#but the rest of the colors are basically the same as eclipse's colors- as a nod to their fated connection (black white red & yellow!) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarmoves · 1 month

Text

through pixel eyes (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later.

Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.

Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul.

Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep.

Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view.

“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on.

That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ��hi sun.’

“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack.

‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain.

Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?”

The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’

He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!”

You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!”

Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’

“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”

It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’

“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself.

‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’

“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?”

You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’

“Because it was Sirius!”

‘now that one was just predictable.’

“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.

You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely.

You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’

Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow.

“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”

It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’

“Wonderful!”

Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice.

“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!”

A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’

Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.”

What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think.

Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing.

‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’

“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!”

You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.

Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’

Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way.

“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!”

You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition.

“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”

‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’

“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile.

Everything is suddenly—quiet.

“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”

And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!”

That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope.

Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean.

“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!”

You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’

He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”

You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right?

And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.

“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!”

‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse.

“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?”

You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the Moon.

“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!”

‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role.

“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”

There is the smallest, smallest moment, where something in your stomach drops down to your feet. Your eyebrows raise and you turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is only the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You blink confusedly at the normalcy of it all, then turn back around to ask Sun what the hell he’s talking about.

Only you’re not looking at Sun. You’re looking at Moon. Ohhh.

You were duped, like a fool.

Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why.

You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’

He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes.

‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’

“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’

His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice.

‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’

Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.

“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.

“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on.

“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home.

“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.

“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last.

“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.”

Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.

“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.

“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.”

Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”

And then the program closes.

You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.

There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t.

A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out.

(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)

You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you.

You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.

No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.

With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting.

It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily.

It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun.

“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. Loud! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump. Oww.

Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t.

‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’

“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later.

Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.

Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”

‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.

“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.”

You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’

His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!”

You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen:

FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?

All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop.

Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.

FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.

Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips.

Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice.

“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?”

The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun.

“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it.

“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.”

You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?”

“Can you say my name for me?”

Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.”

A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.”

You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.”

“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?”

You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.

“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!”

“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume.

…It’s very quiet.

Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard.

At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.

“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!”

“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better.

“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.”

“You’re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement.

He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.

In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits.

You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?”

“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?”

“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature.

“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it.

“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”

“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word.

“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”

“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”

“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!”

“Right, right…”

You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it.

As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon.

“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”

You suppress a shiver.

You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?”

“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!”

“What’s the deal with Moon?”

If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”

“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.”

Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!”

“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.

“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.”

“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly.

You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well.

“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.

7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.

…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time.

Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.

Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.

part three

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star0mania · 7 months

Text

Twilight OC because I don't fucking know anymore-

"The word students mostly use is..." "Tempestous?" "More like bitchy"

Name: Alexis Robin Cullen

Name Meaning: First Name: Alexis- Protector of humanity Middle Name: Robin- a bird Last Name: Cullen- Good-looking lad

Title: The Hellhound

Nicknames: Alex (preferred name) Al (Bella and Alice) Rory (Edward, Jacob and Jasper) Robin (Emmet and Rosalie) Mittens (Edward and Alice) Little one, my little star (Belinda) Sis, Ri-Ri (Bea) Auntie Ria (Hailey) Ria (friends)

~~~

Age: Physical Age: 17

Ages throughout the saga: Twilight: 15 Twilight New moon: 16 Twilight Eclipse: 17 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 1: 18 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2: 19

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Species: vampire

~~~~

Date Of Birth: August 10th 1990

Place Of Birth: Miami, America

Date Of Death: N/A

Place of Death: Forks, Washington

Cause of Death: N/A

Abilities: Basic vampire abilities Improved speed Exceptional self-control

Special Ability: shapeshifting (can shapeshift to any human or animal)

~~~~

Nationality: American

Languages: English Korean Spanish Italian

~~~~

Schooling: Forks Highschool

Previous Occupation: Ice Cream place employee, student at Forks Highschool Current occupation: Music Producer

Previous Resident: Miami, America

Current Resident: Forks Washington

First Appearance: Twilight

Last Appearance: The twilight saga: part 2

Status: alive

~~~~

Played by: Julia Stiles and Raegan Revord for younger self Voice: Julia Stiles and Raegan Revord

Eye color: dark blue

Hair color: dirty blonde

Hair texture: wavy/curly

Hair length: long

~~~~

Appearances:

Twilight The Twilight Saga: New Moon The Twilight Saga: Eclipse The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part one The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part two

~~~~~

Mental Health: Anxiety Disorder Hypomnesia

Fears: Hydrophobia: Fear of water Nosocomephobia: Fear of hospitals

~~~~

Positive Traits: Confident Kind Caring Loyal Courageous Brave Sassy Bold Adventurous Independent Protective

Negative Traits: Sarcastic Rebellious Secretive Childish (rare trait) Lazy(rare trait) Can feel guilty easily Struggles to open up to people

Skills: Hacking Coding Writing Art Lock-picking LyingSoccer

Hobbies: Baking Singing Writing Reading Archery Dancing Skateboarding Playing soccer

Likes: Animals Her guitar Her computer Wolves Nature Music HorsesReading

Dislikes: Dresses Snobs The volturi Socializing School Homework Makeup The heat homophobics Salmon Her cat sneeze Needles

~~~~

Drinking: sometimes

Smoking: sometimes

Addictions: n/a

~~~~

Pet: Batty- Australian Cattle Dog- female Simba- Golden Retriever- male

~~~~

Best Friends: Bella Swan Alice Cullen Jasper Hale

Close Friends: Rosalie Hale Carlisle Cullen Emmet Cullen Esme Cullen Edward Cullen Jacob Black (long lost friend)

Friends: Eric Yorkie Mike Newton Angela Webber Jessica Stanley

Frenemies: The werewolf pack

Enemies: The volturi James Victoria Laurent

Family: Carlisle Cullen- Father Esme Cullen- Mother Edward Cullen- Brother Alice Cullen- Sister Belinda- Bio Mum (deceased) (played by Idina Menzel) Jaybird- younger bio brother (deceased) (played by George Henry Davidson) Bea Austin- older sister (deceased) (played by Sophia Carson) (age: 17-20 in Alexis's tale) Jack Austin- brother-in-law (deceased) (played by Joseph Quinn) Nick- Bio Dad (unknown) (played by Dwayne Johnson) Jacob Black- Imprint/Mate Mindy Black- daughter (played by Jenna Ortega) (special power: Fire control) Jazzy Black- daughter (played by Zendaya) (special power: water control) Chad Black- son (played by Mason Gooding)(special power: electricity control) Annika Austin- niece (Played by Sadie Sink)(special power: Ice/snow control) (age: 1- 8(in Alexis's Tale(a book I'm finna write), same ages as Seth in the rest of the saga) (Crush: Seth Clearwater)

Annika in the rest of the saga:

(Alexis's tale)

(Twilight)

(New Moon)

(Eclipse)

(Breaking Dawn)

"Ugh, you want me to shift, you don't want me to shift! Choose a lane!" "And now you're a boy." "I am today."

~~~~

"Before you ask, I brought the dog in."

Love Interests:

Past Love Interests: None. Well, a teen named Rick had a crush on her but they're just good friends

Current Love Interest: Jacob Black

~~~~~~

Ship Name: Jalex

Relationship trope: Long lost friends to enemies Starcrossed lovers enemies to friends friends to lovers soulmates

Relationship headcannons: -TBA-

Relationship playlist: Love will find a way- TLK 2 I Won't Say I'm in Love- Hercules Bella Notte- Lady and the Tramp A Thousand Years- Christina Perri True Love- P!nk Rewrite the Stars- The Greatest Showman You Belong With Me- Taylor Swift Love Story- Taylor Swift Someday- Z-O-M-B-I-E-S We're of the same pride- TLG Neverland- Zendaya Faded- Sara Farrel version Photograph (female and male version)- Ed Sheeran Perfect- Ed Sheeran Happier- Ed Sheeran Shut Up and Dance- WALK THE MOON Marry You- Bruno Mars Beautiful to me- Ollie Murs Mary on a Cross- Ghost Hello Hello- Elton John and Lady Gaga Love me like you do- Ellie Goulding

Relationship variants: Gamora + Peter Quill- GOTG Wanda Maximoff + Vision- MCU Max + Lucas- Stranger Things Kiara + Kovu- TLK 2 Bluestar + Oakheart- Warrior Cats Brightheart + Cloudtail- Warrior Cats Bella + Arrow- Survivors Hanna + Caleb- Pretty Little Liars Kat + Patrick- 10 Things I Hate About You Maggie + Glenn- The Walking Dead Michonne + Rick- The Walking Dead Millie + Moxxie- Hellvua Boss Elle + Tao- Heartstopper Katherine + Danny- Just Go With It Angel + Scamp- Lady and the Tramp 2 Lady + Tramp- Lady and the Tramp Jenna + Balto- Balto Juliet + Gnomeo- Gnomeo and Juliet

Relationship Aesthetic:

~~~

Trivia: Alex lives in her own huge house with the help from Carslie so she can provide for Hailey after her sister died.She mostly shapeshifts into a lioness. Its basically her spirit animal lolShe met Jacob when she was in the forest one timeOut of everyone in the family, Emira likes Alice and Rosalie the bestAlex loves to play with her dogs and play on her guitar She got bullied when she was little Alex used to own a bunny named Frothy but he went missing ;w;

Backstory: Alexis was born to Belinda, a vampire and Nick, another vampire on the 10th of August before her brother, Jaybird and along with their younger sister Bea. Belinda was a huge role model in her life where her dad was hardly around. Their mom warned them about the werewolves. They hanged out with the Cullens whenever both of their parents were busy. When she was 8, she met Jacob and played with him but was cut short when her mom took her away from him, telling him his family was part of the werewolves. So, she never hanged with him again. Soon enough, when a fight between the Volturi and their family broke out, the dad ran away in cowardly fear and her mother and brother died. Alex and Bea cried next to their mother and brother that night and she grew distance between her sister.

A few years later, Bea and a vampire named Jack Austin, soon having a child with him. Alex noticed something off with Jack and tried to tell Bea but Bea wouldn't listen. Alex gave up and looked after Hailey whenever her sister or brother-in-law were busy and grew attached to her. She soon met Jacob again when she told him off for going onto vampire territory. Bea and Alex continued going to school, hence Carlisle helping them with school fees cause he's ✨rich✨. After getting into an argument with Bea one time, Bea got ran over by a car and passed away and Jack left, leaving Alex with Hailey. She soon started hanging out with Jacob, giving up with everything and they both slowly started to develop feelings for each other. By the time they were 17, they started to secretly date, the pack and Cullens soon finding out and who knows what happens next :)

Character variations: Gamora (ROTG) Kiara (TLK) Kat Stradford (10 Things I Hate About You) Megara (Hercules) Sidney Prescott (Scream) Mindy Meeks-Martin (Scream) Bella (Survivors) Missy (Young Sheldon) Bluestar (Warriors) Loona (Hellvua Boss) Octavia (Hellvua Boss) Megara (Hercules) MJ (Spiderman) Nimona (Nimona) Hanna (Pretty Little Liars)

Memorable Quotes: "What is this, asshole day?!" -Alex to a few classmates when they didn't leave her alone

"I guess in this society, being a male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time" -Alex to a few classmates when they were being jerks

"Who's ready to get FUCKED?!" -Alex to a few friends when they're drunk

"Hey...you have a bit of oceanic blue glimmer in your eyes" -Alex to Jacob when they're hanging out at night

"Holy shit, Carslie!" -Alex to Carslie when he showed her, her new house

"I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car; I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you're always right; I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." -Alex in English and Literacy class, reading a poem out loud about Jacob lol

Theme song: All Is Found

Annika and Alex:

Bea and Alex:

Jaybird and Alex:

(Art not mine) (If ya see any references, ykwyk)

------------------------------------------------

OC #2

"Hey, leave him alone!"

Name: Annika Daisy Austin

Name Meaning: First Name: Annika- grace Middle Name: Daisy- a small plant Last Name: Austin- capital of Texas

Title: The Hellhound's Cousin

Nicknames: -TBA-

~~~

Age: Physical Age:

Ages throughout the saga: Alexis's Tale: 1-8 Twilight: 10 Twilight New moon: 12 Twilight Eclipse: 14 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 1: 16 Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2: 18

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her/they

Sexuality: Pansexual

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Species: vampire

~~~~

Date Of Birth: May 8th 2005

Place Of Birth: Forks, Washington

Date Of Death: N/A

Place of Death: N/A

Cause of Death: N/A

Abilities: Basic vampire abilities Improved speed Exceptional self-control

Special Ability: Ice powers (elsa)

~~~~

Nationality: American

Languages: English

~~~~

Schooling: Forks Highschool

Previous Occupation: Forks Primary Current occupation: N/A

Previous Resident: Forks, Washington

Current Resident: Forks Washington

First Appearance: Alexis's Tale

Last Appearance: The twilight saga: part 2

Status: alive

~~~~

"The Volturi? Really? We gotta be afraid of a guy who looks like a rat?"

Played by: Sadie Sink

Voice: Sadie Sink

Eye color: ocean blue

Hair color: red

Hair texture: wavy/curly

Hair length: long

~~~~

Appearances: Alexis's Tale Twilight The Twilight Saga: New Moon The Twilight Saga: Eclipse The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part one The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part two

~~~~~

Mental Health: N/A

Fears: -tba-

~~~~

Positive Traits: Confident Kind Caring Loyal Courageous Brave Sassy Bold Adventurous Independent Protective

Negative Traits: Sarcastic Rebellious Secretive Childish (rare trait) Lazy(rare trait)

Skills: Skateboarding Baking Painting Drawing

Hobbies: Singing Writing Reading Skateboarding

Likes: Animals Her guitar Her computer Wolves Nature Music Horses Reading

Dislikes: Snobs The volturi Socializing School Homework The heat homophobics Salmon Needles

~~~~

Drinking: n/a

Smoking: n/a

Addictions: n/a

~~~~

Pet: Batty- Australian Cattle Dog- female Simba- Golden Retriever- male

~~~~

Best Friends: Bella Swan Alice Cullen Jasper Hale

Close Friends: Rosalie Hale Carlisle Cullen Emmet Cullen Esme Cullen Edward Cullen

Friends: Eric Yorkie Mike Newton Angela Webber Jessica Stanley Jacob Black Seth Clearwater Leah Clearwater

Frenemies: The werewolf pack

Enemies: The volturi James Victoria Laurent

Family: Belinda-grandmother (deceased) (played by Idina Menzel) Jaybird- younger bio brother (deceased) (played by George Henry Davidson) Bea Austin- bio mother (deceased) (played by Sophia Carson) (age: 17-20 in Alexis's tale) Jack Austin- bio father (deceased) (played by Joseph Quinn) Nick- grandfather(unknown) (played by Dwayne Johnson) Seth Clearwater- Imprint/Mate

"For the last time, I ain't Elsa-"

~~~~

"You're not bad yourself"

Love Interests:

Past Love Interests: none

Current Love Interest: Seth Clearwater

~~~~~~

Ship Name: Sethikka

Relationship trope: Friends to Lovers Starcrossed lovers soulmates

Relationship headcannons: -TBA-

Relationship playlist: True Colors- Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake Didn't Know I could Feel This Way- Lady and the Tramp I Don't Care- Emma Heesters

Relationship variants: Cloudtail + Brightheart- Warriors Scamp + Angel- Lady and the Tramp 2 Nala + Simba- The Lion King Rani + Kion- The Lion Guard Elle + Tao- Heartstopper Gwen Stacey + Peter Parker- TASP

Relationship Aesthetic: -tba-

~~~

Trivia: -TBA-

Backstory: Annika Daisy Austin was born on the 8th of May 2005 to Bea and Jack Austin. She loved her parents and aunt dearly and they loved her back. Whenever her parents weren't around, she hanged out with her aunt, Alex. But everything took a turn for the worse when her parents died. Alex was forced to look after Annika. But everything sorta worked out for the both of them.

A few years later, she meets Seth when they are training to fight Victoria's vampire crew in Eclipse. They became friends and as time passed, she developed a small crush on him. She teased him playfully sometimes but other times, she was good friends with him. They met again when Edward and Bella got married and hung out secretly when no one was looking. They soon became a couple while Edward and Bella were on their honeymoon. And time will tell what happens next :D

Character variations: Brightheart (Warriors) Gwen Stacey (TASP) Angel (Lady and the Tramp 2) Hailey (TMF) Milly (TMF) Claire (Tales of Arcadia series)

Memorable Quotes: -Tba-

#Twilight #OC #TwilightOC #roleplay #Twilightrp

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clowncryptids · 1 year

Text

Welcome to The Cryptid's Eye (pack)!

This is a new intro post to my Pack in Wolvden! Sorry it has taken so long to post this... i literally just forgot to make this.

