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yinses · 4 years

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made you not look

gojo satoru

rating: 18+

| poor ijichi never saw it coming |

a/n: @j-u-u-z-o made a hc about gojo not keeping his hands to himself on a car ride and i took it a step further. sin responsibly friends.

you decide to indulge him. rookie mistake number one. gojo satoru, the most powerful sorcerer, a glutinous sweet toothed man with no inhibition, does not under any circumstance need to be gratified.

but he gave you this cute little pout, hands grabby with insistence when he asked you to please sit in his lap.

poor ijichi, sitting quietly in the driver’s seat, offered you a polite smile. he was use to gojo’s antics. seasoned to the venturous eccentricity of your relationship. even if he didn’t mind he wouldn’t voice it. but something about the subtle quirk of his lips is enough to sway you over your best judgement.

it was always expected for gojo to do a good job. to slay whatever curse stood in his path with efficiency. surely even he deserved a treat every now and again.

utter foolish thinking on your part.

gojo is absolutely giddy when you agree, eagerly patting his lap before ultimately reaching out to help you settle. the option of car safety is thrown out the window at this point, so you take a sideways position on his thigh, just above his crotch. if he notes your obvious avoidance, gojo doesnt comment, only widening his legs to offer a more comfortable seat.

when you go to ask if this okay for him, he meets your open mouth with a quick kiss and a mutual nuzzle of his nose.

and so ijichi takes off without further comment.

the radio is tuned to something causal, you think it might be jazz. its purely white noise, nothing to get to invested in, but gojo seems to think otherwise.

there isn’t really a beat to follow, but he manages to tack onto some rhythm as his knee jumps along. the motion isn’t entirely jarring but it still brings you to a light bounce. you catch ijichi’s gaze briefly in the rearview mirror as he takes in gojo’s ‘enjoyment’. eager to please, he reaches out to turn up the song a bit louder.

gojo’s left elbow is resting on the edge of the car window, face mirrored against the glass. you just miss his smile.

you’re hardly ten minutes into the ride when gojo first complains that his thigh is getting numb. thinking that he’s finally had his fill, you go to move to the free seat to his right when he gathers your escape attempt and deposits you squarely in his lap.

this evenly distributes the weight, he reasons. and it makes sense. so your guard drops a little more.

when you first feel the firm press against your rear you think, okay this has gone on long enough. the journey is maybe fifteen minutes from completion and you’ve satisfied the man to his fill.

as if there was a limit to his greed.

you make another move to slide into the next available seat when gojo’s arms slip around your waist and tighten. his breath is warm against your nape as he grinds his face there, lips curving up to brush against the shell of your ear.

if you move then ijichi will see, he whines.

well at least he’s not denying that he’s getting excited like a school boy. and so you sigh and cater to his whims again. you’ve gone this long at this point. so you settle back against as he resumes the bounce of his knee.

the road had been a bit bump for the last mile as ichiji was forced to take the backroads from the suburbs to the city. it should be nothing. with proper bracing, you’d be able to steel yourself against the jostling. but you’re under gojo’s care now and he seems content to go along with it.

with the next jolt his hips rock forward, an eager and positioned thrust against your core. a whimper of surprise leaves you but the sound is lost to ijichi who has become a new fan of the current station.

gojo’s face is still pressed against your skin, allowing you to feel the beginnings of a wider grin. your breathing halts the moment he places his palm over your thigh. his thumb rests casually over the edge, drawing small circles over the inside.

you know where this is going. you may have been stupid before to allow it to get to this point, but you’re on track now. even if you’re too delayed to make a difference.

still you feebly try. hand shooting out to intertwine with his when it dares to flick a forefinger across your covered mound. you try to distract him, rubbing your own thumb against the his knuckles and veins. you’re able to guide his hand up away from the ‘danger’ zone, resting them against your tummy.

gojo, ever the planner, turns your strategy against you as his fingers hook under your the waistband of your pants.

satoru, you hiss, eyes darting wildly to the oblivious ijichi. gojo only hums in response, knee raising up and down again to hinder your attempts to fight back. just when you fear it might finally be enough to garner the driver’s attention- you realize with a thrilling chill that the movement has become an accustomed element to the ride.

the rhythm is off now, no longer following along to the latest song but the false intention is enough to bleed into ijichi’s background.

you sly bastard. gojo chuckles heartily, hand already curling under the elastic of your panties. his calloused fingertips gaze your cunt, spreading the growing wetness and pinching your nub along the way.

his movements are unpredictable, trading firmness and speed but never fully entering you. you realize with a heated flush that he doesn’t even need to. the situation along is dragging you to the edge at high velocity and you bite your lip to contain your mewls.

the music is isn’t nearly loud enough to block out any open-mouthed sounds.

a shame, gojo notes as he runs soft circles around your clit. you could be treating ijichi too with your beautiful sounds.

his fingers ride your slick down to your slit to tease the sensitive folds. your walls flutter and clench around the absence of thickness but your mind fills the void. it helps when his finger crooks and brushes a receptive spot that ignites sparks.

fuck, ijichi. the poor man didn’t deserves this.

you close your eyes as you work yourself through the tormenting pleasure, hips moving along with the jump of his thigh instead of fighting it. if you’re going to do this, you might as well finish. overall its a tortuous pace- impossible to go too fast or hard without garnering attention. but forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.

unwisely you hump against his hardness, the action not nearly enough to help him along the way but it meets its goal for you. gojo nibbles along the choked gasps stuck in your throat as your climax washes over you and pulls you apart at the seams. there is certainly a sticky pool of wetness connecting your laps now.

your head falls back against his shoulder as his hands works itself out of your pants. he barely flinches as your heavy pants tickle his ear.

gojo makes a show out of licking his fingers, delving greedily into the overflow of your essence.

it was this action that draws the driver’s attention as his brow raises.

