#but there’s clearly pieces she picked out herself mixed in

[lunar-years]

Jonathan telling Will, “you shouldn’t like things because people tell you you’re supposed to”

And Max telling El, “you just try things on, until you find something that feels like you. Not Hopper, not Mike, you.”

Are two scenes that are actually so dear to me!!!

#stranger things #also. I just love el’s style evolution through the seasons #going from mostly wearing mikes clothes and whatever hopper could get for her #to her shopping spree with max in season 3 #to season 4 where it’s a mismash of both #she’s wearing will and Jonathan’s clothes and she has the byers bangs #but there’s clearly pieces she picked out herself mixed in #like her ugly little roller rink dress (affectionate) #her borrowing of clothes is much more conscious now #maybe it makes her feel close to them or maybe it’s a comfort to her. maybe the stripes and flannels remind her of home. #but she’s also listened to max and is doing it now for her own self! #it’s like… ‘you like the clash? for real?’ ‘yeah.’ #for real!! #I’m in tears #I just love max and Jonathan so much. what if THEY interacted!! but the duffers will never let me win. #elmax #byers brothers

[waywardstation]

Fair Trade

Akari shares with Ingo a bag of candy she found while distortion diving, though Ingo more appreciates the familiar feelings that sharing candy brings back than anything.

Happy Halloween!! I wrote this off a request an anon gave me about Akari sharing Halloween candy with Ingo. Hope you enjoy!! This is my first bit of writing that I’ve actually published in a while, and it feel like this writing in particular is a lot of nothing, but it was fun just to get something out again!!

OR read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

————

“I am finding it very hard to believe that you dislike chocolate this much.”

“Come on,” From where she sat on the dojo bench, Akari held her hand out to Ingo, the shiny, brightly-colored wrapper in her palm already unfoiled to reveal the candy inside. “It’s not that I don’t like them, I just like other candy more. And I can’t eat all of these myself, so I gotta pick and choose. Also, you have to take it, I already opened it.”

Looking back at her from his position by the dojo, Ingo’s expression was one of discernment — she could certainly just wrap it back up and save it for later. She also could have done that with the last six candies she had handed to him. But eventually, he relented and took it. Popping it into his mouth with an obligatory “Thank you”, Ingo returned to casting his glance at the training grounds’ gate.

Unlike Akari, he had not realized how sorely he had specifically missed sweet, modernized chocolate until she had first given him a piece several minutes earlier, when she had come by the training grounds to see him with a big mystery bag in her hands.

“Look at this, Ingo!” She had called out to him, holding the packaging up against the sunset sky for him to see — orange and purple, it was full of colorful wrappers, and seemed to be decorated with ghost pokemon (some silhouettes he recognized much more clearly than others). “I found this in one of the distortions! Help me eat it!”

A moderately-sized, unopened bag of cheap assorted candies, wrapped in shiny foils that obscured the flavor and kept its brand a surprise until it was opened. No doubt it had been pulled from some store shelf, if not an unfortunate person’s cabinet. Akari had been unwrapping the candies one by one; if it was revealed to be a fruit chew or something of the sort, she ate it herself, but the chocolates were handed off to Ingo.

Reaching her hand back onto the bag, Akari fished out another wrapper and twisted it open, revealing a green gummy inside that vaguely resembled a cherubi’s shape.

“Gummy.” She announced to no one in particular, chewing on it and stuffing the wrapper into her satchel. Picking out and unwrapping another before she had even finished her candy, she held it out to Ingo. “Chocolate. Here.”

“Ah, thank you,” Ingo received it with waning enthusiasm, but dropped it into his mouth regardless. “Have you perhaps considered sharing with your friend Rei as well?”

“Yeah, but last time I did, he got sick the next day. He said he doesn’t want them anymore.”

“How many have you had?” Watching Akari pull out yet another candy from the bag, Ingo was beginning to wonder if she was planning to stop at some point, or keep pushing through until the bag was empty. Knowing her, he believed it would be the latter.

“I don’t know, maybe… Nine? Ten?” The teen did not look up from the candy she was currently unwrapping. “I haven’t been counting.”

Ingo looked away, back towards the dojo’s gates as Akari peeked through the small opening she had made in her wrapper. He was acutely aware of how anything as processed and sugary as candy would not mix well with a digestive system that had become accustomed to a Hisuian diet — concerning both Akari, and himself.

“I advise taking these tracks a little slower; there is no need to rush towards the end of the line in just one night, lest you end up like Rei.”

“Oh man, if you think I’ll get sick off of this, you should really see all the junk I eat that I don’t bring back to share with you,” Akari brushed it off with a laugh as if his recommendation was a joke, before holding another unwrapped candy out to him again. “Chocolate. Here you go.”

“...Thank you.” Ingo echoed once again, tentatively receiving the bite-size candy bar. He chewed it with a look on his face – hard to discern, but appearing to be guilty for appreciating it. He waved Akari off preemptively with a hand before she could even unwrap another candy. “But please, no more; Miss Zisu is supposed to return back from the hall at any moment to accompany me to The Wallflower. I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“Well all you have to do is stop taking them, then!” Akari’s voice was tickled with amusement. Plastic crinkled as another wrapper was opened; thankfully for Ingo’s sake, bright, soft pink was revealed under the shiny covering. “Ugh, Taffy.”

Ingo cleared his throat as Akari bit into it anyways, having nothing to say at being called out – he certainly could refuse, but a part of him didn’t want to. And it went beyond the plain craving for the processed sweetness after such a long period of going without it.

Something about the flavor was obviously familiar to him, but that wasn’t exactly what kept nagging him to repeatedly want just one more. In fact, there really was much to be desired from cheap, waxy chocolate.

It was more so the simple act of Akari specifically handing a candy to him that she didn’t want, but knew he liked. It felt like it was tugging on a dormant cord still connected between his heart and his memories.

There wasn’t a lot there, but it was attached to something, deep down.

( )( )( )( )( )( )

It was just like when he and (Emmet went trick-or-treating together as children. The two of them) would always return home with enough candy that (could have lasted them several months, but) would probably only survive a week or two (between themselves and their Pokémon). They would always take turns trading (their candy between each other at the end of the night. Emmet) enjoyed the sour variety of treats and gummies (that would oftentimes end up leaving him with a sore mouth,) while he preferred the sweeter chocolates and (candy bars).

And (when Elesa had come into their lives during their teenage years,) the group would continue the tradition (of trick-or-treating together, and then) swapping at the end of the night. (Chocolates were not willingly traded to him nearly as easily anymore, and) he often ended up being traded the things neither (Emmet or Elesa) wanted. But he didn’t mind (because he liked them well enough, more so than the other two).

And even (into adulthood, when going trick-or-treating from door to door) was swapped out for (late-night scary movie marathons with friends, He found a habit had formed where) he was often handed (the candy bowl near the end of the night, in order to finish off the bit of) untouched candy no one else wanted. (Emmet and Skyla) would lightheartedly jab at him (for functionally being their candy disposal bin, but Elesa would defend him while he himself just laughed,) taking it all in jest.

( )( )( )( )( )( )

…It was just like when he and someone else would always return home with enough candy that would last probably only a week or two. They’d take turns trading, the other enjoying sour candies while he preferred the sweet ones. And when their group continued swapping candy, he was often traded what no one else wanted. But he didn’t mind. And even when things… changed, he still was given the candy that no one else wanted. They would make jokes about him for it, but it was all in jest.

There was so much missing, Ingo knew there was, and it made things confusing as to what actually happened. But he certainly didn’t feel bad about any part of it, when he lingered on the feelings that were left behind.

The fragments were horrifically shattered and spread apart over many, many memories, he could tell. But something about it was comforting. Perhaps it was the fact that so many memories seemed linked together; it implied that this was something that had never changed even while time went on, something that had been continued over a large span of his prior life. He had done something with friends very frequently. And it was something he enjoyed very much.

They were happy memories of people he couldn’t quite remember, and while that was not a novel experience for him at this point, it still dimmed the warmth around the edges. But he could not ignore that it was also cathartic, in an aching, lonely way, to feel that they were so worn and repetitive.

The phantom memories gradually retreated back out of reach, keeping their distance as the sweet aftertaste of the cheap chocolate faded. Something about the fact that an action as seemingly insignificant as being handed unwanted candy, and how it was able to dredge up only emotional remnants of so many hazy recollections… it was a little frustrating for Ingo, if he was being honest.

The complete picture was always just out of reach, it felt like.

But he had lost his entire previous life to the foggy nowhere that used to be his mind. There were a lot of pieces to pick up, and he supposed a substantial amount of them would be small and insignificant — when something shattered like this, there were usually many more small pieces than big ones.

“Another chocolate.”

Ingo blinked, his thoughts giving way to the view of the training ground’s dirt beneath his shoes, then to Akari as he turned to her — she had leaned forward to nudge his wrist with her own hand. Of course, a chocolate nestled within an opened wrapper was held between her fingers.

“Ah-” Ingo hesitated for perhaps a moment too long with a look that may have been a bit too piercing, as Akari’s hand began to retract.

“Right, sorry,” Akari sat back, leaning against the dojo wall behind her as she situated the bag back on her lap. “I know, I shouldn’t keep handing you these when you’re about to go have dinner.”

“No no, it’s alright,” Ingo hastily attempted to correct the misunderstanding. “I apologize, I was not rejecting it; my mind simply drifted elsewhere for a moment.”

“So…” With the usual spirited look returning to her features, Akari held the candy back up. “You do want another piece?”

One last glance over at the gate, but of course Zisu was still nowhere in sight. Only the autumn sunset past the village buildings, and a distant collection of drifblim mingling with the clouds over the fieldlands.

Ingo huffed through his nose and turned to join Akari on the bench, taking the empty spot next to her as the wood creaked beneath him. “…Perhaps just one more; Miss Zisu has not arrived yet, after all. She did say it would be a quick stop by the Commander’s office, but I’ll be honest; knowing her appreciation for conversation, I could be waiting here for her for another half hour.”

Akari held the candy back out to him, and this time, Ingo accepted it. “Thank you.”

Placing the chocolate in his mouth, Ingo sat back as he chewed on it. Mulling over the warm feelings of familiarity that briefly returned once again with the flavor, Ingo wondered if the memories themselves would return at some point as well.

#happy halloween!!!! #I projected onto Akari a lot with this I like chocolate fine enough but I like non-chocolate candy so much more #and will give chocolate to others #submas #ingo #warden ingo #akari #pokemon akari #Pokemon legends arceus #Pokemon legends #pokemon #pokemon fanfic #pokemon fanfiction #halloween #candy #waywardstationfanfic

[darkmagyk]

Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

In honor of his 30th Birthday, have a fic about Percy Jackson's 14th Anniversary. Check it out here on AO3.

Percy had been a morning person for a very long time. He thought it was probably something to do with being an East Coaster in his heart. And that connection between the beach and the sunrise. He and Frederick had had a conversation about that, once, about how much they both disliked watching the sun set over the ocean, knowing in their veins it should be the other way around. There was a reason neither of them lived in California anymore, after all.

He was alone in that, at least in his bedroom, however. Frederick Chase had thought that the sun should rise over the ocean, not set on it. But he didn't much want to see it, except for on very special occasions. And his daughter was the same.

Annabeth was a night owl. Because of course she was, what else would she be? A lark? He suppressed a laugh at the idea of calling her that, careful not to wake her as he rolled out of bed. She needed her beauty rest. It was a Friday, but she'd taken the day off, and he intended to let her sleep in, just like she preferred.

She deserved it. Working so hard, and all that.

He didn't ever work on Fridays. His classes were all on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he preferred to do research at home on Mondays and Wednesdays. Sometimes, he got dragged to campus because of a departmental meeting, but he'd made it pretty clear to the chair that he saw his academic career connected to a university as a fun hobby, and if they tried to drag him a second longer away from his family that he was okay with, he'd leave it behind in a second for stay-at-home-dad-hood, or at least independent scholarship or a school that would give a classics prodigy everything he wanted. So they were pretty decent about not pushing for committees that did meet on Fridays, or when he wanted to be elsewhere. Who knew being a demigod made you such a hot commodity in the world of academia?

He had a plan though, because it was not just any Friday, it was a very special Friday. And he wanted to celebrate it like it deserved.

But he was a little surprised, when he got to the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning, to find what had been spotless when he'd gone to bed, now very much not that. There was a pile of flour on the counter nearest him, and something else on the kitchen island that might have been sugar. There was melted butter all over the cookie sheet. The sink was full of two of his stand mixer bowls, a shield--the baking kind, not the weapon kind, though that had happened once before--and the dough hook and whisk, plus two wooden spoons and two more normal mixing bowls.

“What are you doing up so early?” Junie demanded. She kept repositioning herself, trying to stand in front of the stand mixer, which is clearly going on, and shooting looks out of the corner of her eye at her little sister. The secret message being sent was apparently being understood, because Lucie was standing in front of the ovens, trying to raise her hands, presumably so Percy could not see what cooking was happening.

Behind Junie, on the counter, about a third of a bottle of blue food coloring was leaking onto the granite. He once again applauded his wife’s choice to go with the blue marble.

“I’m always up this early,” he pointed out, he glanced between them. “You aren’t, though.”

“I am,” Lucie chimed in.

“I know you are; I’m surprised you're not watching your cartoons.” Lucie, all of seven, was all Annabeth. Blonde curls and gray eyes and a warrior’s cunning. But in her sleeping habits, she was all him. That was one of his favorite things about having kids, picking out the pieces of him and Annabeth, and learning all about the awesome people they created together.

“This is more important than cartoons,” Lucie said.

“What are you doing?”

“Lucie,” Junie snapped, mouth tight.

Lucie snapped her mouth closed.

Percy looked between the two of them, going back and forth to see if either of them would crack.

They were holding up admirably well.

But though they were legacies of Athena, with all the wisdoms and battle acumen that might have afforded them, Percy had a work around.

Even wisdom had to bow to strength, sometimes. So, Percy walked up to Lucie, who looked up at him, staring at him gilessly. The eyes of a little girl who could steal from a gift shop and not even feel bad about it. He loved his kids so much.

He reached down, hooked his arms under her arms, and lifted.

The reaction was instant. She shrieked. Her kicks were not wild flailing, but rather well aimed and deliberate. Which was actually to his advantage, as it meant he could anticipate them a little bit, and tense up as he turned and set her back down.

“Shh, you don’t want to wake your mama or your sisters,” he said lightly, while he peered into the oven. He had already guessed it was a cake. He could only sort of make out the cake through the little window, in the dim yellow light. But it was clearly blue.

“Junie,” He said, not looking away from the oven, “would you please make sure the food coloring doesn’t drip on the floor?”

She gasped a little bit, and by the time he straightened back up. She was ripping a wad of paper towels from the under counter holder.

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Lucie said.