For those who want to know who I am on Wolvden: My Pack's name is "The Cryptids Eye Pack" and my player name is ClownCryptids ! my user number is #119087

Some basic info on how I've been playing so far:

I've decided to go with a "Pagan" (mostly Gaelic) name theme for my wolves, bec I feel like those kind of names fit wolves really well! (I've just been using a Pagan baby name site to name them heh)

I really like cool eyes and I want to collect lots of them! Hence the "Eye" in my pack name!

I am going to try to go for a mostly "clean" (not inbred) pack, though I may still have some dirty wolves if i like em enough (cough Rune cough)

Now onto the Wolves!

This is my pack leader Eun! He's pretty boring bec he was my first wolf.. but im emotionally attached to him now. I would love to give him a new base tho!

This is my current Stud and Herbalist Orrin! He is sooo pretty lookin <3 I haven't really used him much for stud tho.. I like getting studs from outside of the pack! Plus Orrin isn't actually that special genetically :P

This is Darragh my Mentor! I bought her bec she was cheep and a high level with maxed out Finisher proficiency but ive decided she has a curse that makes it so she always looses prey... bec of this she has been made a Mentor LOL (She does have great luck in babies tho bec she gave me a pie pup, love her for that <3)

Next up we have Geir and Lachlan! I bought them at the same time as Darragh bec they too had high levels and maxed out hunting proficiencies! They aren't very fancy but they do their job well and I appreciate them for that.

My Teardrop base boy Erwynn! He's a Scout because he has an asshole personality so he would piss off the rest of the hunting party. He is so pretty tho I love the teardrop base sm <3

Imogen! Im pretty sure she's my highest stat girl! She too was bought alongside Darragh for the same reasons as the other hunters! She actually has a maxed out chaser prof i think, but I switched her to a finisher to replace Darragh and she is so good at it (probably bec of her high stats)! Also I think she is very pretty :3

Eirene, my second wolf I got in the game! She's the pack member I got to customize! Im probably gonna keep her around just for sentimentality <3 She is currently one of the hunting party's chasers!

Larimar! My second Scout! I got him as a gift!!! I wanted himb for his cool eyes, he looks so spooky <3

This here is my problem child Rune! I bought him with the plan for him or one of his pups to be the next stud... but I didn't check for inbreeding first... he has 7 instances LOL. Im keeping him bec he's so pretty, the colors just looks so nice ...

The twins! Seila and Sloane! I bought them in the same trade, I really only wanted Sloane but I decided to keep Seila around for a wile! they both have just had their first litters (of which I will be selling all pups from lol) and after Seila's pup is weaned she will be for sale!

Wraith! One of the first wolves I bought! I got her for the eyes <3 She just recently grew up! She's the first wolf Ive had from puppy to adult hood hehe. She is currently expecting puppies! exiting!

Daemon! I bought her shortly after I bought Wraith! She also just grew up and is pregnant as well! I may sell her if I get some better eclipse eyed pups from her... but Im keeping her for now!

Eskel, my beautiful Pupsitter! I bought him for the looks but I found out he's got maxed out Pupsitting so that was a big bonus!!! gosh he's so pretty... one of my faves for sure.

Guinevere! This is Darragh's Pie pup! she is so pretty omg... I REALLY wish I could get the Fox base applicator for her bec she would look sooo good with it!!

Like.. look at this... gosh I want it so badddd

This here is my trans boy Rikke! I have decided he's a boy... and soo he is now <3 He's a Mojave base wolf and MAN I love the tier 3 bases ough I want them all!

My other twins Eirlys and Aoife! If anybody want's Eirlys (the green one) I will sell her to u! I think Imma just keep Aoife!

Here's Sigred and Quillan! they are pretty simple but I really like their look! they are gonna be in my next hunting party!

aaand finally Saoirse! my 3rd pie! I bought her after realizing Rune was super dirty lol, Saoirse's clean!! She's so pretty I lov her

And that's it, excluding some of the puppies I have for sale!

#cryptid plays wolvden #wolvden #wolves #my ocs #?

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henrike-does-writing-sometimes · 1 year

Text

Can you hear me out there ?

A little after Kayara awakens, still unfamiliar to the lonliness, they try to speak with the other planets. Hoping for the silence to end.

I don’t know how this came to be, but I wanted to explore Kayara before they got comfortable with their role as “Mother Earth”

This is also probably the only time I’ll every write in first person so, enjoy !

Word count: 784 Warnings: I don’t know what it’s called, but basically someone being isolated with no means of escaping Wip: The Divine Characters: Kayara, the sacred entity (planet Earth)

: Taglist - @vacantgodling :

Let me know if you want to be added/removed !

I know who I am, strange as it is. I understood the moment I woke up in this lonely space. Permanently stuck in this orbit. I tried to leave once, but I can’t move. I can speak, however. I’m thankful that I can, this silence would’ve been unbearable otherwise.

There are others like me, I think. I can feel them. Like we’re linked despite the great distance between us. They are clear to me, much clearer than the planets in my own system. I'm unsure why I feel them, but perhaps it is because they too carry life. Small creatures we’ve tasked to protect. By who I don't know, but I won't fail them. There isn't much I can do, but I can do enough. Maybe they feel the same. This sense of guardianship, and strange kind of love.

I hope they do. I hope they love their humans just as much as I do.

All I know about them are the small bits of information that transfer between my humans. Things they talk about, gush about. Dream about. I can’t hear them as they speak, they are much too small. But I gain their knowledge. That’s how I know the name which they use to refer to me. That is how I know the names of the planets I feel so strongly connected to.

And it’s with the curiosity to learn more that I one day call out to them.

“Hello.” my voice is strange. It’s layered, and echoes. It’s feminine, masculine and androgynous all the same. But other than my voice, it is silent. It’s silent for a good while before I try again.

"The humans call me Earth, or Terra. But my name is Kayara." truthfully, I don't know how I came to learn my name. Nobody has used it when talking about me. But I know it's my name, just as I know I'm a planet. “What are your names?” it’s a greeting costum to my humans, the sharing of names. It’s how they connect, by sharing. Name, time, home, food. They love to share, maybe I can do the same.

When no answers come, I turn my attention to what I believe is the closest planet to me. Turquoise and golden in color. It is also the smallest. I’ve heard my humans tower over its humans.

"They call you Effedonia, right? You have what my humans call dragons. Giant reptiles that can fly. They're just myth here, but to you they're real. Do some of them spit fire?" it doesn’t answer. Maybe its sleeping, turned away from its sun. I don’t think I’ve ever slept, but perhaps it’s something I will do in the future. I might be too young still.

Effedonia deserves some rest, so I move on to the next. The planet is a cold shade of blue, witch white clouds swirling within its atmosphere.

"Malcedom, is it cold over there, wherever you are? I heard you're the farthest away from your sun out of us. In some of my colder regions it snows all year around. Do you have snow?" I can get cold sometimes, usually when my moon eclipses the sun. It’s possible Malcedom is constantly freezing, or at the very least cold. Does it ever long for warmth? My question goes unanswered.

There is only one planet left I feel connected too. Its the biggest of us all, and in a constant state of blushing.

"You're like me, Tsym. We're both the only planets in our systems with flowing water. But yours is pink! And you have crystal lakes that are exposed and safe to swim in. That's super cool!" my humans fawn over Tsym’s pink and shimmering ocean. Effedonia and Malcedom also have water, but it’s the same blue and transparent shade as mine. I wonder if their humans fawn over Tsym’s oceans too.

I wonder if all of their humans find me spectacular too. Perhaps in my diverse landscapes and climates. Perhaps the sheer depths of my ocean, the deepest of us all.

Nobody speaks. Nobody answers. It's quite. Always is unless I speak. Sometimes I wonder if my voice even reaches them at all. After all, I'm only a conscience. A psyche. I don't exist in the physical sense. And sound doesn’t travel in space, so my humans claim. But perhaps it’s different for me, different for them.

Maybe they hear me, but cannot themselves reply. Maybe I am the only one of my kind, and that no other planet can think and hear and speak like I do.

But I feel them. I know they're out there. I can't be alone.

I don't want to be alone.

"Please say something."

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #wip #drabble #wip drabble #wip : The Divine #this technically is incompadible with the timeline but shhhh #angst

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 25 days

Note

He was silent. Always was, new people just trying to do their job or so that's what he's gathered from how many have come. They all come and go, some die others are lucky. Selling things they find to meet some kind of quota set by the entity they report to. Tarhos would never pretend to understand it, but... for everyone else he's seen. This one was different and he couldn't tell why. Perhaps that's why he was staring for so long, leaning out of the door way just out of sight until he turned around.

The creature could feel his pulse- the audible gasp, how they sweat probably clung to his brow beneath the mask. Yet.. he stared despite every instinct in his body telling him to run. Find a different position to strike from- it was his nature. Food was food and yet... he couldn't bring himself to hurt this one. No. "What do you want?" His spines shifted as he tilted his head. What did he want...? Tarhos wasn't sure himself. Still... slowly he crept across the metal grating to sit on the floor and stare up at him.

Maybe he'd seem less intimidating if he was smaller, but... he could still feel how his pulse quickened by just being this close. How many others of his kind had he seen? Killed even? "Can you understand me?" Of course he could. The creatures head nodded... but it wasn't as if he could speak back to him. His vocal cords couldn't mimic the same speech that he used. - the stupid af bracken!Tar and employee!Haru fanfic joke but reality just for u

── 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ── LETHAL VERSE (I cb we made this shit NFGKJNKJ)

The Bracken's submission did little to quell Haruko's rampaging emotions, he couldn't suppress the thunderous beating of his heart or relax his tensed muscles. How many of his friends had this sort of thing killed? Why didn't he take the time now to bash its head in and secure the building from at least one more freak of nature? His thoughts swirled and began to cook to a boil, their roars eclipsing the metallic clanging of a nearby fan and the gentle hum of the facility. Frankly he had no idea what to do. If he turned around to tell towards his coworkers would this thing get aggressive again and try to break his neck? Haruko mentally cursed; feeling his heart rate skyrocket - unsure to fight or to flee.

"Well - I - My buddies will probably try to kill you if they see you and I ... " He sighed, "I don't want any bullshit, ok? Back off and I won't hurt you, and you won't hurt me. Truce. - or ...whatever is the equivalent in your culture. If you have a culture - whatever that isn't important right now. Just - we promise not to hurt one another!" Haru sputtered out quickly, still quite flustered after nearly having the absolute shit scared out of him. He was going to hold out a hand to the creature but decided against it once he realized it might find that as an aggressive gesture - frankly he wasn't in the mood to bash this things brains in - so he'd behave. "I'm going to - errr - walk to my ... friends." He cringed internally, ugh - friends? Half of the time he questioned if he should have taken animal linguistics before coming on this mission since half the crew seemed to be speaking a different fucking language 75% of the time! " ... And bring them here. Do not hurt them or try any shit, do you understand?" Haruko's brows furrowed and his nose crinkled as he regarded Tarhos - mentally he took note of its beetlike color and ... flora adorning its shoulders and spine.

"Just stay here. I'll be riiiiiiiiiiiight back." The worker took a few steps backwards, keeping his eyes on Tarhos until he stepped into another hallway and let out a gasp of relief. His gloved hand rested atop his chest as a low groan followed his slowing breaths, "Fuuuuuuuckkkk, why me? Why me?" He whined and his shrill whimpering echoed through the facilities vent system. "Ok - ok, its fine. It's fine its just a sentient Bracken who understands English and at least basic human communication!" He brought his shoulders up and shrugged in a half pitched failure of trying to keep his head level. "Yeah! Yeah - it's ... it's not like they can ... "

Haru paused. The last clang of his boot against the steel beams under him bounced through the hallway; only to bring about an eerie wave of dread once everything had fallen silent.

Could they all communicate? ... Had they just been killing ... sentient life forms? Without any thought to them? Shit. Would the Company get sued? Could Bracken sue? Did they have a legal system?

"Really not in the mood to be having a existential crisis right now, brain."

Sorry.

"It's fine. Now where is the entrance ... ! Hey! Walter! Come here I found some freaky ass shit and I need someone to tell me I haven't finally lost it. I know I know "that's been long gone Haru" yada yada - I get it. I don't want to tell you what it is because you'll think I'm making it up! Just - just get the other guys and meet me back here."

#ℍ𝔸ℝ𝕌𝕂𝕆 ℕ𝔸𝕂𝔸𝕊𝕆ℕ𝔼 ... 【 ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛ 】#ic #rp #verse: lethal #bells of black sunday #my god #what a nightmare

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rabbitheadcanonspuyo · 9 months

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Some Tee headcanons

Before the headcanons begin, meet Shokuri (she is important)

She was originally gonna be named "Aku" (no relation to the character from Samurai Jack), but "aku" just means "evil" in Japanese, nothing else. So Shokuri it is (from "shoku, meaning "eclipse"). Her design was a bit based on Dark Marle.

Also, most of the characters seen in Puyo western release for Windows-DOS and Mac, Qwirks, do exist in my headcanon version of the Tetris world, which is why Feefle is here (Feegleiz the family pet, even though Shokuri owned it before taking in Tee).

Anyway to headcanons-

Shokuri was at the receiving end of a doorstep baby when she first met and took in Tee. (His biological older sister was the one who placed the basket and he was only a day old at least).

She had no idea where he came from and didn't have anyone who would take him so she ended up being the one to take initiative. She was rather bitter about it at first, but the kid grew on her.

The flying disc he uses as a weapon was a gift from his biological parents that was placed in a box in his basket. Its original condition upon being gifted was "battle-worn, but still rather usable", but then Ex noticed the condition of the disc during their first battle and refurbished it when Tee joined the Tetra Crew.

Shokuri taught Tee the basics of Tetris and how to convert the energy released by line clears into spells. When he became part of the Tetra Crew, he trained with Ess and Ai to learn some of the more advanced stuff (including how spins work) as well as how to play quicker.

Tee was always smart. Like, his child self could easily put two and two together if he's seen a pattern a couple of times.

He didn't just mature in a day. Tee saw and got the opportunity to battle Ex when he was 9 or 10 and lost the battle. It's canonically known that before the battle with Ex, Tee was cocky and had a huge ego. After losing (back to headcanon), his ego dropped, but he was still a bit cocky and hot-headed. He only became less cocky with subsequent losses, but still kept the hot-headedness.

This only changed almost a month after he finally won a match against Ex (back then, Tee was 12), when the latter had to take on the role of Keeper of Dimensions. To say having a 12-year-old in charge of an entire ship is kind of a bad idea, but the rest of the crew couldn't exactly be able to be captain to varying degrees (the amnesia that set in a day after Ex left didn't help). He wasn't in the right mind to lead either, but took the responsibility because someone needed to lead. He had to wise up beyond his years just so he can lead without too much issue.

The way I see Tee's relationship with Ringo is this: they aren't romantically involved due to the age gap (Ringo in my hc is 15 and Tee is 18-ish), but they are close friends.

His hair isn't dyed. Lavender is his natural hair color (the same could be said for all but one of his crewmates (his human ones btw) and their hair colors, as well as Ex having gray hair).

Even after the events of the first PuyoTet when the Tetra Crew met Ex again after all these years, Tee still has no idea how he met O. He never really saw or noticed him until sometime early on in his leadership, yet he still doesn't remember it (it's been years).

Tee actually has the third largest amount of psychic potential, with Ai being second. Jay and Elle beat them both by a wide margin.

Also worth noting, everyone originating from the Tetris world in my headcanon has psychic power that mimics the appearance and power of magic, rather than true magic like in the Puyo world.

I should have drawn baby Tee in the illustration a bit bigger...

#tee #puyo puyo #headcanon #headcanons

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skiecas · 2 years

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fic: the trials of inviting tomioka giyuu to a lunch date

pair: giyuu ღ shinobu notes: office au. i just think shinobu would be that overly friendly(?) co-worker who sticks her head over the cubicle every five minutes to chat i mean it’s basically canon. giyuu suffers.

-:-

“Ne. Tomioka-san?”

Giyuu pauses at the voice with his fingertips still resting atop the keyboard, but only for a beat. His eyes sweep quickly over the spreadsheet columns, absorbing the neatly arranged spell of numbers, before refinding his place. The rhythmic taps of his keyboard pick back up.

“Ne, ne?” A face accompanies the voice over his cubicle wall; his co-worker looks down at him with disapproving, gradient-purple eyes. “Tomioka-san? Tomioka-saaan? I know you heard me. You paused your typing for a moment.”

Giyuu sighs, accepting the interruption. He looks up at her blankly. “How can I help you, Kochou?”

The small, affronted frown melts quickly into a sweet smile now that she has his attention. She offers, “Why don’t we have lunch together in the cafeteria today?”

Strands of her hair tumble over the cubicle edge when she tilts her head in question, still smiling. The black color edges into a dull purple at the bottom. It had been blue when she’d first started at the company, well over two years ago. Giyuu recalls one morning when the women had been gathered around her cubicle, chatting, and he’d overheard Kanzaki ask her why she’d dyed it to purple; Kochou had laughed, and told them, “Well, I was told that blue hair apparently isn’t allowed at the office,” as if that made any sense. Strange woman.