“another snack, gojo-san? i fear for your teeth.”

the said man grins around his digits.

“i wouldn’t worry your little head about it, ijichi. i have it under control.”

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo's eyes have lit a fire under my muse #gojo sins

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petertheparker · 5 years

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Runaways [one shot]

Requested by @wolkenlichtblitz

Summary: Could you do a Peter Parker imagine with 16 and 27 You ran away from home and you bump into May and she took you to their apartment and gave you clothes and stuff and then Peter comes home and sees you (you both are in love with each other but don't know it)?

16 "is that my shirt?"

27 "Why'd you take so long?"

"GO TO FUCKING HELL"

You couldn't stand another moment in that apartment with her. That God awful woman. You gripped harder on your bag strap, practically bolting out of the door while slamming it back into the door frame.

That's it, that was the last straw.

The crisp air attack your exposed skin as you walked along the sidewalk. You could feel angry tears start to well up in your eyes but you let them fall. Hot, salty drops dripped onto the pavement. You felt like screaming. You wanted to scream until your voice turned horse or until your lungs gave out. Either one was okay with you.

You didn't even know where you were going. The only thing you wanted to do was to get as far away from her as possible. Stephanie. Your step mom. More like step monster.

Fights between you to become a regular. Every opportunity she got she'd knit pick at you. You're wearing that? Fix yourself. Sit up straight. What would your father think if he saw you actinglike this! I'm the adult, you're the child. Don't talk back! You're an embarrassment

It was as if someone lit your blood on fire, you couldn't take her abuse any longer. You needed to leave that toxic environment before you did something you'd regret.

Stopping at a cross walk, you finally took in your surroundings. Absorbing the New York weather,taking in the cloudy morning and accessing the people around you. You catch a reflecting from a window nearby.

I look fucking awful.

The cool breeze sent your hair into a slight frenzy ruining whatever hairstyle you had it in, your crying caused your face to flush and eyes to puff up. Not to mention how your nose was running. How attractive.

But that didn't really matter right now. All that you could concentrate on was the pure rage that coursed through your body, the absolute furiousness you felt.

You gripped your hands until you felt them bleed, you clenched your jaw until your teeth screamed at you to stop. You wanted her to feel your pain and hopelessly. The lonelness God, you wanted your dad back. So so bad.

The waterworks started again, and this time you couldn't stop it. All the suppressed feelings resurfaced. The angry, sadness. Everything. It felt like the whole world had stopped and it was just you and the endless void of tears.

"Y/N?"

A quiet voice filled with concern brought you back to reality. You're face to care with Mrs. Parker. Peters aunt.

". . .May?" You hated that your voice cracked.

She was carrying grocery bags and holding an umbrella. It started to Rain and apparently you didn't feel a thing.

"Are you okay hun?" Her soft voice made you want to cry even more.

"No, not really" you wrapped your arms around yourself. Suddenly feeling cold.

"Come on honey, let's go back to my place."

And with that, there you were. Sitting at the Parkers couch. It wasn't like you haven't been here before, it just this was a different circumstance so it was a bit intimidating. On the walk to her apartment, you completely fell apart into May's arms. Telling her everything. You never felt so vulnerable. But it felt nice to finally get everything off your chest. This heavy feeling on your shoulders started to lighten.

You could finally exhale.

May was currently getting you some dry clothes. Everything you had was socked and she said she'd just toss them into the dryer.

"Okay, so everything I have might be a little outdated for your choice so I just grabbed some things from peters room. Is that okay?"

"Uh-yeah, that's fine"

"Great, here you go. The bathroom is down the hall first left." She said as she handed you some clothes.

Grabbing the clothes you set off to the bathroom. Locking the Door behind you, you finally took in your appearance. Your hair was stuck to your face and eyes were a little less puffy. It could be worse.

Stripping off the wet clothes you looked at the graphic tee May had given you. It read 'I lost an electron. Are you positive?' Peter's favorite shirt. Bringing it to your nose you smelled in Peter's familiar cologne. Hazelnut and vanilla. It was your favorite.

You pulled the T-shirt on and noticed that it was a size to big. The end seem went mid thigh and the short sleeves covered most of your upper arms. You loved it.

You grabbed the dark leggings May had given you and put those on. You took one last look at yourself and exited the bathroom. You placed your wet clothes in a basket and headed back into the living room.

The sound of jingling keys brought your attention to the front door as it swung open. Peter a second after sauntered in with headphones dangling around his neck "Hey May, I'm hom-"

"Is that my shirt?" He pointed.

You look down at the shirt and look back up. Hoping Peter doesnt see your gradually growing red face. "Oh yeah this uh" Your mind was drawing a complete blank.

"Pete your home. I assume you got my texts."

Thank Goodness. You mentally thanked May for saving you from that awkward moment.

While they conversed you took that opportunity to settle back into the living room trying to calm your nerves. You took out your phone and saw the screen display 53 missed calls and 47 messages all from Stephanie.

You turned off your phone and tossed it to your left side. You brought your legs up and hugged them. Staring at the coffee table.

"Hey Y/N" Peter stood near you with a blanket and a smile.

You could of won an medal for the flip your stomach just did. You loved his smile. The way it light up his face. Making his freckles beam even more. Gosh.

