#its nearly midnight and this is my thought process | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bumblesimagines · 1 month

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Midnight Beach

Part 21/END

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"You're not Indiana fucking Jones, (Y/N)."

"What is with you and Indiana Jones?"

"Why are you going to South America? Like- Jesus, okay, what if El Dorado is real? What are you going to do about the amount of people who are going to come running for a taste of gold? The people who'll come after you for even having a piece of the real deal? What about this Singh guy? He's dangerous, you said so yourself!" The redhead sputtered, waving her arms around animatedly as he packed some things into his backpack. A simple change of clothes, underwear, deodorant, a hydro flask, his phone charger. He'd seen what Liv packed before her trips out to visit her aunt and go hiking but the experience of trekking through a jungle? Kildare wasn't exactly known for its jungles.

"At least we'll have an adult. Better than last time when it was just us on an island." He replied and swept his gaze over his room, searching for anything else he'd need. It almost felt like some sort of fever dream; clearing the air with Sarah and John B, hanging out with the Pogues on the Cut, preparing to go to a whole other continent. Christ, he'd only ever left Kildare a handful of times. Poguelandia had been a way to survive and Barbados an unavoidable accident. Now there he was, packing up to visit South America in search of someone who probably didn't even care for his existence. Completely and utterly avoidable.

"The adult is the one in trouble!" Liv nearly shrieked at him and slumped back on his bed. "You've finally lost it, (Y/N). You're flying out to South America on a presumed dead man's plane to save a deadbeat from some rich dude. Do you realize how crazy that sounds? How stupid? This is dumb. This is like... Topper Thornton level of stupidity. I hope you know that."

"I know how it sounds, Liv, but- I.." He sighed and finally turned to face the redhead. He pressed his leg against the edge of the bed and reached out to delicately comb his fingers through her vibrant locks. She puffed out her cheeks, a sign she'd be giving in soon, and stubbornly jerked her head in the other direction. "The Pogues have always been about adventures. This will be like... a farewell thing. We wrap this whole Royal Merchant and El Dorado thing up and I leave the Pogues to keep on treasure hunting or whatever it is they'll do after Big John's back home. John B's the biggest idiot I know. But even he deserves to have his father with him."

"And what about your parents?"

"I told them that the Pogues and I were going on a little trip to process what happened to us. It's not my fault they didn't ask where we're going." A grin slipped when Liv snorted and rolled her eyes. The redhead took a deep breath and pushed herself up, brushing aside strands of hair and reaching forward to wrap her arms around him. (Y/N) cradled her head against his stomach and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll stay safe, Liv. I promise."

"You better. I don't feel like going to South America to rescue your ass."

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

Parking the jeep alongside Pope's dirt bike and getting out, (Y/N) nearly stumbled back against his jeep when JJ practically leaped into his arms followed by Pope and Cleo. (Y/N) laughed and did his best to embrace them in return, feeling JJ's hand ruffle the top of his head playfully. "You're late, man! Thought you chickened out on us."

"Not yet." He chuckled, nearly missing the wince from Sarah. He tried not to think about how the others would react to the news, especially after everything they'd been through. Rafe, Coastal Venture, Poguelandia, Barbados, and now... South America. He'd joined their little crew of misfits to help out his ex-girlfriend and now there he stood, waiting to hop on a plane to help her new on-and-off boyfriend. Fate truly had a twisted sense of humor.

"Hey, uh, where's Kie?" Pope asked and (Y/N) shifted to look over at the entrance of the tarmac. No sign of an Uber or Lyft or even one of the Carrera's cars. He frowned, thinking of her parents and how desperate they were to keep Kiara home and safe after their return. They'd always been so protective of her.

"It's gotta be her parents, dude. They've been up her ass." Sarah sighed, brushing her hair out of her face.

"They must've said she couldn't come." Pope sucked his teeth. "We're going to have to do this without her, then."

"No," JJ shook his head, adjusting the backpack strap digging into his shoulder and turning toward John B with his hand outstretched. John B immediately began shaking his head. "Gimmie the keys, man. Her parents already hate me, alright? Just.. give me an hour. It'll be like a black ops mission, in and out. Surgical removal type shit, alright? Plus... I kind of owe her."

"Oh?" John B's head snapped up and a twinkle appeared in his eyes, his fist digging around in his pocket to pull out the keys to the Twinkie. "You owe her, huh? Alright, you totally owe her. I appreciate the honesty."

"Give me an hour, alright, ya'll?" JJ snatched the keys out of his hand and sprinted toward the Twinkie, tossing the backpack through the open window before leaping in afterward, his body awkwardly landing halfway in while John B and Pope groaned. (Y/N) snorted, watching him wiggle his whole body through the window and climb into the driver's seat.

