at the ‘master trainer’ part. Mason chuckled.

“You’ll learn pretty quickly there are some things you just can’t teach pets - common sense being one of them.”

After dinner they all ended up in the living room, Clyde leaning up against Mason while Casey played with Rudy. They started playing a simple board game, but it devolved after Casey flicked one of the extra pieces at Rudy. He had laughed and crawled over to get it, aiming it up at Casey like he had just done. Right before firing, however, he glanced up to see Mason’s disapproving raise of an eyebrow above his phone. Sheepishly, he put it back on the board.

Casey stood and sat on the couch, patting his leg for Rudy to join him. Happy to do so, Rudy climbed up and laid his head across the man’s lap, absently picking a thread off Casey’s knee.

“How long were you training before you got one of your own? I know I should probably wait but man, I want a pet so bad.”

Mason shrugged and put his phone away. “I waited about a year. In all honesty I knew all the information before that, I just wanted to make sure I had the technique down before I got one.” He rubbed the spot of the back of Clyde’s head he knew the boy liked so much. “They’re a big investment, so you want to make sure you’re really ready - especially if you’re training them yourself.”

Casey looked down to where he was playing with Rudy’s hair.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I was also playing with the idea of buying a pre-trained one. You know, just to have.”

Another pause.

“Is this one for sale?” he asked, making his voice sound like he hadn’t come to Mason’s house that night to ask. It was a longshot, but the boy was exactly what he wanted. Down to the last detail.

Casey could feel Rudy tense against him, could see his eyes fly wide open with concern.

Mason laughed.

Casey laughed along, slightly disappointed but not much. As to be expected.

“Uh, no. No, both my boys are going to stay right here with me. If you do want to buy from a trainer directly you can ask at the office and see what they have available. Caroline usually knows of someone.”

The conversation meandered from there, sometimes about work and sometimes not. Rudy, however, didn’t return to his relaxed state. He stayed tense, eyes locked at an uncomfortable angle on Mason. Eventually Mason took pity on him and called him over, and he quickly obliged. Casey watched him crawl over and practically melt into the man’s lap, back to the guest-turned-danger. He wanted him so bad.

Mason rolled his eyes at the pet and winked at Casey. “He’s a rescue, so there’s some attachment issues there. Shelter pets can be so worth it, but they’re not great for a first one.”

Casey conceded. Personally, he didn’t see that level of attachment as an issue, but that was just preference. The money he would have paid to have that pet attached to him like that…

taggos: @whumpingredroses @suspicious-whumping-egg

#pet whump #dehumanization tw #animalization tw #conditioned whumpee #condescending tw #alcohol mention tw #human trafficking tw #rudy and clyde don't need a tag #mason is good at his job #casey #stalker arc: rudy and clyde #Later that night when they go up to their room it isn’t 2 seconds before Rudy is like #😥😰😢😭😭😭#and clyde is like #😐♥ *pat pat pat* ‘you’re okay.’

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syndianites · 3 years

Text

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter Two

Last Chapter --> Current --> Next Chapter!

Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Twenty four hours went by excruciatingly slow for Pollen.

First, she had to wait through the night. Chloe hadn’t unboxed her until late in the day, when the sun was almost gone. That left little time in the day for much interaction with others.

But she didn’t spend this time twiddling her thumbs. She did what research she could. After observing Chloe- who she learned the name of moments after their deal- meander on her phone and laptop for a few hours, she had a dubious grasp on how the current technology worked.

It was quite the adventure.

But after trial and error, she managed to look Chloe up on the internet. (And what a fascinating thing!). The results gave her a basic background; Daughter of the Mayor of Paris, Mother is a renowned expert in the fashion industry, and so on. She seemed clean, for all Pollen could tell.

So she searched her room. Most of what she could see was clearly expensive, from shiny new gadgets to prim and proper clothes. Beyond some Ladybug merchandise- and oh boy was this girl a fan of Ladybug- nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

A sneak around the hotel didn’t reveal much about Chloe, herself, but her parents on the other hand….

What disasters!

Calling their relationship dysfunctional would be a complement. They were completely polarized opposites, and not in the good, healthy way. Her mother was derisive and cruel, refusing to associate with those she believed were below her and didn’t meet her exceptional standards. Her father was, despite his position, a lapdog. He would bend over backwards to please his wife, acting like a doormat.

Together, they were the perfect image of an Evil Queen and her loyal Servant.

It didn’t give Pollen any good feelings about how Chloe herself would act. Would she take after her parents? Or would she be her own person?

Day time did not ease her fears. Chloe was brash and rude, clearly taking after her mother. She didn’t remember anyone’s names, was haughty and snappy towards her staff, and clearly was comfortable acting above everyone else.

Not a good sign at all.

The way she treated her ‘friend’ was yet another bad sign. Just like her mother had her father as a lapdog she, too, had her friend as a lapdog. However, Pollen took note of how she did remember her name. That must count for something, she considered doubtfully.

School was a disaster for Pollen.

Chloe started out just as haughty as she had in the hotel. Somehow, she got worse. Rude to other students, sneering at and belittling them, and outright mean. Treating her ‘friend’ as a servant. Disregarding other’s feelings. Causing chaos in the class.

There was little Pollen saw as redeemable for Chloe. Between her attitude towards those who worked for her and her family and those who she spent most of her time around, acts of kindness were nigh impossible to find.

As they made their way home, Pollen mulled over how to find Ladybug or Master Fu. In theory, she could try and call out to the other kwami, but such an act took a lot of power and could draw the attention of Hawkmoth or worse. She could camp out until Ladybug and Chat Noir had to come out for another akuma, but how would she manage to transport her miraculous across the city without getting snatched by said akuma?

But as Chloe walked into the lobby of the hotel, her mother’s voice caught her attention.

“Clara!” Audrey strutted up to her daughter, typing away at her phone with one hand. “I need you to fetch me something dear.”

‘Clara?’ Pollen mused, ‘Her name’s Chloe.’

Chloe perked up. “Of course mother. And my name’s Chloe. What can I do for you?”

Audrey waved her hand, “Whatever you say, Cindy. I heard that Adrien Agreste, Gabriel’s son, is in your class. I need you to ensure that Gabriel seated me in the correct location this time. The reshoot of the fashion show is today and I will not be in the second row again.”

From where she could just see Chloe from the gap in her purse, Pollen watched her face fall before she straightened back up with a nod. “Of course! Putting you in the second row is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

“Yes, yes, now please leave. I have business to attend to Carrie.” Audrey dismissed Chloe with a wave before heading deeper into the hotel.

Chloe, despite being misnamed three times in a row, seemed determined to please her mother. She gripped the handle of her bag tighter before rummaging in it to fish out her phone. Barely looking up, she wandered towards the elevator that would take her to her penthouse suite.

When the doors closed and left Chloe alone in the elevator, Pollen poked her head out of the bag. “Is it often your mother gets your name wrong?”

Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “Yes.” Chloe’s response was short and clipped.

Pollen mulled this response over. Pieces of the puzzle that was Chloe were falling into place. As the doors opened again, Pollen ducked back down into the purse.

Chloe continued to text until a smile lit her face up. “Oh, Adrikins! I can always count on you.”

She skipped into her room, shooting a text to her mother- who didn’t respond- that her seat was guaranteed to be in the front row. Chloe went to toss her bag before remembering that it was occupied and lowering it down on a chair gently.

“Alright, Pollen, how was I? As great as you imagined I would be?” Chloe placed the back of her hand under her chin proudly.

In lieu of an answer, Pollen merely replied,”It hasn’t been twenty four hours yet, Chloe.”

Chloe groaned, grumbling complaints about how her heroic qualities should be obvious by now, but ultimately let it go. They had made a deal, after all.

“Oh,” Chloe said suddenly, “Sabrina will be coming over soon, so you’ll want to hide out for a while.”

A perfect opportunity to see what Chloe was like behind closed doors.

Turns out, she was strangely sweet.

Sabrina and Chloe played together like any teens would; watching shows together, gossiping- albeit in a less than kind way- doing each others’ make-up, and most embarrassingly playing ‘Ladybug and Chat Noir’. Despite herself, Pollen found it endearing.

Still, it was not enough to sway her. Endearing or not, Chloe was not fit for being a superhero.

///////

The fashion show was cute. True to word, Chloe and her family were sat in the front row where Audrey critiqued- quite loudly for such an event- each outfit that came about. A few she praised, but they were few and far between.

When Adrien Agreste appeared, the Style Queen gave an appreciative hum. “What quality craftsmanship. Surely an exceptional designer made that hat.”

It wasn’t until after the show that things went south.

Audrey had approached Adrien and, to many’s surprise, Gabriel Agreste in the flesh to discuss the fashion.

“My dear, it seems you’ve set up yet another exceptional line of clothing. That hat dear Adrien is wearing is quite the gem among them.” Audrey gushed to a polite but stone-faced Gabriel.

“Ah,” Gabriel began, “That hat is not a design of my own.”

Adrien piped up here, “It was actually made by a friend of mine! Marianette,” he called over his shoulder, locking eyes with a shocked dark haired girl. “Come show Audrey this hat you made!”

Nervous and stuttering, Marianette explained the logistics of her hat and its design, from the synthetic feather to the careful craftsmanship. Audrey, a known harsh critic, glowed as she listened.

“Fabulous, my dear!” she crowed, “I simply must see more of your work. How would you like to come to New York with me to design more fashion for a line of mine?”

Pollen, invested in the conversation, was pulled out of it by a shaking sensation. She looked up to see Chloe outright trembling as she pulled her hands into fists.

“Mother! Why would you take her of all people!” Chloe burst out. All eyes turned to her.

“Why, Connie, it’s because she is quite exceptional! I would recognize such talent a country away,” Audrey replied with a dismissive wave.

“So am I!”

A laugh. “Dear, the only exceptional thing about you is your mother.”

Had it not been for the hubbub of people around them, you could have heard a pin drop. Chloe stared resolutely at the floor, teeth grinding together and tears threatening to fall. Marianette, for her part, looked like a deer in headlights, stuck between a sharp drop off a cliff and an incoming car.

“Now Audrey,” Gabriel started, before getting cut off.

“I am exceptional!” Chloe shouted. “I will show you! I’m going to be a super heroine! Just you wait, I’ll be better than this girl will ever be!”

Audrey outright cackled. “Oh honey, keep dreaming. There is not a heroic bone in your body.”

Eyes watering and lips trembling, Chloe turned on a dime and stormed off. Pollen caught Marianette make an aborted move towards her, but was stopped by Adrien putting a hand on her arm.

Fuming and ready to bawl, Chloe bust out the front doors and began running down the sidewalk. For minutes, safely tucked into Chloe’s bag, all Pollen can hear is hard footsteps, people shouting, and Chloe’s heavy breathing.

After hearing doors slam open and closed repeatedly, Chloe and Pollen are left in silence. When Pollen braved a look out the purse, she sees that they have found their way back to the locker room at Chloe’s school. Seeing that they were alone, she moved out into the open.

“Fuck!” Chloe exploded. “How dare she!”