"Mind if I sit with you?" He gestured to the empty space to your right. You nodded.

The couched dipped due to his weight. He shifted for about a minute. Trying to make himself comfortable and not touching you. Once he settle in he draped the blanket over both of you. "You comfy?" He gave you a nervous smile while his face glowed a soft pink.

"Uh not quite" You moved your legs so you were resting them on his lap and snuggled deeper into the blanket. "Now I'm comfy"

Peter smiled that smile at you again. Anything that boy did made you weak in the knees. And you couldn't help but smile back. You felt him tense up as he looked away. He reached for the remote turned on the TV. You both mindlessly watched what was on but clearly, you both weren't interested.

Peter was the one to break the silence. "May left for work and won't be back until later tonight." He glanced over at you. "So it's just going to be us today"

"Oh uh-cool"

Oh my God, could you get anymore awkward!! Say something else!!

"You-you wanna watch a movie!"

"Yeah, that sound great. I know the perfect one" Peter moved from the couch carefully moving your legs and made his way to the movie section. You felt a bit disappointed from the lack of contact but insantly felt better when he flashed you Star Wars.

"Oh my god Peter Parker, you could not get anymore nerdy!!" You covered your mouth as you laughed. Something you haven't done in a while.

Peters ears reddened as he through a pillow at your direction. "Says you!! Have you seen the shirt you're wearing!!" It was your turn to blush.

But with that comment you both broke out into fits of laughter. Anymore awkward moments were no more, you both eased right into each other's company. Spending the rest of the day watching movies, snacking and teasing each other relentlessly.

By the sixth or seventh movie you both were exhausted. Peter took that chance to lay his head on your lap. Which you didn't mind. You subconsciously racked your fingers through his hair. Feeling the soft curly locks and appreciating the reaction you got from him.

Peter felt so relaxed under your touch. He could stay like that forever. It wasn't long until Peter fell asleep.

His soft snores made you giggle. Gosh, you loved this boy. With him laying on your lap, you looked at his profile. His defined jaw line, that one scar on his cheek slowly fading away. His beautiful freckles. Everything about him made your heart stop.

You couldn't take it anymore, so you bent your head down and kissed his cheek. It was short and sweet.

"Hey" Peter's tired voice startled you.

"Why'd you take so long?"

You're faced burned a deep scarlet. "I-I thought you were asleep" You stammered.

Oh my God oh my gOd

Peter locked eyes with you and watched you ramble. He lifted his hand to your cheek and pulled you down towards him. Connecting his lips with yours. Stopping you from finishing your sentence. It was pure bliss.

He pulled away for a moment to catch his break. "Stop Talking Y/N and just kiss me"

And so, you did.

A/N: well I wrote that in like 2 hours it's currently 23:59 oops. Hope you like it @wolkenlichtblitz I tried my best to follow the prompt!! If you like this one request another!! (Didn't proof read/edit sorry for Grammar mistakes!!°°°°)

#peterparker #peter parker #promptlist #cute #rain #movie #awkward #fluff #love

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unholyhelbiglinked · 5 years

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Camp Beaverbrook | 007

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

Hey Mom!

It’s been what? A week since I’ve last written. I’m not really sure if they’re sending these letters on Fridays or if they actually spend that much money on postage. Part of me thinks that they don’t send them at all and they’re just sitting in those big plastic cases that Gail always keeps under lock and key. It’s been fun, though, but I’m ready to be a counselor now. I think this is the perfect send off.

Emily

She mindlessly pushed the three lone carrots against the broth backdrop. They looked sad, all of their coating having tinted the liquid that they swam in. They looked like little life rafts that could carry a whole person if a person was an ant.

She had her lip between her teeth, her stare trained in the general direction of the counselors. On one counselor that had the sunlight hitting her just right as it rose against the mess hall. Emily had a full conversation with her yesterday, one where she only choked on her words once or twice. She knew Aubrey, had seen her every single day at camp for the past three and a half years but still- each time was met with her heart in her throat and an instant moisture to her palms.

The blonde did a bit of a double take, first catching a gray gaze before shooting back down to her own food and up again. She offered up a kind smile and a half-hearted wave. Emily fumbled with herself, cheeks inflamed as she lifted her chin in a nod and looked back toward the grooves of the table that had gotten so interesting. An onion clung to the back of her spoon.

“You are helpless.” Hayley tore a generous piece from a roll, dipping it into the broth. “Just jump her bones already.”

“What?” Emily hissed, voice low “I don’t want to- I mean, she’s flawless but that doesn’t mean I need to have sex with her. Honestly just being in her presence-“She trailed off, gulping in a heap of air “Where’s Jane?”

“Nice change of subject Michel Emerson.”

Emily let out a deep grumble at the reference. Hayley was playing to her weakness; a shitty movie about vampires that hung from the bottom of train tracks. Michel Emerson had risked everything for a pretty girl with an alluring personality, even if it did turn him into a creature of the night. “Seriously, asshole, she hasn’t shown for lunch, and now dinner?”

“So? Jane never shows. She probably passed out after her time slot on the lake. Yeah?” Hayley rolled her eyes.

She had spent more than enough time talking Emily down. She had kept the clumsy girl from nearly drowning in the lake when Aubrey told her to simply cool off. It was getting late, there was sleep eating away at the edge of her mind and it showed in her demeanor. Not particularly sunny, but often times confused with discontent.