"Feather the throttle!" John B shouted after him and the Twinkie's wheels squealed loudly against the road. They watched him drive off toward the entrance to save his... 'friend.' His very good 'friend.' Totally not his crush or anything like that.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked back to catch Sarah's eye. She smiled at him, tired and nervous, and her fingers dug lightly into his shoulder. Sarah looked back toward the road where the Twinkie disappeared behind some trees and swallowed, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip. "Do you think he'll convince them to let her go?"

"Probably not." (Y/N) murmured. "I can't say I blame them either. I wouldn't want my daughter hanging out with people she keeps going missing with."

"I never really thought about it like that." Sarah dropped her hand and wrapped her arms around herself, the gentle breeze tousling around some of her hair. There was a heavy silence between them and despite the many discussions they had, it held an air of words yet to be spoken. Their history could never be unwritten, only forgotten over time as they entered adulthood. They'd eventually find their place in the world, their proper place, and begin a life without the other. It seemed fair to (Y/N). It was life. He'd come to accept it. Sarah Cameron had taken up much of his world in recent times, but like everything else, she'd eventually become a faint memory of his life in Figure Eight. A girl he loved and lost. An old friend. Someone he recalled both fondly and bitterly.

"I'll keep in touch, by the way." A lie or the truth? He couldn't quite tell. Did he want to stay in communication with them, with her? It'd be a risk. They'd eventually stumble into a new adventure, something new to discover and unveil that'd prompt them to reach out, whether to experience it with him or ask him for something.

"You could attend Chapel Hill, you know." She said softly. "It's close to home, close to us but not on the island."

"That's not happening, Sarah. I want to get away from here, from Figure Eight and Kildare. I've been here long enough. I don't want to regret not doing what I always wanted. I don't want to be like some of the miserable men here who only get genuine happiness when they go on business trips away from their families. The women here either love their lives or drown themselves in wine while the men inhale coke like its air and are barely ever home. It's a nightmare living here, Sarah. You see it, I see it. The Carrera's are one of the few that seem happy together and they had to prove themselves to even be accepted as Kooks. It's... hell."

"Not everything's so bad. There was... us and- and Topper and-"

"Things that are over, Sarah. Topper definitely won't be talking to us for a while and you and I... " (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and released it in a heavy sigh. "You and I are done. For now or for good, I don't really know. If things change in the future... if we change in the future... maybe we'll find each other again. But I'm done with bullshit love triangles and John B."

"I know. I just-"

"Eight hours?! JJ, don't have eight hours! We've got a jet here. We're all waiting!" The two of them turned at the sound of John B's voice, spotting him speaking into the phone with a look of frustration. He blinked and shook his head rapidly, stammering and stumbling over his words before pulling the phone away from his ear and sighing.

"What's going on?" Pope asked as he and Cleo sat down on the steps leading up to the plane. John B rubbed the area between his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Kiara got sent to a wilderness camp," He told them. "So, JJ is going to try to rescue her. He says he'll need eight hours-"

"Hours we don't have." Sarah cut in, folding her arms over her chest and walking toward him. "John B-"

"I know, I know. JJ said that if they don't make it in time, we should just go. That- That somehow they'll make it to South America." John B sighed again at the faces everyone made. Kiara locked away in a wilderness camp and JJ on a mission to rescue her. Sounded like an average Tuesday for the Pogues. "Yeah, I know, but it's JJ. He'll figure something out."

"So, what? We just waitin' around now?" Cleo questioned, her eyes flickering between them. "The longer we wait, the farther Singh gets, you know that, right?"

John B ran a hand over his face and nodded. The sky above them began to darken with the setting sun and gray clouds. Time seemed to tick by faster than expected. "Yeah, yeah, we know, Cleo. But this is Kie and JJ. We can't just leave leave them."

"Guess we're waiting then." Sarah pursed her lips. "Better get comfortable."

Another hour or two passed and night officially fell overhead, leaving them with only the lights along the airstrip. The plane pilot settled comfortably in the cockpit, awaiting instructions while the Pogues paced outside. No sign of JJ or Kiara, no calls, no texts. Dead silence on their end that only made frustration grow. John B continued to stare out toward the entrance, tapping his foot or dialing their numbers in vain.

"We have to go, John B," Sarah spoke up, pacing along the steps with her hands firmly on her hips. "We don't have eight hours. We can't wait around any longer, alright?"

"I'll try to call him again, okay?" As John B reached into his pocket and wiggled out his phone, the sound of a dirt bike grew closer and two dark figures on a bike appeared from the darkness of the airstrip. Everyone's attention immediately snapped toward it and Cleo groaned in relief. The scold on the tip of Pope's tongue halted and they all froze as the driver tossed their helmet off with their bloodied hands. (Y/N) felt his blood turn cold.