Giyuu looks back down at his hands. “No, thank you.”

“Oh.” There’s movement, and then Kochou emerges fully from behind the barrier, cocking one hip into a hand. “Do you already have plans? Where do you go during lunch? I never see you at the cafeteria.”

“I fail to see how that’s anyone’s business.”

“Everyone says you eat alone in the stairwell,” Kochou continues, ignoring him. “I checked there yesterday, but didn’t find you. Were those just rumors?”

Giyuu frowns. “I don’t eat alone in the stairwell.”

“Do you eat alone somewhere else, then?”

A muscle in his cheek jumps, the inquiry brushing too close to the truth. He finally removes his hands from the keyboard, since the probability was zero he’d get any more work done with Kochou buzzing around. She was always sticking her head over the cubicle, offering greetings and trying to start conversations, even when the paperwork was stacked tower-high on Giyuu’s desk. Though all this questioning was new, even for her.

He pushes back his chair, drawing himself to his full height, which practically eclipses her. “Kochou, why are you so curious?”

She doesn’t back down, even when her neck cranes back to maintain eye contact. “I’m simply concerned for you, Tomioka-san,” she says. “I want to be sure you’re eating properly. You’re always so pale. Of course, it could simply be your complexion, or you could be horribly malnourished. My sister is a doctor, see, so I can’t help thinking about these things.”

There’s a tiny glint in her eye; he can’t tell if she’s serious or joking. On her, the polite tone meant nothing.

He shakes his head. “I won’t be eating in the cafeteria. Too noisy. I dislike crowds.” Then he steps around her tiny body, careful not to brush her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Leaving his half-finished work open on the monitor, and Kochou standing in front of it, he exits the otherwise empty office.

On the rooftop, he enjoys his lunch in peace.

The canteen had a deal on raisin bread, so he’d been able to nab two, and the weather outside was strikingly clear. Giyuu liked the rain—the grey partition of clouds, the calming sounds of rain splashing against the window panes and his pipes—but a stark-blue, open sky was equally nice sometimes. He bites into his bread, scrolling through the News app on his phone.

After a moment, his thoughts wander towards Kochou.

They’d started at the company around relatively the same time. She’d come fluttering in with a box of her things only a mere few months after him, and had chosen the cubicle right next to his. Since that time, she’d become quite the social butterfly. The ladies gathered around her desk during their morning coffee breaks, and the younger employees came to her often with work questions, since she was always happy to help.

Even the horribly upsetting pictures of half-mutated larvae and mating insects that she kept around her desk didn’t deter others from approaching her.

Giyuu shakes his head. Strange woman.

What did she even hope to gain by approaching him so much?

Down below, he hears the sound of drifting laughter: workers from their office walking in and out of the ramen place across the street, or sampling street food, or smoking on the benches. Everyone was chattering, abuzz. They look like little worker ants from this high, just speckles of different friend groups crawling over the pavement.

Giyuu bites into his raisin bread, crumpling the empty package once he’s done. He couldn’t talk while eating. It was better to eat alone.

Once he’s finished with his meal, he returns to the empty office, finishing up his incomplete work in the second half of his lunch break.

On a completely separate morning, Kochou comes into the office smiling, and doesn't waste time wheeling back her chair so she can see directly into his cubicle.

“Good morning, Tomioka-san.”

His monitor is still booting up, so he turns slightly to face her, then returns her greeting with a small nod of acknowledgement.

Her smile widens. “Can I ask you something I’ve always wanted to ask?”

He’s instantly wary, thinking back to her previous attack of questions. But his computer’s now started doing updates—24% complete, 6 minutes remaining—so there are no other distractions at the moment. Still a bit cautious, he nods. “Within reason.”

“This.” Kochou points to the back of her head. “Where did this come from?”

Frowning, he touches his own head, his fingers sliding over his coarse, long hair before eventually finding the silk fabric of his scrunchie. He liked his hair out of his face when working, and had taken to wearing it the past six months or so.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Kochou asks.

“Why would a hair ornament automatically imply a relationship?” he wants to know, slightly bemused.

“Ara, ara, no need to get worked up,” she laughs, though Giyuu doesn’t think he did anything of the sort. “It’s just so unlike you, I mean. It looks cute.”

His frown deepens. He looks cute?

“The pattern is cute,” Kochou elaborates, perhaps noting his frown. “Some of the other girls have been curious about it. I promised I would ask.”

That opens up its own field of questions—like why anyone at the office felt they had to go through Kochou to get to him, when they could have asked him these questions themselves—but for now he focuses on giving answers. The computer’s still chugging awake anyway: 85% complete, 1 minute remaining.

His touch lingers over the scrunchie when he explains, “It belonged to my sister.”

“Oh.” Kochou’s deep, purple eyes widen by a fraction. A stricken look appears somewhere in her otherwise hazy irises. She places a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry?” he replies, his eyebrows turning down. “My sister is still alive. It belonged to her, but now it belongs to me.”

His computer lets out a startup noise, the desktop flickering to life.

Giyuu doesn’t turn back to it right away. He gets the vague sense he might have said something wrong; Kochou’s smile thins, the skin around her eyes pulling taut. He’s never seen her without that trademark, placid look. For some unfathomable reason, it causes a heaviness to slide into his chest, squeezing down on his heart.

“This,” Kochou sighs, “is exactly why people don’t like you, Tomioka-san.”

Then she wheels her chair back into her own cubicle, her tiny body and her purple-dyed hair fluttering out of view.

Giyuu parts his lips as if he wants to say something, then closes them helplessly. His computer’s fully started up, so he really has no more reason to keep talking to Kochou either. And clearly she doesn’t want to keep talking to him.

Frowning, he slowly turns back to his work.

The conversation from next door drifts slowly to his ears as he’s tying up the last of the morning’s budget reports. He doesn’t lift his head, but his ears fine-tune in to listen.

“And I-I,” sobs a familiar voice, “I don’t know what I pressed! I swear it, Shinobu-san! But it’s all gone! I’m gonna get fired, oh god, I’ll be a bum without a job or wife, and I-I—!”

“Now, now,” comes Kochou’s soothing tone. “Let’s not panic, Agatsuma-kun. That won’t help anyone.”

Agatsuma Zenitsu, Giyuu remembers. He was one of the newer flock of employees that had entered in the spring. He sat next to the Kamado boy—the only one Giyuu bothered to remember, for that striking scar on his face—and they could be heard chattering all day. Rather, Agatsuma could be heard, usually debating the “moe points” of thigh-high socks or something equally ridiculous, while Kamado mm-ed and did his work.

“If I recall,” Kochou continues, still in her calm voice, “the IT department keeps a backup of all our files, in case we need a restore. Why don’t you and I go down and speak to Tokito-kun together about what he can do for us?”

“R-Really?” Agatsuma sniffles. “You’ll really come with me, Shinobu-san?”

“Of course!”

Her desk chair rattles when she stands. The top of her hair and those butterfly clips of hers become visible, and Giyuu quickly looks away.

Agatsuma floats out of the cubicle first, flushed to bits over his beloved Shinobu-san’s company. Kochou steps out after him, at the same time looking straight into Giyuu’s cubicle. Their eyes meet.

This morning’s blunder of a conversation must have been forgotten, for she smiles at him, like she usually does.

“Tomioka-san. Finished with your work?” Her gaze sweeps over the stack of papers in his COMPLETE bin, then returns to his. Her smile widens. “Why don’t you and I go grab some lunch together after I come back?”

Giyuu looks blankly at her face. Her smile doesn’t falter, though one of her butterfly clips bobs when she tucks some hair behind her ear. Behind her, Agatsuma doesn’t even try to hide that he’s now scowling at him; perhaps he’d been meaning to ask her himself after their little IT adventure, though Giyuu wouldn’t really know about the conventions of such things. Was he supposed to accept after a co-worker had asked him to lunch a certain number of times?

Either way, Kochou doesn’t wait around for his answer. She ushers Agatsuma out quickly—they are, after all, in the middle of a work crisis—though continues to smile conspiringly at Giyuu from over the boy’s shoulder as they leave.

It’s shifting close to noon.

Giyuu sits at his desk blankly, waiting, as others around him begin to sift out to the cafeteria.

At 12:07, Kochou still hasn’t returned, so he quietly picks up his bread, then escapes to his rooftop sanctuary alone.

Kochou doesn’t say anything about lunch when he returns for the second half of the day. She’s neck-deep in the middle of a work call with one of her more difficult clients: the CEO of Douma Holdings, a flamboyant man with many needs. Giyuu listens to her argue and concede on several points during the frustrating conversation. At one moment, even Himejima stops behind her desk to squeeze her shoulder in support; she looks up at him gratefully.

At the call’s end, she slams the phone down, and Giyuu hears a sigh from over the cubicle wall.

Something compels him to look.

Kochou sits with her elbows on the desk, her head down. Two fingers massage both her temples. She’s frowning.

A part of him had always thought her incapable of frowning, just as she was incapable of not popping up over their shared cubicle wall every five minutes to start up conversations that ended nowhere. Perhaps this was considered an intimate moment for Kochou, and he shouldn’t be witnessing it.

Giyuu opens his top drawer, pulling out a small bottle of Tylenol which he places on Kochou’s desk, before wheeling back into his own cubicle.

A moment later, Kochou pops up from over the wall, holding the bottle and looking down at him with mild surprise. “What’s this, Tomioka-san?”

Giyuu looks up blankly. “Your headache will get worse if you don’t take care of it now.”

She glances between him and the painkillers quickly, blinking. Slowly, her typical, pleasant smile slides back onto her mouth. “Well, then,” she lilts, “I’ll accept. Since Tomioka-san is so concerned for me and all.”

She disappears back over the cubicle, presumably to swallow a painkiller, then reappears from around the wall. In her hands, she holds a thick wad of papers—notes from the recent conference—on her way to report to President Ubuyashiki about the dealings. She stops over Giyuu’s shoulder, as usual.

“I looked for you in the stairwell earlier,” she tells him, the picture of innocence, those big, big eyes of hers blinking at him.

Giyuu turns in his chair, frowning. “I told you, Kochou. I don’t eat alone in the stairwell.”

“Hmm? Well, you must eat somewhere.” Her smile widening, she ducks in closer, just until her mouth lines with his ear, and giggles into it, “I’ll drag you out to lunch with me one of these days, Tomioka-san. You might as well give in, while I’m still playing nice.”

Then she pulls back, her little butterfly clips fluttering in her waves of hair.

“Thank you for the medicine.”

Her heels click against the tile as she walks away.

Giyuu falls back in his chair, unsure just which social convention he’d horribly misconstrued just now, or whether this was the consequence of skipping too many lunch invitations, or if Kochou knew those butterflies of hers felt like they pulled the entire universe along with them every time they fluttered. But his tie feels awfully tight against his pulse.

“Ah! There you are.”

Nearly two weeks later, Kochou appears from behind the large, clunky rooftop doors to find him sitting on one of the electrical boxes, yakisoba bread and smartphone in hand. She taps over, holding her bentou box. The door shuts behind her with a metallic clunk.

“Finally, I’ve discovered the elusive Tomioka-san,” she laughs, helping herself to a seat beside him. She opens her bentou, which looks colorful and delicious, and begins poking into her food.

Giyuu looks off to the side, not sure what to say.

Kochou doesn’t seem to need him to speak, chattering right away. “What a nice place you’ve found up here. The sky looks so beautiful. The breeze is lovely, too. Ne, wouldn’t you say so, Tomioka-san? Is this why you eat up here?”

“Kochou, how did you find me?” he asks her.

She chews on a fat, bright-red cherry tomato, making a pleased humming noise. Then she replies, “Well, I realized even an empty stairwell has to lead up somewhere!”

Giyuu sighs.

“It’s a bit warm up here, though, isn’t it? Summer is approaching,” she continues, pressing her chopsticks to her bottom lip. With a glance towards him, she asks, “Don’t you ever feel stuffy, Tomioka-san? I never see you roll up your sleeves or anything of the sort like the other men in the office.”

By the others, she must have meant Rengoku, who left his forearms exposed most of the time, or worse, Shinazugawa and Uzui, who’d denounced ties altogether and often had their entire chests out.

He glances at Kochou. She’s dressed neatly like she always is: a creamy blouse with matching cardigan, black pencil skirt, and black stockings which turned into short heels. And those butterfly clips, which caught glints of sunlight and splashed Giyuu’s face every time she got up to use the copier. If they’re speaking of his stuffy wardrobe, he feels compelled to ask her, 'Then, why don’t you ever remove your stockings?’ But he holds back the thought, tearing his eyes off her legs. There was no reality in which he could envision himself asking Kochou to take off her stockings. Speaking of a woman’s stockings was hardly proper in the first place. And she might tell him this was another reason people didn’t like him.

“I’m dressed appropriately for work,” he replies.

“I can’t argue with that,” she laughs. “Although, I have to admit, I’m curious what a Tomioka-san with his sleeves up would look like.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he simply eats his bread in silence.

Kochou begins joining him, after that.

Not every day, since she eats often with the ladies in the cafeteria, or sometimes with Himejima, who brings them warm tea to share and talk over. But the more solitary days in between, she escapes up to the rooftop, teasing and laughing and chattering with Giyuu. Her prods to make him talk more aren’t often successful, but she’s never put off.

“Wow, look at all the people down there,” she marvels, peering over the ledge. “They look so tiny, like worker ants.”

Giyuu doesn’t look. He’s seen it all before: the ramen shop, the street foods, the packed benches. Kochou could be there if she’d wanted. She could blend into that crowd with her own clique of colleagues, seamlessly.

“Maybe we should try the ramen there some time,” she continues, folding her arms over the ledge. “People seem to really like it. Oh. But, I suppose you don’t like crowds, do you, Tomioka-san?”

He sets his bread down in his lap. “Kochou, why are you here?”

“Eh? What do you mean?” She looks back, an edge of puzzlement sliding into her smile. Her head tilts. “I’m eating lunch, enjoying the breeze.”

“I mean, why are you so insistent on spending time with me?” he asks her.

He’s pondered it before, and couldn’t come up with an answer. He doesn’t talk much, he doesn’t really know how to, and the others in the office call him gloomy. Even Kochou asks him to speak more, but he doesn’t. Why was she here?

Her puzzlement melts into total surprise. Kochou turns around fully, facing him. A stronger breeze waves through her hair, and she tucks a lock behind one ear; when she looks down for a moment, he notes the crescent shadows of her lashes against her cheekbones. Then those sharp, purple eyes are back on him again.

“I don’t know myself, Tomioka-san,” she answers, softly. “I never put much thought into it. You sit next to me in the office, so wouldn’t it just be nice if we could get along?”

He says nothing.

“Well,” she adds, laughing quietly, “maybe it’s a little bit like those people down there.” She drums her fingers atop the ledge, watching the worker ants down below, her smile back in place. “Did you know that ants by nature are very social creatures? They live in these big, big colonies, and each one plays their part in the bigger picture. They put out pheromones to mark location, so no one ant from their cluster ever gets left behind.”

Still, Giyuu says nothing, watching her. His brows dip in the middle.

“Honey bees are social, too. Probably one of the most. Every hive is split into these neat, organized little families, and they have their own brand of pheromones, so no individual bee can every really survive on their own, without any support from the colony. It’s fascinating, really.”

“You…” His brows furrow deeper. “…know a lot about bugs, Kochou.”

She laughs, just a quiet sound. “My parents were entomologists. Very passionate, too. I remember they used to go on these big, grand excursions, chasing rare breeds of insects all over the world. They left me these, when I was little.” She touches one of her butterfly clips, almost an unconscious action, like seeking comfort. At his blank look, she explains, “They died in a car accident when I was young.”

“Ah…”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s not good at offering comfort to others; an opportunity has never even risen before. Their awful talk from two weeks ago comes to him.

But Kochou doesn’t seem to be expecting nor waiting for comforting words. “Speaking of butterflies,” she hums, holding her chin in thought. “Some species of butterflies are more solitary than people think. Monarchs. Big, and kingly. They migrate alone. But even monarchs will roost in a cluster when they’re cold. They’ll gather for food and water. Even the most solitary ones aren’t alone forever.

“And isn’t that a lovely thought, Tomioka-san?” she laughs, and stops in front of him, leaning forward with her hands behind her back. Her smile gleams in the noon sunlight. “That all of us, even the tiniest little ants, are intrinsically social beings. We don’t want to be alone, and we don’t want to leave anyone behind.”

Giyuu’s mouth parts.

Down below there are cars running, people talking, but nothing really stands out to him like the buzz in the wake of Kochou’s words. He’d never really seen himself as belonging to that swarm of worker ants down there, but maybe he was the lone one, drifting off, and Kochou was putting out signals trying to bring him back. Maybe that was why, sometimes, it felt like the universe was getting pulled along right into her.