“Well, I’ve got to make Mama her breakfast.”

“It’s your birthday, shouldn’t she make it for you?” Junie asked.

Percy raised an eyebrow, and Junie nodded, conceding his point. Annabeth Jackson was one of the most amazing people to ever have existed. She could slay monsters and fell giants and design monuments and lead armies and kiss booboos and sew historically accurate high medieval princess dresses from late Byzantium. But she could not cook.

“Right,” Junie said, and then she started nodding. “Exactly, Mama can’t cook. So, she never makes you breakfast, or special treats for your birthday, like you do for all of us.”

“So you two decided to make me a cake?”

“Yeah,” Lucie said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

“Thank you, Birdie.” She grinned up at him. She was missing a tooth. It was horribly adorable.

“Happy birthday, Dad,” Junie said, with much less enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong, Honey Dew?” She frowned at the childish nickname. Because his baby had just turned ten two weeks ago.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she said. “A special surprise.”

“It’s both,” he assured her. He kept a hold of Lucie but shuffled over to Junie, hugging her after turning off the stand mixer. The buttercream was more like sweet, blue butter at this point. But that was alright. They should probably wait until the cake had cooled before worrying about frosting. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He ruffled each of their sets of curls, and held them close. They were so grown up now. Able to wake up early and make a mess in the kitchen.

The smell of baking was filling the air, and it smelled like they’d probably done it mostly right.

“You’re welcome, Daddy,” Lucie said.

“Tell me about how you got the idea.”

“It was mine,” Junie said, her mother’s daughter, always eager for credit for her brilliant ideas. It had already cost her two schools, which was a lot for a rising fifth grader, though not quite his record. So he counted it as a win. “We’ve been having Mia teach us.”

“That was very nice of Mia,” Percy said. He really had hoped, after ten years, his mother would have gotten over her deep resentment over having a grandchild before she was forty, which had resulted in her absolute refusal to be called anything with the slightest hint of Gran in it.

Some of the skepticism must have leaked into his voice.

“I’m allowed in the kitchen unsupervised,” Junie said defensively.

“I’m pretty sure there was more to that agreement,” Percy said, chief among them being ‘the ten-year-old does not count as supervision for her little sisters.’ Though that was kind of in a gray area with Lucie, who just needed to not get distracted around heat. It wasn’t like they were worried about knives and their kids, after all. “But you’re not in trouble, baby, I promise. I am so happy you did this for me. But I am going to need help cleaning up. And then we’ll re-make some butter cream. And then you can start helping me prep the olives for Mama’s anniversary breakfast?”

At 9:30, he was something like done with breakfast. The spread of homemade cinnamon rolls, bacon, sausage, quiche, and olives were all laid out on multiple trays.

Left her to own devices, Annabeth would have liked to sleep later, but he knew she wouldn’t be. He went back into their bedroom, Junie and Lucie carrying other things, to find her sitting up in bed. Sophia in her lap and Thalassa next to her, the three of them acting out a Greek tragedy with stuffies.

“Happy Anniversary,” he said. Reminding Lucie to put the giant tray of Olives on the bedside table and Junie to set the rest of the quiche down and go get more plates so they could all eat together.

They settled in together, the six of them, sitting on the bed to eat breakfast. Their bedding was going to require a lot of washing when this was over. But that was okay, because fiber crafts were just one of Annabeth’s many talents. She was great with laundry. Everyone had cinnamon rolls, Thalassa got cream cheese icing in her hair, and Sophia sucked on a piece of bacon, while Junie and Lucie recounted their cake decorating adventure. Percy had to leave at one point to get another jar of olives. Proof, he thought, of how much he loved his girls.

When he got back, they had all shifted enough that he was able to sit right next to Annabeth. She leaned into him as Junie used the stuffed animals to explain the Allied powers' aviation strategy during World War II, because she spent a lot of time with her grandfather.

He felt Annabeth’s hand start fishing for his, and he grasped it, squeezing tightly. “Happy fourteenth anniversary.” Percy whispered, turning his head to plant a kiss on her close-cropped curls.

“Happy thirtieth birthday.” Annabeth replied.

“Best one yet.”

“You say that every year.”

“It's true every year,” Percy said, “every single birthday since my sixteenth has been getting better and better.”

“Well, I’m hoping this one can get better. I have plans, and they involve your favorite foods that I can buy from restaurants in New York City, and a Moana/Finding Nemo double feature, and my dad taking the girls for five hours after lunch.”

“Better and better, like I said.”

Something Junie had said caused Thalassa to break out into a pile of giggles. Not wanting to be left out, Sophia copied her.

Percy felt it in his heart, all of this. Happiness and love, and his perfect family.

“Happy birthday to me,” He whispered to himself before joining in the laugh.

#percy jackson #percabeth #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth fic #my fic

[grison-in-space]

Oh my god. Matilda hit a milestone tonight. We are really struggling with dog reactivity right now, and it's making me feel like shit to the point that she's about to start taking a break from coming to work with me — but I had a genuinely really wonderful moment this evening. See, she really reminded me that there was a reason I decided to train a clever, pushy, independent dog as a service prospect in the first place:

you get a clever, pushy, independent dog at the end.

Pictured earlier today, glaring because seven hours earlier she had to have a bath (because she got so muddy that three separate shampooings were necessary to get all the dirt off).

Which is to say, today for the first time ever bedtime came in a context where there was no human effort attending to me getting up and going to bed: CM was off to work, and Kawuli was upstairs on the phone, and I was absolutely absorbed in yelling at the bank sitting in the living room gently zoning.

And she took one look at that situation, marched up to me, stared urgently and then poked me until I got up. I did not move until she shoved me at least twice, because I was focused on something else. She nudged me into getting up and then marched me to where CM was getting ready to go to work to see what happened. At which point I went OH RIGHT BED and started getting ready for bed, and then CM had a few minutes to sit and chat before leaving so we sat down for a bit and as soon as they got up Matilda was right there watching that I went to the bathroom and came to bed upon getting up.

And then she helped herself to a used kleenex on my pillow, because her nickname "yucky Tilda" is well earned.

I genuinely cannot tell what is going on with her feelings about dogs because she has always been extremely weird about strange dogs and soliciting play, and her natural body language is almost as stunted as Benton's: she has always sort of gravitated to other dogs screaming at the top of her lungs or hung back and watched strange dogs very seriously and thoughtfully. I think it may be excitement but even as a puppy she was not into meeting other puppies or interacting with them—she used to sit firmly on her mat and observe other puppies without getting involved during free play time.

She has the ability to control her attention and totally ignore other dogs if she's doing something rewarding enough, though, and I think we can countercondition our way out of this. I'm trying something new out: tying her, harnessed, to the cherry tree in the front yard and playing flirt pole. My yard is fenced, but only by about three feet, so I have a limited visual barrier. And we have a very rewarding activity that does not involve self control and does involve engaging with me. Let's see if we can get the idea of dogs walking by me way less interesting than engaging with her human in a game.

Tried it out this morning and she was able to totally blow off Roof Dog (also a cattle dog) yelling at her from the roof of the garage across the street. She struggled with my neighbor walking a polite Lab mix past the gate but handled a smaller toy mix easily. So we will see if that helps.

But even if she is never public access ready, she's still really useful just being at home. She's never tasked totally uncued before—generally by timer —but this was extremely clearly an extension of the pieces I've taught her smoothed and merged into a sequence I was hoping SO much she would pick up on.

#matilda #australian cattle dog #16 months

[majesticwren]

fallingforyou (MJF x OFC)

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, hints of physical and verbal abuse, bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

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Chapter 1.

Seventeen Years Ago

At only eleven, Stella wasn’t a stranger to walking herself home from school and she already knew what it meant to pick the safest route and be weary of dangerous-looking alleys.

It happened often that she would decide to walk home alone after school. She liked the time she could spend alone, lost in her own thoughts, experiencing the world being no one.

It wasn’t because she despised the bus – well, she did a bit, just like any unpopular, weird kid who would be picked on. Nor it was because of her parents’ neglect. Actually, she had her own personal car and a designated driver taking her to and from school every day. But the fact was simple, she didn’t like that privilege, nor anything about the life she had and the way she was brought up.

Plus, running away gave her an adrenaline rush like no other and she was already addicted to it even when she was so young, and because she was so young, she didn’t care about the consequences.

It was then, in a late September afternoon, as she walked across the main street, that she felt something was out of place.

Just around the corner, into an alley that led to the back of one of the known quirky shops on one side and a bakery on the other, in the heart of town, she saw an abandoned, ripped-open blue backpack. A couple of books and a few sheets of paper were scattered all over the black, dirty pavement.

She could have kept walking. She should have, so it had been taught to her, to be detached and doubtful of anything she didn’t know or understand. She could so clearly hear her mother’s words echo in her mind.

But her curiosity won over her better judgement.

She looked around, to make sure nothing suspicious was happening anywhere else and then, once her surroundings were clear, she moved on tiptoes, as quiet as a cat, getting through the alley.

Inspecting the crime scene, she noticed a couple of broken pencils and ripped pieces of paper bearing the notes of what looked so clearly the messy handwriting of a young boy. And then she heard the noises. Suffocated sobs of one were overpowered by the aggressive groans and laughter of a group, mixed with other noises that sounded like feet dragging on the tarmac and irregular thuds.

Turning slowly to face the end of the alley, her curiosity won over her once more. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the familiar fizz of adrenaline burning through her veins made it impossible for her to backtrack.

Stella lowered herself and, siding a bin, she peaked into the small, deserted area in the back of the shop. There was a group of boys, they seemed older than her and they were kicking something. At first, she thought it was a garbage bag, only after she realised it was another boy.

“Look how the Jew cries,” laughed one of the boys, kicking the one curled up on the ground even harder, “he sure squeals like a pig.” His friends laughed cruelly following his example, calling the boy a pig. No one seemed willing to stop any time soon.

Stella was witnessing something horrendous and scary. Something dark and hateful that she would have never thought of knowing, and yet, even despite being shaking in her boots, she didn’t let her fear make her become indifferent.

She was only eleven and yet she knew already to be a fighter.

She stood up straight, her hand closing around a wooden plank left in the corner by a broken crate. Now branding a weapon, she charged the boys. She felt unafraid and free.

Stella hit the biggest one in the back once, “Stupid nazis,” she hissed in pure spite, not at all comprehending the full meaning of her own words. She hit the boy twice, and then she quickly turned towards the one who tried to stop her and hit him in the stomach.

As the group broke off their assault on the young boy, she stepped over him in a protective pose, ready to attack the moment one of the others got too close to her again.

“The Jew has a girlfriend!” They tried to scorn them, laughing like idiots would to a joke that didn’t make sense nor was funny.

“I will make you bleed,” she hissed, pointing her weapon towards them. Not that she knew what it meant but she had seen it in the movies.

That made them backtrack.

The biggest, clearly the leader of the group, pointed a finger at her. “You’ll regret crossing me. You better hope we won’t find you alone. And you, Jew,” he spat on the ground, “we won’t forget this,” he mocked the oink noise of a pig, “We’ll get you.”

She didn’t lower her weapon or her proud gaze until the group of bullies ran off.

Once alone, she finally moved, looking down. The boy on the ground stayed curled up in a ball, shaking but quiet. Her heart ached. “Hey,” even despite the soft tone of her voice, he still flinched. Stella didn’t let that persuade her to try her best to help the boy, “They’ve left, you are safe now.”

“S-safe?” He finally mumbled, “You must be joking.” He laughed nervously, “They’ll come back.” He got up from the ground doing his best to brush the dirt off his clothes. His hands were shaky. “Tomorrow they’ll catch me and they’ll hurt me more. They’ll hang me to a pole.”

“Better not be alone then.” She still smiled at him, offering him a friendly hand.

She meant it. A promise that would be true from that day onwards, even when both the kids couldn’t know the consequences of their choices made that day.

“I’m Stella.”

“Maxwell.”

Present Day

Stella sat on a bench in Central Park, just by the Bow Bridge. Her gaze crossed the dark lake and over, to the colourful spectacle of the yellow and orange leaves burning bright for her on the other side of the bridge in that grey day.

There was truly nothing like New York in the Fall and she loved to soak it up entirely. The weather getting crisp and the scenery changing. Thrifting clothes, buying used books, and abusing an insane amount of pumpkin spice lattes, candles, sweet cakes, and anything that went with that flavour made her happy. Watching warm and fuzzy old rom-coms, cosying up on the sofa. It was like the line of one of her favourites “Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies”. And Halloween. Was there truly anything else to say? Fall was her favourite season and there was nowhere in the entire world where it could be any prettier.

Her attention had drifted away for a while, as she enjoyed her time alone.

Stella scrunched the paper napkin she held in her hands and threw it in the salad box she just finished and then, she took one last coffee sip before starting to gather her things. However a moment before getting up from the bench, she was distracted by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” She answered distractedly.

“You should really post that selfie you just sent me on Instagram.”

A soft, warm smile spread on her lips as soon as she recognised that familiar voice. “Shall I now, Friedman?” Stella leaned back against the bench, immediately dropping all her plans only to chat with him. “And you called me just to say that?”

“Well, I texted, but you weren’t replying.”

“You are making it sound like a crime, Maxwell.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

“It is a crime! Post it. You look like that nineties hottie that did shit loads of romantic comedies. It’s a crime not sharing it.”

“You gotta be more specific here. C’mon, I want to get the entire compliment,”

“Ok, hold on,” he was quiet for a moment, before gasping victorious. “Meg Ryan! There she is. You look like her.”

Stella gasped, “I was just thinking about her a moment ago!”

“See?”

“I don’t look like Meg Ryan! You are ridiculous!” She giggled shaking her head.

“I say you do. I know a thing or two about hot babes.”

Stella rolled her eyes, gently shaking her head. “Thank you, you know what? I’ll take it, I need it today.”

“Oh yeah? Bad day?”

“Not yet. I’m going to get on my way to drive down to Long Island in a minute.”

“Meeting your sister, right?”

“Yeah-” Stella released a soft, tired sigh. “Don’t get me wrong I want to see Jenna, it’s just-”

“Yeah,” somehow the gentleness of his tone made it sound like he was so much closer to her, instead of on the other line of a phone call. Oh, how she wished it. “Family time. I understand.”

“What about you?” She wondered trying to distract herself. She surely didn’t want to think about her family. “How’s Philly? What are you doing?”

“Just arrived. I’m going to get myself all pretty for my interview.”

Stella smiled, “That won’t take long then.”

“Oh, stop it. You know how I get with compliments,” he chuckled. “By the way, I like the new haircut, it suits you.”

Stella smiled, trying to hide her cheeks blushing as if Max stood right in front of her. “Yeah, you think?”

“Do I ever lie?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, fair enough,” he paused, “But I’m not lying to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, to the more pressing matter, how is it that you’re all alone? Weren’t you supposed to meet that loser?”