Hands left his sides and lifted to his face. Rafe roughly grabbed his throat, fingers digging into (Y/N)'s skin. A soft whimper left him and he pressed his hands against Rafe's chest, attempting to push back the blonde. "I need you to listen to me very carefully." He spotted Rafe's pupils in the light. He was high. "I need to get rid of John B. He came back to hurt my family and Sarah's helpin' him. I don't want to hurt her. She's my sister. But I can't let John B walk free. You know that, (Y/N). I'll let you come with me in case things get outta hand... But don't get in the way."

Taking in a sharp breath when Rafe released him, (Y/N) gingerly touched his sore throat. Rafe reached around the back of his waistband and took out a revolver, letting (Y/N) soak it in for a moment before tucking it back into its hiding spot. A coldness washed over him, making every hair on his body stand straight. Rafe ran a hand over his face and sniffled lightly, rubbing his nose and slapping a hand over (Y/N)'s back. He casually tossed the door open and stepped out.

"Come on, Barry's waiting."

He felt the phantom touch of fingers digging into his skin, hands coiling around his throat in an iron grip that left him momentarily breathless. Only the pained groan and Rafe's hurried movements broke him out of his brief trance, the withering and panting body on the back of the bike finally registering. Ward toppled over, bringing the bike along with him as he fell onto the concrete, revealing the large bloody circle on his shirt. Fucking Camerons.

"You're okay, Dad. You're okay, you're okay." Rafe breathlessly repeated as he reached down to bring Ward back up onto his feet. He finally knocked the helmet off Ward's head, revealing his pained face. Sarah staggered backward, staring wide-eyed at her father's bleeding form. Rafe turned to them, chest heaving. "Don't just stand there! I need some help! Come on, help me! (Y/N)! Please, Sarah."

Short, rapid breaths escaped Sarah's mouth and she hurried forward despite her previous hesitance. "What happened?!" She asked, pulling one of Ward's arms over her shoulder, helping her father wobble closer and closer to the plane.

"A fisherman spotted him, alright? They know he's alive. We gotta get him off the island right now." Rafe explained, tightly clutching his father's shirt and helping him inside the rest of the way. Sarah brought her hands to her forehead and moved away from the stairs, mumbling curses under her breath as she began to pace before bolting inside to check on them.

"Hell no. We are not getting on the plane with him. Hell no!" Pope shook his head as he cursed and turned toward John B. The brunette remained silent, eyes staring at the dots of red littering the ground and leading up to the plane.

(Y/N) rubbed his throat and turned around to face them, inhaling softly. Rafe looked different. Still had that deranged look in his eye but he'd buzzed his hair, ridding himself of the boyish blonde waves. The blood on his hands... a look that fitted him. A coked-up, daddy's boy who'd do anything for his approval, even if it meant staining his hands.

"He wasn't supposed to come," Sarah said breathlessly, heading down the steps and coming to a stop beside John B. "He stays on the island, he gets arrested."

"No, no, Sarah. I don't think you understand. I don't know if I can get on a plane with that guy-"

"Just listen, John B. This is his plane. I can't stop him from leaving. But he will still give us a ride to Orinoco, so if you don't wanna get on the plane, I get it. We'll find another way!"

John B swallowed, staring down at her as his lips pressed together. "There's no other way." He muttered, turning his head to look at Pope and Cleo. He took in a deep breath. "Let's go. Let's get on the plane."

"With them?" Pope stared at him, completely bewildered, and features slightly hardened with bitterness. With Rafe? (Y/N) grimaced. He'd be fine with just Ward, even if the man appeared half-dead with his groaning. At John B's nod, Pope sighed and turned around, preparing to head into the plane when Rafe stepped out. The two stopped and stared at each other, jaws clenching and muscles tensing. The air filled heavy with tension and unfinished business.

Rafe moved first, heading down the steps and brushing past the glaring boy. Cleo placed a hand on Pope's back, urging him inside and blocking his way until Pope finally headed up into the plane. (Y/N) took in a breath and walked forward, only taking a couple steps toward the plane before sweaty lean arms wrapped around his shoulders. He froze in Rafe's embrace, feeling those bloodied hands curl around the back of his shirt. "Keep an eye on him,' He whispered. "Please."

"He'll be fine." (Y/N) murmured breathlessly, and pulled himself free of the embrace to cut the distance between him and the stairs. He headed up them, hearing Rafe say the same sentiment to Sarah as she followed after him.

Inside the plane, Ward took up two seats near the front with his injury properly bandaged. He winced and groaned every few seconds, his face dripping with sweat. He seemed stable enough. Pope and Cleo sat far from him, side by side with Cleo quietly speaking to a fuming Pope. Sarah collapsed on one of the seats across from Ward with a first aid kit in her hands. John B sat a few seats down, looking weirdly calm about the whole situation. (Y/N) pursed his lips.