He stares at her fluttering butterflies, thinking maybe he’d like to follow them some time.

The cafeteria is abuzz, as usual.

Giyuu takes a reluctant step forward, taking quick note of the different groups of his co-workers with his blank stare. Everyone is divided between different tables. He doesn’t move past the entrance, simply observing.

Kanzaki notices him first, and appears to break off mid-sentence as her eyebrow shoots straight up into her hairline. Kochou, next to her, curiously follows her line of sight; her smile widens when their eyes meet.

“Oh, it’s Tomioka-san!” Kanroji calls out, waving to him. “This is rare! How wonderful!”

Several other members at the table turn to look at her call. Some of them—mainly, Shinazugawa and Iguro—spare him only a brief glance before turning back to their own, quiet conversation, uninterested. But Uzui grins, and Rengoku, between bites, yells, “Join us, Tomioka!” Himejima nods.

“Oh, it’s Tomioka-san,” says a voice behind him, and Giyuu looks over to meet the Kamado boy’s gaze. He smiles sweetly, quickly moving past his initial surprise. “How rare to see you in the cafeteria, Tomioka-san. I’m so happy you decided to join us. I’ve always wondered where you disappeared to at this time.” Beaming, he picks up the bread packet on his cafeteria lunch tray and thrusts it instead into Giyuu’s hand, explaining to him, “Actually, my sister works in the bakery here, and she always gives me extra. I noticed you like her raisin bread, so I’ll give this to you, since you’re finally here with us!”

With a cheerful wave, he moves to join his own friend group, where Hashibira seems to be constructing an unstable milk carton tower while Agatsuma watches nervously.

Giyuu approaches Kochou’s table, holding Kamado’s bread close.

Kanroji wordlessly switches seats when he draws near, leaving the chair next to Kochou unoccupied for him. She smiles at him sweetly, and a bit conspiringly, when he’s forced to take the offered spot.

“How nice of you to join us,” Kochou says, pleasantly. Her hands are folded neatly on the tabletop. When she turns to look at him, their upper arms press gently. “I was beginning to think I was fighting a losing battle.”

“I thought it might be okay sometimes,” Giyuu replies, quietly.

The cafeteria seats are small, clustered together. They’re closer to each other than usual, no cubicle-sized gap in between. Some kind of sweet scent wafts off Kochou, and for a moment, Giyuu thinks of what she’d said on the rooftop, about beings that put out pheromones for one another, a practical form of attraction.

He forcibly puts the thought out of his head.

“So, as I was saying, before,” Kanzaki pipes up, her face severe. “The Douma contract.”

Kanroji claps her hands. “Oh, yes! Do finish telling us about how President Ubuyashiki put that man in his place! We were just getting to the good part!”

Uzui barks a laugh. “Wish I coulda seen his face!”

Smiling, Kanzaki continues her tale of how their president’s gentle facade had been no match for the insufferable Douma CEO, and how they had left the meeting feeling semi-victorious, or at least not like they’d had to concede on every point. The story is interrupted at several points by gleeful interjections from Kanroji, Uzui, and Rengoku, the three most boisterous at their office. Giyuu doesn’t feel a need to actively participate in their conversation, but he quietly eats Kamado’s raisin bread and watches the others laugh, watches Kochou giggle behind one hand. The other tables seem used to their ruckus, or perhaps were busy with their own; the noise all surges into one giant buzz, with Giyuu inside for once, even when he’s quiet.

When they all stand at the hour’s end, Rengoku claps a heavy hand on his shoulder, telling him, “Join us again some time, Tomioka!”

“I’ll get you talking one of these days,” Uzui laughs.

He nods, once at each of them.

Kochou waits until they’ve filtered out of the cafeteria, ridden the elevator up nine floors, and dispersed each into their own cubicles before popping her head up over their shared wall, her purple tips fluttering down. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks him, cheekily.

Giyuu considers his answer carefully, before looking up at her.

“I think it might be okay,” he repeats, “more often.”

Kochou smiles.

When they finally make it to the ramen shop, it’s on a quieter day: a company holiday, though they both showed up regardless, looking to get ahead with work. Kochou looks haggard. There’s a light, purple tint beneath her eyes. It’s probably always been there, but Giyuu had never gotten close enough to notice before, except recently. She’s what his sister would call a “career woman.” Clearly she doesn’t get much sleep.

The cafeteria would be closed today, and she needs more substance than anything the bakery would have to offer. It’s Giyuu who suggests the ramen shop.

The soup smells fragrant with spices. The noodles go down easy, and feel warm in his stomach.

“I see what all the fuss was about,” Kochou sings, adding a pinch of cilantro on top.

“It’s good,” Giyuu agrees, slurping neatly.

Only a few other people sit in the shop, holding their own quiet, murmured conversations. He and Kochou sit at a round table by the window, since she had told him people-watching was one of her favorite hobbies, during one of their rooftop lunches. She’s not looking out the window much today, though, opting to watch him instead.

“I thought I might get to see you smile,” she explains, when he raises a brow at her.

“I already took you out to lunch,” Giyuu replies. “You’re quite greedy.”

She looks pleasantly surprised by his response, her smile widening immeasurably. She pokes him with the end of a chopstick, teasing, “Oh, so, is this a date?”

Behind her, a customer enters the shop, causing a surge of wind to rush inside. The purple tips of Kochou’s hair, her little butterfly clips, flitter in the breeze. Her sweet scent wafts about the room. It feels like the universe stops moving for a second, or at least where Giyuu sits. Everything about her calls him to her. Like nature.

Giyuu looks down.

“It’s something,” he murmurs, then carries on with his lunch.

#fic #kny #giyushino #oh nooo i love writing them😩#their dynamic. and esp shinobu's dialogues. are SO fun

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adobe-outdesign · 2 years

Note

can we get a review for mawile/its mega? i personally think it's a great idea with interesting origins and a 10/10 execution, but i'd like your opinion!

I've noticed that I always tend to have a fondness for yokai-based Pokemon, and Mawile is no exception. It's specifically based on the futakuchi-onna, but interpreted in a fun way--instead of just having a small mouth directly on the back of the head, it's instead got a massive set of jaws that eclipse the size of the rest of its body, almost like a venus flytrap. It's also nice how the artwork and sprites show it facing backwards, to really show off those jaws properly.

And the rest of the body also looks good. I like the short, stocky look; it almost looks a bit like a cornhusk doll, especially with those legs. The black helps draw attention to the jaws but is also pulled through nicely with the feet, hands, and hair, and the spot on the jaws helps keep them from being too plain. Also, the actual face is adorable:

I only have one real complaint about Mawile, and that's that according to the 'dex, the jaws are transformed horns made of steel, which is reflected by its steel-typing. However, the jaws are... not even remotely designed to look like metal, sharing the same colors as the body and even having a pink inside and white teeth.

I like the design as-is, so instead of trying to alter the jaws I just would've made those jaws organic because really, why not (especially because the Sun and Moon 'dex claims it can eat with them)? It could've either been dark/fairy, due to its habit of tricking opponents with its face before wiping around and biting them, or even just normal/fairy. Not that the steel-typing ruins the great design or anything; it just feels like they designed it first and decided on the typing later.

And pleasantly, Mega Mawile also has a really good design. It does the logical thing and just adds a second mouth to create a set of "pigtails", and then embellishes the body with some additional pink and curvier jaws. It's not too complicated or busy like a lot of mega designs; it's just a nice, straightforward continuation of the elements that were already there.

I know some people complain that they think this should've been an evolution, but I actually think it works well as a mega because it's so linear. Ideally, an evolution adds, removes, or changes many of the Pokemon's basic elements, whereas this just builds upon them. Not so great for an evolution, but perfect for a temporary power-up. You could argue it prevents them from giving Mawile a regular evolution in the future, but given how weird it is it kind of works as a one-stager.

Really, my sole complaint here is that there's maybe just a little too much pink on the legs; it probably could've started a bit further down and had a spikey division like the one on the arms. That's it though; otherwise, it's solid.

As a whole, a really cool yokai Pokemon with a clean, nicely designed mega. What's not to like?

#mawile #pokemon #pokemon reviews

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sunsukuna · 3 years

Text

— (call me by my name, and i’ll call yours). pt. i

☞ gojo x fem!reader. rated m. tw in tags. ☞ wc: 2959.

Gojo Satoru is a thief.

As evident by the notably empty container resting atop the cool and dark granite counters of your kitchen.

You didn’t cook often. There’s never really time, with your profession, for that. Cooking is a commodity turned luxury. Along with other basics like sleeping, sleeping restfully, sleeping in your own bed, sex, and sleeping.

You’re rarely home; your kitchen, along with most of your small studio, is kept fairly bare. Nothing in the fridge aside from a couple of water bottles. Nothing on your counters aside from sparsely used glass jars where you keep sugars, flours, and other dry ingredients. Nothing inside your cabinets except a few plates, bowls, cups, and a handful of your favorite spices. And nothing in your drawers besides enough eating utensils for a maximum of two people.

When you do have the time to cook, you prefer to savor the experience. The most substantial chunk of your time is spent contemplating flavors, textures, and smells—along with considering options for accompanying wines and desserts and hunting for fresh ingredients. Last night’s meal had been a tender salmon filet, picked from the nearest seafood market, baked and drizzled with tangy lemon and sweet honey. You had peppered with a dash of your most loved dried red peppers and served it with a plentiful side of vegetables. The recipe you put together turned out to your liking, even more so when you realized you had enough left to enjoy it again for lunch today.

Yet, here you are. Standing alone in your apartment, eyes unmoving from the plastic container, sans your fucking food, that was supposed to be neatly tucked away in your fridge.

Eyes still on the container, you wordlessly reach into your back pocket to grab your cellphone.

“Hey, Siri,” you say, jaw clenched and shoulders taut with tension. “Call ‘That Gojo Fucker.’”

Gojo is suspiciously quick to answer to your call, the phone not even ringing before his voice is blaring through your speakers.

He greets you cheerfully, almost singing your name and then humming a quick, “How can I help you, darling?”

His voice, laced with mirth and mischief, is enough to make your skin crawl and your gut twist with anxiety.

At his best, you consider Gojo to be a likable nuisance. You’ve know the ocean eyed curse user for a little over a decade, his presence constant even during the more tumultuous stages of both of your lives. He had managed to surprise you early in your friendship with his loyalty and earnest demeanor. Seemingly flighty by nature, Gojo Satoru holds unwavering dedication to the select few he chooses to accept into his life. Though occasionally rash and more often than not self absorbed, Gojo is a friend you’re thankful burrowed his way into your life.

But at his worst—you imagine him on the other end of your phone with an irritatingly familiar grin on his face, a smile stretched wide with ill-placed excitement—Gojo is just a nuisance.

“I told you not to call me weird names,” you chastise. “You ate my food, Gojo. Again.”

There’s a beat of silence followed by muffled sounds you can’t fully distinguish. The sound of fabric (ah, maybe clothes?) rustling and unintelligible whispers coming from a surprisingly dainty voice you’re not sure you recognize. And then—did he just mute himself?

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he finally responds after another moment.

“We’ve already discussed this,” you continue, choosing to ignore the fact that he’s very obviously in the middle something he doesn’t want you to hear. “You’re not even supposed to be in my apartment when I’m not here, and I—”

“Darling, how am I supposed to know when you’re home if you never answer my calls?”

“Enough with the pet names,” you scold quickly, your voice overlapping his. “And that’s literally not the point.”

“You never respond to my texts either,” Gojo continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “You respond to nerd-Nanami’s texts.” His tone matter-of-fact.

You can feel a migraine taking root, sprouting a dull ache between your brows. The urge to hang up is tempting as you consider ordering take out.

“Kento only texts me about work.”

A startled and undignified squeak tumbles from your mouth when a thunderous boom bounces through the speakers of your phone and straight to your eardrum. You hastily pull your phone away from your ear and decide it would be safer to put the call on speakerphone.

“What are you doing?” You nearly yell while your right hand tenderly massages your ear. “Are you on a mission?”

Your questions are followed by another wave of deafening silence. He’s muted his mic again, causing your forehead to scrunch in confusion. Gojo shouldn’t be on a mission today. A frown falls upon your lips. He’s supposed to be taking a day off.

“Gojo, you’ve gotta stop working during your time off. You’re going to go bald early,” you sigh, shoulders slumping as tension is released.

Another beat of silence trails behind your voice before you decide to hang up. Ordering delivery is starting to sound better and better as you start rustling though the drawer in your kitchen dedicated to local take away restaurants you adore. It won’t bring you the same satisfaction as a home cooked meal—your eyes shift to the empty food container once again as a sharp pain settles in your stomach—but it’s better than nothing.

“…”

Your brain is fast to process the unexpected sound behind you, just a few steps away, as being undeniably familiar. It’s the voice of a friend, you realize, who’s just called you by your given name. A name you covet so fiercely you’ve only shared it with a humble group of three. But your body reacts faster than your mind, a kitchen knife is in your hands and sent whistling out of your hands before your heart beats twice. You throw it with practiced ease and precision. Enough force to injure but not to kill.

A second knife is in your hand not a breath later as you turn to face your intruder, prepared to thoroughly mince whoever had the misplaced gall to break into your home. You have to force yourself not to scream when you find the first knife you threw frozen in the air in front of an ashen haired fiend fashioning a devilish grin staring at you.

“Gojo,” you seethe, your brain catching up. Your words tumble out in mess of curses and shaky breathes. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to stop fucking teleporting into my home, you slimy bastard.”

The impulse to throw the second knife isn’t lost on you, but you decide to toss it to the counter, abandoning the urge, knowing it wouldn’t make contact with your target.

“I really, really don't like when you do that, Gojo! It’s goddamn bad enough when I’m not here; it’s a complete invasion of privacy,” your voice is shrill at this point, vexing to your own ears, but you keep going. “But I really fucking hate when you sneak up on me, Gojo! It’s so—”

“Gojo this, Gojo that,” he interrupts your tirade, lazily pulling the knife you’d thrown out of the air and placing it on the counter. “Never Satoru, but always Kento. You know, darling, you’re kind of a brat.”

For the second time today, a feeling of confusion washes over you.

“I—w-what?” You reply a bit dumbly, your anger quickly replaced by growing bewilderment.

“You’re a brat,” he repeats simply. His voice is low, hushed, and ladened with unnerving apathy that causes you to bristle. You’ve heard this tone before—calculated and deceptively passive—but you can’t recall a single time he’s directed it at you.

Gojo takes a few steps forward, long legs quickly closing the already small distance and caging you between him and the countertop. His proximity is making you unusually nervous. His closeness makes your skin itch and your mouth dry. A new fluttering of anxiety bubbles in your gut, climbing the walls of your rib cage and nestling itself beneath your chest where you can feel heart thumping faster than you’d like.

You’ve been close to Gojo before. Your initial aversion to being touched by others dissolved entirely after years of missions and training sessions that have placed you in unavoidable positions. Gojo, especially, isn’t a bother after becoming accustomed to his incessantly grabby hands and roaming fingers that often found themselves lingering on your waist, squeezing your shoulders, tracing the patterns on your wrists, or laced between the waves of your hair.

Gojo’s touch, above anyone else, is one which you are well acquainted. And yet, in this moment, you realize you’re terrified for him to touch you.

You feel like running when you catch his crystalline eyes peering down at you, his midnight tinted lenses discarded alongside the knife on the counter. The look in his eyes, maddening and hungry, is enough to drown you. You want to bolt when his hand finds its way to the hem of your too large t-shirt, a jarring reminder that you have nothing on underneath because you hadn’t been expecting guests. Gojo’s other hand snakes itself into your hair, a sensation normally welcomed and relaxing, but you let out a surprised gasp when his fingers tighten around your locks and give a sharp tug.

Your hands quickly find themselves pressed against his chest, desperate to push him away and reintroduce much needed distance. You will yourself to ignore the heat of his skin that burns your palms through his thin button up. You give Gojo a push that does nothing to move him but does earn you another pull, this time harder, on your hair. A whimper crawls its way from the back of your throat, and you watch as his pupils bloom—obsidian eclipsing sky colored eyes.

“Did that hurt?” He licks his lips, eyes dropping quickly from yours to your neck.

The audacity of his question pushes you to finally speak, despite your still rampant nerves.

“Of course it hurt, you fucking creep,” you hiss, pushing at his chest again. “Gojo, let me go right now or I’ll—”

Another sudden jerk on your hair causes your words to be lost within a painful whine.

“Satoru,” he cuts you off with a grunt, hooking the hand that had been toying with your shirt under one of your thighs and lifting you onto the counter with ease.

You shudder at the feeling of granite beneath you. It’s frigid against the bare skin of your thighs. Even more chilling against the bare heat of your pussy. An overbearing rush of panic clouds your thoughts, jumbling your mind with anxiety, anger, confusion, and something else you’re uneasy to name.