“Max please, play nice.” And yet, even despite her best efforts, the spite in his voice still made her heart flatter. She didn’t want to, but a selfish smile popped on her lips.

Max never liked any of her partners, and she dreaded the moment that it would change.

She was, in fact, supposed to meet for a quick lunch date with the new guy she had been seeing for the past few weeks, but it turned out he was late. Shame that she got to enjoy having some time to herself. Which, Stella thought, suited her better than the alternative.

She liked being alone. When she was alone, she felt free.

Maybe she should have started to consider the idea of being on her own for a while since her dating life was just miserable. She wondered why she did that to herself. It was always her fault, it’s not like she could be upset at her luck or the heavens, she was quite literally the problem. She would meet someone new, date for a few weeks, and quickly realise she wasn’t interested enough – or she would choose a guy who was as far as possible from her type on purpose, and it would always consequentially end up badly.

“Greg’s late,” she explained, “but I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. I don’t like to know you’re alone.”

“Max, I’m ok, I promise.”

“That lack of disappointment and annoyance surprises me. You should be kicking off and complaining when it’s me that makes you wait-”

“You never do.”

“But, if I did, I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” he paused shortly, and she could picture him so well, in front of her, trying to read through her words, “You didn’t want to see him, did you?”

She huffed, there was nothing she could hide from him, ever. Unless it was something Max didn’t want to see. “Not entirely.” She cleared her voice, “we argued.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t news even if they started dating only a few weeks ago. It already happened enough times she knew there was nothing much to salvage in that situationship. And yet, it wasn’t time to break up with him.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” There weren’t words that could explain in detail how Greg just wasn’t the man for her. And the fact that she knew it was the problem. Yet she chose to stick with him because she liked to argue. It made her feel something. But not about Greg.

A tranquil silence fell between her and Max as they both just took a moment to enjoy each other company. It was easy to imagine he was sitting just next to her with an arm stretched over her shoulders enjoying the same view she was seeing.

“Stella!”

She gasped and her fantasy shattered as soon as she recognised being called from a short distance. Turning slowly, she saw Greg approaching her and a sad sigh left her chest. She didn’t want to spend time with him. Not really. She wanted to spend some time with the man on the other side of the phone. Though as soon as she realised the kind of thought she just had, Stella stuffed it away, deep inside her chest. “Hold on, Max.” She pushed out a smile. “Hi!”

“I am so sorry! I tried to get here as soon as I could.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry so much.”

“I do! You ate alone. Sorry.”

“Yeah, and,” she got up on her feet, “I will need to make a move in a minute.” Stella held her phone to her ear hooking it up with her shoulder and, although she freed her hands only to grab the trash she left behind on the bench, Greg took it as a hint to get close to her and steal an awkward kiss from her.

Nothing. She felt absolutely nothing as their lips brushed. Trapped between the soft grasp of his hands, as he tried desperately to get on an intimate level with her, Stella was just frozen.

He was an attractive enough guy, just not for her.

Greg’s charm did nothing to her. The way he smiled didn’t make her heart flatter. His scent didn’t drive her insane. She barely wanted to have his attention on her. And she found most of the things he had to say uninteresting. They had almost nothing in common. He often judged her interests, and she didn’t even care if he did it in a mean way or not. It didn’t matter. It was better that way. That’s the way she liked her relationships to be, so she could always be in control and keep people as far away as possible.

If there was nothing to like, she wouldn’t risk falling for them, right?

He was exactly the kind of guy her family would have approved of. And in all honesty, she didn’t even know what twisted thought process got her to the decision of giving him a chance when she was aware to hated everything about him just as much as she hated everything about her family and the world they both so clearly came from. Still, incidentally, that was the reason she didn’t let go. Her sister’s wedding was in a week, and she wanted to show up accompanied by someone she could have rubbed proudly in her parents' faces.

She wanted to think Greg didn’t deserve to be used like that and she knew she was supposed to feel horrible – but part of her wasn’t sure he was entirely a good guy. He was a bit of an ass at times. And he didn’t like Maxwell, so her guilt wasn’t at all scratched by her selfishness.

As to confirm her thoughts, Greg softly brushed his fingers on the edges of her freshly cut nineties-style bob. “I know it’s late to say it now, but you should definitely grow your hair back. This does nothing for you.”

Again, he could have told her the sky was grey and her reaction would have been the same.

The annoyed huff that came from the other side of the line, though, did make her feel something. “Prick.” Maxwell hissed. “I swear to God, I’ll fuck him up.” A small shiver crossed her back, as she realised Max was listening and probably wasn’t too happy about any of it.

“Sorry, one second,” she raised a hand in front of Greg’s face as if she was hinting at him to hold and then she took her phone back into her other hand, “Hey, Max, sorry babes, I need to go, Greg is here.”

“Sure thing, kitten. Call me later?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“You look hot. Don’t listen to him.”

“I won’t. Bye?”

“Bye, baby. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As she hung up, the small smile she had printed on her lips was immediately wiped off by Greg’s expression. “Max?”

“Yeah,” she frowned investigating his crossed expression. “Why?”

“Didn’t you literally see him this morning?”

A sad sigh left her chest. She did, they met for breakfast just before his departure and her hair appointment, and she already missed him so much.

“I did. Is that a problem?”

“I don’t like that guy.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Get over it, Greg.”

As she turned to grab her stuff, Greg grabbed her arm, giving her a strong pull so she would look back at him, “I don’t like that you call another man babe, or that you say you love him.”

Guess how he would lose his mind if only he knew about everything else she shared with Max.

“You are hurting me,” she glared at him, pulling herself off his clutch without much success. Her eyes became dangerous as she lifted her chin proudly. “And I do love him.” It was very important for her to specify it. As if it wasn’t already well known how important Maxwell was to her.

Greg’s expression suddenly became harder than ever. He too sent her a dangerous look, shaking his head. “I do not like sharing. If we go official, you will drop him.”

It was an order.

Funny how the longer she dated him the more similarities she found between him and her family. They too never liked Maxwell, not that anyone ever managed to separate them.

Stella stood there for a moment, at first, she seemed to take his words seriously, but then a soft chuckle crossed her lips, and then it became a full-fledged burst of laughter in his face.

Her behaviour seemed to anger Greg even further, but she ignored it. Stella gave him a strong push, freeing herself from his grasp and, not even giving it too much importance, she proceeded to grab her bag and approached the trashcan so she could throw away the empty containers of her lunch.

“Ok, let’s clear two things,” she began, “first, Maxwell is my family, so I’ll drop you before I could ever drop him. You better get acquainted with it because he will always be part of my life.” She smiled dangerously, “Second, I don’t have time for your jealousy right now. Gotta go to be a bridesmaid.”

Before she could move, Greg grabbed her again, this time his hands clutched around both her shoulders as he squeezed her. “I don’t like your attitude.”

“And I don’t like yours,” Stella knew she was challenging him, and clearly Greg didn’t like to be crossed. But she still did it. She was too proud to worry about the consequences.

One of his hands moved to her throat, where he clutched her strongly enough to take her breath away.

Just then Stella got scared.

"When you'll be mine, I won't let him be between us." He made her lift her face to look at him, "I will train you. You will learn."

“Let me go.” She hissed, but Greg was deaf to her words. When his hold on her became tighter, causing her to start choking, pure adrenaline lashed through her veins, bringing her to act out of pure instinct.

She raised a hand to his face and gave him a strong push. Just when her nails pierced through his skin, Greg finally moved, letting her go.

"You little whore," he began, but by then she had already turned and was walking away, fastening her pace.

"Goodbye, Greg."

#mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #maxwell jacob friedman x ofc #mjf x reader #mjf aew #mjf smut #mjf fanfiction

[itstheoneshot]

Designer Boy

request

Summary: You live for the lifestyle you have made for yourself. A real party boy, following fashion, dance, and so much drinking. Tonight isn’t any different, at least not at first.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Key x Male Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Alcohol Use/Drunkenness, Anal.

Every weekend, another party, another hangover, and close to no recollection of the night before. They were so frequent that you didn’t even bother dressing up over the top for them most of the time, but tonight you did, and soon you will be glad that you went all out.

Your friendship group was a mix of all sorts, people from all different walks of life, with each fitting together like a puzzle. You take pride - pun not intended - in being the flamboyant gay guy in the group, living for all things camp, fashion, dance, you name it, that is you.

Tonight you look ready for a runway, high waisted black skin tight jeans, torn to shreds to show off the tattoos on your legs. A loose fitting, but still tiny white crop top. Curated accessories, belt, jewellery, a stunning handbag, but the outfit is held together by the most standout piece. 6 inch stiletto heels, metal silver, they are to die for, a prized possession, something that you have not got enough wear out of, so you are getting their money’s worth now.

You love the attention from the girls, every one of them at the party loses their mind when they see you dolled up. A full face of makeup completed your look, dark eyeliner and light everything else, you know that you look good. Your best friend hangs off your arm while you two begin to drink, you had a couple earlier while getting ready but that buzz had died off, and now you are at the host’s house, it is time for you to really start.

“Who is that?” You whisper to your best friend Hyoyeon, tilting your head slightly towards the kitchen, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, though nobody else could hear over the thumping music, “I’ve never seen him before.”

Hyoyeon discreetly glances over your shoulder while she reaches for the bottle of vodka on the table, pouring out a shot for herself and for you. She hands the glass over, and you both throw your heads back, downing the liquor and fighting back that sting.

“That’s Taeyeon’s brother,” She replies, referring to the friend of yours whose house you are at now, “Kibum, and yes, he is gay.”

You are surprised you had never seen him before, with all the socialising that you do, and that his sister Taeyeon does too, she is at every party that you are, it is a little shocking.

“Is he single?” You ask, not wanting to get ahead of yourself, which would be so easy when the man you are looking at… looks like… that, “Why don’t I know him?”

Hyoyeon laughs at first, she is able to see right through you, it is not hard to tell when you are into someone, and wow, despite only seeing him from across the room, you are into him. He has this intense aura, a completely unique style, curated and perfect in every way. He has striking features like a fox, beautiful lips, jawline, and a scar through his eyebrow that catches your attention in the best way.

“He just got back from the US,” Hyoyeon tells you, “He was studying design, so has been away for a few years, and from what I know, he’s single.”

You glance down at your outfit, suddenly a little self conscious, worried if you will impress a fashion major, or if he will judge your style. You know that you carry yourself well, and that confidence can be the key to pulling a look together, and with a few drinks down, it is even easier to put on the charismatic charm that has made you as popular as you are.

Picking up another drink, you and Hyoyeon head out to where some of the party guests are dancing. You have a better view of Kibum here, and he can see you clearly too, but you try hard not to make it too obvious that you are staring, instead making infrequent glances in his direction, hoping that he meets your gaze every time.

The first time he catches you staring, it is as if the world around you disappears, nothing existing outside of you too. An instant attraction, but you want to play a little hard to get, so you look away, back to Hyoyeon dancing in front of you and motion to her that you need another drink. There is no way you could stay composed around that man without a couple more drinks, so you line up two shots for yourself, Hyoyeon following suit because she just loves to party, and you take them both consecutively, not stopping for air between them.

When you open your eyes again, you realise that someone is next to you who wasn’t there before. You pick up the mixed drink that you poured for yourself before you turn to see who it is.

It is him.

Fuck, he looks even better close up. His skin is flawless, what the fuck is his skincare routine? Does he even have pores? Despite being extroverted, and a little drunk, you still find yourself lost for words. He smiles at you, seemingly aware of his power, the smile more like a devilish smirk, it has your knees wobbling, confidence dissipating so quickly.

“Care to dance?” He asks, holding his hand out for you, “You look like you could use it.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, you are hypnotised, taking his hand without a second thought and following him back out to where you were dancing just before. You hear Hyoyeon laugh, calling out something about how she might find you later, before she walks away to find some other friends to hang out with. You feel privileged to be getting this attention, laughing as Kibum spins you around before bringing you in closer to him, throwing your head back as you let the music course through your veins along with the alcohol you are so recklessly consuming.

Kibum is touchy, and you so easily give in to him. He holds your wrist, and guides your hand holding your drink to your mouth. He watches you down the alcohol in one big gulp, and a fire lights behind his eyes as a few stray droplets fall down your chin and further down your neck. You lick your lips to try and catch anything that you missed, all while keeping your eyes trained on the man with one hand on your waist, the other wrapped around your wrist.

You introduced yourself at some point, but Kibum makes a point of only calling you honey rather than your name. No complaints from you though, the way that it rolls off his tongue has you forgetting that you even had a real name, happy to be only referred to this way by him forever. You place your glass down on the closest table, wanting to focus all of your attention on Kibum, both hands all over him, admiring his clothes, but mostly admiring his body. He is much the same way, seemingly unable to get enough of you, getting hot and heavy so fast.

He kisses you suddenly, hand finding purchase on the back of your neck to deepen it, tongue pressing past your lips to get a taste. You are addicted, more than you thought could be possible, needing him like oxygen, so fucking attracted. You gasp as he nips your bottom lip, only giving him access to kiss you deeper, tongue practically halfway down your throat to prove that he is just as addicted. You couldn’t care less about being at this party anymore, wanting privacy, needing to be alone with him, desire taking over your being.

“How about we take this upstairs?” Kibum murmurs in your ear, “I think I’d like you all to myself now, honey.”

As if he needed to ask, you nod between kisses, murmuring a yes please, hyung before allowing him to lead you away from the makeshift dance floor and down the hall to the staircase. You eagerly follow him, barely inches apart, both stumbling slightly both out of drunkenness and out of sheer desperation to get these fucking clothes off each other.

Once in his room, Kibum presses you up against the door at the same time that he locks it. His kisses are even deeper now, hands roaming under your crop top, the feeling is electrifying, you are moaning already and he has only grazed your skin. It doesn’t take long for him to begin working at undressing you, each item of clothing admired and removed with the utmost of care, and if he were not a fashion major you probably wouldn't have understood it, but it is intimate in a way that you can’t quite explain, and you love every second of it.

Your clothes are neatly piled up next to your shoes, leaving you completely naked while Kibum is still dressed, before he lets you take his clothes off too. You are just as gentle as he was, besotted and admiring every inch of him until you both are fully undressed. The tension is too much now, having held back for so long to sensually de-robe one another, Kibum is forceful in the way that he grabs you and drags you across the room to his bed.

“You’re such a beautiful boy,” He purrs as you lie flat on your back and he hovers over you, “I know you’re gonna feel real good to be inside of, aren’t you?”

You hadn’t discussed positions, though you know that your aura probably gives it away, you are relieved to hear that Kibum will be topping, and you thank past-you for deciding to give yourself a proper clean and prepare before coming to the party, despite the fact that you hadn’t really planned on getting laid tonight.