Feeling the rage roiling off Chloe, Pollen rushed to calm her. “Chloe, take a deep breath. Give yourself a minute to let it simmer.”

Icy eyes shot up to look at Pollen. “Take a breath? Let it simmer? Are you kidding! I have done my best to make my mother see I am exceptional, so show her that I am good enough, and what does she do? Invites Dupain-Cheng of all people to go with her to New York.”

Pacing back and forth in front of the benches, Chloe growled. “Do you know when the last time I saw my mother for more than a day was? Years ago! Years, Pollen!” Tears trickled down her cheeks as Chloe caved in on herself. “I’ve done my best to be just like her, to show her I can be great too. Why won’t she ever look at me?”

With a hesitant pause, Pollen reached a paw out to Chloe’s shoulder. “Some people can’t be pleased, Chloe. You shouldn’t base your self worth on the word of another.”

Chloe jerked her shoulder away, turning her back to Pollen. “You don’t understand.”

“My mother left when I was young.” She walked forward towards the door so that she could peer out the window. “I didn’t understand why. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“But,” Chloe continued, “If I can just get her to see that I’m worth staying for, she’ll stay here. Maybe, just maybe, I can convince her to be part of our family again.”

Red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks turned back to Pollen. “It’s just so hard. She hardly cares for me at all.”

A pause. “Pollen?” Chloe bit her lip. “Am I unlovable?”

“Of course not. Chloe, no one is beyond love. Not even the worst of people.” Pollen could feel the tides shifting. Before, she was determined to leave Chloe behind. But now? Her heart ached at the thought of abandoning her.

Chloe starts to say something else, but all Pollen could hear was the flap of wings. Her eyes flicked to behind Chloe to where the locker room door was just set ajar. A delicate butterfly of deep, cracked purple squeezed its way inside.

“Chloe!” Pollen yelled. But it was too late. The butterfly touched down on her white sunglasses and disappeared without a sound.

A sudden blank look came across Chloe’s face. A purple butterfly mask appeared across her eyes. Every part of Pollen screamed that she was in danger. Not just from an akumatized Chloe, but from Hawkmoth knowing that she was with Chloe.

Her eyes darted around the room. She needed to hide. It would be safer for the both of them if she kept herself unknown.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #pollen #pollen (ladybug)#kwami pollen #bee miraculous #bee!chloe #original akuma #shit mom Audrey #im bad at tagging on tumblr #ml fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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denkamis · 3 years

Text

hq characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! aside from some swearing, it’s just some fluffy valentine’s day scenarios for you. reader is gn.

characters: keiji akaashi, kenma kozume, yuu nishinoya, koushi sugawara.

notes: dedicated to @koushisun,, for being an exceptionally kind individual and having immaculate taste in 2d men. i hope we can get closer the more we talk, kris. thank you for being my first friend here on da tumbz. <33

keiji akaashi

confessions behind the school building

were you nervous about finally confessing your feelings to akaashi on valentine’s day of all days? absolutely

he was one of, if not the prettiest, impressively athletic, and overwhelmingly intelligent boys in your class

he probably got at least ten confessions on the daily

and valentine’s day simply doubled the number

and here you were, with your tiny valentine’s day card and box of chocolates in hand

you had heard from all the girls that he had been turning down confessions left and right, only adding onto your mountain of nerves

little did you know that he was waiting for you

cherry blossoms bloomed above your heads, falling gracefully like something right out of a shoujo anime. you tapped the tip of your shoe against the pavement, a nervous tick you had garnered that helped keep you grounded. this was it. this was the moment today was leading up to. you and akaashi were standing behind fukurodani, stealing away a bit of privacy. you didn’t need the prying eyes of the other girls watching as you confessed to your year long crush.

akaashi waited with a patient gaze, unmoving from his spot a few feet ahead of you. he gave you space, and didn’t force you to talk right away. it was as if he already knew the intricacies of your thoughts, the way your mind spiraled if you were suddenly put on the spot, especially when it was as intimate and open as confessing your feelings.

“i wanted to tell you, i mean- what i’ve been trying to tell you for years is that i, well,” your tongue felt like it was two sizes too big. your fingers fidgeted behind your back, holding onto the tiny note and chocolates you had made for him yourself. “i like you a lot more than i really let on. you’re always so thoughtful and considerate. you listen to me when i ramble, and you help me with homework or even small things i don’t completely understand. that’s um, that’s really nice of you. i know you’ve probably received a lot of gifts today, but if you could spare a bit of your backpack space to accept mine, it would mean the world to me.” you bowed towards him, eyes glued to the floor as you held out the small box of chocolates and the note you had written.

you didn’t catch the way a smile tugged at his usually stoic features, or the way he tilted his head in thought while wondering how much courage you mustered up to confess like this. still, you felt nimble fingers brushing against yours, the weight of your gift leaving your grip.

“thank you, y/n,” akaashi told you gratefully as you stood up to your full height, “i’m glad that you feel the same as i do.”

“... wait what.”

kenma kozume

heart shaped candies

kenma rarely has plans for valentine’s day tbh

he treats it like any other day because it’s just a day to play some animal crossing and farm more on stardew valley

however, when you waltz into his life, he panics a little bit as the date draws closer

he wants to make you feel special on valentine’s day

he settled for those tiny heart shaped candies, knowing that you had quite the sweet tooth

he wasn’t gonna leave you hanging on valentine’s day, sweetheart

kenma held your hand in his as the two of you walked home together. the day was rainy, small droplets of water pattering against the shared umbrella the two of you were situated beneath. you were talking about school, something or other about the clubs you were in and how passionate you were about starting your very own this year. kenma listened tentatively, an easy smile on his face as he watched your eyes light up and your free hand gesture and fly about as you spoke.

you were adorable.

the two of you soon arrived at your house, and you promised kenma that you would call him tonight so the two of you could play games or watch some netflix together over the internet. you two had been particularly invested in some k-drama that always left the two of you at the edge of your seats. you planted a gentle kiss to his cheek, his face erupting in crimson right to the tips of his ears. giggling quietly, you wished him goodbye, your hand beginning to slide from his as you went to leave. to your surprise, he held on tighter.

with his gaze cast down, you watched as he pulled out a tiny bag of heart shaped candies from his pocket. “i know it’s not much, but i saw everyone else getting their partners gifts and kuroo said that it would be good if i got you something too.”

you accepted his small token of affection with shaky hands and flushed cheeks. peering inside the clear bag, you saw a whole collection of multi-coloured candies reading cheesy phrases such as ‘b mine’, ‘true love’ or even a ‘cutiepie.’

“kenma, i love it. oh my.. haha! i thought you forgot since you didn’t mention anything about gifts for today.” kenma’s hand squeezed yours, his eyes lifting from the wet ground to meet your own with a small yet confident smile.

“i wouldn’t forget something as important as you.”

yuu nishinoya

big teddy bears

an absolutely chaotic mess on valentine’s day

he’s so excited that he finally has someone to spoil, so he wants to go all out

he figured that the best present to get you was the biggest teddy bear he could find

he went to 6 stores and dragged asahi and tanaka with him

he saw a teddy bear that was literally twice his size and went “I’LL TAKE IT”

mans has no chill, he spent literally his entire allowance on it

his grandpa didn’t even bat an eye PFFT

when nishinoya showed up at your doorstep with a chunky teddy bear in tow, you had no words. truly. it had been at the stroke of midnight when he texted you to come outside and see the valentine’s gift he had gotten you. you had said that this could wait until morning, but he insisted that this could not wait another moment. it was technically valentine’s day, after all! this resulted in you dragging yourself down the stairs of your home to greet him at the door. to your surprise, yet at the same time not surprising you in the slightest, was noya carrying the largest teddy bear you had ever laid your eyes on. not only that, but tanaka and what appeared to be a very exhausted asahi accompanied him.

“y/n-chan!” nishinoya shouted boldly and triumphantly, getting down on one knee which instantly made you panic. he wasn’t going to propose, was he? no he wouldn’t. would he? oh god. your words got caught in your throat, trying to formulate some kind of response to his sudden and incoming declaration. yet, a proposal never came. he held up the teddy bear as if it were simba from the lion king, the entire stuffed animal basically shielding his shorter form from your view. you suppressed a snort with your hand.

“i searched far and wide for this gigantic teddy bear for you, please accept it this valentine’s day!” nishinoya said loud and clear from behind the bear. you were having trouble stifling your laughter because from your angle, it looked like the bear itself was saying these words to you. you attempted to take the huge bear from his arms but it ended up being a lot heavier than you anticipated.

“noya, really this is-”

“take the picture!” noya whisper shouted to tanaka, who was holding up his phone camera with a thumbs up. noya posed beside you with an arm tossed around your waist, throwing up a peace sign and sticking out his tongue. leave it to yuu nishinoya to spoil you with the biggest bear he could find. it was incredibly endearing, especially when you found out from asahi that he nearly got kicked out from a walmart after knocking down the entire teddy bear display. he could be the biggest dork sometimes. but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

koushi sugawara

baking together

he saw the idea on pinterest and he had to try it out with you

they were cupcakes red velvet with pink, buttercream frosting

easy, right? it would be a cute little date, you could even stay over at his house while you watched a romcom or something of the sort while they were baking

turns out it wasn’t easy

at all

“shit fuck, oh god- shit!” koushi mumbled to himself as he was spilling some of the red cupcake mix over the side of the bowl. you were trying your best not to laugh too much but you couldn’t help your giggles when koushi shot you a playfully annoyed glare, his nose powered with sugar and flourmaking him look straight out of a victorian magazine. baking with koushi had gone just as well as you thought it would. there was a lot of flour being thrown around, a few stray chocolate chips and sprinkles now on the floor serving as reminders of past quarrels. koushi had always been a rather chaotic individual behind his “soft boy” demeanour he liked to flaunt. he could be so goofy and fun. he could be your greatest hype man but also the person you knew could be in your corner when it counted. and here the two of you were, making a mess in your shared kitchen at nine at night for a valentine’s day date.

“honey, you’re mixing it too fast!”

“i’m mixing it just fine, see look! it’s supposed to be this thick,” his ahoge bobbed back and forth atop his head as he mixed with quite literally his entire torso. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused hardcore on the making sure the mixture was abolished of any and all chunkiness present. you rolled your eyes, a wide smile on your face despite his stubbornness. “the oven’s been preheating for thirty minutes now.”

“well the oven can wait,” he huffed, tapping the neck of the whisk against the bowl to remove the excess mix before grabbing a ladle to begin scooping all the mix into the muffin tin. not without another mess, of course.

“kou, stop moving the—”

“i’m not moving anything, you’re just making me laugh!”

“hand me the spoon, hand it over.”

“it’s not a spoon!”

“it’s a big ass spoon.”