Gojo discards your hair, both of his hands resting atop your thighs and dangerously close to touching—

“Call me Satoru,” Gojo breathes out, distracting you again. “I want you to call me by my name.”

“You’re being really weird.” You muster your voice, albeit weakly, and ignore his odd demand. “I want you to back up, and let me go. Please.”

His grip on you tightens, blunt nails digging into your thigh. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if his hands have always been so large. Your eyes widen as you realize they nearly swallow the whole of you.

“Oh,” he offers you a short, hollow laugh, “I didn’t know you could say please.”

“Gojo, I’m serious.”

Your eyes meet his again, and a long forgotten feeling scorches your insides. Starting in the pit of your belly and settling hotly in the center of your cunt. The realization makes you want to run away again, adrenaline sweeping over you amidst your panic and anger. The look in Gojo’s eyes is upsettingly knowing, as if he’s also unearthed what had been lost, perhaps purposefully buried, between your storm of emotions. That feeling you had been fearful to identify just moments ago, so severe you’re forced to acknowledge it.

“You’re so fucking disobedient,” Gojo groans. He sounds annoyed, but the low sound and unexpected swear leaving his lips sends another wave of longing through you.

“You’re fucking bratty,” he continues as he readjusts his already firm grip on your thighs and pulls you forward.

His hips meet your cunt, and your breasts press against his chest. You hazily consider if he can feel how wet you’ve become through his trousers. If he realizes your bra and panties won’t be found underneath your shirt should his hands wander any further.

He must because his next words leave him in a shaky breath. “You’re fucking mouthy,” he rasps, lips now pressed against your neck while his teeth lightly tug at your delicate skin. “I ask you for one thing, and you—fuck—can’t even do that.”

Your hands that had desperately tried to push him away earlier find themselves covered beneath a cascade of soft, snow colored locks, pulling Gojo closer. You can’t remember when you put them there. Your mind is too clouded with want; your thoughts are too fogged with images of what it would feel like to have his large hand cupping your breast, his tongue lapping at your pert nipple while he fucks into you, two fingers deep, with his other hand.

“You’re so wet, baby,” his voice no louder than a whisper. “You’re dripping on me, you’re fucking soaked, and I haven’t even stuffed you with my cock yet.”

You open your mouth with the intention of telling Gojo to kindly fuck off, irritated by the mocking undertone that had plagued vulgar his words, but all that comes is a lewd moan so shameless it spurs another humorless laugh from him.

“If you say my name, I’ll touch you properly,” he hums, mouth hovering over yours. His fingers dance along the slick folds of your aching cunt, teasing as he presses a finger at your entrance and his thumb to your clit. “Say my name, and I’ll fuck you.”

Greedy for more, you rock your hips forward, moaning loudly when you feel his finger slip inside you. The sensation is lost as quickly as you’d found it, though. Your brows furrow in confusion as your vision suddenly tilts, your mind sluggish to realize you’re being lifted from the counter and thrown over Gojo’s broad shoulders. A choked cry unintentionally falls from your mouth. Your hands, balled into fists and beating at his back, go ignored as he wordlessly carries you to your bedroom.

“Put me down, you asshole!” you screech, indignation and embarrassment leaking into your voice. “Fucking put me down, Satoru, I swear to fuck—”

Another strangled cry flies out of you when you’re sent falling backwards onto your plush bed. It takes a moment before your vision looks like it’s supposed to, the world correcting itself to be right side up. Gojo stands before you, and for the first time since his arrival you can really see him.

His white shirt, normally pressed and tucked neatly beneath the waistband of his pants, is disheveled. His hair, too, is a beautiful mess made by your hands. His lips plush and pink from painting your neck with kisses and bites that would probably leave marks. You swallow thickly as your eyes travel to his pants. They’re black, as usual, and tailored to fit his tall build. Your jaw drops, ever so slightly, when you see yourself smeared across the front of a tent in his pants.

When Gojo calls your name, your eyes snap upward to find his. Heat pools in your cheeks, and your ears feel like they’re on fire. You can’t help but feel ashamed of yourself. What the hell were doing trying to fuck your longest friend and coworker? And on your kitchen counter? You’re woefully aware that it’s been a long time since your last sexual encounter, but surely nothing could excuse or justify this type of mindless behavior.

This isn’t who you are. And Gojo, despite his prowess and frequent affairs, isn’t this either. Not with you—never with you. In over a decade, he’s never made any kind of advances that made you feel uncomfortable. Playful flirting and pet names aside, Gojo’s never touched you like this. He’s never spoken to you like this. There’s never been a single indication that he’s ever viewed you as anything beyond a friend; that line had never been crossed. Crossing it had never even been considered.

So how the fuck did a phone call about your missing salmon turn into you almost getting your guts rearranged in your kitchen?

Something must be wrong, you realize, your mind buzzing with newfound clarity as your lust driven haze dissipates. Gojo says your name again, clearer and louder than before. His underlying distress and panic don’t go unheard either. When you catch his eyes again, your heart plummets to your stomach and you feel like sobbing.

“I see,” you say numbly. The puzzle pieces are starting to fit together. “You were cursed, ‘toru.”

Whether he flinches at your use of the old nickname you hadn’t spoken in years or the fact that he had come to the same conclusion as you, you’re not sure.

“If we live through this, I’m gonna make fun of you for years,” you say resolutely.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of your era, owner of The Six Eyes and Limitless techniques, has been cursed by a nightmarish pair of curses you’ve only had the displeasure of reading about in tattered textbooks and ragged scrolls. The man is a thief and a fool.

And, just your luck, he’s dragged you into his curse.

“So, sweetie,” you smile bitterly, “how do we kill an incubus and a succubus?”

#gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #Gojo Satoru smut #tw.dubcon #tw.food #suna.scum #no beta

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lyssaloveesmagick · 3 years

Text

LET'S TALK CRYSTALS!

~ Everything has energy, and if you believe in Tarot cards I believe you should also believe in the energy crystals radiate, as they are more natural than any form of divination. ☺️

~ Each Crystal is different, different colors and shapes each have specific uses but many have multiple uses. Lots of crystals are used in Chakra work, Dream work and other forms of energy/ascension/alignment work. The closer to natural the stone is, the more potent it will be. Polished stones still work well, just often at a slower pace. Bigger crystals will be stronger too.

~ When working with crystals in Chakra work most of the time the color of the stone will align with the corresponding chakra.

For example:

♥️ ROOT - Garnet, Carnelian, Red Jasper, Bloodstone. (I love using obsidian here too but I want to discuss this stone lower in the post)

🧡 SACRAL PLEXUS - Sunstone, Orange Calcite, Tigers Eye & Citrine

💛 SOLAR PLEXUS - Pyrite, Aragonite, Amber & Yellow Tourmaline

💚 HEART - Emerald, Malachite, Amazonite & Green Aventurine (& Rose Quartz)

💙 THROAT - Apatite, Soladite, Turquoise & Blue Kyanite ... Think light blue/teal here.

🧿 3rd EYE - Laborodite (my favorite crystal), Azurite, Lapis Lazuli & Sapphire

💜 CROWN - Amethyst, Moonstone, Lepidolite & Howlite

Now, the colors dont HAVE to match. There are plenty of chakra healers/balancers that dont coordinate colors BUT I love to match so there's my list!

🤍 Obsidian (mentioned above) is great for protection!

🤍 Selanite is great for clearing energy & charging other crystals. You can get it as a plate or bowl to rest your daily crystals on so they're ready to go in the morning.

🤍 Clear Quartz is an everything stone! You can literally charge it with any intention. Its a good stand in for anything you dont have. With Quartz being a high vibrational stone it will work to align you with its vibration, often sending you ideas to help you take inspired action to illuminate and clear your path. My favorite of the Quartz family is Lumerian, but stones such as Citrine, Amethyst, Smoky Quartz & Rose Quartz are all in the same family. Be knowledgeable when buying Citrine & Amethyst as some are man made by heat treatment.

🤍 MOLDAVITE is a popular one lately so let's talk about it. Moldavite is a tektite, which is technically not a crystal but still acts like one. It was created in a single meteorite impact in Bohemia that occurred about 15 million years ago. It is ONLY found in the Czech Republic which causes it to be extremely rare & now often faked due to it's increasing demand. So beware of its very high price & be alert when buying. Because of its birth story it's energy is at times chaotic, which you can also see within the stone when examining it, as the inner lines have no pattern & it also holds tiny air bubbles. Like Clear Quartz, its a high vibrational "stone" that works to align you with its vibration. So if you are interacting with low vibrational people or activities it will work to remove these from your life usually by aligning your thought patterns with the correct actions. It may bring you some magic but more often than not you will be asked to take inspired action to have it work properly. This is one piece I cannot sleep with in my room at all!!

~ Check that your crystal dealer is selling ethically sourced stones & be sure to do your research on which crystal/tektite will work best for your desired intentions before purchasing & activating them! I find it best to only work with 1-4 crystals at a time when outside of my home. 2 is my sweet spot, but we are all different & our sensitivity changes as we develop empathy towards universal energy.

~ Ok! Now that we've got the basics on picking your crystal out of the way, here's how to use them!!

~ You should cleanse your crystal after purchasing it to remove the energy of anyone who has handled them or any negative experiences they've endured before reaching you. Not all practicioners believe this & not all stones hold negativity but I believe it's good practice & can't hurt so here's what I know: You can do this in many ways. Sound cleansing (via bells or soundbowls or even YouTube sound baths), kosher or Himalayan salt bath, brown rice, smoke cleanse (via ethically sourced Sage, Palo Santo or Incense) or for certain stones you can soak them in running water or salt/sun/moonwater to cleanse & charge - BUT use caution as some, such as moldavite, laborodite & selenite (most crystals ending in ite) will dissolve in water, especially hot water so again, do your research on the specifics - you can burry them in dirt outside or in your house plants for a few hours just watch out for rain/damp soil, a Selanite or Quartz dish will cleanse & charge any stone, & my personal favorite method - setting them out under the moonlight! I think the Sun works too but the Moon is preferred by most practitioners. It usually only takes a couple hours with most of these methods. Smaller crystals can be cleansed with breath & feather wind.

~ To charge them, moonlight is ideal. Setting them in a windowsill or outside for 3-5 hours will work perfectly! You can soak them in saltwater under the sun too. This amplifies their natural energy before adding your own.

~ To program & active each crystal you'll essentially be forming a bond with each one individually. You can do this simply by holding it in your dominant hand (usually the right hand as the left body is for recieving intuitive nudges), meditate with the crystal wrapped in both hands, envisioning what you'd like to accomplish together & commanding it to activate. I personally find that the universe works best when we say please & thank you. I also like to kiss my energy into each stone after we've spent a few moments bonding.

~ Now your crystals are ready to move energy & help you develop your growth! All you have to do is place them accordingly in your home or carry them on you. Again, I find it best to only carry about 2 on me at a time. I have also found that sleeping with too many in my room gives me restless sleep, even just 1 high vibrational stone on my dresser is usually too much for me, but the lower chakra stones or blue stones are usually okay. Some people keep them on an altar or in a grid (YouTube is very helpful for learning gridwork) some keep them in windowsills - just use caution as some stones get sunbleached - & some people like me have a few crystals in each room! You can look into the best placements for each stone you own for best uses & placements depending on your intentions.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

I get the most potent dreams with Red Garnet under my pillow & Blue Kyanite on my side table. I keep a large Rose Quartz, medium Amethys & Selanite, & some smaller Obsidian, Moonstone, Laborodite, Rainbow Hematite & Quartz pieces & Gold flakes on my dresser... Although as I'm typing this im wondering if that Laborodite is why I haven't been sleeping as well or if it's just all the Eclipse & Retrograde Energy going around in this 2021 air 😆

Either way, I hope you've found this post to be of some use & if you have any questions or anything I can add please don't hesitate to reach out!!! (Use of Evil Eye as 3rd Eye symbol in this post is soley meant for aesthetic but I do wish protection, peace & prosperity on all it lay sight on)

HAPPY HEALING!! 🤍

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harringtonstudios · 4 years

Text

best friend’s ex. (II)

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away, but it seems impossible.

A/N: i’m weak for this au what can i say.... hope everyone’s staying safe and enjoying the new songs!! pls give me feedback it fuels me on <3

masterlist! part I.

Waking up to an warm arm wrapping tightly around your side isn’t normal. In far, it’s so far out of your daily routine, that for a second, you close your eyes again, will yourself to actually get up from the diluted dreamscape you seem to be in.

The same sight greets you the second time around, tuft of blonde hair resting on your chest on top of the white blanket that covers you both. There’s a head attached and it takes you a minute to place everything together before you feel yourself dry swallowing.

The Sahara Desert resides in your mouth, lines up on your tongue and you close your lips together at the uncomfortable feeling of a hangover crawling around you.

Colson Baker.

He’s still asleep, you can tell by the slow rise and fall of his body where it lies basically attached to yours. Why his head is tucked right under your chin, you can’t really explain, just like you can’t quite figure out why you’ve let this happen.

Attempting to shift a little, you hear a soft sound fall out from his lips, see his head move against the haven it rests on. Your chest feels heavy, not just cause of his added weight, but the intent behind it.

The sunlight in his room is filtering through the cracks between his dark curtains. You follow the trail of golden as it creeps over his wooden floor, tilts into the grooves of his floorboards, slides up the white walls.

It’s probably been a minute since you’ve been up, maybe two, but it feels like forever, stuck in this awful limbo.

Your phone starts ringing, tinny and harsh against the beacon of peace you’ve built up for yourself. It startles you enough that you automatically reach out to your side, only to meet empty space. This isn’t your bedroom, the table by your head isn’t there, and you have no idea where your phone is.

The ringtone does enough to wake Colson up. He grunts out something before shifting completely off of you, collapsing back into the mattress. His head is still lower than the various pillows on his bed, but he seems content, face relaxed against the sheets.

You take it in for a millisecond, trace your eyes over his parted pink lips, the faint hint of a scar prepped up between his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes.

Not yours, the warning sign shouts. Get away.

Your phone is still ringing when you slide off of his bed, wearing nothing, hastily wrapping the blanket around yourself. He shifts on the bed again, and you watch the way his hand reaches out, down to pull at something that isn’t even there. Your chest tightens again, but he’s just mumbling, sleep dazed and his eyes don’t open.

When you reach your phone, somehow it’s ended up across the room, hidden under your jeans from last night, you’ve had five missed calls.

Domi’s name flashes on your screen, followed by a battery warning and you hiss at the predicament you’ve put yourself in. You quickly text her, a simple: Safe. Will be home soon, with someone.

You don’t specify it past that, try to leave it as open-ended as you can. She’s going to dig, claw her way to the truth, but for now, there’s other things to worry about.

There’s a charger plugged next to his bed and you move over, still clutching his blanket as you bend down to attach your phone to it, satisfied as it slightly buzzes, muttering out “Fuck yeah.”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Colson, his voice deeper, twinged with hours of sleep and the lingering effects of vodka.

You straighten up, awkwardly smile at him, feeling very warm trapped between his feather downs. He smiles back, but lets his fingers rub at closing eyes.

“Where are my clothes?” he asks. It’s only then that you actually look at him fully in bed. He’s just as naked as you, bare and on display and you blush at his lack of modesty. It’s not unusual, even when Domi was dating him, you’d been mooned enough times to recognize his ass in a line up, but it feels intimate now.

“I have no idea,” you mumble, shifting your eyes away as he stretches his arms. He takes in the sight of you, the blanket loosely hanging over your body, the way your fingers clutch at it like a life preserver, saving you from something you can’t bare to name.

“Are you-?” he starts, but you cut him off nodding quickly. This doesn’t have to be a discussion, you don’t want this to be a discussion.

“Look I’ll just get my stuff and then be out of your way,” you rush out, eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You’ve had one night stands before, you can handle this.

“No breakfast?” he mumbles and his eyes are lighting up, mischievous in the faint morning light.

“I’d rather starve,” you mutter, turning around to walk back to where your discarded skinny jeans lay.

“Oh c’mon, I know you better than that. We can get waffles or something?” he tries again and you hear him shuffling around as you awkwardly pull on jeans. It’s uncomfortable, you have no idea where your underwear is but at least you’re clothed, which is better than Colson.

“Domi likes waffles. I’m a pancake kinda girl,” you retort, antsy to prove something. He doesn’t know you, not as well as he claims to. Instead he’s mixing up the fragments of your best friend into you, swirling two different people together to create the one he wants.

“Right,” it’s dry, dying halfway in his throat. The silence in the room grows amidst the white noise of his air conditioner.

Picking up your shirt from the corner of his room, you pull it on, awkwardly adjusting it before balling up his blanket and walking over to drop it on his bed.

“Cover up your dick man,” you blurt out, hands running through the tangles in your hair, head jerking slightly at the pull.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he smirks and you urge to wack him hard, maybe with one of his own weirdly soft pillows.