“Mhmm,” You nod, happily spreading your legs for him to fit in between, as he leans over to his bedside table to pull a bottle of lube out of the drawer, “I promise, you don’t need to hold back.”

Kibum opens the bottle and pours a healthy amount out onto his hand, before cheekily drizzling a little onto your hole, sending shivers up your spine and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He leans down to kiss you as his fingers swipe up and down, chuckling as you writhe under him, especially so as his index finger presses in up to the first knuckle. His fingers are long, slender, a little bulged at the knuckles, and fuck, it feels so good. You know that you need to take it slow, and he is extra gentle, but you already push back on his hand, motioning for him to add more, wanting the stretch, the burn that means you will have his cock inside you sooner rather than later.

One finger moves to two and you see stars when he curls his fingers, finding your prostate and repeatedly hitting it over and over. You can barely breathe, nails dragging down his flawless back, surely leaving red marks in their wake. You arch your back under him, wanting to feel his cock on yours, both fully hard, the friction of your skin is almost too much. Kibum moans as your dick twitches against his, grinding down on you to chase the feeling. You open your eyes mid-kiss to see him staring at you, watching intently as he stretches you out and prepares you for him.

“Fuck me,” You whine, “Please, hyung, I need it.”

Kibum chuckles as he slowly pulls his fingers from you, leaning over to his bedside drawer again, this time to grab a condom, tearing the packet with his teeth before rolling the latex down over his cock. He picks up the lube once more, pouring a healthy slathering over the condom before he moves down to kiss you again. Impatience is clear between the two of you, he wastes no more time guiding his cock to your now prepped hole, pushing in past the tip, keeping his eyes on you to make sure that you are not uncomfortable. You push back towards him, motioning with your action that you want more although you are lost for words. He does exactly that, one swift movement to thrust in the whole way, taking him in all the way.

“You feel so fucking good,” Kibum moans, “Are you doing okay?”

You nod repeatedly as he slowly pulls back to thrust into you again, this time harder, faster. Neither of you are quiet, and you are thankful that the party downstairs is so loud, as your chances of being overheard are so limited. You wrap your legs around his hips, giving him an angle to fuck you deeper, in return he moves one of your legs up so that your ankle rests on his shoulder, only taking him in deeper again. The pleasure is overwhelming, mind racing as you try to hold yourself together when Kibum takes your cock in his hand to stroke you. Your vision is blurry from both the alcohol and the orgasm building inside you with each movement of his hand, and each repetitive nudge on your prostate.

“Hyung~” You cry, “More, more, more! Wanna cum, gonna cum.”

You are babbling now, words slurred as your body threatens to give way, but with Kibum’s continued ministrations, you are sure that he is permissive. His hand grips tighter, thrusting faster, chasing his own high as much as yours. You are sure that walking will be a little difficult after this, his cock is long and girthy, stretching you out far past that of either yours or his fingers. You are close, and growing closer by the second, enamoured by the man kissing you, fucking you, stroking you, holy shit you can’t hold back any longer.

“Cum for me, honey,” He murmurs against your lips, “Show me how good I make you feel.”

With a strangled cry, you throw your head back just as you release, hot strings of cum spurt from your cock all up your stomach, so hard that you almost reach your neck. Kibum milks your cock to oversensitivity, until you are running dry and he finally lets go too. His moans escalate as he fucks into you with every ounce of effort that he can muster, reaching his orgasm in record time following yours, once he can focus on only that and not getting you there also. The repeated abuse of your prostate has your thighs shaking, whimpering and writhing under him as you take the thrusts with the submissive patience that you have learned so well.

As Kibum slows down, all that you can hear is your heavy breathing, and the bass from the music thumping downstairs. You are dizzy and overwhelmed, and you cry out breathlessly when Kibum pulls out and moves away to dispose of the filled condom. He returns to you from his ensuite bathroom with a wet towel, and he rejoins you on the bed to kiss you while he wipes your body clean, removing the drying seed all up your stomach, and the overflow of lube on your cock and your ass. He laughs as you twitch when he touches you but he is gentle and only playing around, he really is just as enamoured with you as you are with him.

“Stay here tonight,” Kibum purrs, in more of an order than an offer, “I think I might want round two in the morning.”

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop smut #shinee #fic request #shinee fanfic #SHINee smut #SHINee key #SHINee key fanfic #SHINee key smut #Kim kibum #Kim kibum fanfic #Kim kibum smut #key x reader #key x male reader #mxm fanfic

[coolcattime]

A Moment of Rest (A Mianite YTTD Snippet)

Written for Day 2 (AU/Post canon) of MCYT Yuri Week created by @mcyt-yuri-week

Content Warning: Contains discussion of off screen deaths and violence

Relationships: Captain Capsize/Sonja Firefoxx

Characters: Sonja Firefoxx, Captain Capsize, Spark Conway

The following takes place in the brief rest period between the end first Main Game and the beginning of the next set of sub games. At the current point in time, nine of the participants remain alive.

As their first day in this death game draws to a close, Capsize and Sonja sit together thinking about the events of the day. Despite neither wanting to think about the main game, Capsize feels the need to thank her new friend for her defence.

AO3 Link

Full AU Tag

Tom and Alyssa were both sleeping as peacefully as Capsize and Sonja assumed possible given the situation. Even if said sleep was fitful, it was surely better than nothing. They’d been here a day, and they'd watched three people die horribly. Even having only just met those who had died, it had been horrific, neither could imagine the full effect of the situation on the two they were watching over as they waited for the next floor to open. Neither particularly liked the silence that had settled since they had managed to coax Alyssa into getting some sleep, it let their minds wander too much into the reality that they found themselves in, but that wasn't really something they could avoid thinking about now. However, no matter how much she wanted to avoid thinking about it altogether, there was a certain part of the Main Game, beyond the horrifying deaths that had marked its end, that still itched in the mind of one of the two.

“I haven't thanked you yet," Capsize broke the silence, causing Sonja to abruptly be broken out of her own thoughts. She looked a little confused towards the other woman, not thinking of anything she needed to be thanked for, but it had been a hell of a day, maybe it’d slipped her mind. The singer avoided her eyes, drumming her fingers against her knee rhythmically wishing she had an actual instrument to focus her thoughts. “When everyone was accusing me of being a murderer, you defended me and I, uh, I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that!” She spoke a little too loudly at first, causing a brief stir from Alyssa, before hushing herself. She didn’t mean to be loud; she just still couldn’t quite believe what a mess the Main Game had been, how little it took for everyone to start turning on each other. How quickly it had turned from everyone working together to trying to pick out the most useless of the group and people lying to save themselves. She’d barely wanted to show the version of the paper she’d pieced together from the shredder. Even with it having an obvious mistake, it still pointed towards Tom being a murderer, and she didn’t want to throw that landmine into the discussion. She’d been so glad when Tom brought out the scrap piece he’d found, when she saw how clearly it matched up with the tear line to show that he wasn’t a killer. The fact that it immediately pointed towards Capsize as the killer instead felt like a gut punch. “Them all turning on you, like you hadn’t spent the whole time helping, it was disgusting. Besides, it’s not like my defence did much.”

“You told them all it was bullshit, that’s good enough for me,” They both laughed, though it was a quiet and hollow feeling. Capsize wondered how close she was to getting voted up. What would’ve happened if Red hadn’t revealed himself as the murderer, as her brother? It felt repulsive to think about, the sort of thing she really didn’t want to think about because the entire situation was beyond messed up. She was happy to be alive but at the same time, they’d voted to kill someone. She’d voted to kill someone. Even if they’d been forced to, it still felt beyond uncomfortable. It was an odd mix, both were happy to be alive, but that came at the expense of two people who weren’t. No one had deserved to die, so how could they really be happy beyond the fact that they haven’t turned on each other?

“Well, I had to do something. You’ve been helping this whole time. You were willing to lose an arm for me. Even if you had killed someone, I can’t believe you were a bad person,” She honestly hadn’t been sure. Seeing the words ‘Dunbar … Murderer’ on the torn-up sheet was enough to make her question, but when she’d been locked in that deathtrap, when everything had seemed hopeless, Capsize had placed her arm in front of the arrows aimed at her, smiling as if risking her arm being shot point blank by multiple arrows was no big deal. Sonja’s mind had been set, regardless of what Capsize might’ve done outside of the game, she was a good person. Oh course, most of the others haven’t cared. “I owe you so much.”

‘It must be nice to just be able to see a pretty face assume morals based on that. Really, do you have any logical thoughts?’ She’d been dismissed just like that, treated like she was wrong for speaking emotionally. It wasn’t as if her point had been devoid of logic, she was just making a different point than the majority. It would’ve felt belittling if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Instead, it just made her blood boil and she’d yelled more. She was pretty sure she’d made the situation worse, lead to just more intense demands to Capsize to tell the truth. It hadn't mattered once Redbeard yelled over the lot of them to reveal his identity, but what if he hadn't been there? Why did everyone just decide guilty until proven innocent even despite previous actions?

“You don’t owe me anything. Just seriously, thank you,” She said, making sure to sound sincere as it was important to her that Sonja knew how much the defence had meant to her. She mulled over the whole argument that had happened. She’d felt so lost, nearly everyone turned on her so quickly, and she’d just floundered. But it had been nice to have someone still believe in her, still try and fight for her when it looked like she might’ve been the worst kind of person. And she remembered what had been yelled at Sonja, and wondered if she should say more, if there really was anything more that she could say on the topic without making assumptions. But Sonja decided to continue the conversation instead.

"Do you really think there's gonna be a way out of here? No more death or having to vote?" She asked carefully, not quite being sure if she herself believed such a thing possible. Capsize looked at her, at downcast eyes and hands playing with the fabric of her apron. She thought of the two they were watching over, of Alyssa screaming as she watched her dad be killed by the same collar still fixed around all of their necks, of Tom desperately trying to deny reality as the results of the Main Game were announced. It had been as horrible as the deaths themselves, hope sucking. She couldn't blame anyone for losing hope, but she couldn't. 

"Yeah, there has to be, I'm not dying in someone's idea of a sick joke. There's stuff I've still got to do," She spoke as if there was no doubt in her mind, like she had the whole thing figured out. Sonja looked more towards her and saw the same smile she had had during the death trap, one so reassuring that said despite reality that everything was going to be okay. And she wanted more than anything to believe that smile. "And, even if we are stuck in this mess, I'll keep on protecting you lot. So, you don't need to worry."

"You shouldn't place a burden like that on your shoulders."

"It’s not a burden..." Capsize paused, drumming her fingers on her leg again, wondering if she should actually say what she wanted to. She feared sounding too forward, that it'll be weird given the situation, but one of them could be dead tomorrow. She had enough regrets without adding another one born of cowardice. "And... we are both gonna get out of here. I know we will ‘cause, well, I was kinda hoping we could maybe go somewhere maybe grab a drink, a coffee, together just the two of us once we got out of here, so it'd really suck if we didn't."

Sonja hummed in response, it not quite clicking what had been said until after she had already done so, causing her to suddenly jolt at her own seeming indifference. She turned to see Capsize looking almost sheepish, an odd look for someone who had been bold and loud the whole time. And Sonja was almost sure she misheard because the pretty punk girl she'd met in a death game had just asked her out for coffee. She almost wanted to laugh because it almost felt like the world itself was playing a trick on her. Though she didn't, which was without a doubt good for Capsize's confidence as she already felt that she'd put her foot in her mouth. Sonja instead lent a little closer to her, taking her hand that was currently at rest and lacing her fingers between half-gloved ones. She looked at her with as much a smile as she could muster.

"I'd love to get coffee whenever we get out of here," She said. For the briefest moment, the two women looked at each other and it almost felt like they weren't in a live or death situation, like there was no chance of these being their last few days alive. They were so close to each other, close enough to hear the other's heartbeat. And maybe it was just the whole 'we might die soon thing', but they did lean even closer, close enough to feel breath on their face, to know what was about to happen. To lean even closer, their lips practically touching--

A loud clearing of a throat got them to jump away from each other with red faces. Sonja shrank inwards while Capsize glared with no end of annoyance at Spark who lent against a wall with a grin on his face. Did he seriously have to look so smug?

"Sorry to interrupt, but the next floor's open. Thought you might want some help carrying these two," He said, nodding towards Tom and Alyssa. The atmosphere was beyond awkward. Though it was certainly a no win situation for the man as, had he waited until they were done, the tension in the air would have certainly been worse. A groan left Capsize as she had to acknowledge he had a good reason for interrupting but didn't want to. She wanted to live in the previous moment, but it had already passed and flittered out of reach. She pressed her wrist against her forehead, forcing herself to take a breath, to collect her thoughts before speaking.

"You're definitely not sorry, but carry Tom and I'll consider forgiving you," Capsize said, bluntly but there was the slightest hint of levity in her tone. Spark counted himself lucky as he wasn't sure anyone else would've gotten a response so calm from her. He decided to take that as a compliment, even if it did look like she wanted to throttle him.

As Capsize scooped up Alyssa, and Spark figured out the best way to move Tom without waking him, Sonja fidgeted. Now wasn't the time to be embarrassed, and she wasn't, not really, but she couldn't help but worry about the detective telling the others what he had interrupted.

"Hey Spark, you, err," She started, sorting through her head for the right phrasing. "You aren't going to tell anyone that we were gonna--"

"That you were going to kiss?" Spark asked, an eyebrow raised. Sonja squeaked and Capsize grimaced in preparation for the answer. But he shook his head and laughed quietly. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with Mr Detective."

'If only all our secrets could be so light-hearted.' Spark thought as saw the relief wash across their features. They couldn't be of course, and he dreaded some of his own being revealed, but at least he could give some reassurances to other people, however small, as they proceeded into whatever horrors the next stage of this game was going to offer.

#mcytyuriweek2023 #sonja firefoxx #captain capsize #foxxsize #sonja firefoxx/captain capsize #mianite #mianite fanfiction #cat's fanfiction #mianite yttd au #spark conway #not pictured: them finding private bedrooms on the next floor and going somewhere cockblock detectives can't

[densi-mber]

A/N: Set in mid to late season 4. Also, thanks to @mashmaiden for finding pictures to go with these fics!

***

What’s Another Word for Jealousy

“Thank you so much, Miss Hart. We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us,” Deeks said, offering a smile to the waitress he and Kensi had just finished interviewing. The woman’s cheeks flushed slightly under her gaze, and Kensi barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His affect on women was simultaneously impressive and annoying. “If you think of anything else, feel free to give us a call.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, nodding as she accepted the business card Deeks handed her. She took it like he’d offered her a fine piece of jewelry and not a piece of card stock with the NCIS hotline number.

The turned to go, getting a few yards away when Miss Hart called out “Detective!”

Deeks looked over his shoulder, shrugging at Kensi before he jogged back over. When he reached her, Miss Hart took Deeks’ elbow, turning him so he was slightly facing away. Kensi’s mouth dropped open at the woman’s audacity.