“y/n!”

you were bickering like an old married couple as your hands reached greedily for the ladle that already had some cupcake mix in it. koushi held it out of your reach, causing him to back up into the counter while you hopped in an attempt to get it back. in your desperate attempts, you slipped on the flour from your little past war and caused the two of you to collapse to the floor in a heap of giggles and laughter.

yeah, you two would definitely never be touching any sort of recipe after that day, you absolute menaces.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

#hq scenarios #haikyuu!!#akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #nishinoya x reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #sugawara x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #denkamis.scenarios

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lucywritesreid · 4 years

Text

Our own little island

Thank you for all the feedback from my last fic :3 I really don’t have any explanation for this other than....yeah...Spencer during lockdown haha.

Summary: Spencer and Y/N Have been living in their own private bubble during lockdown. YN has discovered a game and initially Spencer shows no interest...

There wasn’t much to say about the last few months other than they had been… weird. Weird on a global scale. You almost couldn’t believe how quickly everything went from normal to complete lockdown and watching the news every night had set you into complete panic mode. Both you and your highly germ-phobic boyfriend were more than happy to comply with the necessary restrictions. Spencer’s rational and calm mindset kept you both prepared and he did everything possible to reduce your anxiety. You would be forever grateful to have him by your side at such a horrible time.

For you the hardest adjustment was not seeing your work friends every day. It was odd to not spend every waking moment surrounded by all the people you loved the most. You didn’t realise just how much you would miss them despite seeing them all the time anyway. Friday night became the highlight. Your team, set up by Garcia, started a weekly quiz whereby everyone joined a Zoom call and one member was chosen to deliver a set of questions. Granted, it took Rossi a few failed attempts to be both seen and heard on camera, but you had all got it working in the end. Garcia’s quiz was based on cute, fluffy cartoon characters, Rossi delivered a mastermind style quiz all about the ratpack, Hotch surprised everyone with an in depth quiz about the employees of the FBI (where you realised he knew way more about personal lives of his colleagues) and you did pop culture through the ages. You had warned Spencer that ‘the history of the atom’ wasn’t in keeping with the Friday night spirit, and despite being met by many groans, he ended up presenting a fun and engaging quiz where losers had to take a shot for every question wrong. No surprise that he was the only one still standing by the end.

The truth was that despite all the chaos and uncertainty, you realised that you were lucky to have so much time spent with the man you loved. Sure, you worked together, but that was as professional as you both could manage. Stolen kisses at the back of the jet and shoulder squeezes were as close as you could get whilst working. But at home, you both had free reign of each other. You were both night owls, sleeping through most of the sunshine. You spent your evenings playing chess, re-watching old horror movies and having a lot of sex. You were sure that you were keeping your local Thai restaurant in business, living mainly off that and tubs of ice cream. It was almost therapeutic spending your time lounging around in your comfortable clothes. Hours would pass while you both sat reading in silence (you, a few chapters, Spencer, a novel or three…), his arm slowly brushing the inside of your leg as you read. On the more anxious nights, Spencer would do absolutely anything to calm you down, making sure you were okay. He’d perform Shakespeare, teach you how to cheat cards, read to you in different languages and even let you braid the ends of his hair.

You were very sure you were going to marry Spencer Reid.

There was one of your hobbies that he didn’t quite understand. In the first few weeks at home, you had invested in a Nintendo Switch, mainly from the push of Garcia but you had been eyeing it up since it first came out. You spent many nights on animal crossing visiting Garcia and her magic candy land island. It was one way to experience the outside world without actually being there. There was something wholly therapeutic about going fishing, planting flowers and giving gifts to your wonderful animal villagers.

Spencer, of course, didn’t really understand the appeal. Despite having the most wonderful brain you’d ever met, he seemed to have a block when it came to technology. He never discouraged you playing, but always looked over your shoulder with a furrowed brow whenever he saw you.

“See that, y/n, there’s no way all those fossils would be in such close proximity to one another in such a small area.” He commented on more than one occasion. “What use is archaeology when they are just there on the ground for you to see?”

“Spence, it’s a fictional world, I really don’t think they took into account geographical locations of fossils…” you couldn’t help but laugh whenever you spoke about it.

“Don’t even get me started on the physical anatomy of these animals! How disproportioned they are from the real thing! And the colours, y/n! Have you ever met a purple tiger before?”

You knew that he meant no harm from his remarks and was probably getting enjoyment out of it. So you’d shrug, offer him a turn and wait for some comment about how he was going to read an FBI report from 1987 again, and open your switch back up once he was distracted.

One night, you had stayed up late to make wishes on your island. You really needed the star fragments to craft your new DIY recipes and had spent hours posed in position, ready to make a wish. You hadn’t realised that you were falling asleep and your switch was falling out of your hand, until…

“YES! YES! Take that you stupid arachnid!” you heard a shout.

Waking up and looking to your left, you blinked in amazement to see Spencer sat with your switch gripped between his fingers.

“Spence? What are you doing? Are you okay?!” Many sleepless nights and bad dreams had left you very susceptible to fear when you heard shouting.

He looked over to you and his cheeks flushed. “Oh, y/n, honey I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry! It’s just you fell asleep with your game in your hand, I went to turn it off and ended up talking about the stars with this wonderful little owl… She just tells you all these facts. And they are accurate, too! I even wished upon a star.”

“That’s Celeste.” You commented, and yawned. “Spence, what time is it?”

He squinted at the screen before replying, “4am.”

You laughed. “And how long have you been playing animal crossing?”

His focus went back to the screen but he carried on talking to you. “Oh, a few hours now! I’ve just caught a tarantula, the stupid son of a bitch bit me before! Did you know they could bite you in the game? I was just running around trying to get my bearings and it ran up behind me and bit me. But I showed it who’s boss. And hey! It turns out I was wrong about the fossils, in a sense..”

You raised one eyebrow, “Dr Reid, wrong?”

“Well, not wrong exactly. It’s still highly unlikely that they would be so close together, so close to houses, and be found in just one dig. But I took one to the museum after I dug it up and was really surprised. I hadn’t realised how accurate the information provided was about these fossils! And the details in the display, too! You’ve got yourself rather an impressive collection, y/n.”

“Mhmm.” Tiredness was setting in but listening to Spencer talk about your game was more than entertaining. You sat up slowly, leaned across and rested your head on his shoulder. “What else have you been up to?”

“Well I recalculated the position of some of your flowers to maximise chances of getting hybrids. I know purple is your favourite colour so I looked into the best way to get purple flowers!” Spencer was speaking in that quick, animated tone that told you he was really into something. “I even researched the quickest and most beneficial ways of befriending your villagers to maximise the gifts that they give you. I spent a lot of time talking to the Raymond character.”

“Raymond reminds me of you, y’know. Dapper, sophisticated, looks great in glasses…” you replied, nudging his shoulder with your forehead. “How did you find out all of this?”

“Well, I read the whole Nookipedia website and that gave me a pretty good idea.” He turned to you and grinned. Of course, the genius had become the master of your favourite game in a matter of hours. “You can test me on any of the villagers’ names and personality types.”

You looked down and saw piles of notepaper, all scribbled on, splayed out across the bed. You picked one up entitled ‘terraforming.’ Instead of trying to decipher Spencer’s handwriting, you decided to ask him about it. “Spence… what’s all this paper? What are these drawings?” You tilted your head and the paper simultaneously to try and get a better understanding of his scribbles.

“Oh! I’ve been looking into reshaping your island. I came up with a few designs I thought you might like. My personal favourite is the honeybee, cos I know they are your favourite, so I calculated how we can use the terraforming tool to turn your island into a bee. Garcia would be so jealous and…” he trailed off.

“What’s the matter?”

He looked back at you with big puppy dog eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip a little before he spoke. “I’ve gone too far, haven’t I? This was your game, your private space, I never meant to take over. You really have done a great job…”

All you could do was laugh. You leaned over and planted a reassuring kiss on his cheek. “Honestly? I’m really happy that you’re into this now. It means I can talk to you about it. Just you wait until you see Garcia’s island!”

“Really, you’re not mad at me?”

“It would be impossible to be mad at you, Spence. Maybe we’ll set up your own character now.”

And with that, you kissed him again, nuzzling into the comfort of his arm. “Show me what else you’ve been doing…”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #animal crossing.

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Note

poly quarantine with the lost boys? please?

God, this is such a vibe anon. Writing this while I'm bored at work so here you go!!

Poly!Lost Boys x Quarantining with S/O

The boys have dealt with outbreaks and diseases like this before. They've been around since the the late 1800s, so they witnessed the Spanish flu. They knew that they couldn't get sick, so, whether you were already living with them or not, they insisted you quarantine with them. That way there was absolute no possiblity of you getting sick.

You were worried about the boys not having enough to eat for the first few weeks, but they assured you that there would still be plenty of people for them to pick off. To your surprise, there was. Apparently, not everyone was obeying quarantine, and the boys were far too satisfied with their kills. Still, if the pickings were light one night, you'd let them take a few sips from you. They kept a rotation, and they kept their feedings off you light. They didn't want to end up making you faint and they made sure that you drank plenty of fluids.

To curb their boredom, each boy threw themselves into something different. After being alive for so many years, they each had their own way of keeping themselves entertained.

Paul proceeded to get stoned out of his mind and practice his guitar for hours. (Luckily, the second he heard the whispers of going into quarantine, Paul stocked up on herbal refreshment to last all of you for a good while) He even tried to teach you how to play, but he kept pausing to giggle at how cute you looked with his guitar in your hands. And when you played something right? He got so excited. Will clap excitedly and then yank you in for a victory kiss. But be careful, because Paul will definitely try to start his other favorite way of keeping boredom at bay (wink wink)

Marko is the reason there's so much graffiti all over the walls, and he basically went out to buy a whole new set of paints, spray cans, and drawing materials right before quarantine started. He completely paints over one half of the cave so he can have a "blank canvas" and starts making a mural that will literally take him weeks to complete. He has you help him outline the bottom part of the cave while he floats above you outlining the top. When he's not working on his mural, he's sketching you. He claims that he needs "posing practice" and sets you up in a different pose each day (some of them a little bit more sexual than others). Paul will complain that Marko is hogging you, especially since you're not even doing anything. When the mural is finished, he gives the other boys, and you, free reign to add their own little details to make it "all of yours"

Dwayne decided to use this time to read all the books he's been meaning to read. Half of the books he has stacked up in the cave are unread and on "queue". He'll lend you his copies and the two of you will curl up on the couch or in your nest just each reading your own books. One of you is playing with the others hair while you read, those are just the facts. You two have conversations about the books you're reading, and take breaks to have a small makeout session here or there. If you're willing to learn, Dwayne will teach you how to skateboard as well. He'll hold your waist as he helps you balance on the board, and he'll help you do circles around the fountain. When you start getting good, he'll get you your own board

David is the king of movie marathons. He plans one each week, and they're usually horror so- He usually has a theme, and, while the movie marathons are mainly just for you two, the others are welcome to join. But he's the one you're gonna cuddle with. No exceptions. He has you sit in his lap with your head on his chest. The two of you will binge watch your favorite TV shows well into the morning, and the only thing that will force you to stop is the sunlight creeping into the cave. But if you guys put the TV in your nest? That's a dangerous game. The two of you won't come out for days, and you're both mumbling incoherently about a season finale that none of the others have seen.