It was going to be a long ride to South America.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

"It's the Wild West out here," Cleo murmured as they stepped off the plane. The airstrip contained multiple people in military gear, some held guns or leashes clipped to attack dogs. Different country, different laws, different treatment. (Y/N) only prayed they'd at least manage to stay on the right end of a gun, far from the barrel or bullets.

"Sarah!" Ward called out, limping down the stairs and holding onto the railings. "I'm coming."

Sarah whipped around to face him, a scoff escaping her. "No, you're not. You got us here like you said you would. Now go on to Guadeloupe. You need to see a doctor!"

"You're way in over your head. I can help, let me help. Please-"

"No!" Sarah shouted, cutting him off sharply. "Get back in the plane. You promised you weren't a part of this."

Ward fell silent, his eyes trailing over each of them. He pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. "Okay." He sighed, turning around and wobbling back into the plane. Sarah turned away and ran a frustrated hand over her face, nodding for them to continue off the airstrip with a solemn look on her face.

Getting a taxi and heading further into Tres Rocas, they listened to the sound of fireworks and firecrackers as people roamed the decorated streets. Lively music played from different buildings and children raced up and down the streets, clutching flags and other things in their hands. Things seemed better, more friendlier than the dreary, heavily watched airport.

"Looks like a local holiday," Cleo mused, stepping out of the taxi and observing her surroundings. (Y/N) watched a firework shoot up into the air and hummed quietly before turning to face the others when the taxi drove away, leaving them in the middle of the crowded street.

"So, we have to assume that Singh's already gone upriver, alright? We're looking for a guy named Jose. He's gonna take us to the dig site. I, uh... I do not have a last name."

"I hate to break it to you, John B," (Y/N) began. "You're in a Latin country. Half the dudes here are going to be named Jose and most of them will be likely working some sort of job regarding the river since, you know, this is a river town."

"(Y/N)'s right. It'll be like findin' a teardrop in the ocean." Cleo rubbed her forehead as she spoke, a tired look passing over her face. "We'd have better luck tryin' to find Singh."

"Well, I'm assuming river guides probably hang out by the river?" Sarah attempted halfheartedly.

"Yeah, and if they're anything like the guys at OBX, they're probably getting drunk on a holiday."

Sarah hummed thoughtfully and placed her hands on her hips, a hopeful grin appearing on her face. "Let's start with the bars, then. Divide and conquer, ya'll."

And with that, the group split up and spread out around town. (Y/N) put his basic Spanish lessons from school to use, hitting up any place that looked like it sold beer and asking around for Jose the river guide. Many of the locals waved him off or shook their heads, unable to answer any of his questions with useful information. Regardless, he thanked them and went on his way until he met up with Pope and Cleo again near the center of the town, the looks on their faces telling him they'd have similar luck.

The sound of tires squealing caught their attention and they spotted a jeep driving down the road, heading straight for them. "Run." Pope breathed and without needing to be told twice, the three of them took off running down the street. The jeep honked repeatedly, the sound of it growing closer and closer as they ducked down different streets trying to lose it.

"Como estas, amigos?" A familiar face stuck their head out a windowless bus, speaking in barely understandable Spanish and with a hude dumb grin on his face. Fucking JJ and Kiara. Go figure. He laughed gleefully but the look quickly vanished at the realization that they were being chased.

"Already?! We just got here!" Kiara groaned, hurrying off the bus with JJ. "What's happening?"

"Singh's men are after us. We gotta think of a plan." Pope explained breathlessly, bracing his hands on his knees and attempting to calm his racing heart by taking deep breaths.

"Let's hijack the bus!"

"This bus?" Kiara scoffed at JJ's proposal, motioning wildly to the old rickety bus they'd taken. "It only goes ten miles an hour!"

"They're coming now, guys! Hide in the fruit stands, come on!" Cleo ushered them further down an alleyway where rows of stalls stood. They ducked and weaved around the bustling people until they found an unoccupied stand to hide behind. (Y/N) could feel droplets of sweat roll down his cheeks, his eyes locked on the rifles the two men carried around as they asked and checked the bus. The two eventually headed back to their jeep and took off down the road.

"Welcome to South America," Cleo said, tossing her arms up.

"They're foreigners, Cleo." (Y/N) murmured, catching his breath and running the back of his hand over his forehead. "The locals haven't done anything. They don't owe us any help either."

"So..." Kiara trailed off, her chest heaving with deep breaths. "What's the plan?"

JJ swallowed, his eyes flickering over the stands and locals bustling around before his lips twisted up. He looked back at Kiara, studying her face for a moment before looking back toward them. "Barracuda Mike gave us the ride here. We could... ask him?" He proposed, wincing at the deadpan look Pope gave him. "He's our only shot, man!"

"Fantastic..." Pope sighed heavily. "Barracuda Mike it is."