As she watched, Deeks dipped his head as the waitress stretched up on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Based on Deeks’ shift in posture, Kensi guessed it was something obscene. Then, she held out a square of paper, her expression clearly sly, even from a distance. After a moment of hesitation, Deeks took the paper, nodding a couple times before he headed back towards Kensi.

Kensi waited for him, arms folded over her chest. Once he was within a foot or two, she started walking, clenching her jaw to avoid saying one of a dozen nasty comments.

“So, it sounds like Evans got mixed up with a gang trying to make extra money, and got in over his head,” Deeks said as they headed back to the SUV. “The question is, was it friendly fire or one of their enemies.“

Kensi said nothing, for both their sakes. She didn’t need to embarrass herself, or unload her own ridiculous feelings onto him.

“Ok, what did I do wrong?” he asked after a few second, because he was always too perceptive of her moods for his own good. “You got that whole,” he waved his hand, “I’m mad but pretending that I’m not look.”

“I’m not mad,” Kensi insisted. “I don’t think it’s very professional to flirt on the job. Although, I suppose she was pretty. In a little sister kind of way.”

“Wait, are you jealous? Of her?” Deeks sounded completely surprised, which somehow made it worse.

“Of course not. I did think you were beyond picking up witnesses’ phone numbers,” Kensi replied haughtily to cover just how much it did bug her.

“Actually, she gave me her number, unprompted,” Deeks corrected. “And, you can have it.” He reached into his pocket, coming out with a crumpled piece of paper. “Here.”

Kensi held out her hand without thinking, the little ball of paper dropping into her palm. She stared at it in quiet bemusement.

“See, no reason to be upset.” He crossed his arms, one leg extended to the side, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I was not upset.” They’d reached the SUV now, but hadn’t made any move to get in.

“Sure.” He smirked, shaking his head slightly. He looked frustrated, which Kensi hadn’t expected. “When you figure out what you’re feeling, let me know. Otherwise, don’t get mad when someone flirts with me.”

Kensi stayed still, dumbfounded by his blatant acknowledgment of the topic they silently agreed not to discuss and the annoyance in his tone.

He moved towards the passenger side of the SUV, in front and added, “And just for the record, I haven’t been getting anyone’s number for a while now.”

Kensi stared after him, caught between wanting to prove him wrong and finally spit out the truth. In the end, she got in driver’s seat and said nothing.

***

A/N: Title borne of my own struggle to think of another word for the concept of jealousy.

#densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #densimber day 9 #ncis la fanfiction #pre densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #jealous Kensi #season 4 #ncis la #by ejzah

[tadpolesonalgae]

ICBMTHY is sooo good. it gave me a lot of thoughts!

i know it wouldn't make sense for eris to be nice but that was so mean and for absolutely no reason? i hope she kicks his ass more but i also think this friendship would be what she needs to grow a backbone because right now it's painful to watch but the ic clearly isn't helping and azriel is making it worse

also azriel is being so mean too and i know it's for the angst but my dude really interrupted her booty call for no reason and then trapped her into a conversation to call her a burden like i know you've picked up better conversation skills in 500 years. like he's kinda right in saying she is naive (second hand embarrassing inducing so) and doesn't know how things work... then sit her down and explain it to her instead of attacking her, i would have jumped out of his arms and wouldn't even care about what happened to me bc i know he'd blame himself

ALSO her powers seem interesting, she glows?? like starfall?? that sounds fun and it kinda sounds that eris might be the one to help her with those powers at least for now (that line saying the ic would pounce on her powers and do all kinds of things to get them to work is so true though that's one of the things that annoys me the most about them)

anyway this story is seriously so good, i think you might be my favorite writer on tumblr. you genuinely know how to keep a story engaging and still have it make sense instead of just filling it with unnecessary smut to make up for it, even your heavily spicy ones always give something at least in the background. also i like how you play with characters, i think a lot of people write character too ooc but you manage to take the essence of the characters and change them how you need them without losing their true self. like how you write dark az and in this story he's kind of acting like an asshole but you still see bits and pieces of azriel in all of them

Honestly I agree Eris was a little OOC in that swan part—I’m deciding he was stressed from Father Vanserra breathing down his neck and he needed the comedic relief :)

But hey! She ended up actually doing something about it, maybe he will help her grow a little backbone—or rather feel it’s okay to hit back sometimes!

And yeah, poor Bas 😕 He was READY (I can’t promise any more of him though, I’m sorry 😭)

Things kind of escalated way too quickly when they were flying together; I’m putting that down as the whole IC being incredibly wary of Eris because of the Mor incident, and also the Autumn Court isn’t exactly known for being particularly fair or welcoming, so it’s kind of believable Eris would inherit those traits from his father :/

Also I feel like a surprisingly big part of angst (for me at least) is the edge of humiliation? How reader allows herself to be degraded and doesn’t really fight back or protest against it because she doesn’t see it as being wrong, more that it’s expected/deserved? I think most people respond stronger if it’s their dignity that’s being targeted, which helps with the angst because of how low one has to go to deliver a blow like that :)

I’m so excited to write more about her powers and how they manifest!!! Also about who’s going to try to help her, but who’s going to actually succeed in helping her and then how she manages with the new development!!

I suppose with Silver Flames (I know some people have mixed feelings about how the characters were written) they’d just been through a second war (civil war??) where they came so close to loosing so much, and despite how most of the IC has already been through one, I can’t imagine you can become desensitised to something as bloody as open, gratuitous murder to such a massive scale.

Anyway, that was a long-winded way of saying I can see how so many mistakes were made in the aftermath of the devastation of war. It’s not an excuse or a justification but I really don’t think it would be realistic for the characters to come out unscarred from a second war.

That last paragraph is just— thank you

I’m so happy people find those fics to be suitably engaging, and enough to continuously choose to interact with them.

The fact alone that you’ve taken your time to articulate how you feel is so important to recognise for me.

Playing with what certain characters might do while keeping it relatively believable is something I try to do, and it means so much to me that you think I’ve succeeded 🧡

#anons <3 #CBMTHY #thank you 🧡💛

[catchyhuh]

HALLOWEEN!!!!

halloween pretty much started late august anyway this is overdue. let’s get seasonal. but first,

PRO VS ANTI CANDY CORN, IN ORDER:

zeni, lup (just gets a bit too sweet after that first handful) jigen, fujicakes, goemon (“tastes like a dollop of corn syrup drowned in orange sugar”)

lupin: 

fucking LOVES it. i mean you know he already loves dressing up and playing made up characters so this just feels like another excuse to get crafty with it. if he could stand the consistency/normalcy of owning a house he’d absolutely be that guy getting arrested for having way too many obnoxious decorations lighting up the street at 4 a.m. and you KNOW IT!!

would he, a grown ass man, trick or treat? no. unless you count hightailing it to walmart and stuffing those mixed packs into his shorts lolz I MEAN THAT IS TECHNICALLY FREE CANDY SO MAYBE IT COUNTS

costume: boring answer is vampire but. yeah that IS his go-to. he just loves the variety and consistency he gets with it simultaneously! of course, not to say he doesn’t have fun with it time to time. he just seems to be a vampire like, every other year

jigen:

he can have a little fun with it if he so chooses. depends on the weather, literally. if the air is crisp and the leaves are pretty and falling all nicely where they’re currently stationed for some heist or something, he’ll get in a autumny mood, but if it’s already gotten too cold, or worse, it’s still hot, then yeah he’s not super impressed

dude lowkey adores the excuse to startle people. if they actually handed out candy and shit he’d absolutely pretend to be a halloween prop sitting on the porch only to move when someone reaches for the candy bowl and tries to take two. and then he laughs so obnoxiously loudly about it that the next like five batches of kids aren’t even phased. don’t worry. a fresh, unsuspecting pack will arrive soon enough.

costume: again boring, usual answer is a werewolf. look at that beard dude he LOOKS like a werewolf!! but he could have fun with like a zombie getup, or maybe like a stereotypical 20’s mafia type. he can even wear the same hat and keep smoking, but it’s INSISTED that he get the pinstripe suit too

fujiko:

“haha, don’t you think that’s a little juvenile for me?” frankly no i don’t is cuz that a fucking bedazzled jason voorhees mask on your front door??

she’s not exactly breaking into spirit halloween, pulling out the mummy cakepops and shit, but like lupin, she loves an excuse go dress up, she just… keeps it a little more reasonable than he does

on the night of, she probably goes to like, one party, then when she’s inevitably disappointed by it, she goes home and pops in like rocky horror or something. it’s halloweeny enough

costume: NO DOUBLEDIPPING!! NEVER! she’s gone as everything reasonably attainable under the sun, so long as it doesn’t cover her lovely face up. she likes having unique costumes, but the actual ooak costume making process with the sewing machine and everything didn't really work out for her the one time she tried, so she’ll either bring together different pieces to pull it off or use some poor schmuck’s money to get one made for herself. she has fun with it!!

goemon:

doesn’t FEEL the hype but GETS it. understands it from an outsider standpoint. he knows his company well, and he understands why it appeals to them. before meeting them, he probably saw fall as a calm time of year. lmao. lol even.

really the only one i can reasonably see handing out candy in a normal, pleasant fashion. firmly insists the child may take one. but maybe they can pick a second one, since they were so polite. and maybe a third as well since they clearly put love into their costume, and it IS a bit chilly tonight-- BUT NO MORE! 

costume: guy’s already dressed like this, put some white face paint on him and ring his eyes with purple and you have your spooky long-deceased spirit of the damned. ooouuouuouuu scary! the others try to throw less generic ones at him time to time, but he doesn’t like anything TOO wacky, and need he remind you he doesn’t HAVE to partake in the festivities, so maybe he’ll be a jedi for ONE year, count it, ONE singular year, but that’s IT

zenigata:

for such a tough guy he’s very easily startled! he recovers easy but god is he sick of those stupid motion activated animatronics. he’d rather eat phillips head screws soaked in vinegar than go to a haunted house

that said his favorite parts are easily the costumes and snacks. which. duh that’s everyone’s favorite but he really is content just hanging back and looking at what other people have come up with! even if it’s common it’s fun to like. tally how many elsa’s are out there. the food, of course, is self explanatory. he may be one of the few people left on earth who immediately associate candy apples with halloween. also makes a beeline for the monster cereal the minute september hits ITS A CUTE THEME OKAY!! BOOBERRY JUST TASTES GOOD

costume: may have to be bribed into it. it’s not that he hates the fun. like i said, he thinks the costumes are cute, but he feels like it’d be too silly for him to really go out of his way getting dressed up. this of course is patently bullshit almost nothing is “too silly” for this fucker and it’s not too hard to convince him to do some bullshit. otherwise he just looks like he’s going as columbo and inspector gadget’s fused clone. 

#i haven't even watched ghostbusters yet. i gotta get on top of my shit dude #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata

[katy-l1988]

No good deed goes unpunished

Chapter 1: Mirror, mirror...

The starry night hung over Roses; the silence was so profound that the gentle waves crashing against the shores were perceptible. The dreams of the town were cradled by the night breeze, carrying a soft murmur of hope. In the midst of that tranquility, the queen stood, looking out her window at the starry sky. She remained there, under the silver moonlight, her gaze lost in the vastness of the cosmos. Her thoughts seemed to blend with the gentle glow of the stars, and a mix of melancholy and determination shone in her eyes. Amaya sighed deeply, toying with the ring she had not yet taken off—a symbol of a promise made over 20 years ago, a tie to a past that, though distant, still resonated within her.

   Amaya turned to her bed, observing it with a mix of melancholy and wariness. The days had passed without her surrendering to restful sleep. The bed, once a warm refuge after hours of arduous labor in the kingdom, now seemed like an empty and uninhabited space. A sigh escaped her lips as she sat on the edge, feeling the weight of loneliness in her soul. Amaya ran her hand through her now loose hair, further disheveling it in the wind. The mirror reflected a tired woman with dark circles, evidence of sleepless nights and tormenting thoughts. These moments of introspection made her question the weight of her decisions, whether this was what she had wanted or if she had just been carried away.

   She stood up, intending to tidy up her appearance. However, as she looked into the mirror, she was confronted with the figure of Magnifico, his laughter echoing in her mind like a persistent echo. Those green eyes, once so familiar, observed her from the glass. Magnifico's laughter intertwined with the room's silence, and the darkness of that reflection seemed to envelop her. The weight of that presence, even if it was just an illusion, was overwhelming. Desperate and filled with dread, Amaya reacted impulsively. With determination, she threw the mirror to the ground, shattering the image that now haunted her nightmares. The sound of the fracture resonated throughout the castle, catching the attention of the loyal Asha, who quickly rushed to the scene.

   "My queen!" she shouted, sending a shiver down Amaya's spine. "Are you...are you alright?" She was out of breath from the sprint up the stairs.

   Amaya nodded, trying to regain composure as she observed the shattered pieces of the mirror scattered on the floor. Her trembling hand rested on her chest, as if trying to calm the accelerated beat of her heart.

   "I'm fine, Asha. It was just... an accident," Amaya murmured, averting her gaze from the remains of the mirror.

   Asha approached cautiously, concern reflected in her eyes. She picked up some pieces of the mirror, trying not to cut herself on the sharp edges.

   "Do you need anything, my queen?" Asha asked.

   "To start, stop calling me that," Amaya responded, her sweet tone suddenly transforming, not escaping the notice of the young woman. Amaya, sensing the concern in Asha's eyes, realized that her reaction had been a bit harsh. She sighed and apologized with a softer tone.

   "I'm sorry, Asha. You shouldn't have to deal with the consequences of my outbursts."

   "Don't worry, Majesty. If there's anything I can help with, just let me know."

   "Thank you, dear, and please, just call me Amaya."

   "I'm sorry, but I can't no matter how much you ask." The look Asha gave Amaya triggered a swift memory that brought tears to her eyes. The young woman clearly became a bit flustered at this, apologizing repeatedly and kneeling at Amaya's feet.

   "Oh, goodness, Asha." She continued to apologize. "Asha!"

   "Yes, sorry... I mean, ugh." Amaya counted to a hundred before forcing a smile.

   "Look, why don't you go to the kitchen and make some tea? In the meantime, I'll take a short walk, and then if you want, you can join me."

   "Yes, of course!" Asha quickly ran to her destination.

   Amaya decided that a horse ride would be the perfect way to release tension and enjoy the quiet of the night. She headed to the castle stables, where loyal steeds awaited, eager to carry their queen through the paths that crisscrossed the fields of Roses. An elegant white mare named Iruna was Amaya's choice for the nocturnal ride. With grace and skill, she mounted the saddle still in her pajamas, adjusting the reins with familiarity. Iruna neighed softly, recognizing the queen's presence. Together, they set off towards the harbor, following the winding paths that ventured into the nocturnal landscape.