The boys go food shopping for you. Sorry, but you're not allowed to leave the house (at least for the first few months). They can't have you getting sick, so if you ever need anything one of the boys will get it for you. It sucks when stores start closing earlier at night, but David will definitely try to use it as an excuse to get you to turn

Paul always forgets his mask. Deadass the type to ride out of the cave without it and get all the way to the store before he realizes he forgot it. Drives back angrily mumbling about "stupid fucking masks" before putting it on and driving back out to get whatever you asked for. Will complain in public that they don't need masks, but it's literally because the boys don't need them. Will say "I can't breathe in them" just for Dwayne to remind him that he doesn't need to breathe

Marko stays strapped with masks. He never forgets and he always has extras. He's the one to use cloth masks and he makes his own. Not only does it give him something to do, but it's also just a reason for him to break out his sewing skills. He uses cool patterns to make them "fashion", because that boy is all about diy and self expression. Will make you a mask, and considers selling them for some extra cash. Is very happy whenever someone compliments him on his mask

Dwayne is a strickler for masks. While technically none of the boys need to wear one, you do. Because of that, he will be the type to glare at people that don't wear masks in public. Keeps you very close and cannot stand people that don't obey the six feet rule. He doesn't like to start drama, but they're endangering your health so he will say something if someone is getting a little too close. God help whoever scoffs at the two of you for wearing masks because they're a "scam". They will get eaten. Reminds you before you go anywhere about whether or not you have your mask. Will carry hand sanitizer for you

David is chaotic about masks. He makes sure that you wear them, but then won't wear one himself when you're just walking around/out and about. The only way to get him to wear one is when Marko made him a black cloth one. Throws around the idea of getting a gas mask just to be extra. Likes to make life for others harder so he's definitely the type to not wear the mask over his nose. But if you try to do the same? He will fix it. It's actually low-key kinda cute whenever he reaches over to adjust your mask for you. The boy already wears gloves so he may invest in getting you a pair as well

The boys use quarantine as an excuse to have semi-constant sex. Would you expect anything different? You get told a lot of, "Well, I mean, if you're bored we could..."

When restaurants start opening up again the boys are esctatic. Even if they usually only get takeout, they'll take you out to eat just to get you (and Paul) out of the house for a bit

The boys place bets on how many people will come to the beach and you're flabbergasted when you find out that their guesses weren't actually that high. They're hesitant to take you to the boardwalk with them, and they keep a close eye on you when they do. Will form a protective circle around you and no one is allowed to touch you (it was already like that before but now they have a reason)

If you show any symptoms? You bet your ass you're either being confined to your nest for two weeks or you're drinking out of the wine bottle, it's your choice

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Drop Off Point | Part Two

Warnings; monsters, mention of death, deception, slight violence, minor angst

It was dark, the sky above was stormy as you attempted to sleep in the impala, but managed to no avail. You needed rest, but a sense of expecting dread sat in the pit of your stomach, like Crowley on the throne.

Sam and Dean should have returned to the beloved car by now, their belated arrival had you worried, and unable to gain back any strength that you had lost whilst dancing with that well fed wendigo.

You were certain that you had killed the tall beast, but now you were concerned that you had been mistaken. Perhaps you had screwed up your first hunt with your brothers, and not managed to do what they never thought you could; kill a being in the blink of an eye.

If John was here to see you now, you would sure that he would berate you for not being smarter, and remiaining tucked away whilst your family were outside, possibly being mauled by a monster.

And so, you ignored the wrenching of your gut, and went with your heart, opening the door of Dean’s beloved car, and stepping out into the bitter air.

You didn’t call out, as not to draw attention to yourself, nor curse yourself with vulnerability that would prohibit you from being stealthy. The gun that was tucked into the back of your jeans was pulled out, held in your hands, and prepared to shoot whatever came towards you.

“Whoa there.” Dean’s hands surrendered, making you lower your weapon, a small smirk upon his face. “Don’t want to shoot your favourite brother, do you?”

Sighing, you lowered the dangerous weapon, relieved that it was only your brother. “Who ever said that you were my favourite?” You counteracted, brushing your hair back from your face, and letting your guard lower.

Dean’s hands relinquished their pose, a toothy smile spreading upon the placement of his mouth. “I shoulda went with Sammy.” He hit you around the head, making you realise that it was not your brother, but a beast disguising itself in his skin.

24 hours earlier

Bobby awaited for the pair of brother hunters to pull up, watching them with glazed eyes as they exited the infamous vehicle, walking towards their parental figure with looks of content.

“Where is she then?” Dean asked excitedly, wanting to see his little sister, it had been months, more than he had planned to leave her originally.

Singer sighed, bracing himself on his feet, unsure of how to tell them the news. “That depends...”

Sam frowned at Bobby’s words, urging himself forward to get a better look at the older man’s expression. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been hunting. With Rufus.” Bobby informed them, making them groan at the intel. “And she’s only willing to see the pair of you, if you take her out on a hunt.”

“Not happening.” Dean cut him off, also cutting off the chances of seeing his sister instantaneously. “It’s too dangerous for her.” He added, trying to build up and strengthen his argument which had caused one previously.

“Wasn’t it too dangerous for you as well when John would take you to clear out vampire nests? What were you, fifteen?” Upon his words, Bobby realised that he was not getting through to Dean, his face remained harsh and unphased. “Look boy, I don’t like her going out there either, but if she’s not allowed to, she’s only gonna try and go it alone.”

The elder had a fair point, and Sam subtly nodded to himself, mulling over the facts. Yes you were stubborn, and had a dislike to being ordered around, however he had been in your exact place once.

He was young and eager, and the only way that he could learn well, after the initial training of course, was to dive in head first, and invest himself in the family business.

John would have had you out in the field eventually, but he still wasn’t here. It was him and Dean, the pair that now had the responsibility of protecting you. But you weren’t a little girl anymore, you were growing up, and they had to respect the path that you wished to take in life.

It was a rough road, one that neither of them wished upon you, but it was unfortunately one that you had chosen for yourself. It was inevitable, you were going to be a hunter, whether they liked it or not.

“My head...” you murmured to yourself, going up to reach for where you assumed the aching was, but as you went to, that was when you realised that your hands were bound.

“You took quite a blow.” Sam whistled with a sinister smirk upon his face. The shifter’s previous skin was splayed grotesquely upon the ground, you instinctively turned your nose up at that. “And it seems like there’s another Winchester killing those of us that lurk in the dark.”

“I haven’t killed a shifter yet, but sufficed to say, now more than ever, I am looking forward to it.” You sarcastically smiled at the deceiving monster, only to be hit around the face. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you to hit a girl?”

“Didn’t daddy Winchester ever tell you how to academy capture?” It taunted back, and so you shook your head, trying not to get emotional over the matter.

“I have a theory for my enquiry. Poor little shifter was too ugly for mummy to love, so she left him in the woods, and here you are, taking on someone else’s appearance to feel better about yourself.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” The shifter spoke in your brother’s voice, his full attention all on you. “You’re trying to buy yourself some time, until your brothers show up.”

“Well her method worked.” Dean’s voice cut in, the sound of silver bullets piercing the air afterwards.

“I killed the wendigo.” You berated to your eldest brother, shrugging nervously for his response. The pair of you were in Bobby’s car lot, the sun was beginning to lower and the bandage on your head needing a change soon.

“That was what we knew kid. None of were aware there was a shifter out there. But-“ as he began to continue you huffed, smiling nonchalantly.

“I get it Dean, you don’t want to hunt with a screw up. That’s fine.” You raised your arms, inwardly kicking yourself for your failure. It had been your moment to prove yourself, and you weren’t even able to do that.

“No, that’s not it kid.” He held your arm, squeezing it gently. “With yellow eyes out there, it’s dangerous, I think... I think it’s best if you continue to hunt with Rufus, for now at least.”

“So this is the drop off point now?” You joked, laughing lightly at your own words. “It’s okay Dean, just come back for me one day.”

“When this demon is gone from the face of the earth, I promise you that I’ll come back, and you can hunt with me and Sammy.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that promise.” You hugged him, knowing that it would be another while until you got to again. “I have faith that you’ll find dad, and when you do, we can be a proper family again.”

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yurissweettooth · 3 years

Text

Yay For 10 Years!🎉🎉

*Psst, click the image for higher quality!*

I have zero shame in saying that this show (and all related media) has changed my whole life in so many ways! I’m also not shy about the fact that my heart belongs to Yuri (I think he's so cool!) so of course he was the obvious choice for who do draw and write a short, light hearted fic about (which you can read below the cut!)💚💙

I hope everyone has had a lot of fun on this day!

“Let’s see here… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi... damage report…” Yuri exhaled, massaging the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he leafed through a mountain of crinkled, coffee stained documents. It was of little to no surprise that the pile of paperwork that had been left on his desk while he was away on his lunch break could mostly be attributed to the more reckless half of Sternbild’s prized crime fighting duo. With a sigh Yuri lifted the receiver of his phone, intending to politely remind Tiger once again not to use his paperwork as a coaster. However, before he could dial the number it had begun to ring.

“Justice department, Yuri Petrov speaking.” he answered, suppressing his annoyance and replacing it with his usual polite tone.

“Good afternoon Mr. Petrov, it’s Agnes. As you might be aware, today is the ten year anniversary of the Justice Tower’s remodeling.” She explained.

“Remodeling?”

“Yes. Ten years ago today all of the walls were repainted and appliances replaced to give it a more modern look to reflect a new era of Heroes.” She stated, as if that really explained anything at all.

“That is quite lovely to hear Ms. Joubert. The paint is, uh, a very nice color.” he stated politely, not even sparing a glance at the boring grey walls that surrounded him.

“Look, you don’t have to flatter me, I couldn’t care less about the paint color either. The sponsors are complaining that the returns on their investments are decreasing so we need to drum up some interest and we need to do it fast. Anything can be a reason to celebrate if you look at it right way, right? I mean, do you have any better ideas?”

“Ms. Joubert, I’m merely a judge… I apologize, but I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Yes, precisely! You’re a judge, bringer of justice, upholder of the law!” she passionately proclaimed “Apollon media stands for justice, as such it’s only natural that we feature a man of true justice like yourself..”

Yuri elicits a sound of smug approval and leans back in his chair “Well, I suppose when you word it in that way I may be able to see your point.”

“Fantastic! So, of course our main heroes are our star attraction, our second league heroes are a nice side dish, but you’re probably somewhere right below that when it comes to your importance in delivering justice. ”

“Oh… is that so?” Yuri asked as his briefly amused tone fell flat at her backhanded remark. Was she trying to insult him?

“Precisely.” she said as though she believed she had just bestowed upon him the complement of the century. “I was thinking, in a way you’re kind of like a minor hero yourself so maybe we could spin it as something like a ‘Meet Sternbild’s Hidden Heroes!’ segment. Of course we’ll save all the big questions for our real heroes but maybe at some point we could get your perspective on what you think of the decor of the tower and what it’s like to be a judge.”