Barracuda Mike, as it turned out, was a smuggler who primarily dealt with smuggling drugs and other similar things out of North Carolina via his cargo plane. And, he seemed surprisingly understanding when the group returned to him asking for help, claiming to have a boat set up at the river. He led them to it, even offering over a mag of machetes for them to use as weapons as he led them through a short trek in the jungle and to a boat perched on the water.

"I'm addin' the cost of this rig to what you already owe me. I don't expect to see it again, anyway. I asked around at the landin' today. Your buds did leave this mornin', but I was able to get directions to El Tesoro. Pretty loose since only Jose knows the real way, but it'll get you in the right zip code." Barracuda Mike explained, handing over a piece of paper with directions written on it and nodding for them to climb into the boat.

Turning to look at him, Pope offered a small smile. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me." Barracuda Mike brushed him off with a dry chuckle and wave of his hand. "Start prayin'." Ah, that made his willingness to help more understandable. He wanted them out of his hair as quickly as possible. "

With a couple of strained grunts, Barracuda Mike pushed the boat further into the water and lifted his hand to wave at them as the boat began floating downstream. JJ got the motor started and their speed increased, releasing a soft hum that mixed with the distant singing birds, chirping insects, and even the occasional hoot of a monkey. The five of them settled comfortably on the boat, filling the silence with chatter. (Y/N) spent his time gazing into the murky, brown river water until night fell and they took turns steering the boat to get some rest.

By the early morning, the sound of another boat heading down the river prompted JJ to wake everybody up and steer the boat closer to the bank where it'd be hidden by foliage and low-hanging leaves. They ducked down and waited, watching as a boat filled with Singh's men passed by, armed and going rather fast.

"They're not lookin' for us." Cleo mused. "They're movin' too quick."

"They're looking for John B and Sarah." JJ realized quietly, darting up from his spot and starting the motor back up. "They gotta know where they're headed. We need to go. They're gonna need us!"

The boat quickly resumed its journey down the rivers, speed fast enough to keep up with Singh but slow enough not to draw their attention. (Y/N) watched the boat drift in and out of view, disappearing over the horizon until JJ sped back up. His gaze moved over to the bag of machetes resting on the floor of the boat. Weapons, Barracuda Mike had called them. Weapons meant to help them against armed and trained men with guns. Maybe he should've listened to Liz, after all.

Early the next morning they encountered a small docking area by the riverbank. Kiara studied the paper Barracuda Mike had given them, her head lifting every so often to look at the village before she nodded to herself. "Guys, I think this is El Tesoro. The trailhead to the mountain is supposed to start here." She told them.

"Oh, shit," JJ whispered, motioning ahead to two of Singh's men lingering on the docks. "What are we gonna do? We gotta get past them somehow."

Pope's lips pursed and he slipped his backpack off his shoulders, setting it down on his lap and rummaging through the contents before pausing and looking up at them. "I... may have an idea."

"This is so stupid." (Y/N) whispered, peeking over the windowsill of the old, abandoned shack that had the perfect view of the men. One of them dozed off on a boat while the other fiddled around with different things, seemingly bored of waiting around. "If one of you gets shot-"

"It'll be fine, (Y/N)." Kiara assured him, ensuring the note she'd tied to the end of the fish hook wouldn't fall before she tossed the line out. It landed in the boat the napping man lied in and he startled, sitting up with squinted eyes and looking around until he noticed the note. "Get ready, ya'll.... and.... now, JJ!"

The blonde lit a firecracker and tossed it into the air, far enough that it hit the side of boat and exploded in the water. The man scrambled up and grabbed his rifle, his head on a swivel as his partner ducked down. Another firecracker landed and exploded nearby, prompting the man to start shooting blindly and forcing them to duck down to avoid being seen or hit.

"Return fire, Pope! Return fire!" JJ shouted and Pope quickly lit another firecracker, tossing it over the roof of the shack.

When that one exploded, they heard the man shouting at his partner to get in the boat. The boat quickly sped off with the two men on it and the group sent them off with one last firecracker. Once they disappeared down the river, (Y/N) stood up and shook his head, rolling his eyes at JJ and Pope's celebratory handshake.

"Hey, hey," Cleo called, stepping out of the shack and sucking her teeth. "No time for celebrating. We didn't do nothing yet."

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

"You know," (Y/N) exhaled breathlessly, sweat dripping profusely from his skin from both the humidity and trek up the mountain. Kiara answered with a soft groan, clutching her side as she leaned against a tree and turned back to look at him. Pope and Cleo had long gone ahead of them, clearing a way with two machetes as if they were used to hiking through jungles. "I'm glad this little last adventure... with you all has been... interesting, to say the least."

"Last?" JJ repeated, quickly as breathless. His blonde strands stuck to his forehead and temples, soaked as if he'd taken a plunge in the river. "What- What do you mean, last?"

"Yeah, I mean-" Kiara took a deep gulp of air and swatted away a buzzing insect. "-I'm sure there'll be other adventures."