   The moonlight illuminated the path, creating dancing shadows on the trees and highlighting the delicate colors of the flowers lining the way. The fresh breeze caressed Amaya's face as they moved with elegance. The queen allowed herself to get lost in the serenity of the moment, letting her thoughts drift away from the worries of the castle. The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed in the night, creating harmony with the whisper of the wind through the tree leaves. As they approached the harbor, the scent of the sea blended with the night's freshness. The lights from the boats and stars reflected on the waters created a charming scene. Amaya stopped at the harbor viewpoint, watching the waves sway with a sense of calm.

   "And to think that years ago, this was just an island, just... an island. Oh, how we've aged!" Amaya said with a warm tone while stroking the mare's neck. Iruna neighed in annoyance. "Oh, don't worry, Iruna! I didn't mean to offend you."

   In the distance, in the dark expanse of the ocean, several yellowish lights flickered on the horizon. Amaya, paying close attention, distinguished voices floating in the night air. She mounted Iruna, determined to find out what was happening, and set off. As she got closer, some voices became more audible, revealing hurried conversations and tense whispers. She peeked behind some bushes, terror filling her as she saw a group of soldiers disembarking from small boats. But that wasn't all. Amaya's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the shield the soldiers carried—it was the same one that had murdered Magnifico's family years ago, the same ones who had made his life impossible. From her hiding spot, she watched as the men gave instructions. They were heading straight to Roses.

   The clip-clop of Iruna's hooves echoed in the air as Amaya prepared to return to the village and alert its inhabitants about the imminent threat. However, in an unexpected turn, a small mouse appeared from the bushes, causing a nervous neigh from the mare. Iruna's sudden reaction drew the attention of the soldiers who had just landed.

   "Calm down, Iruna!" Amaya exclaimed, trying to appease the mare while attempting to stay calm. However, it was too late; the men, aware of Amaya's presence, turned their gaze towards her.

   "After her!" shouted one of the soldiers, pointing in Amaya's direction. The tranquility of the night shattered with the urgency of the pursuit, and Amaya, in a race against time, spurred Iruna to escape her pursuers.

   Amaya's hurried arrival at the village was announced by the urgent sound of the emergency bell, resonating in the stillness of the night. The surprised and worried inhabitants emerged from their homes to discover the source of the alarm. Riding Iruna, Amaya positioned herself in the center of the main square, where the bell continued its incessant tolling.

   "People of Roses!" Amaya exclaimed firmly, seeking the attention of the citizens gathering around her. "Enemy soldiers have landed on our shores! We cannot face them directly. Everyone, head to the forest and stay hidden!"

   The faces of the villagers reflected a mix of surprise and concern. Some murmurs of unease spread through the crowd, but after the initial shock, they quickly dispersed to follow their queen's instructions. Amaya, with urgency in her actions, rode back to the palace. She left Iruna at the entrance to wait for her, and she made her way through the kitchen to the interiors of her home. Asha was there, and she had fallen asleep with the teapot about to explode.

   "Asha, wake up!" She shook her and, without giving her further explanations about what was happening, instructed, "Go to the tower and secure the cursed book. Do it carefully; we don't want you to end up like Magnifico. Then, help the village take refuge in the forest. Go quickly!"

   Asha, though bewildered, nodded with determination and hurried towards the tower. She knew the situation was serious, and every action she took would have a crucial impact on Roses' safety. Meanwhile, Amaya descended to the dungeons, where the former king Magnifico lay imprisoned in the mirror. The place was plunged into darkness, only illuminated by the dim light of flickering torches. Standing in front of the mirror containing Magnifico, Amaya looked at him with a mix of resentment and determination. Her husband's mocking laughter echoed in the dark cell, but she didn't let herself be intimidated; she just took the small mirror containing Magnifico.

   "We need to go," she said without further ado.

   "Oh, did the queen of perfection forget her manners? One greets when not seen for days!"

   "Ugh, there's no time for this; the Oscadians found us." Magnifico's expression shifted from mockery to surprise.

   "W-What?" His tone of confusion revealed that, for the first time, Magnifico was disoriented. Amaya, with a firm step, began to move away from the dungeons, having hung the mirror from her waist.

   "How did they know we were here?" Magnifico asked, trying to maintain his composure as the situation became more urgent. "I built the kingdom here to stay off the map."

   "That doesn't matter now. We need to find a safe place and assess the situation." Amaya kept her gaze forward.

   The knocks echoed above, indicating that they had invaded the palace. Magnifico, despite his past, worried about Amaya. As the woman ran, the king couldn't help his mocking nature.

   "Do you remember the times you used to call me 'my king'? Oh, how I miss those days." Amaya, between labored breaths, rolled her eyes.

   "Now is not the time, Nico."

   "Always so serious, my queen. But seriously, be careful, treasure. I don't want you to get hurt."

   Amaya, reaching the hall, found the Oscadians tearing everything apart in their path. The trail of destruction left by the invaders resonated in the queen's heart and surprisingly, even in Magnifico's. Despite their differences, that palace was the home they shared for many years, and seeing it turned into a battlefield awakened a strange melancholy in both of them. Amaya tightly squeezed the small mirror containing Magnifico, as if seeking some kind of support amid the chaos. Magnifico's gaze hardened as he observed the destruction, although his thoughts were as enigmatic as ever.

   "You better step back, love," Magnifico told Amaya with a hint of irony amid the chaos. However, just as he retreated, Amaya collided with one of the invaders. The man, without hesitation, grabbed her hair forcefully and dragged her towards the others, while Magnifico lay in the mirror, helpless in the situation.

   "Let me go!" Amaya shouted, struggling to free herself, but the Oscadian's strength was overwhelming. Magnifico, from his confinement in the mirror, shot a furious look at the man who had Amaya under control.

   The man lifted her as if she were a feather, showcasing her in front of his colleagues as if she were a conquered prey.

   "Look at the beauty I found. How about we enjoy her company for a while?" he suggested with a lecherous smile. Amaya, far from staying still, reacted with a quick and accurate blow, kicking him in a desperate attempt to free herself. The man, furious at the insolence, let her go, but instead of stepping back, he caught her arm again with even more force, tearing her dress in the process.

   "Leave my wife, you damn idiot!" Magnifico shouted from the mirror, arousing the invaders' curiosity.

   "Who said that?" The man saw the glint of the glass, snatching it from Amaya's waist. "Is it true? The great magician our king told us about is locked up!"

   The bandits' attention now focused on the small mirror holding the banished king. Magnifico, despite his precarious situation, didn't hesitate to take advantage of the situation.

   "Yes, yes, it's me, the incomparable Magnifico. And the woman you're hurting is my wife!" Magnifico's voice resonated with pride, although his crystal prison kept him powerless.

   Amaya's sudden recognition as the queen caused an unexpected change in the atmosphere of the hall. The bandits, initially focused on looting and causing havoc, were momentarily stunned. They didn't expect to encounter the monarch of Roses amid the chaos.

   Amaya, taking advantage of the momentary confusion, stood up with as much dignity as possible despite the circumstances. The expression on her face reflected a mix of determination and challenge.

   "The queen?" one of the bandits mumbled, squinting as he observed her. "I didn't think a queen could be so... beautiful. We're lucky to have stumbled upon the jewel of Roses."

   The bandits exchanged glances, assessing the situation. Although the initial goal was to plunder the palace, the idea of taking the queen as a trophy to Oscardia seemed more tempting. The leader approached Amaya with a possessive attitude.

   "You'll be a valuable addition to the King's collection, my dear queen. And your 'incomparable' Magnifico will help us conquer distant lands," he chuckled sarcastically. "Don't worry, I won't separate you from him."

   The situation turned darker when the bandits decided to take Amaya as their prized booty. The queen of Roses was forced to move forward, surrounded by men with disturbing intentions. Although her resistance was noticeable, the numerical superiority of the bandits limited her options. As she was escorted through the streets of Roses, Amaya sensed a subtle sound of footsteps behind them, along with a glowing wand. Asha, who had been helping the last people evacuate to the forest, was following their trail. Amaya glanced for a brief second, locking eyes with the young woman, conveying a message: "Don't do anything."

   Arriving at the forest, Amaya seized the opportunity and dropped the mirror into the bushes, giving Asha a slight indication to retrieve it later when there was no danger. From a distance, Asha watched as they loaded Amaya onto a boat and headed for the ship. The queen, aware of Asha's gaze, gave her a reassuring smile, as if wanting to convey a message of trust. The young woman stayed in the shadow of the trees, witnessing Amaya's departure with fear.

   After a few minutes, Asha ventured into the bushes following Amaya's indication, finding the mirror and, consequently, Magnifico complaining about everything.

   "What did she do?" Asha asked, despite everything, addressing Magnifico formally.

   "And what do you think I could do? I'm trapped in a mirror," Magnifico replied with his characteristic sarcastic tone, but this time with a hint of helplessness. "You can't blame me for everything." Magnifico tried to maintain his usual mocking tone, but his eyes reflected genuine concern.

   "Don't give me excuses. I know somehow this is related to you," Asha crossed her arms, showing her determination. Magnifico sighed, a rare gesture for him.

   "You might be smarter than you seem. But believe me, right now, even I am worried about what might happen. Amaya is very important to me." His tone revealed a strange mix of sincerity and bewilderment.

   "You tried to kill her in front of everyone!"

   "If I wanted to kill her, this story would be very different," Magnifico replied with a more serious tone than usual, as if he genuinely regretted the situation they were in. "She is everything to me, Asha. I can't let anything bad happen to her."

   The girl frowned, skeptical. "I don't know if I can believe you."

   "I understand. My track record is not exactly the best. But if there's something I care about right now, it's Amaya. I'll do whatever it takes to help her, even if it means working together." Asha remained silent for a moment, evaluating his words.

   "Fine, let's do it. But make it clear, I don't trust you."

   "Yes, yes, yes...no need to repeat it. " Magnifico smiled sarcastically, but in his eyes, there was a spark of genuine desire to help.

   The news of the attack on Roses and the kidnapping of their beloved queen spread like a dark shadow throughout the town. The rumor, like a restless wind, reached every corner, penetrating homes and causing worried whispers among the inhabitants. The streets, once filled with life and laughter, now echoed with the sound of unease and uncertainty. In the squares and the taverns that were lit up again, faces turned serious, reflecting the concern that gripped every heart. Hands clung to the edges of tables, and conversations dwindled into hushed murmurs.

   The news that the Oscadians, an unknown enemy that had remained in the shadows, had kidnapped their beloved leader, hit Roses like a cold shower. In the central square, where so many celebrations and festivities had taken place, now reigned a heavy silence. The statue of the queen, which used to be the pride of the town, stood in the shadows, a silent witness to the anguish that enveloped Roses.

   Asha's call echoed in the square, breaking the silence that surrounded Roses. Her determination was palpable, and her words ignited a spark of hope in the hearts of those who had gathered to listen.

   "We can't stand idly by while our queen is in danger," declared Asha firmly, looking at the worried faces around her. "I'm going to find her and bring her back, but I can't do it alone. I need your help, the strength of our community. Who joins me on this mission?"

   The initial responses were timid, some murmurs of uncertainty lingered in the air. However, gradually, voices rose in support of Asha. The young woman's friends, who had known her for years, were the first to express their willingness to join the cause.

   "Count me in, Asha!" exclaimed Bazeema, raising her voice like never before.

   Gabo, with his usual sarcastic tone, added, "I might regret this, but I don't like the idea of letting Oscardia get away with it."

   "If we're going to face it, we'll do it together," Dahlia said with a smile. "Besides, Simon knows how to wield a sword."

   The group of friends joined, each offering their support in a unique way. The hustle and bustle of the port accompanied the commotion on the ship as it prepared to set sail. Asha was on board with the others, ready to embark on the dangerous journey to Oscardia. However, tension gripped everyone when suddenly Magnifico's voice resonated unexpectedly, interrupting the bustling activity around them.

   "Ah, the sweet melody of freedom!" exclaimed Magnifico, almost with a mocking tone, as he emerged from Asha's bag.

   "Shh! Shut up!" The reaction was immediate. Confused looks turned towards Asha, and some uneasy whispers began circulating among those present.

   "Why do you bring that thing with you?" Gabo, always ready to express his opinion, was the first to speak.

   Asha, trying to handle the situation, quickly responded, "I had no other choice. We don't know when it might be useful."

   Incredulous stares persisted. The mere fact that Magnifico was present, when no one else was supposed to know of his existence, created an atmosphere of fear and confusion on the ship. Some began to step back, showing signs of nervousness, while others murmured among themselves, trying to understand the true nature of the connection between Asha and the imprisoned Magnifico.

   "Calm down, I can't harm you," he added with a sarcastic laugh, as if he enjoyed the confusion he sowed around him. "If I could, you would have already had nightmares."

   Asha, trying to maintain composure, addressed her friends and the rest of the crew.

   "We need the information he has," she assured, trying to reassure those present.

   "And what information can this charlatan have?" Simon added, still harboring resentment for the suffering he endured.

   "If you want to save Amaya and defeat those Oscadians, you'll need my knowledge," Magnifico added, adopting a more serious tone. "Besides, I don't think you want to keep me locked up forever. Sooner or later, you'll require my power."

   "Alright, but one wrong move, and I assure you, you'll regret it," Dahlia threatened.

   Magnifico smiled satisfactorily, knowing that, although his freedom was limited, he had managed to secure a crucial role in the upcoming events. The ship finally sailed, leaving behind the shores of Roses and heading towards the unknown territory of Oscardia.

#queen amaya #magnifico x amaya #king magnifico #magnifico #fanfic #wish 2023 #wish movie #disney wish #wish disney #wish

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Abominable

Wow I can't believe Dreamworks made their own version of Up but without the Dead Wife and Flying House and with a Yeti instead of a colorful bird

Anyway, this movie was kind of a mystery to me going in, because I swear to god I've never heard anyone ever talk about this, so I had no idea what to expect out of it. As for what I got, well... it was... actually pretty ok! So let's get into it.

After the death of her father, teenager Yi has grown distant from her family and her friends, Jin and his younger cousin Peng. That is, until she happens upon an escaped yeti, eventually named Everest, after she decides to help the creature get back to his home on Mount Everest, roping Peng and Jin along for the trip. All the while, they're being chased by the wealthy collector Mr. Burnish and zoologist Dr. Zara, who are determined to recapture the yeti and put it on display.

So yeah, a pretty simple "get mysterious creature back to where they belong" plot that we've seen in plenty of other movies in the past. The movie does kind of fumble over more than a few cliches when it comes to that plot, and the characters, for the most part, are a bit too simple and one-note for my liking. The tone is also a little strange, with some weird humor mixed in with often heavy-handed attempts at whimsy and drama. The pacing is also kind of strange? I don't know how to explain it but something is... off about the way this film presents its story and I can't... seem to articulate why.