He reaches down into the drawers crammed under his bed, pulls out a pair of shorts and shuffles into them laughing at his own joke.

You do hit him then, pick up the nearest pillow, sheathed in that same silk pillowcase as the rest before throwing it his way.

He dodges it before flipping you off and the memory of it bites, nights spent throwing things at each other, the guys all egging you two on. Domi used to scoff whenever it started, yell about being childish and irritating, but you secretly knew she enjoyed it too, watched her boyfriend and best friend fight like old friends.

You snap out of it just as fast as you fell in, a pillow coming straight to hit you in the face.

“Colson!” you shout, hand going up to rub the impacted area as he smiles.

“Not sorry,” he simply shrugs and you scoff at him, push off the bed you’d sat on after the collision and go over to where he’s standing, reaching for your phone.

He blocks your hand, shifts over so that’s he standing right in your line of sight, eclipsing any further view. All you see is him, smirk permanently resting on his lips, array of colors bursting on his skin, faint whispers of something hidden in his eyes.

“My phone,” you try unceremoniously, knowing that he won’t let you past him.

“Do breakfast with me,” he demands, but its soft, a plea more than a request.

You sigh, it’s audible and you know he hears it by the slight sag of his shoulders but he’s relentless.

“It’s just like old times, won’t be weird,” he states and you find yourself laughing at his words.

“We both know that’s not true,” you say, eyes lifting up to meet his. There’s a hardness to his gaze and a part of you wants to break through it, dive in headfirst.

But this is not your territory, not your person, not your place. Domi’s etched into his soul, written somewhere, dipped into his past and no matter what you want, there is no feasible way you can be his present without ruining a friendship.

“It’s just pancakes,” he emphasizes, but he’s stepping aside all the same, letting you bend over and grab your phone.

When you turn back around, he has a shirt on, hair ruffled worse than it was when he woke up. It’s sticking up at ends and you fight the urge to walk over, laugh and pat it down.

He’s aimlessly searching for his own phone and you spot it on the windowsill, go over to pick it up and hand it off to him, murmuring, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles out and you can’t tell whether it’s for offering his breakfast invitation or finding his phone.

You hesitate a second too long and he gives you a pointed look and then you’re moving into his space, crowding against his front.

His hands automatically fall onto your waist, pull you in but you can the confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey,” he softly says and something breaks in you.

It’s surprisingly easy to kiss him again, to drink in those lips, still warm from the early morning haze, softer than they were last night. There’s that now familiar ringing bell in the back of your head, but it disappears as Colson’s tongue slips into your mouth.

There’s obvious morning breath mingling with rank tastebuds and as much as you want to recoil, you don’t know if you’ll ever let this happen again so you soak it in, let the feeling overwhelm you.

Your fingers travel up to his messy hair, soothingly pulling at the strands in order to attempt tampering them down. He lets out a tiny groan as your nails slightly scratch at his scalp. You push further into him, fall enough that it seems like the only thing holding you up is him.

The door slams open just as you’re getting into it, leaning heavily against Colson’s body as he props himself on the wall.

The sound is enough to make you jump back, and there’s the confused look back on his face as you hastily wipe at your lips.

“You’re still here,” a voice stresses the syllables out, and you eye Rook standing there. He’s dressed, complete with that one snapback that seems to be permanently attached to his head, but the scowl on his face is all you can focus on.

“I was- um- just leaving,” you awkwardly stammer out, putting more distance between the person you seem to be magnetically attracted to.

“We’re getting breakfast. You wanna come along?” Colson spurts out without missing a beat, he’s striding towards the door and your face hardens.

There must have been some kind of miscommunication in the mess of his words, you must have read too far into it because here he was inviting his friend who clearly wasn’t too fond of you as if this was a casual thing.

“I’m good,” Rook says, tone easing when he’s speaking to his best friend. They walk out of view and you’re left alone in the room you’ve only been in twice.

There’s a bathroom right around the corner of his room and you head straight for it, pulling out the toothpaste from his cabinet and applying it to your finger, scrubbing your teeth. It’s primal, but at least you feel cleaner, a bit more aware in your head.

That kiss was stupid. This whole thing is a disaster, Domi’s still blowing up your phone and there’s a cherry pit growing in your stomach.

You step out and Colson’s standing across by the door, tying together his sneaker laces. Rook’s nowhere to be found and you thank the universe for that, far too early to be dealing with his seemingly intense grudge against you.

“I got the keys,” is all you get before the front door is opening and you’re following him down the hallway into the elevator.

Stems from last night come back to you in flashes. The chime of the elevator doors, the apartment numbers passing by in a daze, a clammy hand clutching yours, butterfly kisses on knuckles.

You snap out of it quick as you step into the elevator, expertly avoiding the corner where you’d given in to your heart and kissed Colson for the first time. It feels like a bad omen, shadowy dark and taunting as you both stand in silence, watching the floor numbers pass by.

“Do you have gum?” he asks, and it’s crisp in the August heat, cuts through the stuffiness in the traveling metal box.

You shuffle into your purse from last night, pull out a pack of gum you’d stuck in there and offer it to him going, “You didn’t brush?”

“You hogged the bathroom and I thought you’d wanna get out of there quick,” he explains nonchalantly, popping a stick of mint into his mouth. You tuck the gum back in, try not to watch the way he twirls the wrapper around in his hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, hoping he gets the intent of what you actually mean. He nods as the doors ding open.

The lobby is surprisingly full, people sitting on the plush couches and there’s a slight, “Fuck,” mumbled out before Colson’s finding your hand and pulling you towards the garage.

“What-“ you get out before he shushes you, head down as you two move quickly.

He doesn’t explain, but you follow along, wondering why he’s running, hiding like he’s done something wrong. The garage door opens and both of you cross to where AJ’s van’s sitting, slew of motorcycles parked beside it.

“We should take the bikes,” he says, but it sounds like he’s already made up his mind and he’s picking apart the keys in his hand, dragging you over to the motorcycles.

“No what’s going on?” you rush out, pulling your hand from his as he clicks the lock on one of the machines.

“There’s a couple of paparazzi lingering. Probably cause of last night, Tony usually calls up and lets us know to avoid the front doors but I guess they just got here,” he rashly explains, setting over the seat.

He looks good, you can’t deny it, like an action movie star in his element, hand on the bars, shoe propped on the side. There’s a smile growing, jaw moving as he chews and you take a mental picture, a secret memento just for you.

“I’m not getting on your stupid bike,” you sum out, turning away from where he’s gearing it up, sound echoing around the empty garage.

“Either you leave with me, or they take pictures of you and then you’re splashed across front pages, no longer a secret,” he states, and he’s moving the bike slowly alongside as you stubbornly walk back to the garage entrance.

The last statement is made to hit you, remind you that he did do something wrong, both of you did and there’s going to be a price you’ll have to pay.

You give him a look as he smiles, knowing he’s gotten you yet again.

“You’re famous enough for the front pages?” you crack at him and he laughs, shoulders shaking.

“Get on the bike Y/N,” he’s shifting forward, creating space on the back and this can’t be safe but the options are so limited that this is the best you’re going to get.

You swing a leg over, stumbling a little at the shift in gravity before settling onto the seat. It’s weird and he’s turning his head to make sure you’re secure before starting up again.

“Keep your hands on me,” he instructs, but you’re tired of following his rules and fold them cautiously on the sliver of seat in front of you.

It’s a mistake and you realize it as soon as he exits the garage. There’s no one on the street around and he’s gunning the speed, wind pulling your hair back, blowing straight at you.

“Holy shit,” you gasp before grabbing onto his shoulders. His arm twitches slightly as you grip the muscle and you can feel every single movement he does.

It’s a red light when he mumbles to you, “Move your hands lower.”

“Why?” you ask, finally comfortable with the way you’re holding onto him after a few streets of green lights.

“Can’t focus properly on the turns,” he says and you’re a little confused but the lights switching to green and there’s a honk right behind, startling you just a little.

You slide your hands down his back, take pleasure in the way it grounds you as he leans forward, swerving between slower cars.

He moves his back, angles it in one direction and you sort of get the hint, settle your hands on his hips like they do in all the cheesy rom-com movies. But this isn’t a movie, this is real life and there’s rules that aren’t supposed to be broken, consequences to face. The air around you turns sour, hits your throat hard and you’re closing your eyes in an effort to not vomit all over Colson.

It takes a few more minutes and he’s pulling into a barely there parking spot of some hole in the wall diner. You’ve never been here, despite living a few blocks away and you wonder why he’s brought you so close to home when that’s exactly where you should be avoiding.

The engine cuts and then he’s scooting back, your hands immediately lifting from his hips where they’d found a unfamiliar solace for the short drive.

“Think we’ll run into her?” he attempts at a joke and you want to scream, want to remind him this isn’t funny, this is seriously fucked.

“I’m gonna go home if you keep this up,” you grunt out, hopping off of the bike, feet glad to be planted on the floor.

“It’s not that serious,” he murmurs, locking his bike before walking to the entrance. You stare at his retreating back, picture punching the shit out of him, blink it away before following.

“Table for two,” he effortlessly grins, blowing a bubble with the stale gum. The waiter gives him an unimpressed look, picks up the two menus and leads you to a corner booth.

You slide in first, and he slides in right beside you, his side just barely touching your arm. The waiter attempts to smile but it seems halfhearted and you can’t help but stifle a laugh at that.

“Get on the other side. This isn’t a date,” you say after the waiter leaves.

“I like it here. You’re warm,” Colson mumbles, reaching for a menu and your heart thuds in its cavity, begging to be let out.

“Look this can’t happen. You’re my best friend’s ex for gods sake, she’d kill me if she even knew I was talking to you,” you ramble out, finger playing with the frayed edge of the table, unable to look at him.

“What is this?” he says.

When you don’t respond, he huffs before going, “Wonder what’d she do to you if she found out we fucked.”

The waiter pauses right before your table, two waters in his hand. He turns around and you stare at his back, will him to come back to save you this hell you’ve found yourself in.

“Colson I’m serious. Shut the fuck up for two seconds and think about it,” you mutter, voice lower so that the waiter can hopefully head your way again. Your throat feels parched, dust settling against your vocal cords.

“I am being serious. I don’t get why she’d care. She broke up with me, it’s been six fucking months. I thought we both moved on,” he states matter-of-factly, reaching over your hands to grab a sugar packet.

He twists it around on the table, pink packet spinning into a blur as you watch it, wondering what to say next.

“It’s messed up. We shouldn’t even have talked to each other,” you breathe out.

“Well we did. Y/N, you’ve always been my friend first. I wasn’t going to ignore you because Domi wouldn’t like it,” he stops the spinning packet with his palm, flattens it into table.

Your waters appear on the table, two straws tossed next to full cups with a, “Ready to order?”

“Give us a few?” Colson says, voice tilting up at the end posing it as question, confidence dripping into his words. There isn’t an answer but the waiter turns away.

“The only reason I know you is cause of her,” you truthfully respond.

“Doesn’t mean our entire relationship has to be based off of what she wants. She’s not good for you,” he grabs a straw, tearing the wrapper before dropping it into a glass and passing it over to you.

Your head’s still stuck on the word relationship, knows that he doesn’t mean it romantically but the thought of it still lingers.

“You can’t say that,” you mumble in response to his last few words.

“Okay. I can’t. But I can tell you that you deserve a best friend who doesn’t go around cutting off your friends because she doesn’t want to see them anymore,” his statement seems like a final word, laying itself in the open air.

The waiter’s walking back and you quickly order the first thing you see, some blueberry pancake special and pray it isn’t bad. He orders an omelet, customizes it and you listen at the ease of his words, how he sounds like he owns the place while specifying his veggies.

Your menu gets handed back over and you sip at the ice water, try not to gulp it down.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” he attempts, but you don’t want to hear it anymore, don’t want to break the train of thought in your head repeating his last phrase.

“Can we just- you know be normal for now?” you ask, voice small compared to his.

“Sure yeah. You like blueberries?” he switches so quick it almost gives you whiplash, even though you asked for it.

His arm’s on the booth cushion behind you head, you can feel it as you go to lean back and it feels too close to a date for comfort.

“No it was just the first thing I saw,” you say without really meaning to.

He laughs at that and you smile too, easing into a neutral state.

“What if it’s gross? You know blueberries can freeze in just four minutes,” he spits out and you feel his leg bump against yours at the fun fact.

“Why do you know that?” you huff, eyes going to watch him speak.

“Read an article once,” he seems awfully pleased with himself and you roll your eyes muttering, “Glad to see you know how to read.”

He nudges you hard at that and you fall deeper into him somehow, find yourself tucked right into his side.

“You weren’t this mean to me last night,” he says pointedly, lifting his glass up.

“I wasn’t hungover last night,” you retort, or addled with guilt your mind adds silently.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” and then he’s ruffling through his pockets mumbling, “I thought I had some Advil in here.”

“No thanks, keep your pocket drugs. I’ll just sleep it off at home,” you say, although the idea of home and Domi just makes you queasy.

Two full plates are gently placed in front of you, steaming and fresh. You eye the purple blue dots on your pancakes suspiciously, hoping the taste isn’t as dark as the mosaic it creates visually.

Colson’s omelette looks incredible, cheese and vibrant red tomatoes popping off the plate and you want to taste it, see if its as good as he made it sound.

“I forgot you don’t get hungover,” you mumble, last few bits of the previous conversation slipping through before you lose yourself in the meal.

“Life of a rockstar,” he laughs out before grabbing his fork.

“Humble rockstar,” you laugh back as he clinks his silverware against yours.

The pancakes taste exactly and how they look and your tastebuds struggle in figuring out a flavor pattern. It’s bursts of sour, before buttery goodness and sugary maple. You demolish an entire pancake before realizing you’re out with a friend.

“You want some?” you mumble, chewing over a bite.

He watches you inquisitively from where he sits, fork dancing over his own plate. You will yourself not to blush under his gaze, almost choke on the piece tucked into your mouth.

He pulls off a piece, bites into it and you see his face twist up as he goes, “What is that?”

“Probably frozen blueberries,” you reply and his eyes light up at the recalling of his words as he swallows down the pancake.

“Terrible,” he mumbles, sipping on the dark coffee he’s ordered.

Colson’s a coffee freak, particular about the sugar levels, the amount of ice that goes into his drink, even the origin of the coffee beans. You’d learned this early on as he refused to participate in Starbuck runs, grunted in distaste when you would show up at his apartment, carrying a frappe, Domi sipping happily at her own.

The food finishes quick, you’ve taken bites of his omelette, trying not to praise the medley of flavors he’s somehow incorporated into an egg. He hasn’t cooked it of course, but you would never be able to combine options to come up with this type of breakfast.

He reluctantly finishes your last pancake, dousing it in syrup and making faces with every bite, mostly to make you laugh. His fingers are sticky and he lets them slide together before pulling them apart, string of maple connecting them, his eyebrows raising smirkingly towards you. You push him hard at the innuendo.

The bill comes around and goes back faster than you can react. He pays it quickly and quietly, not even letting you attempt at it. There’s a slight rush that overcomes you at that, you’ve always know he was generous, but this is different from late night McDonalds with the bros, slightly more personal.

He gets up to wash his hands after the mess he’s created and you shake your head at the pure stickiness of his hand as he walks away.

You pull your phone out, knowing you’ll regret it as soon as you catch sight of the time. You’ve been here with Colson for over an hour.

They flow of text messages from your roommate vary in subject, but near the end there’s no emojis, capital letters reflecting back at you and you know she’s mad, can feel it rolling off the screen. This is going to a bitch to hide.

“You should unblock my number while you have it out,” Colson suggests, voice startling you.

“Should I?” you wonder, more to hear it out loud to yourself than actually ask him.

He shrugs but his intentions are clear as he says, “Wouldn’t hurt now, would it?”

“What would you even text me?” you quiz this time, pointer finger tapping at the sides of your phone.

“Don’t know. Cool things. Fun facts,” he rattles off as if he’s creating a shoddy list in his head.

“Convincing,” you laugh before going to your settings. The blocked numbers stare up at you, at least five of them on that list unfairly.

You find his, the first one blocked all the way at the bottom and swipe.

Unblock? your phone asks, as if knowing you’re having trouble with this decision, second thoughts about something as trivial as a phone number.

Yes, you tap and then the list decreases automatically.

“Done,” you say, putting your phone back into your pocket.

“Good,” he hums before offering you his hand.

You take it, weirdly knowing this is the last time you will. He lets your intertwined fingers fall between the two of you, swings them just a little, hitting them against your legs as if he’s just as aware of the finality of it all too.

You take a breath, walk towards the exit. The doors open and you both step out, get down the steps and towards his bike.

You drop his hand first, look up at him, whisper, “I’m going to walk home.”

He doesn’t protest, you can’t tell if he wants to, but you secretly hope he does, in some twisted selfish way.

“Okay,” is all you get back from him and then he’s getting on his bike.