"Yeah, for you guys." (Y/N) stood up straighter and rolled back his shoulder, wincing when his back ached. His legs were in no better condition, aching and weeping for rest. JJ and Kiara stared at him, their brows knitting together. "I- I... Jesus, I hate hiking. I'm never doing this again."

"Ditto." Kiara laughed and turned her back to him, using the trunk she'd been leaning against to help her move over a fallen log. "But, what do you mean? We're Pogues. All of us. Even Cleo and you. We're... We're a family... one that should never go hiking again."

"Remember that night when Sarah told us about the plane?" You asked, waiting for JJ to step over the log and sighing quietly when the blonde tripped and nearly fell. He recovered quickly, shooting them both an innocent grin as he wiped moist dirt off his hand. (Y/N) cautiously stepped over the log, keeping in mind the root that'd nearly taken out JJ and glancing up at them as they continued the trek.

"Yeah, you and JB cleared the air, right?" JJ glanced over his shoulder at him.

"Yeah, sorta, I guess. But, uhm... I told them that I'd-"

"Woah, guys, look at this view!" Kiara suddenly called out with a giddy laugh, the path leading out to an open area where they could overlook the thick jungle and the mountains ahead. (Y/N) noticed Pope and Cleo breaking away from each other quickly and hummed quietly, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. Kiara and JJ, Pope and Cleo... Sarah and John B. They all had each other, in some way or another.

"What were you saying, (Y/N)?" JJ turned to look at him, causing the others to turn as well.

"Oh, uhm..." (Y/N) trailed off and sighed, looking out toward the gorgeous view before him. A thick green jungle as far as the eye could see, giant mountains that reached toward the skies, the beautiful song of the jungle sounding through the air. Beautiful, but everything that'd led him up to that moment hadn't truly been worth the view. "I'm leaving the OBX. For good. I'm- I'm going to get my diploma and apply to colleges away from here."

"What?" The resounding response to his revelation.

"I know, I know... Poguelandia, I know. I deserve more than being the thirdwheel or the ex being dragged along, guys. As much as ya'll hate to admit it, I'm a Kook. I care about each of you, even John B... sometimes. You'll always be family. And sometimes, families have to separate to live their lives to the fullest, right? I want a degree, a proper job, and a safe life. It's boring but it'll be comfortable." The Pogues remained largely quiet, mixed expressions on their faces and different emotions flashing but in the end, they all settled on bittersweet smiles and nods. "And I promise to send wedding invitations, if I ever get engaged."

"You better!" JJ laughed, lurching forward to swing his arms around his shoulders and hold him tightly. "You better, you bastard. I expect to be a groomsman, you hear?"

"And you better keep in touch, too." Kiara piped in.

"And visit when you can, alright?" Pope added and Cleo agreed with a nod.

"I will, I will." (Y/N) chuckled, running his hand over JJ's back before the two pulled away. "Now, let's go find those two idiots."

They headed down the mountain after Pope pointed out a manmade trail heading down and further into the jungle. JJ took the lead with Kiara, using machetes to cut down any thick grass, exposed roots, or fallen wood. They walked with idle chatter until a loud, distant yet not far explosion sounded through the air, startling the animals and causing birds in a nearby tree to shoot up into the air in a panic. They fell silent and exchanged wide-eyed glances before a silent, mutual agreement passed over them and they broke out into a sprint in the direction of the explosion.

"Careful!" Pope called when Kiara tripped over a root but brushed him off with a wave and stood back up to hurry after JJ.

They continued through the path until they heard the familiar sound of Ward's voice, followed by Big John and Sarah. Immediately ducking down, they carefully made their way up the steep path and peeked over, spotting Ward holding Big John, Sarah, and John B at gunpoint while speaking quietly to them.

"What are we gonna do?" Pope questioned quietly.

"Is this ride or die?" JJ asked quietly, his hand curling around the machete sheathed away. The others mimicked his movements, freeing their machetes from their sheaths and holding tightly onto them. JJ glanced back at them and grinned. "P4L."

The group charged forward with battle cries, pulling Ward's attention away from the three and onto them. He swung his gun around frantically as the group shouted at him, demanding he put his gun down. Ward panted, his eyes wide and arm swinging around, continuously switching who he pointed the gun at in a desperate attempt to spook them into staying back.

"You can't shoot just one of us." (Y/N) exhaled, grinding his teeth when Ward looked back at him with softened features.

"If you have to shoot somebody, Ward, shoot me." Big John told him through labored breaths, his bloodied hands pressed against his side. Shit. Ward spun on his heel to face him but John B stepped in his way, staring him right in the eye and arching a brow.

"Or me." He said softly, watching Ward's features harden and the trembling of his hand grow. He curled his lip and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his arm but then Sarah stepped in front of John B, her eyes shiny with tears but her features showcasing her utter exhaustion.