“Sure.” Emily agreed, not having anything else to do. She had lost all appetite for any type of dinner. There was a sneaking pinprick at the back of her mind. Something that she had gotten before. Her mother used to say the uneasiness was a clear sign that she needed to listen to her gut. But that was only before she put her on a plane for a class trip to New York with enough money to buy mace as soon as they touched down.

Now it was rocking her whole entire sense of being.

Emily let her spoon fall into the soup that was mainly untouched. It created a loud noise and beef broth soaked against her cheek. Hayley flinched, lifting her eyebrows. “You’re going to offend the chef.”

Coffee eyes shot towards the kitchen, Jesse was bringing the knife down on what looked like more onions. It certainly smelled that way. He had bulky headphones over his ears and a towel against his shoulder, head bobbing along. Somehow, she knew he would be okay.

She rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the bench. “Wha- where are you going?”

“I am going to go check her cabin,” Emily said, throwing her napkin down against the bowl of soup before gathering it all together. She didn’t wait for Hayley to open her mouth in protest, instead, she walked towards the very window that supplied the neon light of the kitchen.

Jesse glanced up, lifting his chin slightly before she gave him a wary smile and dropped the bowl before anyone else had, careful not to spill the broth. He went back to bobbing his head, and Emily exited the mess hall trying impossibly hard not to look towards the counselors.

There was a frigid chill to the air that made her seek for any type of warmth, a jacket over her simple cotton t-shirt, something to ease the cold that presented itself the moment the sun started to lower against the pine needle trees.

She shoved her hands into her jean shorts and walked against the path that had been carved out ages ago. There were boot prints, and even bare feet tracked in the loose dirt. Her breath pressed into the air in a soft cloud, something she used to exhaust. That small prick buzzing like her table was ready at a family restaurant.

The cabin looked bigger than before, almost like each of the three steps that she took up to the screen door were miles long. Her legs ached and shook, but she still pulled it open and glanced around the space: Her bed had been made this morning and was still left untouched. Hayley’s was a mess under her own, and Jane was empty. The covers were pulled back and the setting sun highlighted it in a ghastly orange.

Emily let out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding onto. Her lungs burned, and her ears were ringing now. A pressure and anxiety that she couldn’t fiddle with tugged at her. The door creaking open as she turned to face it.

Hayley.

She leaned against the doorframe, eyebrows raised. “Not here?”

“No, afraid not.” Emily let out a deep breath. “Dinner over?”

The girl nodded and flopped down on her mattress, stretching her hands out over her head as she groaned as her back popped in just the right way. She didn’t think she took that long to walk to the cabin across the camp, but she had, dragging her feet and begging for a reason to make the ringing stop.

Emily could feel her throat tighten and she blamed the cold air, not the deepening feeling in her stomach as she shook her head and pushed past her screen door, standing staggered against the steps to her cabin. It was crowded this time, kids trying to get back to their bunks before the mountain night grew chillier.

She watched as kids that wore a mix of forest green and golden yellow walked among counselors that were far from finished with their nights. She would often see the fire rising from the rocky shore and smell the beer in the metal trash cans that next morning. The thought made her skin prickle.

Aubrey Posen stood by the edge of the path, her arms crossed over her chest as those deep green eyes peered into Beca’s. The girl was shorter than her superior, but the way she puffed out her chest and sneered made Emily think that she had more gall than the woman she was looking for. Chloe had an even hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back or pull her to their shared cabin. The archery instructor lifting perfectly sculpted eyebrows up in discontent.

Emily steeled her nerves and walked forward, cutting across the crowd as a few people mumbled while others stared directly at her. She kept her distance, but not too much, Beca Mitchell shooting her midnight stare her way as if to acknowledge her presence.

“Hey, Em” Chloe offered up warmly, trying to defuse the situation, Aubrey’s own stare had softened a great deal, though, she never let her shoulders drop. “What’s up?”

She wanted words for form, really, she did. But they seemed to stall in her throat. At the crackling sound that she let out, Aubrey straightened her shoulders and turned herself completely towards the camper, knitting her brow. “Em?”

“I don’t want to bother you, it’s just- Jane, my cabin mate, I haven’t seen her all day.”

She knew she was taking it slow, mumbling. Four sets of eyes were on her. The surrounding area had been voided of kids, all of them sneaking liquor in their own cabins. Smoking loose cigarettes that they had hidden in their t-shirts before spraying a thick layer of lavender spray.

“She usually misses breakfast, but never lunch, or dinner. I’m uh, I’m worried about her.”

“Jane Eide?” Stacie asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her oversized sweatshirt. “I’ve been working with her. She didn’t show today, though, figured she had fallen asleep.”

“I pulled her from the water the other night,” Beca admitted, “Late. She and two others were out on the lake after dark.”

Aubrey pulled in an easy breath, one that was far too calm for a situation like this, there was an unknown type of fear that was behind her darkened eyes. One that she wouldn’t really admit to, but Emily could see it. She could feel it.

“Right, so no one has seen her since last night?” All silence and blinking eyes. “Emily, did you hear her come in last night?”

“No, I didn’t. Neither did Hayley.”

“Okay. Stacie, you go back to the mess hall with Jesse, search the mess hall and the quad.” Aubrey had a certain stiffness to her voice. “Chloe, Beca. I need you to go to the north building and check the phone log- maybe she phoned home. Emily, follow me.”

No one made a move for a few seconds, just staring at the woman in front of them until she clapped her hands together and snapped everyone out of a haze that felt like a hazy dream. Campers didn’t just vanish. Some would get homesick, sure, but they would call their parents and get picked up begrudgingly. The feeling Emily had seemed to stem within the circle of them and extend- Stacie the first to nod and step away, doing a slight jog towards her station.