As for the characters, like I said, they're all pretty simple. I feel like Yi is a little confusing and doesn't really have a clear character arc? Like she just decides to help Everest almost immediately after meeting him? Like literally just travel across China on a whim??? What? I get she's an impulsive teenager but still, bruh, that's just wacky. Peng is your typical hyperactive kid character, and he grated on the nerves a handful of times. Out of our main human trio, I think Jin is the best, he's a pretty funny character who goes through an actual arc, starting off as a tech-obsessed stick in the mud before learning to enjoy the journey alongside the others. Everest is also just... your typical cute creature cliche? He doesn't have a ton in the way of a personality and he has these powers that are kind of just... whatever the plot needs them to be? Like deus-ex-machina yeti fr fr out here.

Our villians are... surprisingly interesting! We start off thinking Mr. Burnish is our greedy big bad capitalist when, surprise! Dr. Zara actually is instead and I love her cause she goes from zero to 100 so fast and yeah, she's a twist villian cliche but I don't care because she kind of a baddie there I said it.

As for presentation, this movie is honestly gorgeous. Like seriously, it is so damn pretty to look at. The set pieces are so vibrant and colorful and the scale of them is awe-inspiring. The character designs felt kind of weird to me at first, burt I grew used to them as the film went along, and they're animated very nicely. There's a lot of scenes in this movie that were clearly just Dreamworks flexing, and you know what? I'm not gonna fault them for it. They're beautiful.

Something else that's beautiful about this movie is its score. Yi plays the violin and that actually becomes a major plot point throughout the film and every time she picks that instrument up, we get some truly soulful, beautiful pieces. This soundtrack is nowhere near as memorable as something like HTTYD's but its still absolutely lovely in its own right, I think.

So yeah, Abominable was one of the more surprising movies of the Dreamworks watch. I kept forgetting I would even have to eventually watch it until now, but I think, for what it is, it's ok. I wouldn't call it great, but I wouldn't call it terrible either. It's a perfectly servicable film about a bunch of kids and a yeti going on a cross-country adventure. And sometimes, that's all ya need.

Overall Rating: 6/10

Verdict: Evil Unetical Scientists Can Be Hot Sometimes, Actually

Previous Review (How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World)

Next Review (Trolls World Tour)

#jen watches #dreamworks watch #yeah back to this shit finally #jen tortures herself with every dreamworks animated movie ever #abominable

[inscryptions]

ー You have received a gift from Santa Lumine.

"I hope you enjoy this small, but delicious gift. Paimon and I worked very hard to make them!" - The word 'Paimon and' were clearly added by the pixie in question herself in pink marker, when in reality, it was the Traveler herself who did most of the work.

Inside the small box were a handful of homemade sugar cookies - with a hint of cinnamon added for extra holiday flavor. Alhaitham is a simple man, which made it tricky to come up with a fun shape - especially since she already made book-shaped cookies for a certain novel writer from Liyue. So instead they are a basic diamond shape, reminiscent of his elemental skill.

Note: This is UNRELATED to the Secret Santa event, I simply want to spread the holiday love. <3

Trust the Traveler to think of something so altruistic and personalized, I think as I gaze at the contents of the box. The sweet almond scent of the cookies wafts up, reminiscent of baklava or candied ajilenakh, mixed with the lightest note of cinnamon. Picking one of the topmost pieces, I take a moment to admire the straight edges and the choice of turquoise and green in the sprinkles, before taking a bite.

My mouth fills with the taste of almonds, mint, and sugar, the perfect amount of sweet complemented with the creamy frosting and crunchy nuts. It's good. Lumine and Paimon have done an excellent job, especially with how little the cookie crumbles in my hand. These will make a great reading snack over this holiday season, though I'll have to pace myself if I want them to last that long. I might have to hide them in my desk, however, both this one and the one at home in my study. (Actually, that last one is a terrible idea given a certain architect will inevitably find them and complain about it. No thank you, I'd rather enjoy these by myself in peace. Or I could just lock the drawer I put them in.) I take another bite of the cookie, savoring the taste.

Well, now I'm in the mood for a cup of tea and a good book. The cookies will round out my little reading session nicely... now where was that Mond tome I was studying?

#🌿 inquiry form received (asks). #🌿 inteyvat outlander (lumine). #lightcffireflies #//these are so cute!! alhaitham thanks thee for the sweet treat

[thewholecrew]

@deathvisited said:  SPOTS TO KISS + 49. a kiss on the inner thigh. / kassy & callum.

     kassy had been visiting callum more often now, enjoying the uncovering of her more nerdier side she hadn’t quite endulged in a while. they’d continued watching attack on titan until she noticed he had stardew valley and they’d swapped to playing that instead. it was honestly more relaxing than she remembered, just playing a cozy game cuddled up together on the couch with a coffee. they had planned out what they wanted to do with their farm and while callum seemed very determined, kassy found herself just wandering, picking up flowers and random fruit while he listed off facts about the game.

     her gaze left the tv to glance over at him, watching with adoration until he realized and trailed off, face flushing practically immediately. kassy couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “don’t apologize,” she said as she lowered her controller, “it’s cute.” slowly, she shifted, moving closer to him as she reached out to cup his cheek, thumb grazing along the soft skin as her dark brown eyes dropped from his shy hazel ones to his lips. a lazy smile spread across her own as he bit into his before she leaned in closing the space between them and capture his mouth with hers. it was a slow, tender, teasing kiss at first, only meant to distract him from the game before her hand searched blindly to take the remote now held loosely in his hands.

     setting it aside, her hands smoothed down his chest to his hips, urging him into her lap. as he moved to obey, a hand raised to cup his face once again as she deepened the kiss, teeth then sinking into that soft, plump bottom lip of his. the noise she earned from him had goosebumps rise across her skin, free hand sliding up under his shirt to drag her nails tantalizingly along as much skin as she could reach, smoothing across his back as she pulled him closer against her. with the game forgotten to them both now, a pleased hum escaped at his reactions before breaking the kiss to give them both a moment to catch their breath. she smiled up at him, gaze a mixture of lust and adoration as her hand pet through his hair. “so cute i clearly can’t help myself,” she teased though she doubted he even remembered what she was referencing.

     the flushed cheeks, the hungry, needy, haze in his eyes, the soft panting and now touseled hair had her smile grow and heart squeeze in her chest. he really was too damn adorable for his own good -- it was a wonder how they could do anything without her pulling him into her lap or pinning him down to have her way with him. leaning in, she kissed him softly again, lips teasing as her hands worked at his jeans, palming the arousal she could feel. lips curled into a smirk as he gasped against her mouth, unzipping his jeans before shifting longwise on the couch. “lay back,” she urged him, firm hand gently pushing him back before hovering over him as he looked up at her with complete and utter trust and she couldn’t help but kiss him again.

     “good boy,” she whispered with a smile against his lips before she shifted down his body, tugging his jeans down and discarding them. it was then she paused as sudden and unexpected emotion caught in her throat witnessing the scars that lined along his thighs, peeking from under his briefs. “callum...” she whispered softly as he squirmed. he had nothing to be ashamed of but her heart hurt for him. these were done in a deliberate manner and she’d heard bits and pieces of his past. of the mistreatment but since their first session she hadn’t seen them. hands smoothed over his thighs, watching as he seemed torn between the pleasure and embarrassment. fingers hooked in the top of his briefs as she looked at him, “may i?” she asked softly, watching as he hesitated a moment before nodding. 

     as she slowly tugged them down she noticed the burned name along his hip bone and she gasped quietly, dark eyes shimmering with a tightly coiled mix of sympathy and rage. “my poor darling boy...” she said softly. how could someone do this to him? fingers lightly brush over the burned skin before she leaned in, petting along the scars on his thighs. “no one will ever treat you in this way ever again,” she swore to him before placing gentle, tender kisses along the sensitive skin. she spoke soft praise as she kissed his scars, wanting him to know she thought no differently of him nor his body because of them. if anything it only had her growing more protective of him and as she left her own marks on the skin of his inner thighs, marks of passion made by her mouth and pulling pleasure from him as her free hand slid up along the couch to find and hold tight to his own. 

#deathvisited #verse: modern. #kassy & callum. #kassy harwell: answered ask. #SPICY TAG. #:'))) #finally finishing this drafted meme 10 years later

[ihopeineverloseyou19]

Salt Water

"I want to talk about what happened without mentioning how much it hurt. There has to be a way. To care for the wounds without reopening them. To rename the pain without inviting it back to me. 'If theres a way out, ill take it, Lora Mathis"

tw: Biref mentions of abuse, death, descriptions of beatings/scars

Words: 2,7k

He laid in bed awake, sweat dripping down his neck as his breathing slowed down. Aaron had practiced since he could remember how to be invisible even when he was in the room. He was not allowed to occupate space and much less when his father was present in the room. And now. Now he did not know what to do when his mother softly knocked on his bedroom door. It was strange the first time it happened. Because it was not a normal occurrence. Nobody came to wake him up. He was supposed to be out of the house before his father walked into the kitchen with his first coffee. 

As his mother once told him 'It's good that you have always been a quiet boy'. He was seven years olds when she told him that. He remembered that day so clearly, it was his first day of being a 'big boy' as his mother had said. Aaron hadn't remembered seeing her so overjoyed in his seven years of life. So when she said that phrase he was smiling. After turning eight his mother would stop accompanying him to the bus stop. She needed more time inside the bathroom she shared with her husband, to make herself presentable with the make up. It didn't matter that her child repeated to her that she was beautiful without it. 

But what Aaron failed to see, was that she did not applied because she was feeling prettier that way. No, the makeup in his house had another job to hide. He was growing up. He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was capable enough to do it on his own. Then he turned eight and everything changed. His routine changed. He understood then why his mother bought makeup every time they went to the store. It would go that far, that some times, when the bruises in his face did not heal rapidly his mother had to apply it to him. When that happened and a teacher saw him with concealer she called his parents. His father appeared, tailored suit and a big goofy smile plastered on his face as he explained the situation 'he is a clumsy boy, hit his head with a wall when he wasn't looking', the story was partly true, he did not see the shove at the wall coming where his father had pressed his hand before a couple of slaps with the belt happened on his back. Then he finished with a punch into his head, knocking him out, which caused him to fall in one of the glass pieces of the previous bottle that had been thrown his way.

 His family changed. But most importantly he never saw his mother smile at him. Or at anyone. Until Sean. Nothing really changed really. He was still wearing makeup, this time less concealer, learning more excuses, he did not get picked out on gym classes much because of the notes his father wrote put to his teacher. At least he was considerate enough that he did not make him suffer too much outside of home. Or maybe he was just protecting himself from being caught. It was when Sean was merely a few months old and they were opening his birthday presents that he asked, noticing a piece of clothing he never saw before, 'what's that?' Referring to the cute sleeveless shirt and shorts that the baby received. His aunt answered, thinking that he was joking, 'Those are summer clothes, silly', he was content with the answer.

 Later that night, after the bath he asked his mother, in the silence of the bathroom a sticky atmosphere that was mixed with the warm of the water mixed by blood running through his still fresh cuts, whispering slowly a question that was not letting him be, 'why don't I own any summer clothes?'. His mother stopped cleaning his back, that was with some fresh new cuts above older ones that trailed down his son's spine. None of them was really deep, not enough to cause stitches but yes to bleed. Consequently causing that burning sensation he learned to adore. 'Big boys don't need those types of clothes, look at your father, he always wears his suits, maybe you can be like him when you grow up' his mother nearly threw up when the words were out of her mouth. She could not imagine his child, sweet Aaron being anything like Adam. 'I don't think I want to be like him'. That night, he made a promise to himself, to never be like his father. He was good and not bad the way his father reasoned for his hard strikes with the belt, he had a favorite for it. He needed to buy new ones frequently because the old ones were losing their original color. Aaron thinks that it might be the blood, mixed by his father's sweat. Something destructive. 

The force of how the door opened widely made him sit up in alarm, six months have passed since someone for the first time asked him permission to enter his room. But there was Sean, seven years old and he still had not lost his chubby cheeks. He was a loud kid, something that his father did not really mind, but Aaron was the completely opposite of him. Maybe it was just the way Aaron was that his father hated. No. It would be impossible because he had to hate his mother too. But his mother claimed that, yes, he loved her dearly. He thought, early on in life, that his father had a different way to show them and Sean love, 'It's his own way, everybody shows love differently', his mother claimed when he asked her that when he saw him smile at Sean. He never really made him feel like he was valued. Never looked proud of him. 

What brings him to this, Sean pinching the bridge of his nose to wake him up. Aaron's eyes fluttered open and blue eyes looked at him intensely. 

'Mom says breakfast is ready' Sean announced before running back downstairs, with his bedroom opened, he can smell different flavors. Another new thing, eating together, for him was more like eating breakfast, he never really ate anything until lunch while he was in school. His stomach always seemed to be turning around every time he was in the presence of his home. Going into the bathroom before his mother called for him again, he cleaned his face with cold water, taking the sweat off a little and breathing deeply while he watched himself in the mirror. He looked healthier in a way he had not since he had been seven, his skin color was changing, he liked to think that his body was healing. Six months. Six months. 182 days, since his father died, that was the amount of days he had not been hit or smashed against a wall when he crossed paths with him.

It was at breakfast when he decided that this day was strange, he was eating little pieces of a warm toast that was made for him, this could not last, he reminded himself as he ate slowly, savoring its taste in case it would be the last time. But what made this nearly drop the toast was his mother's statement, 'we are going to the beach'. He stopped eating and looked up towards his mother, who was seated across from him, she was wearing a flower dress. Something she had purchased recently. Sean babbled excitedly as he devoured his breakfast and ran to his room to change. 'I don't own a bathsuit' Aaron declared as he helped his mother clean up the cups and plates, his mother nodded knowingly and smiled at him, 'that's why we are going to pass through Target on the way'.

Shopping for bathsuits was not as easy as he thought, there were too many sizes and colors, models which the sales-shopper explained to him, he was confused with so many options. He was surprised that he could even choose something for himself. He was 17. But never had the power to decide what he wanted. His mother had been the one to buy his clothes while he babysat his baby brother. Because they did not have the necessary money to get a nanny. His father made enough to keep them comfortable, but not enough for his son to go out with people his age since he spent most of his extra cash on alcohol or new belts.