"Stop." She whispered, swallowing as a tear slid down her cheek and she stepped forward, pressing the barrel to her chest and staring at her father. "Enough."

"Don't-"

"You're not gonna kill all of us. I know you won't. I know you." Sarah's lips began to tremble and she shakily exhaled. "You forget that I know you."

Her words seemed to have an effect on Ward, his own eyes flooding with tears and face scrunching up as his shoulders began shaking. Sarah placed her hand over his, pushing it down and pulling the gun from his weakened grip. "I couldn't." Ward gasped, tears running freely down his face. His palm came to rest on Sarah's cheek and he weakly smiled. "I couldn't do it."

"Yeah? Well, I can." A new voice called followed by the sound of a gun cocking. One of Singh's men stumbled out of the jungle, his gun raised and pointed at them before dropping down to Big John when John B pointed his own gun at him. "Toss it!"

"Take it easy, bud." Big John spoke weakly. "Your boss is dead. You got no reason to do this."

"I can think of a few reasons." The man sneered at Big John, his eyes jumping back to John B. "Toss it!" He demanded sharply and John B lifted his hands, letting the gun slip from his grasp. The man slinked forward, keeping his gun trained on them. "Thought you'd end up with the gold, eh? Alright, nobody move. My mate back there is dead. Because of you. You..." He pointed his gun at Sarah. "Can go first."

Exchanging one last somber look with his daughter, Ward charged forward, taking multiple shots to his body but refusing to relent until he tackled the man and took them both tumbling down the cliff nearby. Sarah staggered forward, short gasps escaping her that turned into quiet sobs. (Y/N) moved first, snapping the others out of their shock, and walked toward the cliff's edge. He spotted the two lifeless bodies at the bottom and grimaced, closing his eyes tightly and listening to Sarah's sobs grow louder.

"Big John? Hey, Big John?" Pope's panicked voice made him open his eyes and he turned his head, noticing Big John's head lolling off to the side. (Y/N)'s arms reached out, pulling Sarah against him, and nodded to John B. The brunette shot him a thankful look before rushing over to his father, speaking hurriedly to him and slinging on of his arms over his shoulder.

"Come on, we gotta get you out of here, Dad." John B told him, waiting for Pope to get his other arm before they began heading back down the trail as quickly as possible.

"We'll let them know when we get back that his body's here, alright?" (Y/N) took Sarah by the shoulders, squeezing them lightly. She sniffled, another sob wrecking her body but she managed to nod weakly, one arm sliding around his waist to use him as support. "You'll be okay, Sarah. We'll all be okay."

They took turns helping Big John, the weight of a tall grown man weakening them after some time. They managed to reach the deserted dock, getting to their boat, and laying him down. (Y/N) got the motor started, steering them up the river as the Pogues tried giving Big John reassurances through their tears. He remained by the motor, watching them slowly come to terms with Big John's fate. His breathing had long become labored, his body too exhausted to fight through the pain.

With a trembling hand, Big John took his son's hand. "We did it together, my boy. Just... just like we drew it up. Hey, hey, Bird... it's okay." He weakly smiled up at him, rubbing his thumb over John B's hand. "I know... that I wasn't any great shakes as a father... but you... you were the best son any man could hope for. I want you to know that..."

"Tell me when we get home, Dad, okay?" John B sniffled, reaching into his bag to pull out the block of gold they'd been able to get from El Dorado before exploding the entrance alongside Singh. He set the block on Big John's chest for him to look at, a pained, bittersweet smile on his face. "We did it. We did it, Dad."

Big John's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing growing weaker and shorter. John B's lips rolled into his mouth, the tears dripping down his cheeks and quiet sobs escaping him. "I'll see you... I'll see you at home, kid..." Big John told him, before his chest ceased rising and John B hugged him tightly.

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

"Is this all of it?"

(Y/N) tore his attention away from his startling empty room to look over at Liz. He'd taken down most of his pictures, even those of him and Sarah, and packed them away in a box. He'd already chosen which ones he felt like keeping and which ones he felt fine with parting. His closet remained partly empty, a couple clothes kept in there just in case, but his essentials and anything sentimental had been packed away and in the back of his jeep.

"Yeah," (Y/N) nodded, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nodding to himself. "We're good to go, I guess."

"Good, 'cause I have a flight to catch." Liv walked forward, wrapping her arms around him before planting a kiss on his cheek. She scanned the room and hummed quietly, turning around and making her way to the door. "I'll be waiting for you on campus, alright? I already spoke to your future roomie-"

"Liv." (Y/N) groaned.

"And I have to say, he's pretty cute. I think you'll have fun together." Liv winked, her mischievous giggles echoing down the hall.