Chloe took reign and used the hand still on Beca’s shoulder to drag her towards the building that housed a small desk and the white postal bucket that everyone placed their letters in. There was a phone and a yellow log to write in, hopefully, Jane had.

“Come on,” Aubrey said, and Emily followed like an obedient dog on a short leash. They were walking in one clear direction and Aubrey was moving fast the cold not seeming to get to her, so Emily rolled her shoulders back and forgot about her own chilled bones.

Aubrey pushed past the door to her little cabin, something that looked out over the east side of the lake and was isolated to everyone else. No one dared come this close to a place like this, the place that Aubrey would sit and drink coffee before anyone disturbed her.

Emily didn’t know what to expect, but it looked almost normal: There was a little television that was an obnoxious shade of blue and had rabbit ears stretching to the sky. A nicely made bed and a small table with two chairs on either side of it. There were lights strung up over a floral bedspread. It smelled thickly of lavender, and it pulled Emily in. She struggled to stay against the threshold.

“Here,” Aubrey seemed slightly out of breath, she stretched forward and handed Emily a hard metal flashlight. She had palmed one herself, its silver shell reflecting the fairy lights. “We’re going to check around the lake.”

“Okay,” was all Emily could mumble, the woman pulled open what looked like a closet instead of a dresser. She produced a brown leather bomber jacket that had a fur collar, folded and covered in patches. It looked worn and overwhelmed her with scent as it was tossed in her direction. “I can’t-“

“It’s cold,” Aubrey said tenderly. She was wearing a sweatshirt herself, adjusting the collar as she flicked off the light and pressed herself through the doorway. Emily could feel her heat against her front.

She hurriedly slid it over her shoulders before closing the door and jogging slightly to catch up with Aubrey, she had already flicked her flashlight on. It created a circle of yellow that she swept over the grounds that they walked against, their sneakers loud compared to the silence of the night. Emily couldn’t hear crickets.

Her shoulder would bump against Aubrey’s every couple of steps, and she savored the touch, moving her own beam of light close to the water’s edge. It lapped at the stones and made them look prettier than they really were.

“I lost my hamster once.” Emily finally said timidly.

There was a slight hint of a laugh, or maybe a scoff, that pushed past Aubrey’s lips. Either way, its splayed against the darkness of the sky in a puff of white. “What?”

“Yeah, when I was six, I had a hamster and he got out of his cage somehow. We couldn’t find him for a couple of days- maybe a week. I don’t remember. I was six. But we finally found him, you know.”

“Where was he?” Aubrey asked, pulling a branch up for the both of them to duck under. It smelled like pine and dropped dead needles at the movement. The lights from the camp were getting smaller as they wandered into the large isolated parts of the perimeter. The lights from the cabins looked like they were put through a funhouse mirror as they reflected off the inky water.

“He was in the television.”

“Your hamster?”

Emily hummed in response, letting her light move against the stretch of trees. They looked scarier at night. “Yeah, in that little part where the speakers usually are. He had chewed through all of them, so at least we knew he didn’t starve. The little guy lived four more years after that… so uh, maybe we’ll find her. You know?”

“Jane is a person, not a rodent.”

“Oh, I know,” Emily’s shoe slid on the closest rock, the sound splaying oddly as Aubrey instinctively reached and clutched onto her arm, keeping her from sliding too much “Thanks. I just don’t think I’ve lost anything else before.”

Aubrey stopped then, her back to the forest as she parted her lips. Emily didn’t know if it had anything to do with her eyes adjusting or the fact that the moon had risen to its fullest point, but it was easier to see. Every part of Aubrey looked milky blue, her lips and eyes darker than the rest of her subtle features. She looked like a siren, playing oddly with the rubber button on her light. Almost like she was nervous.

“I have,” Aubrey said, so softly it was almost muted by the water lapping the shore. “My father he uh, he left when I was fifteen, maybe sixteen? I don’t think we tried too hard to find him but it um, it feels kind of like this. You know?”

“Like someone is holding your heart and just kind of… squeezes it?”

Aubrey let out a long-held onto breath “Yeah, yeah. Like that. Is it getting tighter for you too?”

Emily chewed on her bottom lip. She had to admit, the feeling seemed to melt away around Aubrey. She was a calming presence, an authority figure that she gawked at if anything. Aubrey sniffed, eyes sad in the moonlight as they flicked towards Emily’s mouth. “Yeah, I think so.” It was no more than a whisper.

“Emily…?”

“Yeah, Aubrey?”

The older woman’s hands were cold as she took a fluid step forward, her fingers curling around the back of Emily’ neck as she let the other hand hold tight against the flashlight. Emily had kissed people before, hell, she had done it often and diligently, but this was different. This was soft and Aubrey tasted like a mix of cinnamon and heat. Her nose was cold against her cheek as her touch moved against Emily’s jaw delicately.

Emily pulled away with a sharp breath, leaning her forehead against Aubrey’s. That hand around her heart had released its hold and let it flourish as the blood rushed past her ears. “Whoa.”

“That was-“Aubrey swallowed, her hand dropped her hand down “I’m sorry, I misread the situation, I’m sorry.” She apologized twice in one sentence, wanting to move away completely, but she had found Emily’s hand curled around the collar of her sweatshirt, holding her in place.

“No,” She whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to do that but-“

“It’s not the right time.” Aubrey finished her thought, swallowing roughly. “We need to keep going.”