As he began to feel the backs of his eyes grow warm he made the quick decision to end the call there before he lost his composure. “Agnes, you always have incredible ideas and I wish you all the best with pursuing that. Thank you for the information, I'll think it over. I’ll be returning to my paperwork now but please don’t hesitate to contact me again when you are in need of further assistance.”

“Oh, you're doing paperwork? In that case, this is actually a great opportunity. Stay put and act natural, I’ll be there in just a minute with the supplies and the film crew.” Agnes made a point of hanging up quickly before he even got the chance to protest.

Just as she’d promised, Agnes and her posse were barging into his office and shoving cameras in his face before he’d even been able to sign off on the first document. She wasted no time in bounding right up to his desk, turning towards the camera.

“Would you look at that, Sternbild’s very own Judge Yuri Petrov, hard at work as usual!” She gracefully spun around and held the microphone out to him “So tell us Yuri, what are you working on currently?”

He pursed his lips, just barely masking his disapproval. He had never been one for interviews, especially not while presenting simply as Judge Petrov, so he figured it best just to blurt out a few simple answers and get it over with quickly. “Well you see, Wild Tiger has again destroyed more property in one week than a group of delinquents could in their entire lifetime." He motioned to the papers in front of him "As you can see, I have a lot of damage reports that I need to-.”

It was rather frightening how suddenly Agnes was able to snap out of her charming, professional mode. “Hey! Take your job seriously!” she shouted, slamming her hands against his desk. “You’re supposed to say ‘Heh heh, I’m sure you would love to know but that’s confidential.’ and wink at the camera or something like that.”

“You’re right, my apologies." Yuri said. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ears, shuffled his papers, and started again. Sorry, I can’t tell you what I’m working on as doing so would violate the code outlined in article 371 B of the Sternbild judic-”

“Ugh, forget it, moving on. Ahem, soooo Mr. Petrov, why don’t you tell us a little bit about what led you to become a judge and why serving justice is so important to you.”

“Ah, well that one is simple.” he said, putting on the vaguest semblance of a friendly smile “I believe that justice is important.”

Agnes nodded her head, the microphone still pointed at him for a moment longer. That is, until the moment passed without him saying anything else. “I-is that all?”

“I’m not sure what else can really be said on the topic.” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Jeez, who hired this guy…” she muttered. “Well, can you at least tell me what you think of the new penholders?”

“Aren’t these from ten years ago?”

“Well they’re newer to you because you only started working here just within the past two years.”

“Mm, I see… but couldn’t the same have been said for the pen holders that were here before the renovation if they were still here now? Does being new to me really make them new?”

Agnes lowered the microphone and gave him a look that would make even Lunatic tremble in fear. “Alright, I had hoped we could avoid it but you’ve left me no choice but to resort to plan B.”

The words “plan B” didn’t leave the most pleasant feeling in Yuri’s gut and, for a moment, he almost considered interjecting and asking to restart the interview. However, Agnes already had her mind made up and was knocking his paperwork and carefully arranged pens aside to make room for a large box displaying the company logo. She rifled through the contents, producing a large cupcake bearing red and green candles in the shape of the number ten among other various party related items.

“Bring it in.” Agnes motioned her crew closer to get a better shot as she rounded the corner of his desk and placed a large, blue and green party hat on his head, pressing it down to try and make it sit smoothly atop his curly hair. “You like these colors, right?” she asked, as if the colors were what might be wrong with this.

“Well, yes but…” he started, but she silenced him with a simple wave of her hand.

“Alright, great. Here, put this in your mouth.” she said, shoving a party blowout, rather reminiscent of Sky High's suit, towards his lips “Try not to get any lipstick on it, we need to reuse this for next year.”

“May I ask why you are making me do this?” Yuri asked, his resolve wavering.

“I’ve decided we’re doing a magazine interview instead. I’ll write out all of your answers for you, we just need a few photos of you to accompany them. Now, pretend like you’re having fun!” she reached back into the box, grabbed a handful of confetti, and sprinkled the colored paper over his head. “Cain, go go go!” she instructed, hoping not to have to waste all of their confetti on just one shoot.

Yuri complied, albeit begrudgingly, but only because it seemed to be the only way to put an end to this save for burning the place down. He gave her the smile she requested, posed with the cake, and shuffled his papers around a few more times to make it look like he had been working.

“Alright, that’s a wrap.” Agnes said at last “This should be enough to work with." She said as she began to pick what confetti she could from Yuri’s hair and place it back into the box.

“Ms. Joubert, I must ask, will something like this really be helpful to our image?” Yuri sighs.

Agnes closes up the box and sets it on the floor beside his desk.“Well, it will be interesting, that’s for sure.” she answered vaguely, “Thanks for your time, I think I can use what I got. I saw you eyeing it so you can keep the cake as compensation, just have the other stuff back to me by this evening.” She had already turned to leave before another thought popped into her head “Oh, and Yuri?”

Yuri, rather reluctantly, looked up with a questioning look. He prayed it wasn't another weird question or dumb photo idea.

“Maybe try to be a bit more cheerful sometimes, with an attitude like that people are going to start thinking you hate heroes or something. Plus, you actually look sort of pleasant when you’re smiling and having fun, even if you're just faking.” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll have a copy of the issue on your desk when it comes out.” she said, waving her crew after her and closing the door behind them.

Yuri, now alone in his trashed office, exhaled a sigh of relief at her departure. “I suppose the public wouldn’t be too pleased if they thought their judge hated heroes.” he remarks to himself as his glowing fingertips make contact with the candle wicks and set them alight. Once his hand had cooled he brushed it across the surface of his desk and collected the remaining confetti, repeating Agnes’s words from their phone call earlier about how anything can be a reason to celebrate. He took the stack of papers and shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk. In a swift movement he sat back and tossed the confetti into the air above his head in celebration of ,what he just decided, was going to be a well deserved and much needed day off. As the scraps of paper rained down on him he recalled her other words and smiled to himself.

#tiger and bunny #tiger & bunny #tigerbunny10 #yuri petrov #agnes joubert #this was a really quick stream of conscious thing so i hope its not too bad!

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 4: Leaving Out the Side Door

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,325

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated every day.

You were on your knees with your hands tied behind your back as he vigorously thrust into you. Your heartbeat pounded in your rib cage and you began to feel numb from the hours he had fucked you. Steve was relentless when he was chasing his own climax, greedily used you as a tool; giving zero fucks about your pleasure or your discomfort, to dump his load in.

Steve didn’t need to see your face or hear your consent. He could go on and on for hours and still not feel satisfied. One thing that you had learned from this being in this dead-end friends with benefits thing with Steve Rogers is that his stamina was relentless. And he wouldn’t think twice about getting what he needed whenever he needed it.

Steve impaled you as your face was squeezed into the pillow, you could hear the squelching noises from the ceaseless cycle of disposing his semen in you and then pushed it back in when he was ready for the next round. Your head began to feel dizzy and your visions turned hazy. You’d tell him to stop because you couldn’t take it anymore, but you knew you didn’t have any strength left in your body to do so.

So you ascended from your body and let him take the wheel; allowing him to go as fast as he wished. He kept hammering until he felt your cunt clenching around him and his cock pulsated, then the line blurred as the coil inside you burst, withering every nerve in your body.

“Ah, fuck.” He grunted. He stayed still inside you until he felt himself softening and then he retreated.

Steve unbound your wrists and he threw himself on the other side of the bed. You knew better than turning to his side and cuddle on his chest unwarranted. He always expected you to get up and get out of his house instantly because he either had another place to attend and didn’t want to see you still here when he comes home or he was ready for another hookup.

Every now and then, you’d let him use you to fulfil his needs and you’d volunteer in cleaning his apartment afterwards. Even after those countless nights where you weren’t the one who made a mess of his sheets.

Ever since that night in your dorm; the first time you were reborn into a blossomed woman and the first time Steve paved the way of traversing to the electric piquancy of venereal act for you, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop letting him through your door or drive to his place at three in the morning just so he could let off some steam.

Every time you try to say no, he’d always pay you a visit unannounced. He’d paralyze you with his words and freeze you with his unchaste touches. “Shh, let me make you feel good, baby. You just gotta surrender yourself to me.”

You’d try to push him away but your brittle tenacity was unavailing. Fast forward to five years later, when you finally got your degree and life vagabondized to unexpected places, your sex life was still staying still in one spot.

You were recruited by National Institute of Mental Health as their project manager. You were possibly the youngest candidate to occupy this position but they were very impressed by your resume and your interview that they didn’t have any better choice than giving you the job.

You loved it, you excelled at what you do. Helping people and tending for their mental health was the aim of your life. You had a clear vision of how you were going to initiate a concept, plan a strategy and execute the plan. You respected your colleagues and vice versa. It was a suitable environment for you to work in and you enjoyed every minute of it.

Your best friend aka your former roommate, Natasha was your rock. You still talked to her everyday and she’d always text you in case she couldn’t call. You’d exchange stories about how your days went and she’d always send you pictures or videos of her adorable cat, Liho. It always carved a smile on your face.

The same goes for Wanda, although with her busy schedule of graduate school and supervised experience made things a little difficult for you to stay in touch, she still updated every nugatory detail of her life. You loved her and you missed her excruciatingly. You had driven to New Haven during some weekends to see her and spend time with her, but when the weekend was over, you had to return to New York because your job was waiting for you.

They were your two most endeared girls and you couldn’t wait for the day you finally introduce them to each other. Natasha and Wanda had said hi to each other a few times back when you were still living in the same dorm but, you really wanted to spend time with the two of them at the same time. They would totally click.

But if anyone asks you about your love life? Well, how could you explain something that was nonexistent?

Unless “friends” with benefit counts for something…

A bell on your apartment dinged and you reached for the door. A man in black with purple nuances uniform showed up with a package in his hands. “Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Here’s your delivery. Sign here please.” He handed you a piece of paper to draw your signature on and you accepted it without question, knowing full well it was another extravagant gift from Steve. Yep, that Steve.

The Steve Rogers.

A Brooklyn-born movie star of various blockbuster films, a remarkable singer and the face of Calvin Klein’s campaign this year… and Gucci Guilty’s last year.

The notorious womanizer but it was all good because he was the man. When you had starred alongside Leonardo DiCaprio and posed next to Oprah, who would give a shit if you never stopped playing the field, right?

And because he was The Steve Rogers, he could’ve spent his money on any lavish item and he could’ve put his dick wherever he wanted it. That included you, being the object of his wealthiness and his manliness.

How many times had you tried to reason with him when he constrained you to come over after a drunken hookup with a twenty-something model to clean up the mess and take out the trash? Perhaps just a few numbers exceeding the number of times he’d play the most charming man in the world only to forget your existence until he wanted you again.

So your feet innately transported you to your car, wearing the brand-new crimson red, bodycon dress with deep V-neck that displayed your cleavage, spaghetti straps baring your arms and a backless design that made you shiver due to the crisp air and drove to a place you had grown so accustomed to.

And this was the God knows how many times you were corrupted on his bed again. You had been so busy with your upcoming project that NIMH was ready to announce but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to resist the urge to come over to his place.