You don’t look back as his engine roars to life, or when you hear the telltale zoom of him speeding away. You feel sick, but remind yourself to keep walking, put as much distance between this mistake as you can.

Your heart aches at the word mistake, cracks the minute you can’t hear the motorcycle anymore, too far gone to even be white noise for your walk of shame home. This has to happen, you remind yourself, staring at the gum stains on the sidewalk. You’re going to be fine.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @sophroniaa @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused @calum-defense-squad

#mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk fanfic #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #mgk smut #mgk lockscreen #mgk headers #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker smut #m writes 4 mgk

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neopronouns · 3 years

Note

do you happen to know any genders related to space? Like stars, or certain planets or just space in general

quite a few! under the cut

(also, due to the Very Large amount of space genders, i may have missed some, sorry!!)

aliencoric: a xenogender related to aliencore

aliensic: a xenic alignment to aliens

andromediane: a xenogender related to the andromeda galaxy

asteragender: a fluid gender that’s connected to a specific constellation

astergender: a gender that feels bright and celestial

astralgender: a gender that feels connected to space

astronomique: a gender related to and/or influenced by astronomy

eclipsique: an astronomique gender related to and/or influenced by solar and lunar eclipses

blastjernen: a gender related to blue dwarf stars, blue stars, blue nights, neutron stars, and space that feels hot and unknown

b✰y/b*y/b⭐y: a nonbinary male xenogender related to space, aliens, etc. similar to being male, but a version of male that is based more on alien concepts than on human concepts.

caelgender: an aesthetically-centered gender that is largely focused on space-related things such as stars, aliens, planets, galaxies, and black holes

caelagender: caelgender + agender

caelivus: a gender related to the empty space between celestial bodies, where you can see the stars, but not feel them, and are alone

cavrumgender: a gender based around black holes and the feeling of black holes. feels all-consuming but never complete

celestae: a celestial xenogender. feels ethereal, angelic, extraterrestrial, and as though it relates to outer space

celestiagender: a gender connected to outer space and creatures from outer space

celestialgender: a gender that is related to a planet, celestial body, or astronomical object in out solar system

linnutgender: a gender related to or influenced by all the planets, celestial bodies, and astronomical objects in our solar system

the following definitions can be modified to fit the rest of the genders in this system by inserting the celestial body the gender is named for:

a gender related to the [celestial body]

a gender influenced by the [body]/the placement of the [body] in the sky

a gender that is stronger in the presence of the [body]

a gender influenced by a [body] kintype

a gender related to [deity that represents the body]

a gender influenced by one’s devotion to any of the aforementioned gods

a gender that can otherwise be explained using the [body]

sonnegender: the sun

lunirgender: earth’s moon

mercugender: mercury

venugender: venus

terragender: earth

marigender: mars

juperigender: jupiter

saturnigender: saturn

uranugender: uranus

neptunigender: neptune

plutigender: pluto

celestial gender system: a system of nonbinary genders that are linked to a soft, celestial energy

juparian: masculine

lunettian: feminine

mercurian: neutral; gendered, but not masc or fem

plutoian: void and/or uncertain

neptunian: masc + neutral

venusian: fem + masc

saturnian: fem + neutral

celestarian: masc + fem + neutral

ceresian: fem + void

sonnean: masc + void

ouranian: neutral + void

terraean: masc + fem + void

marsean: masc + neutral + void

erisian: fem + neutral + void

asteroidian: fem + masc + neutral + void

kuiperian/starfluid: fluid between celestial genders

collapsargender: a gender that has a strong pull, tending to pull other identities into and compress them before spitting them out in a compressed form, like a black hole

collstellargender: a collapsargender related to a stellar black hole

collsumagender: a collapsargender related to a supermassive black hole

collintergender: a collapsargender related to an intermediate black hole

scutifluid: fluid between collapsargenders

cometgender: a gender which relates to another gender in the way a comet orbits the sun of a solar system - zooming into the solar system, then out again, spending more time out in space than near the center but always attached to the gravitational field of that sun

constellavir: having both a space-related gender and a male(-aligned) gender at the same time (or more than one of either/both. basically polygender with space genders and male genders)

constellgender: a gender that fluctuates based on what constellation is most visible at that time

contigender: a gender that flows through space and time, constantly changing and always moving; a gender of or related to space and time

cosmiccoric: a gender that feels like you’re a cosmic entity, one with the universe, especially when you’re meditating

cosmoic alignments:

void-aligned: a formless, dark, and frigid alignment associated with black holes and deep space. may be unaligned or reject alignment

constellation-aligned: a cold, multifaceted alignment that is complex and solid. associated with starlight and astrology. may feel as though individual parts of the alignment make up one larger alignment

nebula-aligned: a fluid, colorful, and bright alignment that floats slowly through the cold void of space. associated with supernovas and stars. may feel cloudy or intangible

aurora-aligned: a fluctuating, colorful, and bright alignment that swirls through the temperate atmosphere. associated with solar winds, magnetic fields, and earth

stellar-aligned: a large, hot, and bright alignment with a fixed course through space. associated with light and solar eclipses. may be loud or boisterous.

supernova-aligned: a huge, red-hot alignment that seems to expand rapidly in all directions. associated with stars. may feel like it’s burning up other alignments around it

planet-aligned: a stable, solid, and warm alignment thriving with liveliness. associated with weather patters and gravitational forces. may aligned with sunlight and/or darkness

lunar-aligned: a quiet, slow, cold alignment with a fixed course through space. associated with water and lunar eclipses. may align with softness and/or grace

asteroid-aligned: an erratic and unpredictable alignment that’s cold. may feel like it’s far away from other alignment

singularity-aligned: a small and enigmatic red-hot alignment that has the potential to be something bigger. may indicated questioning alignment rather than being sure

quantum-aligned: a paradoxical alignment that is both known and unknown, present and absent. may be complex or simple, and may overlap with many other alignments or none at all

cyberastral: a gender defined by the ideas that 1) one is consubstantial with stars, galaxies, and celestial bodies due to being a collection of matter in the universe and 2) that software is modeled by the universe, combined into the idea that one is both a celestial soul and a self-modifying piece of code

dipperine: a gender related to the big dipper, small stars, space, and time that feels cold and is only felt under certain circumstances

exoplafluid: fluid between celestial/space genders

exoplanique: a gender related to exoplanets and rogue planets

extraterrgender: feeling that you are some sort of celestial body, planet, asteroid, meteor, constellation, or something indescribable that is in the universe or yet to be found in space

galaksene: a gender related to clusters of stars, galaxies, small distant planets, earth-like planets, and nebulas that feels infinite and void at the same time

galaxenic: a xenogender related to a galaxy

galaxiasflux: a fluid gneder that feels like it flows and fluctuates with any galaxy

galaxxin: a gender that feels like it’s flying through galaxies, never to return

galaxygender: a gender related to space, the stars, the cosmos, and all things galaxy-like

genderlulne: a gender related to the moon itself, not dependent on phases or time of day

genderquasari: a gender that bursts like a quasar

genderspace: an umbrella term for genders influenced by and/or related to things in space. could be a standalone identity generally related to space

jupitique: a gender related to the moons of jupiter

keplerique: a gender related to kepler planets

kosmyc genders (the ones with space characteristics):

nuitsolum: a dark min- + xin-aligned gender connected to power, space, the color purple, moons, and a sense of the void

nuagesolum: a soft min- + agin-aligned gender connected to neutrality, fog, the color purple, stars, suns, and power

brilliantesolum: a bright min-aligned gender connected to the color yellow, suns, writing, and deserts

angesolum: a bright idin-aligned gender connected to the color cyan, suns, the color yellow, angels, and feathers

clamosolum: a nin-aligned gender connected to cameras, the color cyan, eyes, moons, and history

deusolum: a min-aligned gender connected to greek gods, the color green, conceptum attraction, stars, and nature

rubrusolum: a min-aligned gender connected to the color red, fire, suns, the summer, and roses

auransolum: a lin-aligned gender connected to the color orange, campfires, fruit, moons, and warmth

flavosolum: a nin-aligned gender connected to the color yellow, sunshine, space, stars, and happiness

virisolum: an agin-aligned gender connected to the color green, nature, health, suns, and neurodivergence

cyasolum: a din-aligned gender connected to the color cyan, ice, winter, moons, and snow angels

caersolum: a fin-aligned gender connected to the color blue, lakes, rivers, stars, and birds

purpusolum: a xin-aligned gender connected to the color purple, nonconformity, fashion, suns, and royalty

magsolum: a uin-aligned gender connected to the color magenta, time, literature, suns, and lizards

roseasolum: an idin-aligned gender connected to the color pink, lovecore, doves, stars, and pillows

reosolum: a uxin-aligned gender connected to the color black, demons, scales, moons, and dragons

albusolum: a flin-aligned gender connected to the color white, angels, feathers, stars, and fae

aessolum: a nin-aligned gender connected to the color bronze, wealth, freedom, suns, and self-control

grisesolum: a uin-aligned gender connected to the color gray, rainy days, hot chocolate, moons, and winter

argesolum: a din-aligned gender connected to the color silver, silence, technology, moons, and rocks

brusolum: an agin-aligned gender connected to the color brown, music, books, stars, and movies

aurusolum: a nin-aligned gender connected to the color gold, family, self-identification, suns, and comfort

lunaegender: a gender that feels spacey and celestial and bears a similarly to vampires. during the night, it soaks in the radiance of the moon and is unidentifiably gendered, while during the day, it turns to ash and becomes void/genderless. bears similarities to (demi)bigender

moongender: a nonbinary gender connected to the moon and various aspects of it

neptunique: a gender related to the moons of neptune

oceaspatium: a gender that encompasses the depths of space and the depths and qualities of the ocean

pancaeleste/pancaelestic: being every space-related gender within one’s experiences

pangalaxenic: a xenogender related to every galaxy

phobosique: a gender related to the moons of mars

planetesfluid: a fluid gneder that feels like a planet aimelessly floating through space

plutique: a gender related to the moons of pluto

profundanic: a gender centered around a deep connection to caverns/caves, space, and unknowable knowledge

rodstjernen: a gender related to red dwarf stars, red stars, red sunsets, supernovas, and space that feels warm and distant

saturneo: a neutral gender with fluid ambiguine feelings/qualities that’s linked in some way to saturn

saturnir: masculine version of saturneo

saturnera: feminine version of saturneo

saturnique: a gender related to the moons of saturn

siengender: a masculine gender revolving around space, kindness, and loyalty

solislayera: a gender related to any layer of the sun

spacecoric: a xenogender related to spacecore

spacegendervoid: a nonbinary gender connected to space, stars, and the universe as a whole. feels vaguely unaligned in nature and has ties to feelings of genderlessness.

astralgendervoid: mascuilne version of spacegendervoid

celestialgendervoid: feminine version of spacegendervoid

spaethgender: a gender related to missing space. only for alienkin and variants thereof

stargender: having the gender of a star; an otherworldly/nonhuman gender that is beyond comprehension; no matter how many genders are discovered/coined, none would match the person

stellaene: a gender that feels like a planet that’s spiraling out of control, flying off into the cosmos

supernovae: a gender that is like a supernova. it erupts and dozens or hundreds of new genders are created, destroyed, or fused together

uranusique: a gender related to the moons of uranus

venusanian: a fingender (feminine-in-nature gender) related to the solar system, specifically venus, or outer space in general

#gender lists

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

Text

On Your Six, Chapter 5

Day 5: Mission Go- Cooking for @taiqrowweek

Wait what do you mean I switched the prompt days around? Dunno what you’re talking about ;)

(Don’t worry it’ll make more sense in the long run)

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Sleeve

Tai had started feeding him.

At first, it had begun with little things, shortly following that fateful day he gave him the picture. Prepackaged snacks or fresh fruits or vegetables as a healthy addition to the cheap, instant lunch meals he could easily afford. Then it quickly dissolved into tubberware covered leftovers of various pastas or stews, things that kept well and were well adept at making in large servings.

By late May, with the advent of Qrow’s twenty-sixth birthday, Tai arrived at his place loaded with grocery bags, a proper skillet and a determined purpose to make his favorite dish of chicken curry. It was, hands down, one of the best meals he’d had in years.

Yet, even after the occasion passed, the trend continued until it seemed Sunday became the day his stomach most looked forward too. Normally, Qrow would put up a fight about being doted after – Tai wouldn’t be the first omega to develop the habit. The most prominent of whom had been Maria, whose sessions had to be shorter than most both due to her age and the difficulty working with thinner, more wrinkled skin.

But she had also been a grandmother. A feisty one, who smacked him on the head a lot with her cane, but was also kind and worried and constantly remarking on his too-thin frame until he just gave up and let her do whatever she wanted.

But with Tai, he couldn’t even manage to feign annoyance. In part because Tai’s cooking was damn good and he’d be a fool not to gobble it up at every opportunity. But also, because it gave an excuse for their sessions to run long.

He didn’t even think it was a one-sided endeavor. Beyond the innate omega instinct to care for and Tai’s naturally generous personality, there was a loneliness in those blue eyes that told the truth behind all the fumbled attempts to waste time or make breaks run longer. By July, Tai wasn’t leaving his place until at least ten at night.

Neither of them complained about the arrangement.

Then August rolled around, and Qrow had an absolutely foolish idea.

The first Sunday of the month was on the 5th and it passed with little incident or notice. They were back at the first of the designs, arguably the most complex with the amount of color layers needed, so their dinner was nothing fancy. Just simple sandwiches and side salads, so most of their time could be spent under the needle instead.

He’d banked on that happening so that what would happen next wouldn’t have a chance of paling in comparison.

You busy tonight? He messaged early Wednesday.

Tai responded a few hours later, probably when his first break popped up. No. Why?

Come over after work. I have something to give you. He replied after he’d finished with his client for the day, sometime early afternoon.

The final response was cheeky and towards the end of the school day. You’re about as subtle as a brick.

Almost at 6 P.M. on the dot, there was a knock on his door.

“Coming!” Qrow called, dancing between the kitchen and the table to make sure everything was perfectly in place. He gave it all a satisfactory nod, then hurried over, sliding the door open only enough so he could wedge between it and the threshold, blocking Tai’s view.

The omega looked different, fresh out of work. His blond hair had been lightly gelled, just enough to give it a bit of bounce. The casual wear he was normally in was swapped out for a more professional look; pants and a collared shirt ironed of any wrinkles and shoes shined enough they gleamed.

So of course his eyes fell onto the one thing that completely ruined the look with a teasing snort. “Nice tie, Tai.”

“You like it?” He grinned, pulling at the absolutely hideous yellow abomination that was covered in yapping cartoon corgis. “The kids love ‘em. They call me the Funny Tie Guy.”

Oh Gods. “Bet you get a kick out of it every time.”

“I literally can knot get enough of it.” Tai had the nerve to wink as he said it too.

Qrow groaned. “You are so lucky it’s your day. Speaking of-” He swung the door open, revealing the room with a flourish.

Admittedly, it wasn’t much. Still, it was satisfying to see the way Tai’s face lit up with joy as he spotted the modest little table set for two, dinner already set in their bowls and the most expensive white wine he could reasonably afford already poured. The omega looked from it to him, grin growing, “You did all this?”

“Yeaaah.” Qrow flushed, trying to hide his anxiety. He’d never been great with giving gifts. “Happy birthday ya big lug.”

Tai laughed, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you. This is just what I wanted.”

He could have stayed there forever – but he didn’t work himself to death to let dinner go cold. He pat his back, mindful of the healing wounds, and said, “Let’s eat.”

Qrow’s relationship with cooking was disjointed and the spread seemed to reflect that. The fried rice was perfect; it was one of the first things his mother taught him how to make on the stove. The garlic broccoli, more of a staple in the Xiao Long family, had a bit of crunch where some of the pieces hadn’t fully cooked through because he hadn’t had Tai beside him to remind him to stir. Just like the many other easy things he helped him learn how to make when he found out he and Raven had been living off nothing but white rice and peanut butter sandwiches for months.

The moo shu pork was the trickiest and most complicated dish by far and nothing he’d ever even attempted before. His amateur hand left it looking a bit of a mess as they poured it onto the tortillas. Unpretty as it was in presentation and lacking a few of the pricier ingredients like oyster sauce and sesame oil, the marinade had the pork still bursting with flavor.

The wine was there to act as a garnish to make the food seem better than it was. Which was probably why Qrow kept pouring it until he and Tai had split two and a half glasses between each other. Either that, or because Tai was adorably chatty when he was tipsy.

“So, there we are, watching about thirty of these Fayblades spinning around, knocking into each other and some of the cheaper ones are falling apart. Everything is going too fast for any of us to do the math problems on them. And Missy and I just look at each other like we both just realized what a horrible mistake we made. It was only the first week back and I was pretty sure we were about to lose an eye or something.” As he told the story, Tai animatedly gestured around with his glass, liquid sloshing almost past the rim. “We get the kids to back up until they all stop. Then Missy starts gathering a few up, saying how this time we would try less so we can actually keep count – when Velvet speaks up from the back and says ‘Blue wins 124 to 90’.”