Emily nodded and eventually dislodged her fingers from the girl's coat, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do. They returned to walking in silence, their feet crunching against dried leaves and gravel. She could swear she felt the ghost of a cold hand.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Emily Junk #Aubrey Posen #bechloe #bechloe fic rec #junksen #junksen fanfic

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fantroll-purgatory · 6 years

Photo

@sartoonis

Art is mine-

FIRST: Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?

Alternia!!!

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why): Kazmal Nepila

I think Kazmal can stay because it sounds like a change from “Kamal,” a name which means “perfection/excellence” in Arabic and “lotus/pale red” in Sanskrit. I think it’s fitting both because tailoring means fitting something with precision and because you’ve written a character who is defined to an extent by his pale red relationship - his moirallegiance.

For the last name, how about Halgus for hallux valgus, another name for bunion, which is a sneaky reference to a tailor’s bunion which was commonly developed from tailors sitting crosslegged while they worked and developing joint deformity in their pinky toes. Also fitting because he is in a situation in which the nature of his work for his moirail is causing him strain and deformity in his self.

Please help with my name- I like it but like i just randomly picked letters and stuck them together

Age: 7 sweeps

Strife Specibus: hornkind

He uses his horns to ram his victims (they jut out front and point. They kinda act like blinders on a horse but they are very sharp and pointy)

I like it as a concept but I feel like if we wanna tailor (heh) his bio a little more closely we could go with needlekind? And if we wanna play into him being a purpleblood he could have a chucklevoodoo doll that he uses as a pincushion and could weaponize against those his moirail tells him to kill.

Fetch Modus: no clue really

Let’s go with a seamripper modus; captcha would be ‘sewn in’ and he would need to rip the seams to get it out; if he makes a mistake he could damage the item itself.

Blood color: Purple!

Symbol and meaning: Capririus

Sign of the contender (Derse + Hope) (if you can help with the sign that would be great too)

I don’t know that he seems like a Dersite or a Hope player. As a blind follower who would rather reshape himself than reshape the world around him he’s a definite Prospitan. For his aspect, I think we could reasonably swing Space, especially since sewing and the like is so intimately associated with physical manipulation in Homestuck.

Trolltag: none yet tbh

If we wanna go GCAT maybe greatCouturier? I assume a lot of his work is for fellow purplebloods since Alternian trolls generally think fashion is stupid and purplebloods are like…the only caste that wears patterned fabric? This trolltag would indicate his status in society but also seem insufferably frou-frou to most other trolls, making him a likely target for harassment.

Quirk: he doesnt use any capitalization. even when mad. he has committed to having almost a monotone kind of tone to his typing.

Special Abilities (if any): does tailoring count?

I think I wanna add the chucklevoodoo doll to his abilities given that purplebloods gain abilities from being in the juggalo cult.

Lusus: :00 a bull head on a rhino’s body, actually

In general, purplebloods live near the sea and have lusii that can presumably exist in some form both in and out of the water. I like the big grey thick-hided aesthetic, so how about a manatee with a rhino head? You could also have him wrap thread around his dad’s horns either for sewing assistance or as a way of showing his dad he loves him. You could still keep the theme of isolation this way, too; purplebloods’ lusii are more likely to be out at sea. They can’t pursue their parents since they’d be encroaching on seadweller territory, and they have no way of knowing if their lusus has been culled to feed Gl’bgolyb.

Personality: he is a blind follower. Hes manipulated by his moirail to murder other trolls, trolls in castes lower than him that she couldnt get away with so she can cook them. She acts like she cares but then will shut him out. But he clings to the relationship because he feels like thats all he has. He has hope that this will all turn out good for him and her. He keeps a stoic expression and thus paints on a face to make it seem like he is smiling. But he isnt really. He seems void of all emotion but in reality hes just really good at hiding them. He likes to make things for his moirail to show his compassion (even though she never wears or uses said things and sometimes throws them away right in front of him)

I think this has a lot of potential! First off I’m very intrigued by this cannibalistic moirail of his, but second off, I want you to expand on his relationship with her! As a reminder, a moirallegiance is not necessarily akin to being a best friend; it’s a partnership with the very specific purpose of each troll balancing an imbalance in the other. Now, this doesn’t mean that every moirallegiance is healthy; while we saw Nepeta and Equius as the platonic ideal of one, we saw plenty of examples of kismesissitudes and matespritships that devolved into something sinister. This can be a really good example of that if you answer the following questions: what does Kazmal think he’s getting out of this? What is it about this relationship that makes it an unhealthy moirallegiance rather than merely an unhealthy friendship? What imbalance does he think his moirail corrects in him, and what does he feel he gives to his moirail?

As an example, how does Kazmal feel when his moirail throws away the things he makes? Does he view that as a critique of his work? As encouragement to work towards getting better? How does he view her requests to murder other trolls? What does he think he’s giving her? Does he feel he’s protecting her from something? What is the imbalance he thinks is being corrected, and how does he envision the “perfect” version of this moirallegiance? Answering these questions will tell you a lot more about Kazmal’s relationship.

Interests: tailoring :0 this man loves making clothes!!! Even if he isnt so good at it he still loves doing it. He made his own!! He is currently working on his ultimate clown suit for when he has to inevitably fully commit to this clown juggalo cult aesthetic thing. He also likes to ram his horns into things like trees or punching bags with his lusus for fun.