You stood on your wobbly feet, cleaned yourself up and see yourself out. Wouldn’t want to keep another mistress waiting in line…

Three weeks have passed since you last slept with Steve Rogers. Whispers on the streets chirped that he had been occupied with shooting a new film, erotic thriller slash mystery genre. Seems appropriate.

You yourself had been snowed under your work. The fundraiser event that NIMH was holding had been wearing you down but it was all worth it when the show was on. Negotiating with sponsorships, seeking donations and managing ticket sales were not easy, and it was all part of your responsibility because you were the boss, but you aced it anyway.

You were also responsible to hire professional entertainers and well, knowing that you got some connections to a well-known actor, of course, he was the first name on your list. But due to schedule conflicts, he couldn’t make it. It wasn’t a problem though, you still had a long list of names; film stars, movie producers, musicians, directors, moguls, etc.

You stood in your black sequin dress at the corner of the venue, inhaling all the sedulity and gumption you had invested in this event for the past couple of months. A part of you was secretly hoping that Steve would be here to see it, but you quickly eliminated those thoughts away.

9th-grade summer break. Upon the verdant hills overlooking the tranquil lake below; the moon’s faint glow ricochets on the water.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up, y/n?” his head reclined on his the palms of his hand, arms sprawled out like a butterfly’s wings.

“I wanna… Help people. My mom is a nurse and my whole life I watched her taking care of people she’d never met and I wanna have her big heart. I wanna do something that saves people.” you beheld the twinkling stars in the crepuscular sky, privily prayed that every word would come true.

“You wanna be a nurse like her too?” His eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll host a charity event or something and then I’ll use all the money for those who need it. It looks cool in the movies.”

“When I make it, I’ll come to your event and help raise the money too! People would be interested in giving money to celebrities, right?” the credence glinted in his eyes.

“But the money will not be for you, doofus.”

“Yeah, I know!” he chided. “I wouldn’t take a single cent even if I could. My mom taught me that if I were given the chance to put others first before me… I should and I will respect her legacy.”

You watched the host and your project leader, Tony Stark stood behind the acrylic podium and he greeted the crowd a good evening. He opened his speech, cajoling the guests with his words to share a little bit of their wealth as many as possible and closed it with a cordial adieu.

You made your way to one of the most respected guests; Benjamin Woods was sitting on the fifth table. Two times Oscar nominee and you were jittery to talk to him, but in this line of work, you were trained to be confident and act like one of the elites. So you weren’t going to freak out like an obsessive fan, you gotta keep it cool and classy. Plus, during the briefing, you were told to fraternize with as many of the guest as possible, persuade them to help us reach the goal.

You had your eyes set on the target until you bumped on a six-foot man, spilling the martini in his hand all over your dress. It caused a few heads turning but that was the last thing you cared about right now. “Shit!” you squawked.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry miss.” a British accent was hinted.

You grabbed a napkin from the nearest table to wipe away the stain but of course, it was futile. He offered a hand by saying “here, let me help.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’ll-” you looked up to see a handsome man with a pair of grey, slightly blue and green fused at the core. His dark brown hair matched the stubble covering his entire jaw and you were captivated by the work of art that was his face. Man, what a gorgeous creature. “…Manage.”

“I’m truly sorry, I must really stop reading through my emails while walking.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir. It happens.”

“Can I at least get you a drink? I’d feel really bad if I don’t do anything to compensate for my error.”

You averted your gaze from him to the person you really wanted to talk to but that could wait. You still got a few more hours to properly introduce yourself. “Yeah, why not?”

“Splendid.” You both walked toward the bar and sat on the stools. The next thing you knew, you had spent the last one hour talking and acquainting with this man. Apparently, he was the executive director of Filmmakers Without Borders where funding films and new media projects that aligned with themes of social justice, empowerment and cultural exchange was the prime focus of his job. He believed that if he could support ideas that would make the world a better place, he’d do it without a second thought.

He was also a big traveler. He loved seeing magical places in foreign countries, he was keen on exploring new cultures and learning new languages even if he could only recollect a few basic words. He claimed that he had traveled to nine countries in Asia and he planned to travel across Europe, his so-called home, once he had conquered the omnifarious continent.

And what enthralled your heart the most about him was that he was a proud father of two adorable dogs; a greyhound and a pomeranian and a benign Siberian cat. He spoke about them so fondly. He showed you pictures of them and he said that he’d love for you to meet them. Oh man, was that a subtle invitation to come over to his place soon in the future?

He was a real gentleman, courtesy and multifaceted were the proper words to describe this man, and you had only known him for one hour. Eventually, duty calls and you still had a role to play in this event, but before you could hop off the stool, he had asked you for your number and you gladly gave it to him. You had a feeling that this wasn’t farewell but rather, an incipience. The question is… What could it be of?

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flowesona · 4 years

Text

Wheel of Fortune - Yandere! Namjoon x reader

The Tarot Series

It had been a relatively uneventful Tuesday when Namjoon stumbled across her for the first time. He’d been reluctant to try online dating, much less looking for a sugar baby, but he was bored and a primitive part of him was lusting for pleasure in a way that adult movies couldn’t fulfill.

Something about her was intoxicating. Maybe it was the warm look inhabiting her (E/C) eyes, or the beautiful smile that tugged at her lips. It was enough to compel Namjoon to message her without a second thought.

KNJ: How’s your day going, beautiful?

His adrenaline slowly settled into an acidic regret, worried that he hadn’t said enough. He should have been more eloquent, more unique, maybe offered her a large sum of money so that he’d be worth her time. Such plagued him for thirty seconds until a shrill tone told him that he’d received a reply.

Adore: Better now that you’re talking to me, handsome <3

Namjoon’s heart thumped, enraptured by her words.

Adore: I’ve been looking for someone like you to take care of me for a long time. Will you be my daddy?

His hands shot to the keyboard much faster than he would have been proud to admit.

KNJ: I’ll give you anything you want, darling.

Adore: You’re amazing, daddy <3

KNJ: Send me your bank details right now.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

He only ever worked for her now. Every second that he spent in his office, slaving away at paperwork was spurred on by the thought that he could satisfy her and draw out that beautiful smile. He’d been rewarded with precious pictures of her, posing as if she was showing her beauty to the world yet he felt that her smile was reserved just for him.

Nothing could end their ‘relationship’. Not even the teasing of his friends, telling Namjoon how he was chasing after a girl who just saw him as a chore, just another man in her harem for her to please. Whilst he brushed those comments away at the time, at night they haunted him until after a few months he reached breaking point.

KNJ: Do you talk to other men?

He sat back in his chair, resisting the urge to bite his nails anxiously.

KNJ: Be honest with me, please.

Those few minutes had been complete agony as he waited for her to reply.

Adore: I have to, daddy. I still love you the most <3

Namjoon hissed through his teeth, hurt by the statement despite thinking he could handle the truth.

KNJ: Am I a fucking joke to you? Nearly a hundred million won and I’m still not worthy of your sole attention?

The sick pleasure that came from scolding her didn’t even out with the sunken feeling in his stomach, leading Namjoon to abandon his computer for once in a blue moon, choosing instead to water his abandoned house plants.

His dejection didn’t last long, however. It had barely been three days before he logged back onto the website, impatiently clicking on his inbox. He was met with nothing from her, just plenty of messages from people eager to take her place. His mind was only on her.

KNJ: Please darling, I’m so sorry about being angry with you. Please just respond to me.

His apology wasn’t enough. No matter how many messages he sent he never received a response. Even after how much love and money he’d showered her with, it wasn’t enough and such made Namjoon want to tear his hair out.

The few selfies she’d sent him had been able to tide him over for a while, become the source for late nights of pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. He needed much more. He needed to see her face in real life, to cradle her body close to his, to act on every dirty promise she’d made to him. The young girl had become the object of a fatal attraction, and she was going to suffer greatly for it.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The ring of a doorbell drew the young girl away from her gripping book. She abandoned the story to answer it, but was met with a terrifying sight. One of the men that had paid for her college tuition, standing on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers.

“Is Adore home?” His question was innocent enough, but sent shivers down the woman’s spine.

“I-I think you have t-the w-wrong house.” Her attempts to close the door were thwarted by his superior strength, holding open the door enough to push his way into the house uninvited.

“Where is she?” He was still grasping the flowers, paper crinkling slightly.

“I-I don’t know what y-you’re talking about.” The young woman’s collar was caught in his grasp as he dropped the flowers in favour of searching for something in his pockets until he finally found what he was looking for. A handgun, being held to her chin.

“Where is my Adore?” Namjoon snarled. “Do I need to bring the police into this? I can and I will if need be. They kiss my feet, all of them, and you will too.”

“I’ll talk! There’s just something I need to tell you!” The young woman yelped.

“The thing is- fuck it, I’m Adore. I just used pictures of my friend (Y/N) to get a bit of cash for my student loans. I’m sorry!” Namjoon’s face dropped.

“(Y/N)?” The only thing he could choke out was the name as Adore backed away, reaching for her phone. She was stopped by him grabbing her, shaking her slightly.

“You’re going to tell me everything about (Y/N). We’ll forget about the money I’ve given you if things go smoothly.” Adore nodded, regret for her actions swelling up in the light of how she’d doomed her friend to be the doll of a psycho.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

(Y/N) had been having a relatively peaceful Friday. She was sitting in front of her vanity, applying light makeup in preparation for her tinder date when she heard a loud thump from the hallway. Immediately alarmed, she reached for her keys to defend herself before making cautious steps out of her room.

However, her caution wasn’t enough. When she was only a few steps into the kitchen, glancing around warily, a hand smothered her mouth and another hand tangled in her hair and tugged it back.

Suddenly it was her worst nightmare, as two invaders ignored her flailing and started to talk back and forth.

“We need to get out of here before she does anything.”

“You’ve got it all? Boss will have our head if we’re short.”

“You deal with the girl, I’ll check the list.”

At the mention of being “dealt with” (Y/N) had a rush of adrenaline, determined to survive. She elbowed her attacker in the crotch, successfully sending him reeling backwards.

“Somebody help me!” She screamed, desperately praying that her neighbours weren’t busy and they could hear her.

“You-” The robber scrambled to restrain her. “If boss hadn’t been so specific we could have drugged her or something.”

“Hey!” A shout stopped the fight as the parties saw a man stood in the doorway. It was almost cartoonish the way the criminals backed away, yet the stranger’s attention was not directed to them at all, not even stopping them as they dashed past him out of the door with a sideways glance.

“Are you okay?” The situation was almost fantastical, like fiction, but (Y/N) didn’t dare question her saviour as she took his hand and let him lift her to her feet.

“D-do I know you?” The man hesitated, his muscles tending before they relaxed and he answered.

“Kim Namjoon. I was just checking out an investment potential in this area.” He said smoothly. “But witnessing a robbery makes me a bit more cautious.”

“Y-Yeah, it doesn’t happen all the time, it was just so sudden and I don’t know why they would target me, I don’t even have anything worth taking-” As (Y/N) rambled, Namjoon’s eyes didn’t leave her once. He was unflinched, much too cool for the situation (Y/N) had been petrified over.