 His mother looked at him, waiting patiently and sometimes looking up to Sean who was playing with other kids on the playing little corner the shop included, 'which ones do you want?' She asked him, voice calm, low and warm, Aaron didn't remember being spoken like that in so long. He strug and pointed at a simple one, a green swim shorts that had a print of palm trees. But his mother was watching him as his eyes went over another pair, a blue tie-dye one, she smiled sadly at the action and called the salesman over, who had gone to help another client, 'we will take those two'. Aaron's eyes widened, he did not know that he was allowed to choose more than one, but nonetheless he gave her a smile. The worker didn't notice the silent communication between mother and son, if he noticed it, he did not mutter something other than, ' would you like me to help you with something more Ma'am?'. Aaron was glad that they were finally finishing their sporadic shopping trip, the clear white lights were starting to cause him a headache. The thought went out of the window when his mother responded, pointing towards his oldest son, 'he needs some summer clothes' she explained the cashier as they walked before him, 'he is growing up and the ones he had don't fit him anymore, my boy can't walk around with those clothes in this heat'. The reality of it was that he was accustomed to being around heat or even high temperatures with long sleeves, he had done it all his life. 

Looking into the shop's mirror he felt strange, he never felt his skin bare, without counting the showers and baths he takes occasionally to clean out the sweat that he always seems to have everyday. His eyes followed the cut on the shirt where the fabric stopped, he felt rare with skin exposed, that normally was covered,more so when his mother was waiting for him on the other side of the changing rooms. He heard her cough, before asking him once again, 'does that fit you sweetheart?'. She never directed towards him with lovely pet names, it was the only time she had used one with him. Sean on the other times was growing up to hate being babied. Whereas Aaron was soaking up the moment. So many things were changing. There were no bad things since his father died in front of him. He likes to think that it was the guilt which caused him that heart attack while he was about to use the belt once more, that time in his front part. Maybe locking eyes with him made that, one moment they locked eyes. The next moment he closed his eyes and everything stopped. Seconds after he heard a thump, his father had fallen to the floor beside him, quietly pleading for help. But Aaron had maintained his posture until he was sure that he was not breathing anymore. He never told no one, ran towards his mother, who was startled when she saw his son out of the basement without his husband strolling upstairs first. She called an ambulance, but he was dead by the time they arrived. 

Aaron shook his head as he took the clothes off, tracing one of his scars across his stomach, the last one he had at the hands of his father. A reminder that he was still here. Alive, putting back his clothes he broke the barrier that separated him with his mother, the teenager nodded as he gave his mother the pair of summer clothes he had chosen. His mother went again to search the salesperson, telling him that, 'we are going to need another outfit like those, maybe four more', the worker nodded happily to assist and went looking for more. 

Sean tugged on his brother's trousers, he was bored and had painted two of the coloring papers that were in the pile on the table, on the kids little playground, he waited until he had his attention before whining, 'when are we going to go to the beach'. The seven year old felt tired and bored, there were no more kids to play with, which made him look for his mother and brother who were taking too much shopping for clothes. Before Aaron could respond his mother beat him to it, 'In a moment, I only have to pay for this and we will finish'. 

The beach was packed by the time the family of three arrived, with Sean instantly running off after they placed the towels on the sand, claiming that he saw some friends, he was going to play. Aaron took a seat in his brand new beach equipment, he never really had anything like this, the few occasions their father had driven them to the beach he just used Sean’s towel wherever he ran away with his father to play, while his mother and him stayed in silence. The situation was eerily similar to their placement right now. He looked at his brother who was playing happily with friend, and something hit him right away. His father not only stripped him of happiness but also from a normal life a kid of the age of seven needed to have. His mother smiled beside him and muttered, ‘you were so happy wherever you dragged your father to play with you’. Aaron felt himself paralized, he did not remember anything like that happening, ‘what?’, he asked in disbelief of what his mother admitted. His mother stripped her flower dress off and while in the distance people could not make out the shapes of purple in her body, he could notice each one of the hits he gave her. Aaron wondered why she took the dress off. Weren’t they supposed to protect him stil?

His mother expression turned a little straighter as she grabbed his hands, ‘I know what you did Aaron’, the statement enough had him scared, could he go to jail for not helping his father earlier, his mother continued before he could responds, ‘I know what you did and thank you, I know that the good memories could not outgrow the beatings’. Aaron nodded as his mother stood up, she handed him her hand, helping him get up, while he looked at the sea, his mother helped him take off his clothes, as she noticed earlier in the day that the task was still difficult for him. He did not feel anything so extraordinary before, how the sun warmed his skin, the air softly caressing his damaged skin as he took his mothers hand towards the sea, as his mother said, ‘Salt water helps the healing process’. His feet touched the cold water, his feet went submerging slowly in the sand that previously burnt, it felt soothing in a way, maybe her mother was right. Sean's cheerful voice made him look up, to notice that his mother was no longer holding his hand; she was already inside, ‘Come on Aaron, you can do it!’. He wondered briefly what white lie his mother would have told him to explain that he did not come here occasionally. He heard his mother laugh, the way she used to, he believed then that he could find that sense of happiness. Maybe after his fathers death he could still find the kid that was forced to grow up soon. Make new experiences. This day was not as bad as he expected to be. 

#aaronhotchner #teen hotch #teen aaron #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #sean hotchner #hotch #day on the beach #abuse

[bleuhisteria]

Phantom Melody Chapter 3

(Y/N) managed to make her way back to her apartment, feeling refreshed after taking a quick shower to clear her mind. She carefully bandaged her swollen cheek, ensuring it was properly treated.

As she passed by her bed on her way to the closet, her phone, which rested on top of the sheets, began to ring. Curious about the caller ID displaying "Endeavor," she picked up the phone and answered.

"This is (Y/N)," she said, wondering why Endeavor was calling her.

"(Y/N), we'll resume training tomorrow. My morning schedule is filled, so I'm calling to inform you that our training will be in the afternoon," Endeavor explained over the phone.

(Y/N) hummed in agreement. "Yeah, okay. Couldn't you have sent a text instead?" she chuckled, teasing him about his choice of communication.

Endeavor sighed, realizing that his attempt to be courteous didn't quite meet (Y/N)'s expectations. "It was urgent," he replied, feeling a twinge of guilt for not being more straightforward.

(Y/N) laughed, not taking his words too seriously. "I'll be at the shooting range nearby. Just come by when you get there," she stated as she picked out her pajamas, preparing to relax for the evening.

As the night before her training with Endeavor approached, (Y/N) found herself restless, tossing and turning in bed. She couldn't shake off the excitement and nervousness that came with training with one of the top pro heroes in the city.

Trying to distract herself, she opened her laptop and checked the news, only to find that the latest and most popular piece of news was a picture of her and Hawks taken by the crowd during the bus incident, then the next showing him lifting her up in his arms and flying away.

"This is what I was worried about," she muttered, a worried grin on her face. She wasn't concerned about herself but rather for the hero and the attention he might receive because of their interaction.

Setting her laptop aside for a moment, (Y/N) got up and headed to the kitchen. She needed a drink to sip on while she read through the article that had been written about her and the pro hero.

Meanwhile, at Hawks' agency, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and chatter. The picture of Hawks carrying (Y/N) had quickly circulated among the staff, causing a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Hawks, unaware of the commotion, was engrossed in his work, going through paperwork and preparing for his upcoming missions. However, every now and then, he couldn't help but steal a glance at his phone, hoping to receive a mysterious message or call from someone claiming to be 'Miss maybe'.

Hawks found himself the subject of playful teasing from his fellow agency members about the viral picture. They couldn't resist making sly comments and exchanging knowing winks, clearly hinting at the potential romantic connection between Hawks and the mystery woman. He would join in their laughter, responding with witty comebacks that seemed like jokes on the surface, but carried a subtle undertone of signaling them to tone down the speculation about the encounter. It was all in good fun, but Hawks preferred to keep his personal life private, especially when it involved someone as intriguing as the so called 'Maybe hero'.

Back in her apartment, (Y/N) immersed herself in the article that discussed the mysterious woman Hawks had flown off with. Speculations about her identity and her relationship with the hero filled the comments section, with some expressing disappointment that she might already be involved with Hawks. She couldn't help but chuckle at the assumptions, realizing how the public's imagination can run wild with just a single picture.

Closing her laptop, (Y/N) stood up from her bed and slid open the door to her balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. Leaning against the stone railing, she gazed out at the sprawling city illuminated by its vibrant lights. It was a sight she now got to appreciate every day since leaving the music industry, a decision that had brought her newfound freedom and joy.

Lost in her thoughts, (Y/N) began to hum a melody, the tune she had never quite finished composing. The soothing sound brought her a sense of solace, even though she still hadn't figured out what to do with it.

As the chill of the night settled into her skin, she reluctantly retreated back inside, closing the balcony door and drawing the curtains. Nestling herself into the soft blankets, (Y/N) found comfort in their warmth as she drifted off to sleep.

__

That morning, (Y/N) awoke and rolled out of bed with a loud thud, causing her to groan in pain as she held her head. After a moment, she managed to get up from the floor and brushed herself off.

Checking her phone, she noticed a missed call from Emily. Curious, she opened the message and saw it in all caps, expressing concern about (Y/N) not returning with the cake after closing the night before. (Y/N) smiled apologetically and quickly typed a message back, explaining that something unexpected had come up, and she would fill Emily in on the details later.

With that sorted, (Y/N) got ready for the day ahead. Knowing she had training with Endeavor, she chose a comfortable outfit consisting of a hooded jacket and a mask. She didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention, especially after the recent incident with Hawks that had sparked gossip and speculation about their relationship.

She made her way out of the apartment, locking her door before leaving the building and heading to the shooting range.

The shooting range was an airsoft facility, which disappointed her slightly as she had hoped for a range with real guns, the facility was next door but it would hinder with her quirk training. Nevertheless, she decided to make the most of it and enjoy herself. She picked up a couple of airsoft snipers and pistols, testing her skills and having fun with the simulation.

However, as she immersed herself in the shooting range, she couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching her. Turning around, she spotted a man leaning against the wall, observing her with keen interest.

He had the appearance of a stereotypical Western cowboy, and his face was obscured by an old-school tan gas mask resembling a horse's muzzle. Silver ear-defenders were wired to the sides of the mask, completing his unique look.

Her eyes sparkled with recognition as she met his gaze. She immediately realized that it was Mr. Snipe, a pro hero known for his exceptional marksmanship. Intrigued, she walked over to him, and he met her halfway, offering a greeting.

"Mr. Snipe," she greeted him, a mixture of excitement and curiosity in her voice. She couldn't help but wonder why a pro hero like him was at an airsoft range when he had the opportunity to use real guns in the adjacent facility.

"I've seen you here from time to time," he remarked, his voice muffled by the gas mask. "You're really good with that pistol. Might I ask why you're using airsoft instead of going next door where real guns are used?"

A playful smile tugged at her lips as she replied, "I could ask the same thing. But the reason is that airsoft bullets carry the same weight as the bullets produced by my quirk. It helps me simulate and fine-tune my aim without causing any actual damage." She explained, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief.

Snipe nodded, seemingly intrigued by her response. "That's a clever way to train," he commented, his voice filled with admiration. "Why don't I show you a thing or two?" he suggested, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Please!" (Y/N) responded almost instantly, her excitement evident in her voice and the sparkle in her eyes.

The hero proposed moving to the adjacent facilities where real guns were used. Eager to learn from one of the best gun heroes, she eagerly nodded in agreement. She returned the airsoft guns to the counter and followed Snipe to the real shooting range, her heart racing with anticipation.

"Where did you first learn to handle guns?" Snipe inquired as they walked through the hall, his curiosity evident in his tone.

"Due to circumstances, I decided to join the military for a couple of years," (Y/N) replied, her gaze fixed ahead, memories resurfacing.

"Circumstances?" Snipe wondered aloud, sensing there was more to her story. However, he quickly decided to respect her privacy and moved on from the topic. "For how long?" he asked, shifting the conversation.

"Two years," (Y/N) chuckled, realizing he was curious about the circumstances. "Circumstances being that I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps," she stated calmly, a flicker of longing in her eyes.

"I see..." Snipe responded, his voice filled with sympathy, understanding the weight of her words and the significance of her decision.

As they continued their walk, they engaged in light conversation, discussing their experiences and sharing stories of their respective journeys as heroes. (Y/N) appreciated Snipe's genuine interest and the connection they were forming. It was refreshing to find someone who understood her passion and respected her skills.

As they entered the new range, the sound of gunshots filled the air. The atmosphere was different, more intense and exhilarating. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline as she observed the expert marksmen honing their skills with precision.

They borrowed their guns at the front and headed to their lane, (Y/N) planted her feet on the ground, ready to show her level of skill to the pro hero for him to figure out which areas she could refine.

Afterwards he would point out the things she needed to fix. For the next few hours, they practiced side by side, engaging in friendly competitions and challenging each other to hit difficult targets. (Y/N) marveled at Snipe's incredible skill and dedication.

Taking a break after the training session, (Y/N) had made significant progress, her aim and control noticeably improved. She couldn't thank Snipe enough for his guidance and mentorship.

As they prepared to leave the shooting range, Snipe turned to her with a smile. "You have a natural talent, (Y/N). Keep honing your skills, and I have no doubt you'll become an exceptional marksman."

Grateful for his words of encouragement, she nodded earnestly. "Thank you, Mr. Snipe. Your guidance means the world to me."

The two went back to training.

Time passed by and the afternoon came, the sound of the shooting range was interrupted by the entrance of Endeavor, the Flame Hero himself. He called out (Y/N)'s name, his gruff voice demanding attention. He nodded curtly to Snipe, acknowledging the presence of the fellow hero who had been training his student.

Now, as Endeavor stood in the doorway, his fiery gaze fixed upon (Y/N), she felt a surge of anticipation. The training with Snipe had invigorated her, and she was eager to demonstrate her progress to her mentor, the Number 2 hero as of today.

With a determined smile, (Y/N) turned towards Endeavor, ready to continue her training under his watchful eye. The encounter with Snipe had served as a valuable prelude, igniting her determination to become the best hero she could be.

She thanked the pro hero but not before him asking for her contact as he wanted to keep an eye on her growth, he hinted at the possibility of having her as a student.

(Y/N) left with Endeavor, waving at Snipe as they exited the facility.

__

"What's with the mask?" Endeavor asked, his brow furrowed.

(Y/N) put her hood up. "Didn't you see the news?" she asked.

He pulled her hood back off her head, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Keep the mask. You still look ridiculous," he grumbled.

"Hey!" She protested, pulling the hood back up.

"If you don't want people to define you simply as someone who Hawks was involved with, then give them a different image to hold on to," Endeavor advised. "Show them instead that you're my student."

(Y/N)'s eyes sparkled, and she let out a chuckle. "You sounded very encouraging and inspirational just now," she said as she removed her hood.

"Aren't I always?" Endeavor replied gruffly, still not quite understanding her humor.

(Y/N) laughed, holding back her amusement. "Sure, sure," she said playfully while pulling down her mask.

Chapter 3 End.

#mha hawks #bnha #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #mha deku #mha headcanons #mha #mha x reader #hawks bnha #keigo takami #bnha hawks #hawks headcanons #takami keigo #boku no hero academia hawks #my hero academia hawks #hawks x you #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi x you #endeavor