Title: seer of hope (idk what i m doing help)

Man given Homestuck’s history of Pages as gentlemen who try very hard and get pushed around by the people they care about, I think this dude is for sure a Page of Space, which would eventually make him incredibly powerful. It especially fits with his being a not-yet-great tailor whose moirail throws his stuff away. Also, because the Robin Hood outfit would be funny to stick a tailor in.

Land: idk rlly

Land of Rips and Frogs (LORAF). I like the idea that he’d have a planet that was extremely broken and full of ravines, and that his job as a Page of Space would be to mend these enormous rifts in order to advance to Echidna (and would make frog hunting harder, though not impossible).

Dream Planet: Prospit

Aha, so here you say he’s Prospit. Good. We’re in agreement here! Which makes his sign Caprigo, Sign of the Lacuna! WHICH MEANS A GAP IN A MANUSCRIPT OR A BONE. This dude’s themes are LOCKED THE FUCK IN with gaps and gaps and gaps.

Horns - I usually try to sprite horns from scratch but naphal’s sprite sheet had a set that just worked so incredibly well with his symbol and the whimsicality of purple horns??? Edited them very slightly but it’s mostly presented as is. If you want a set from scratch just lmk and I’ll work on it.

Face Paint - I gave him Flowey’s smile from Undertale! Firstly because it’s the smile he gives us when he first says “it’s kill or be killed,” a philosophy Kazmal is no doubt subjected to by his moirail, and secondly because Flowey is himself a character who represents being trapped in unhealthy cycles.

Eyes - once again edited from Naphal’s sprite sheet.

Mouth - purplebloods tend to be toothy, so I gave him very narrow and needle-like teeth.

Clothes - aside from some plain black pajama pants, this is all naphal. I deliberately wanted to avoid the neutral colors we usually see in Alternian outfits. I surmised from your design that Kazmal’s moirail is a goldblood, though if that was incorrect I’m happy to fix it up. I wanted his color scheme infected by his moirail’s as if by a virus, culminating in the apron, which is so subsumed by his moirail’s color that his symbol looks quite lost in it! I also wanted some clashing patterns both to represent his struggle and to show that he’s still a fledgeling designer. The vine-y pattern on his apron is courtesy of mirz123 on deviantart.

Shoes - these are some comfy slippers from fan-troll, which I have elected to keep as his blood color to…I dunno, inspire some hope? Despite all the bullshit he’s going through, he’s still fundamentally grounded in his own sense of identity.

So that’s my review of Kazmal! Thank you for sharing him!

-TR

#sartoonis #kazmal nepila #kazmal halgus #kazmal #nepila #halgus #purpleblood #review #redesign #tr review #submission

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sternenkrone-blog · 5 years

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Wyatt crosses the threshold like a whirlwind. His face is pale, a sickly ash paired with something in his eyes that speaks of plain horror. In his arms, he carries a bundle of blankets. A moving bundle of blankets. He brushes past Lysander without a word, heading straight into the living room. The last time he’s seen his brother like this, their father had raised his hand against Lysander for the first time out in the open. The same look of shock, the same fear that goes bone-deep. But there’s no anger woven through this time. Only the face of a scared boy.