“It’s good I was here to help you, (Y/N).” Namjoon stopped for a second, realising what he’d done but the hysterical girl was too caught up in her own mind to notice.

“Do you want some tea to help your nerves?” (Y/N) sniffled and nodded, not even thinking to question his motives or remember the date she had been preparing for before the incident.

“T-Thank you.” She finally managed to say.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m here to help you.” But as he turned his back to prepare the tea, unspoken words lingered in his mind.

‘As long as you’re only mine.’

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

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I’m slightly nauseous already with knowing I’m going to say this, but what does “self-awareness” even mean? In modern parlance, as a descriptive phrase, as a comment on art? I’m asking in earnest, like, I’ve been Googling lately, which for me is basically on par with doctoral study in terms of academic rigor. The self is king, anyway, tyrant, so where is the line of distinction between material that intentionally is nodding at some truth about the artist’s life and what’s just, like, all the rest of the regular navel-gazing bullshit. I mean, I’m all self, I am guilty here. I can’t get it out of my poems or even make it more quiet. This is the tenth time I’ve invoked “I” in the space of six sentences. Processing art has always necessitated a certain amount of grappling with the creator, but the busywork of it lately grows more and more tedious. Joy drains out of my body parsing marks left behind not just in stylistic tendencies and themes, but in literal, intentional tags like graffiti on a water tower. This feels an age old and moth-holed complaint, dull, and I am no historian, or really a serious thinker of any kind. I’ve now complained at some length about self-referential art, but didn’t I love how Martin Scorsese nodded to the famous Goodfellas Copacabana tracking shot with the opening frames of last year’s The Irishman? Didn’t I find that terribly fun and sort of sweet? So there’s distinctions. I’m only saying I don’t know with certainty what they even are. I’m unreliable, and someone smarter than me has likely already solved my quandary about why self-knowledge often transforms into overly precious self-reflexivity in such a way that the knowledge is diminished and obscured, leaving only cutesy Easter eggs behind. Postmodernism has birthed a moralizing culture where art exists to be termed either “self-aware Good” or “self-aware Bad”. Self-referentiality in media is so commonplace, so much the standard, that what was once credited as metatextual inventiveness often feels lazy now. In 1996, Scream was revitalizing a genre. Today, two thirds of all horror movies spend half their running time making sure that you know that they know they’re a horror movie, which is fine, I guess, except sometimes you just wanna watch someone get butchered with an axe in peace.

This is all to say that in 2020 Taylor Swift looked long and hard upon her image in the reflecting pool of her heart and has written yet another song about Gone Girl.

“mirrorball” is a very good piece of Gone Girl —feels insane to tell anyone reading a post on a blog what Gone Girl is but, you know, the extremely popular 2012 novel about a woman who pretends to have been murdered and frames her husband for it, and subsequently the 2014 film adaption where you kinda see Ben Affleck’s dick for a second—fanfiction. It would be a fine song, a good song, really, even if it weren’t that, if it were just something normal and not unhinged written by a chill person who behaves in a regular way, but we need to acknowledge the facts for what they are. When Taylor Swift watched Rosamund Pike toss her freshly self-bobbed hair out of her face and hiss, “You think you’d be happy with some nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby. I’m it!” her brain lit up like a Christmas tree, and she’s never been the same. If you Google “taylor swift gone girl” there waiting for you will be a medium sized lake’s worth of articles speculating about how Gone Girl influenced and is referenced in past Swift singles “Blank Space” and “Look What You Made Me Do”. This is not new behavior, and if anything it’s getting a bit troubling to think that it’s been this long since Taylor’s read another book. Still, while the prior offerings were a fair attempt at this particular feat of depravity, “mirrorball” has brought Taylor’s Amy Elliott Dunne deification to stunning new heights. And most importantly, Taylor has done a service to every person alive with more than six brain cells and a Internet connection by putting an end to the “Cool Girl” discourse once and for all. By the power invested in “mirrorball”, it is hereby decreed that the Cool Girl speech from Gone Girl is neither feminist or antifeminist, not ironic nor aspirational. No. It’s something much better than all that. It’s a threat. I ! Can ! Change ! Everything ! About ! Me ! To ! Fit ! In !

Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn

“mirrorball” (2020) by Taylor Swift

When the twinkly musical stylings of Jack Antonoff, a man I distinctly distrust, but for no one specific reason, whirl to life at the beginning of this song I feel instantly entranced, blurry-brained and pleasure-pickled like an infant beneath a light-up crib mobile or, I guess, myself in the old times, the outside times, three tequila sodas deep under the disco lights at The Short Stop. Under a mirrorball in my head. I know very little about music, as a craft, and I really don’t care to know more. I’m happy in a world of pure, dumb sensation. I’m not even sure what kind of instruments are making these jangly little sounds. I just like it. I am vibing. We may not ever be able to behave badly in a club again, but I can sway to my stupid Taylor Swift-and-the-brother-of-the-lady-who-makes-like-those-sweatshirts-with-little-sayings-or-like-vulvas-which-famous-white-women-wear-on-instagram-you-know-what-I-mean song, pressing up onto my tiptoes on the linoleum tile of our kitchen floor and can feel for a second or two something approaching bliss. “mirrorball” is a lush sound bath that I like a lot and then also it’s about being all things to all people, chameleoning at a second’s notice, doing Oscar worthy work on every Zoom call, performing the you who is good, performing the you who is funny, performing the you who draws a liter of your own blood and throws it around the kitchen then cleans it up badly all to get your husband sent to jail for sleeping with a college student... Too much talk about making and unmaking of the self is way too, like, 2012 Tumblr for me now, and I start hearing the word “praxis” ring threateningly in my head, but I’m not yet so evolved that I don’t feel a pull. Musings on the disorganized self—on how we are new all the time, and not just because of all the fresh skin coming up under the dead, personhood in the end so frighteningly flexible—are always going to compel me, I’m afraid, but that goes double for musings on the disorganized self which posit that Taylor Swift still thinks Amy Dunne made some points.

Because on “mirrorball” Taylor is for once not hamfistedly addressing some “hater”, in the quiet and the lack of embarrassing martyrdom it actually offers an interesting answer to the complaint that Taylor is insufficiently self-aware. This criticism emerges often in tandem with claiming to have discovered some crack in the chassis of Swift’s public self, revealing the sweetness to be insincere. My instinct is to dismiss this more or less out of hand as just a mutation of the school of thought that presumes all work by women must be autobiography. And, regardless, it is made altogether laughable by the fact that anyone actually paying attention has known since at least Speak Now, a delightful record populated by the most appalling, horrible characters imaginable, and all of them written by a twenty year old Taylor Swift, that this woman is a pure weirdo. To accuse Taylor Swift of lacking in self-awareness is a reductive misunderstanding, I think, of artifice. Being a fake bitch takes work. Which is to say, if we agree that her public self is a calculated performance—eliding the fact that all public selves are a performance to avoid getting too in the weeds yadda yadda— why, then, should it be presumed that performance is rooted in ignorance? Would it not make more sense that, in fact, someone able to contort themselves so ably into various shapes for public consumption would have a certain understanding of the basic materials they’re working with and concealing? Taylor Swift, in a decade and a half of fame, has presented herself from inside a number of distinct packages. The gangly teenager draped in long curls like climbing wisteria who wrote lyrics down her arms in glitter paint gave way to red lipstick, a Diet Coke campaign, and bad dancing at awards shows. There was the period where she was surrounded constantly by a gaggle of models, then suddenly wasn’t anymore, and that rough interlude with the bleached hair. The whole Polaroid thing. Last year she boldly revealed she’s a democrat. Now it’s the end of the world and she’s got frizzy bangs and flannels and muted little piano songs. Perhaps this endless shape-shifting contradicts or undermines, for some, the pose of tender authenticity which has remained static through each phase, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been doing it all on purpose the entire time. I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try...

In the Disney+ documentary—which, in order to watch, I had to grudgingly give the vile mouse seven dollars, because the login information that I’d begged off of my little sister didn’t work and I was too embarrassed to bring it up a second time—Taylor referred to “mirrorball” as the first time on the album where she explicitly addressed the pandemic, referring to the lyrics that start, “And they called off the circus, Burned the disco down,” and end with “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me,” which actually did made me laugh, feeling sort of warmly foolish and a little fond, because it never would have occurred to me that she was trying to be literal there. I suppose we really do all contain multitudes. Hate that.

#taylor swift #folklore

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five-rivers · 4 years

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Prompt by @fruity-hub-blog. Phor the Phic Phight.

The night was auspicious for a summoning, all the stars and planets in their ideal locations. The date, Beltane, was excellent. The mansion was old, Gothic, and had more than a passing reputation for being haunted, not to even mention the town. The candles were high-quality all-natural beeswax. The chalk was the purest white. The altar at the center of the geometrically perfect chalk circle was of clean-cut marble. The practitioners were experienced. The ritual...

Well, that remained to be seen.

But still, they couldn't ignore the opportunity to summon the Dark King, the Lord of the Afterlife, the Ruler of All Ghosts and Spirits. It was the kind of thing that only came along once in a lifetime, if that.

Each of the thirteen of them had their lines, their part of the ritual that they had memorized after months of practice. It was complex, but also oddly simple. Elegant. Refined. Perfect.

The grandfather clock in the drawing room began to toll midnight, the signal to begin. The practitioners' voices wove together, reaching up, up, up, and hopefully through the veil separating the mortal world from the one belonging to the spirits.

The candles flared, first yellow, then red, then green, reaching higher and higher until the circle looked like a cage with bars of fire. A wind whipped through the room, twisting and tangling the flames. The hoods of the practitioners' robes were blown free, exposing their faces. A few put up their hands to shield their faces from the flames, but none of them stopped chanting.

The leader, their high priest, took his dagger from beneath his robes and drew it smoothly across his hand. He let the blood puddle there, before flinging it out, towards the altar at the center of the circle. The book they had read had suggested that the ritual was more likely to be successful if the high priest made a more significant sacrifice at the altar, or if the high priest made the sacrifice at the altar, in the circle, thereby putting himself at the King's mercy, but, well. The practitioners were all dedicated. None of them was that dedicated.

A few drops of blood hit the altar, and there was a flash of light that was bright and somehow dark all at once. The practitioners had to avert their gazes.

"What have you done now, Daniel?" asked a mature, highly annoyed voice. It echoed weirdly around the room.

"I didn't do anything," said a much younger, but still male voice. "I never do anything. Whenever something happens, it's because you decided to go all power h- Ellie!?"

"Ow," this third voice was younger and female. "That was weird. What happened? Where are we?"

"I don't- Oh. Hello. Uh. Hm." Two pairs of green eyes and one pair of red blinked out of the circle at the practitioners. "We seem to have been summoned by a cult. Hi, Mr. Thunder." As the practitioners' eyes adjusted, they saw one of the three (three!) ghosts they had summoned wave to one of their more junior members.