Qrow polished off his own glass, setting it on the table. “That’s the quiet one with the rabbit in her bag, right?”

“Mmhmm. She kind of tries to hide when everyone starts looking at her, so I don’t say anything right then. Just take it as fact and move on. But when recess comes around, I pull her aside and ask her how she knew the answer. And she tells me, completely serious mind you, that she’s a camera. So it was easy to do all the math when she basically had the pictures saved in her head. And I’m like, holy shit!” He taps his temple for emphasis. “She has a photographic memory.”

“Ain’t that just a myth?” He asked, starting to gather the empty dishes.

Tai waved him off. “Pfft. Qrow, you gotta stop thinking like the world’s just a big science textbook. It’s more like a-a fairytale! Where magic can happen at any moment.”

“Tai, you’re drunk.”

“I am not!” This time, when he gestured, some of the wine hit the table. He blinked down at it. “Ah, shit!”

He laughed. “Man, you still can’t hold your liquor.”

“You dishonor me.” The omega accused, pointing to his right hand as if it were an exhibit. “I’m holding it just fine.”

That only made him laugh harder, until he had to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.

Somehow, they found themselves laying side by side on the bed, shoulders pressed together. Tai’s scroll was balanced between the head of the bed and the wall, the display playing the finale of their favorite show growing up, Silver Eyes. It was the height of the final battle. Rosette was locked in battle with Bastinda while the rest of her friends lay, unconscious or ensnared in traps, around them.

“Do you not yet see how pointless this all is? How my power eclipses you all?” Bastinda snarled as she swung her wand down. “You’re all just insignificant riffraff!”

Rosette seemed to find some strength, blocking the attack with her broadsword. “You’re wrong! No one is insignificant! Even the smallest of us has something good to contribute.”

“Foolish child!” A powerful gravity spell threw Rosette to the ground, knocking her sword out of her hand.

“Gods,” Qrow griped. “This is cheesier than I remember.”

Tai shushed him. “Hush, the best part’s coming up!”

He rolled his eyes, but his traitorous mouth smiled all the same. Alright, so maybe this part was pretty hype. Watching it play out again on the screen, he felt ten again, practically glued to screen as his excitement built.

A large shadow stretched across the valley, delaying the witch from striking the final blow as she turned to the source. Up on the hill, sun behind him, was Zwei. Rosette’s little corgi that had been with her from the start of the show. He came racing down the hill, stubby little legs barely able to pick up speed.

Bastinda sneered, pointed her wand at the dog. “Pathetic.”

“Zwei, no!!” Rosette cried, tears filling her eyes just as the blast fired.

It seemed like the end for the lovable pup as smoke filled the air.

And then, with a blast of light, something came flying out of the dust and landing before the witch. The world rumbled under powerful paws as the giant white wolf stood before her, letting out a powerful growl that brought her to her knees.

“I don’t believe it!” Blanca cried from her mirror prison. “Zwei’s a Guardian!”

The rest of the finale played out just as he remembered, Zwei turning the tide of the fight and giving Rosette a chance to free her friends, all of them coming together for one final attack that rid the world of the cruel witch once and for all. After that, the wolf turned back into the lovable and more marketable corgi pup, and everyone headed home to enjoy true peace for the first time in a millennium.

Tai sat up as the credits began to roll, stretching his arms above his head. “I still think it holds up pretty well.”

“Sure, if you ignore the fact they completely sidelined Silver Eyes. It’s only the title of the show.” He snarked.

“Come on now. It’s not about the power ups. It’s about the journey and the-”

“Friends they made alone the way.” He mimed gagging. It was only the motto shoved down his throat at the end of almost every episode.

Tai merely laughed at his antics, picking up his scroll and slipping off the bed. “It’s late. I better head home.”

Maybe it was the vestiges of the alcohol or maybe it was the other’s scent, sweeter and more inviting than usual, that loosened his tongue enough to offer, “You could crash here, if you want.”

“In your bed? We hardly fit.”

Acquiescently, he rolled onto his side, practically shoving himself against the wall as he pat the wide, empty space. “It’ll be fine. And your drunk.”

“Hardly. And I’ll have to get up early to get back home and get ready.”

“It’s fine.” The noise left him involuntarily. It wasn’t a growl, really; it was barely more than a rumble. Regardless, the regret hit him instantly as he bit down on his tongue and turned his face up apologetically.

The omega just arched a brow, entirely unaffected and unimpressed by his pitiful display. Then he chuckled, any meteor-sized tension there could have been burning up long before impact could be made. “Gods, you’re such a punk, you know that?”

“I…uh…”

“Alright, you win.” Tai set the alarm on his scroll with his right hand, while he crossed the room and got the lights with his left. He used the glow coming off of the device to find his way back, dropping it onto the nightstand. In the bits of moonlight coming from the window, Tai became an erotic beauty as he undid his tie and buttons, shrugging out of his shirt. His belt hit the ground next – though mercifully he kept his pants on.

Qrow watched him, utterly transfixed, as he lowed himself to the bed, mattress dipping anew with the readded weight as the omega stretched out onto his stomach. Beyond all comprehension, he had to fight every muscle in his body from reaching for him. The need to bring him close and curl around him was overwhelming. So, he shoved his hands underneath the crook of his neck and locked his elbows.

Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

Tai heaved out a long sigh, mumbling, “Goodnight Qrow.”

He swallowed, voice barely above a whisper as he responded, “G’night.”

Without a clock in the room, there was no telling how long he lay there, coiled up tight like a spring waiting for the pressure to come loose, listening to the sounds of Tai’s breathing slowly evening out. It wasn’t until Qrow was absolutely certain the other wouldn’t wake that he risked it.

Though it felt a bit reprehensible, it was with that same uncontrolled desire in which he found himself scooting his upper half forward, inch by agonizing inch, until the bridge of his nose was pressed up against the curve of Tai’s shoulder.

His eyes slipped shut, breathing in deeply. The omega’s scent swirled around him, sunflowers and soil and bright summer days; a smell that was unmistakably, irrevocably Tai.

Here. With him.

Slowly, the rigidity to his muscles relaxed and he finally drifted off, the scent embracing him as securely as its owner could.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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gothamcityneedsme · 3 years

Photo

I saw this bouncing around my dash and decided to fill it out myself for fun :) I decided to not double-list any games, and I tried to mix up the companies I used too so that the list would be more unique.

Long post, so I’m doing a readmore for my longwinded part lol.

(read more)

Favorite Game: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords - I could talk about this game forever. How it tears apart the Star Wars universe from within, how it creates a compelling story while challenging the usual themes, etc. I could talk for ages about the characters and how their motivations slot in place, and how this game lends itself to interpretation and analysis alongside roleplay. It’s just a wonderful game, one I deeply love and will always love. It’s a game that isn’t afraid to have you talk to other characters for twenty or thirty minutes at a time and honestly I’m always riveted at every line. This game deserves the cult fanbase it has, but I think there’s a lot the fanbase misses in appreciating this game. (Note...gameplay is a little janky and a community made mod restores a lot content that was cut before shipping-the game wasn’t properly finished).

Best Story: Fallout New Vegas - It’s the setting that makes the story here, and all the moving pieces and factions alongside the main conflict really make this game stand out. There’s so many little pieces to find along the way in the world and the way the main quest splits based on who you want in power feels important--and you are choosing a future for this whole region.

Favorite Art Style: The Witness - This game is peacefully wonderful with its visuals. There are wonderful nature scenes and nests of wires and panels spreading in various parts of the island that are fascinating to look at. The environment is half of the gameplay in most areas, so it’s important to look around even though exploration is not really the gameplay. You find puzzles in the world, even in nature, and it’s fascinating. The colors are bright and beautiful. There is even a map in the middle of the island inside of a lake that helps you track your progress if you notice it (it isn’t like a normal ‘map’).

Favorite Soundtrack: Shin Megami Tensei IV - I love video game soundtracks, but SMTIV is something special. The music booms in ways that make you really understand the atmosphere of the world, and there’s a great mix of different kinds of tracks for different places. I love the tracks for the other worlds you enter, and the themes of the different routes are done so well. Some of the music draws from past SMT games, but the remixes done for this game really are stunning to me, and there’s so many fantastic original tracks.

Hardest Game: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - I love this game but I literally never touch it without a walkthrough, which is why it gets to be the hardest game on the list, despite being a point and click adventure game lol. Also just emotionally this game is challenging too, but I definitely mean this more in terms of getting a ‘perfect run’.

Funniest Game: The Stanley Parable - Trying to make this list has taught me that I don’t really play many ‘funny games’. I don’t know if a game where multiple endings demand that you kill yourself should count as a ‘funniest game’, but it is also a game where the narrator tells you to stare at a fern and memorize its features, so....it counts.

Game I Like that is Hated: RWBY Grimm Eclipse - I’ve been playing this game since it was in early access and have loved it the whole time. I find the gameplay soothing and fun, and I like playing the different characters. It’s a game I play to chill out and just enjoy some fun battle mechanics. It’s a fun game and I’ve spent over 100 hours in it, so I hope I like it, lol.

Game I Hate that is Liked: Nier Automata - Neither this game’s gameplay or story impress me, and the fact that you have to replay basically the same stuff from a more boring-to-play-character’s pov in order to SEE all of the plot is a huge damper on the experience. The story, to me, someone who engages with a lot of robot-focused fiction, is far from impressive or new, and it hardly engages with genre specifics at all, let alone in a new or interesting way. I view this game as ‘a story with robots in it’ rather than ‘a story about robots’, which, to me, is a detriment.

Underrated: Nevermind - This game is amazing and very unheard of--and when it is heard of, it has been marketed incorrectly. Nevermind seems like a horror game, and does market itself as one a bit, but it’s much more than that. It’s more about trauma, recovery, therapy, etc. This is a game that is so mindful about the topics it engages in that I am impressed by it every time. It’s heavy with symbolism and character, despite lacking conversations or other similar game mechanics. This is a lovely game that I really wish more people knew about-`p5-all of the patients are so interesting, and the focus on recovery and mental health is impressive.

Overrated: Fire Emblem - I sort of mean this as the series as a whole really. I have enjoyed the entries I have played somewhat, but I overall consider the series much less impressive than I was led to believe by others. The gameplay especially is not impressive to me in any regard, even though I sometimes do find myself enjoying it. The stories are alright, but many of them are weighed down by the gameplay and as a writer and person who likes to analyze writing, it’s very hard to do so when it isn’t able to fully exist under the chains the gameplay forces on it. There are ways to mix gameplay and story well, Fire Emblem has not really done that in any of the entries I’ve played. That being said, I don’t regret playing them, and I will occasionally replay, but I consider them mediocre games at best.

Best Voice Acting: Devil Survivor 2 - I love the voice acting in this game. I feel like all the characters are really suited to their voices, and it’s really easy for me to visualize their voices. They really bring the game to life and make both the dramatic and the funny scenes more enjoyable.

Worst Voice Acting: Jedi Knight Jedi Academy - I love this game, I really do, but some of the voice acting is janky. Some of it is okay too--I think Kyle Katarn’s voice actor does fine, and some of the others I like NOW but hated when I was a kid, but the male protagonist voice in this game is just awful. Which is bad when Jennifer Hale is the female voice actress lol. His performance is passable though unless you’re playing darksided--the darksided ending to the game lacks all punch when you’re playing the male protagonist.

Favorite Male: Battler Ushiromiya from Umineko no Naku Koro Ni - He’s the protagonist for most of the visual novels and I adore him utterly, especially once you move past episode 2. He’s a wonderful character who I care about deeply. I love his drive and how he fights--he’s someone who is easy to cheer for. He matures well throughout the series and his character development is just wonderful.

Favorite Female: Naoto Shirogane from Persona 4 - I really like how Naoto fits so well in the game, especially for being a final recruit--oftentimes the final recruit of Persona games (post 3) have a bit of a more difficult time feeling right with the group. Naoto works really well though, and I love her struggles and story as well. I think the difficulties she has concerning living as a woman in her field hit very deep to a problem that has existed for a very long time.

Favorite Protagonist: Connor of Daventry from King’s Quest 8 Mask of Eternity - I’m like, one of four fans of this character in the world, lol. KQ8 is not a very well liked game and it does have a lot of issues, both with age and with how much of a departure it is from the series prior to it. It’s strange to take a puzzle adventure game and make it a hybrid with what basically is a shooter, and it doesn’t really work. Add to that the fact that you spend most of your time in the game without anyone around to talk to and it leads to this really polarizing and weird experience. For me, Conner goes through what I would consider to be the ‘Ultimate Nightmare Scenario”. Everyone in the world is turned to stone except him (and he survived out of mere chance) and so now it’s up to him, practically alone, to save the entire world. There is no game lonelier than this. I adore him for his bravery in the face of it, and how he just picks up to do what must be done because someone should do it, and if no one else can, then he will. I also really love how he apologizes to people who are encased in stone while he takes money from their houses to help him on his journey. I really do think he went back after the game was over and gave everyone heaps of gold to pay them back with interest lol.

Favorite Village: Oakvale from Fable - The first Fable is the only one I really like, and it was one of the games I played when I was little, so the hometown in the game always meant a lot to me. I like how you grow up there and how your tragic backstory is there--and then how you get to return to the town years later after you’ve come into your own, and you can see it completely rebuilt. I like to spend a lot of my time in this town, just wandering around it and playing the minigames. Even though I have a house in every town, Oakvale is where my hero calls home.

Most Hated Character: Merril from Dragon Age 2 - I don’t really want to lay into how I feel about Merril, but what I will say is that it was suggested to me that I totally ignore her when playing, and I did so. I only met her for her quest, dropped her off in town, and literally never spoke to her or interacted for the rest of the game. I had a much better experience for it, honestly. She appeared after I made my choice in the end of the game, which felt weird since I hadn’t spoken to her in several ingame years, but other than that, the game was totally fine without her. I sort of just wish you could kill characters in DA2 the way you can in DAO, then I’d just do that, tbh. It doesn’t suit very many (or any) of the characters I rp in DA2 to keep her around or support her in any way.

First Game I Played: Mixed up Mother Goose Deluxe - I’m not actually sure if this is the FIRST game I’ve ever played or not, but it’s one of the first I played alone as a kid. I really loved it--this is probably what created my love for point and click adventures, and the game was very silly and fun.

Favorite Company: Bioware - I’ve always been a sucker for Bioware games, ever since Knights of the Old Republic 1 was my favorite childhood game. I love how they do stories and party members, and while I’m not a fan of all of their games, I really love what they’ve made and their style of storytelling and character driven plot. Even though sometimes their stories get cliche, I think the suit video games well and most of my early gaming was within their games.

Hated Company: EA - Bioware truly only started to go to shit after the EA acquisition, so I fucking hate EA. I know Bioware had issues before EA too, but I definitely don’t think EA has helped the situation whatsoever.

Depressing Game: The Beginner’s Guide - I relate to this game as a creator and a writer, and it affects me deeply because of the story it tells and the questions it raises. It makes me reflect on how I think of myself as a creator, and it reminds me of friendships I used to have.

Creepy Game: The Path - God, I love this game. It’s just aimlessly wandering around and finding symbolic scenery and watching your current character comment on it. Then, you go off to find your girl’s wolf, and each one is different and unique to her, and you watch it ‘kill’ her--and facing her wolf is the only way each girl can truly mature. Whenever you get to grandmother’s house, the camera switches to first person, and your eyes keep closing, so you can only see while clicking to move. It forces you to keep moving so that you can see, but since you are moving, you only get to see things somewhat vaguely. It’s got a great atmosphere, and I love the symbolic storytelling.

Happy Game: Eastshade - This game is so sweet. There’s some drama around to with many of the quests, but I like this as an rpg without combat, and I think this would be a really good kids game. There’s a lot to see and explore, and the game was made to be really pretty so that you want to paint several aspects of it. It’s really lovely to just wander around in this game and bike around the area, painting anything that suits your fancy. As long as you don’t finish the main quest, you’re free to wander, and materials do respawn, so you essentially can infinitely paint once you get far enough.

Favorite Ending: Virtue’s Last Reward - I love the questions this game asks and where the ending goes. It thematically ties together--the whole reason the game itself exists is to get the attention of a ‘higher being’--the player, essentially. I love how it plays with that concept, and even though the final game in the series doesn’t entirely pick this idea up where this game left it, standalone this game is stunning in how it comes together.

#shitpost #long post #this was fun to do #i made it so every answer was a different video game and i tried to mix up my companies as well #got 3 atlus games on here but mer #2 obsidon #llol #2 sierra too haha but still #beginner's guide and tsp were made by the same guy too but #STILL I LIMITED MYSELF OK #these answers aren't absolute because i was trying to have a good diverse list lol

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