“Did something happen?” Lysander asks softly as he takes a seat next to Wyatt. His eyes are fixed on the bundle in his lap – which still writhes. Here Lysander thought maybe he’d imagined that. Wyatt bites his lip. There are dark circles under his eyes, almost as though they’re bruises. But his eyes are reddened, blood vessels popped the way they do when he doesn’t sleep well and goes to work trying not to fall asleep. He nods, a little frantic, and winces when Lysander raises a hand to place it between his shoulder blades. “I think I’m losing it,” he whispers, and his voice shakes. Lysander furrows his brows. “Losing it?” “It’s,” Wyatt begins and slips a hand into the bundle on his lap. It makes a sound between a purr and a satisfied grunt. “The other day, I was… we were having dinner. The boys and I. And Sicheng was hogging the cucumber salad, and I – I didn’t wanna get up and get it, but he wasn’t listening ‘cause he was talking to – anyway, I wanted that salad and I was really annoyed and suddenly the bowl stood right in front of me. Just. Gone. Like… “ He licks his lips. Runs his free hand through his hair, unstyled like it seldom is. Turning his head, he gives Lysander a brief look as though he tries to gauge his reaction but doesn’t have the heart to stay for the result. Lysander’s chest tightens at the sight. “And that… happened again, a few days later. So I sat down and… and… “ His eyes drift away to the scented candle sitting on the coffee table. He extends his free hand, frowns, and from one second to the next, the candle sits snugly in his palm. Lysander’s mouth drops open. “You saw that, right?” Wyatt asks, staring at Lysander again. “I told the others, but they didn’t notice shit, and told me I needed to take a nap or something. But I don’t need a damn nap. Please, tell me you saw that.” Quickly, Lysander nods. “I saw that, yes. You moved the candle without actually moving it.” Wyatt lets out a breath that sounds uncharacteristically relieved. He puts the candle away and leans back, shoulders slumping. “You saw it. Thank god.” The bundle in his lap makes the same noise as before, still writhing under the heap of blankets. This is the exact definition of a deja vu. When Lysander’s magic first manifested, it started out with tiny things, too. Turning on the electric kettle from his spot on the couch, switching off the light without having to physically do it. He’d chalked it up to being forgetful at first, to having done everything the way it’s supposed to and simply forgetting about it. But Wyatt is acutely aware of what’s happening, albeit scared of it. To think he would possess the same powers Lysander does is beyond odd. He’d thought him to be fully human. Touch gentle, he brings his hand up to run it through the hairs on the back of Wyatt’s head. Wyatt melts into it, leans to the side to settle his weight against Lysander’s shoulder. When he speaks again, his eyes have drifted closed. “But that’s not the weirdest part.” He unpacks the bundle on his lap, all careful and slow. There, in between soft fabric sits a small animal, a puppy with golden fur and a mane like a lion. It yips and shivers and tries to burrow back into the blanket. Wyatt curves a palm around its head. It nuzzles into it an instant. “Wyatt,” Lysander whispers, gaze fixed on the puppy. “Is that –” “So you can see him?” Wyatt interrupts him. He straightens in his seat, curling his fingers under the puppy’s chin. “None of the others can. That’s weird, right? How can that be?” Lysander doesn’t have an answer. This puppy, this tiny bundle of fur, is a product of Wyatt’s magic – that much he is sure of. But why would it be invisible to other people? And, more importantly, why does he see it, then? Tentative at first, he reaches out to let the puppy sniff his fingers. It looks up at him with wide, crimson-red eyes and wags its tail. Wyatt watches, looking from Lysander to the puppy and back. “He… says you smell nice.” “Oh.” Lysander’s face softens. He rubs a finger over the puppy’s nose, then scratches it gently behind its perky ears. “Thank you, little one.” Wyatt still looks beyond spooked, but some of the tension has left his body. It’s easy to imagine what he went through. Discovering all of this and having nobody believe him takes a toll even on someone like him, usually so full of confidence and wit. He seems much younger like this. More innocent. “How… did you get him?” Lysander asks after a short stretch of silence, and it makes Wyatt curl in on himself a little. He takes a deep breath, as though to steel himself. “I went to bed early yesterday ‘cause I was feeling like shit. When I woke up in the middle of the night, he was… right there. Sleeping next to me. So I just went back to sleep. I still felt like ass and was pretty sure I was dreaming. But then he woke me up, licking my face all over. And when I went to tell the others, they didn’t believe me. ‘Cause they can’t see him.” He marks a pause, brows knitting together. “He… talks. That’s… super weird, right? But only I can hear him. I don’t know what’s happening, Lys.” Lysander brings his hands up to Wyatt’s face to cup it. “That’s all right, little brother. I do.” “Y-you do?” Wyatt’s eyes go wide. “It’s nothing terrible, I promise. You’re not crazy.” As he speaks, he calls for Almond over their rapport, and he appears like he always does with a quiet poof, perching himself atop Lysander’s shoulder. Immediately, Wyatt recoils. “What –” “He’s my familiar,” Lysander answers before Wyat finishes his question. “My… well, we’re connected. He speaks, too, but only I can hear it. I, and other familiars.” Cooing, Almond jumps down from Lysander’s shoulder to sniff curiously at the puppy.Who’s he? He’s tiny! Whatever the puppy responds makes Almond burst into giggles. “I still don’t get it,” says Wyatt with a frown, and he sounds so lost that all Lysander wants to do is pull him close and hug him. But he resists the urge, too determined to clear that confusion. “This’ll be a lot to take in,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “And I know what it sounds like. I didn’t want to believe it at first, either.” This time, it’s he who takes a deep breath. “I’m a witch, Wyatt. And I think you are, too. These things happening to you? It’s your magic manifesting. And this little guy,” he gestures towards the puppy, “is your familiar.” As expected, Wyatt gapes for a long, long moment, before he says, slowly, “You’re a… witch. Like… like in the movies? Potions and spells and… “ Lysander nods. “Yes. And no. It’s… a little different, I think. But I do work spells, and I do know how to make potions. I’m still starting out, but it’s getting there.” And just like that, a weight lifts from Lysander’s chest. How many times did he try to work up the courage to tell Wyatt this? How many times did he start, fully intending to stop hiding the truth, only to get scared at the very last second? Wyatt is difficult, after all. Ignorant in many ways, even if he doesn’t seem too conscious of it. He has his beliefs and his opinions, most of them formed by their close-minded parents, and changing them is like pulling teeth. So Lysander steels himself for a comment that may cut deep, may hurt. Instead, Wyatt nods, mouth still hanging open. “And I’m… like that, too? But why didn’t I know before? Why now?” “I’m not sure. My magic didn’t come around until a few months ago, either. So –” “A few months ago? You’ve been a – a witch or whatever all this time and you didn’t tell me?” A laugh slips out of Lysander’s mouth, dry and void of humor. “How was I supposed to do that? How do you just tell someone this? I’m still learning, myself. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe it. I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wanted to tell you sooner, I really did.” Wyatt falls silent again. Pets the puppy, who has since started cuddling with Almond, like he did before, and then says, “I… need to think about this. Can you… can you take care of him for a while? Just… I don’t know.” The puppy startles with Wyatt moving to get up, yipping at him. “Wyatt, please. He’s your familiar. You can’t –” “I don’t – care right now, okay? I need to… this is too much.” He’s on his feet before Lysander has a chance to stop him, out of the door before he gets another word in. A part of Lysander isn’t surprised, not about the reaction and not about how much it smarts, but another wishes that, for once, Wyatt would have changed. He looks down at the puppy – Wyatt’s familiar – and sighs. Almond licks the puppy all over in a means to soothe it, but it only makes the quiet whines that come out of its tiny snout louder, more miserable. Lysander grabs his phone and sends an emergency text Qiaomeng’s way. He, hopefully, will know what to do.

#❝ a movie called life // lysander stories.#❝ a movie called life // wyatt stories.#abuse /

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