Lance Thunder made a strangled noise. "Phantom? And the Wisconsin Ghost?"

The smallest ghost snickered. "The Wisconsin Ghost? Really?"

The largest ghost growled. "That is not my name. I am-"

"Oh my gosh, is that blood?" asked Phantom, pointing at the altar. His finger traced the line back to the high priest. "Dude, you're bleeding. Are you okay? You should probably get that looked at, it looks pretty deep from here."

The high priest blinks for a minute, then turns his gaze to the eldest ghost. "You... must be the king," he said, forgetting his planned speech, "and these," he hesitated for a moment, "phantoms are your attendants?"

There was a beat of silence then an uproar of laughter. "Him? King? You're joking right?"

"He's so bad at getting people to listen to him that he makes his own followers from scratch!" exclaimed the younger ghost. "And I still told him to stuff it!"

"People hate him more than they hate me!" Phantom took a deep breath and seemed to settle himself. "Why would you think he was a king?"

"We were, er, we were trying to summon the King of All Ghosts," said Lance Thunder when it became clear no one else was going to answer.

"Pariah Dark? Why?" asked Phantom, clearly taken aback. "The heck would anyone want to do that? Don't answer, we all know you're the lunatic that let him out last time."

By this point, the ghosts had moved so that they were standing on opposite ends of the altar, the Wisconsin Ghost on one side, and the two green-eyed ghosts on the other.

Lance glanced at the high priest again. "To... ask a boon."

"Right," said Phantom. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't get him, honestly."

"But-" said the high priest, reemerging from his stupor. "Why you? Why three of you? This doesn't make sense! This was for one, specific, ghost! There shouldn't be three."

The ghosts exchanged glances. Phantom, with the air of someone trying to be subtle, tested the boundary of the circle and winced slightly as his hand met an impenetrable wall.

"Most likely," said the Wisconsin Ghost, clasping his hands behind his back and standing straight, "it is because Daniel and I were the last ghosts to be in Pariah's presence, as we were the ones to defeat him."

"Please, you showed up at literally the last second and turned a key. You didn't fight. I guess you were there, but that doesn't explain Ellie. You secretly a king, Ellie?"

"Nah, but I bet I'd make a great queen." She struck a pose then let it drop, shrugging. "I'm going to be honest, though, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The similarities between Danielle's ectosignature and yours probably confused the spell. Now, if you are all quite satisfied that we aren't the ghost you are looking for, release us. I'd prefer not to have to waste time breaking out. My night has been disrupted enough."

The high priest twitched, then clenched his uninjured hand. "No," he said.

The Wisconsin Ghost raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"No. Perhaps you aren't the ones we wanted, but we would be fools to throw away this opportunity." The high priest took a deep breath and uttered a word of binding.

Lines of light sprang up from the circle, wrapping around the ghosts. The boy was the first bound, then the older ghost, and finally, after what almost seemed like confusion, the girl. The lights tried to arrange them on the altar, but that only resulted in the ghosts being mashed together in a confusing pile.

"Oh, come on!" said Phantom, wriggling. "I've already filled my ritual sacrifice attempt quota this week!"

"Stop that at once, Daniel, you're kicking me in the face!"

Phantom wriggled harder.

"Bring the book," ordered the high priest. "Perhaps it can shed some light on these events and tell us how we might reap benefits for ourselves."

"Are we going to put them in thrall?" asked one of the practitioners, excitedly. "Make a bargain? Collect their powers? Sacrifice them to higher beings?"

"Wow, all of that sounds terrible," said Phantom, craning his head back so that it hung off the edge of the altar. "Like, really terrible. You shouldn't do any of those. Trust me, they'll all backfire horribly."

The book, an old crumbling thing that had long been in the family of the high priest, was brought forward and opened. He flipped through the pages, slowly. He had read the book cover to cover many times, but some kind of power had been infused into the pages, and he often found passages in them that he would swear he had never laid eyes on before. That was how he had come across the ritual to summon the Ghost King and extract a boon from him.

The priest stops, a sentence catching his eye. Should a title be contested, it may be that all spirits with a claim to it are called. This gives the priest a sacred task, to mediate the dispute. The priest read through the next few pages.

In all honesty, the high priest didn't put much stock into things like sacred duty. Although his great-grandfather had been invested in the art and ritual for spiritual reasons, the high priest was of a more practical bent. So what if ghosts existed? People had always at least suspected that. All it meant was that you had to secure your position in the afterlife, too.

One of the other practitioners cleared their throat. "Master," said Lance Thunder. "I really think that we should just let them go. I mean, Phantom is a tutelary spirit."

"I mean, thanks, but I'm actually terrible at school."

"Be quiet, Daniel."

"So?" asked the high priest.

"So, we need him to keep the town from being overrun with ghosts," said Lance Thunder.

"With the powers we can gain from this, we could protect the town ourselves," said the high priest.

"You know," said Phantom, "saying 'could' sort of implies you won't. And this is a really uncomfortable position. The last cult I got kidnapped by was much better about positioning. I'm definitely going to have to give you a negative review."

"This happen to you a lot?" asked the girl. "Where do you even go to review cults? Yelp? What are the criteria?"

"Oh, the usual. Comfort level, sincerity, complexity, effectiveness, originality... I'll give them points for originality, since I'm usually summoned by myself. I mean, I don't summon myself, but I'm the only one summoned."

"No, no, I get it."

The high priest pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew there were spells to shut up summoned spirits, but he needed them talking, for now.

"One of you," he said, "will be King."

"No, we aren't," said the girl. "We just established that."

"Hold up," said the boy. "'Will be?' Not 'are?'"

"You are the contenders for the position," said the high priest, with as much authority as he could muster. "You must determine which of you it is to be."

"Well," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Clearly I am the only suitable option."

"Oh, come on. You have to see he's trying to play us," said Phantom. "We pick one of us, and then that's the one that has to do this 'boon' thing, and they'll turn the rest of us into 'thralls' or whatever."

"Perhaps. But, then, you should have no trouble acknowledging me as King."

"I literally just outlined why I would have trouble doing that."

"What does 'thrall' mean, anyway?" asked the girl.

"Like, slave or something. I don't know. It was in a song that S- uh, a friend likes."

Obviously, they weren't going to cooperate. The high priest would have to get more serious. "Fetch the water of life," he ordered, pointing at Lance Thunder. It would do the junior practitioner good to remember who was in charge.

The man scurried off, light from the next room briefly spilling past the doorway.

"Isn't that vodka?" asked the girl. "Like, alcohol?"

"I don't know. Ask this guy. Reminds me of a sci-fi thing, though."

"What about this situation is sci-fi? I'm not up on genres, but, still, this has to be horror."

"Or humor, yeah."

"Oooh, burn."

"If you two are quite done," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Perhaps you might share your plan to get out of this mess."

"You don't have a plan," said Phantom, "you have a power grab. A really dumb one, that won't work, just like all the other ones."

"He's got a point, though. How do we get out of these ropes?"

"No idea."

"I thought you did this all the time."

"Not this specific variation," protested Phantom. "None of the others had this glow-y rope thing going on. They don't exactly feel like real ropes, though, if you get me. A human could probably put their hand right through them."

"Wonderful, Daniel, but that isn't exactly something we can take advantage of, is it?"

"I'm just pointing it out, you don't have to be a jerk about it," said Phantom. He shifted again, very deliberately putting his feet in the older ghost's face.

"Daniel, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Weren't you complaining about being enslaved a moment ago?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm totally on that. Got it covered," said Phantom.

"What do you mean, you have it covered?" said the high priest, aggravated by the constant banter. "You can't possibly believe you're getting out of this. This circle was designed to hold the King of All Ghosts!"

"Sure," drawled Phantom, "and government was designed to keep things in order, but it doesn't do a particularly good job of that, does it? Not to mention, you got three for the price of one, here. Ghost King is pretty singular, generally."

The high priest let his eyes flick over the circle and the bonds. Nothing was out of place. Everything was secure.

"Also, I'm pretty sure Mr. Thunder bailed on you, dude."

"Yeah," said the girl, "unless this house is way bigger than it has any reason to be. Even bigger than Vlad's."

"Or if he can't find it, I guess."

"Or if he has to buy it from the nearest liquor store."

"Nice. Hey, guess what, guys? If any of you want to bail, now's your chance." Phantom smiled, showing off a set of too-sharp teeth.

"No one is going anywhere," snarled the high priest. Lance Thunder had been gone for much longer than he should have been, however. He frowned at the door.

"Oh, hey, I got the blood," announced Phantom.

"I'm sorry," said the girl, "you got what?"

"The blood. I knew there was some on here. I saw it before. Really dumb leaving it out like this, you know. There's lots of stuff people like us can do with blood. It's way better than hair."

"Daniel, are you implying that you know magic?" said the Wisconsin Ghost, completely incredulous.

"That's the part of this situation you're having trouble with? But, yeah. Enough to screw with cultists who don't understand the meaning of 'personal space' or 'bio-hazard' and leave their stupid blood everywhere."

"You're going to have to teach me," said the girl.

"My friend, you know the one, is way better than me."

"That makes sense. So, are you going to blow him up?"

"I was thinking about it, but that would leave all the other guys."

"Not if you made the explosion big enough."

"That's true, but I was thinking about maybe turning him into, like, a werewolf or something. Have him tear apart all these other guys. I did say you could bail, it isn't my fault you've stu-"

"You can't do that!" snapped the high priest. "He can't do that. He's trying to trick you into letting him go free."

"Are you sure about that? I'm a ghost after all. I'm old enough to have seen Rome burn. I know more than you, even if I like playing the teenager. It makes people underestimate me." Phantom's lazy smile turned sinister. "Don't you feel what I'm already doing to you? To all of you. You could still escape," his voice buzzed uncomfortably. "All you need to do is let us go."

A few of the practitioners shifted.

"Don't-" started the high priest.

It was too late. One of the others had darted forward and upended a candle. Wax spilled over the clean chalk lines, breaking them, obscuring them. The lights flickered. The ghosts were gone.

"You don't actually know any magic," stated Vlad as they hovered over the house.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I know enough to scam a cultist," he said. "But, if you're asking if I could do what I was saying? Nope."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Ellie. "I was excited."

"Clever, I suppose," admitted Vlad. "But this doesn't resolve our previous business. Which of us is King?"

"Oh my gosh, Vlad, let it go," said Danny.

"I can't do that. This is a very important matter, not that a child like you would understand." Pink sparks leaped from his fingertips.

The other two ghosts drifted back, their dropping body temperatures making mist condense from the air around them.

"Well," said Ellie, "I'm not sure that it counts for anything, but I nominate Danny. Full offence, Vlad, but you suck."

There was a tiny popping sound, very like the sound a tiny firework might make, and a green and glowing crown expanded into being above Danny's head. All three ghosts stared at it for a minute. Danny was practically gaping.

"Oh," said Ellie after a moment. "I guess it does count."

Danny made a very strangled sound before diving out of the way of Vlad's attack. Ellie responded with a ghost ray of her own. The chase was on, and soon they had left the mansion far behind.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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