Rolling his eyes and quietly muttering to himself, (Y/N) took one last survey of his childhood bedroom. He'd miss it, even with all the lonesome memories it held. He walked toward the door and stepped outside, gently shutting it and making his way down the hall. His eyes took in every inch of the hall, gaze lingering on the rare family photos still hung up despite his parent's pending divorce. Things were better that way. They'd go their own way, find their own happiness. Communication with them had improved, at least. No more ignored calls.

"Goodbye, home sweet home." He whispered to himself, striding down the stairs and picking up his keys.

(Y/N) stepped outside and shut the door with a soft thud, locking it and double-checking it locked. He inhaled deeply and stepped off the porch, waving to Liv's car when it sped down the road. Topper waited at the end of the driveway, attempting to look as casual as possible while leaning against his truck.

"What's up, Top?"

"Came to see you off, is all," Topper responded with a shrug, pushing himself off the truck and walking up the driveway toward him. He stood in front of him, twisting his lips up a bit before throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. (Y/N) stumbled backward and chuckled, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm still mad at you.... but I'll miss you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get into trouble, alright?" (Y/N) leaned back, ruffling up his pristine blonde locks and laughing when Topper huffed. "Keep an eye on Sarah, will you? But be nice about it."

"She's a big girl," Topper muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will. Just for you, though."

"Uh-huh." (Y/N) climbed into his jeep and turned the engine on, feeling it come to life beneath him. He took another look at the boy and smiled, closing the door and resting his arm on top of it. "I'll be seeing you in a couple months, anyway. Got that big thing with the mayor, remember? Something about the treasure."

"Don't be a stranger, then!" Topper called, watching the car reserve out of the driveway.

With one last wave, (Y/N) drove down the street. He turned the volume of the radio up and absentmindedly listened to the random pop songs that played, his eyes focused on the scenery passing him by. The expensive houses, the snobby neighbors, the shimmering water peeking between the trees, the welcoming town between both worlds, the distant horn of the ferry. He'd miss Kildare but it felt good to finally break away from it.

The repeated honking of a car caught his attention and he rolled his eyes when the Twinkie drove up beside him with JJ halfway out of the passenger window. Whoops, hollers, and the occasional 'we'll miss you' came from the van and JJ playfully blew him a few kisses before being forced back into his seat by John B. The brunette pushed his hand into the horn a few more times before they turned down a different road.

"Idiots." (Y/N) whispered with a chuckle and pulled into a gas station, parking his car by one of the bumps and stepping out. He stuck his hand in his back pocket for his wallet and tugged it out, moving around his car and looking up in time to notice Sarah jogging across from the store.

"Liv told me you were gonna stop for gas here." She revealed with a chuckle, brushing back strands of blonde hair she'd recently recolored. Sarah smiled sweetly, glancing at the stuff stored in the back of his jeep. "The others are gonna pick me up in a second. I... I wanted to say bye to you alone. Well- Somewhat alone."

"All of you are acting as if I'm marching off war." (Y/N) snorted. Sarah laughed sheepishly and shrugged lightly, taking a few steps closer before she leaned up to press their lips together. She leaned back and rested her hands on his shoulders, her smile shifting into a sad one. She sighed shakily and chuckled again.

"Thank you, for everything... I couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend, ex or not. I'll really miss you and just know that- that I'll always have love for you, (Y/N). Remember that, okay? Promise you'll never forget how much I care about you... how much we all care for you." She told him softly, tilting her head up to gaze into his eyes. "Pogues for life?"

"Pogues for life." He echoed softly, combing his fingers through her hair and pressing his hand against her cheek. Sarah leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"I'm... I'm glad you're going for your happily ever after, (Y/N). Even if it's not with us. We'll always be here if you ever need us."

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wooahaes · 11 months

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mm, i got a really big problem...

pairing: non-idol...? mark lee x fem!reader

genre: comedy? fluff.

word count: ~0.7k

warnings: an apartment door nearly gets knocked off its hinges based on how loudly it was opened.

daisy’s notes: haha! you thought this was over! now its over for real i promise. (its midnight for me hehe)

At exactly midnight, the door to your apartment was probably broken now.

To paint the scene more clearly: you, the birthday girl of the day, had been curled up in your bed... alone, because your boyfriend had been away for work. Despite the way he had pouted at you the day before he left (”I can take you with me, just hide in my luggage, they won’t know--” after his attempts to fly you with them separately didn’t work because you also had work), Mark had grown more... okay, in a sense, that he wouldn’t physically be there with you for your birthday. The two of you had already decided you’d have a make-up date after he came back (which was supposed to be tonight, since midnight had struck) and rested up. It genuinely didn’t bother you at this point: his work was important to him, and he wasn’t the one in control of when he had to leave and come back. Hell, he was supposed to be back on your birthday, the birthday date being later was because you knew he’d be exhausted.

So when your apartment door suddenly burst open with the force of someone trying to break in, your first thought was, pretty reasonably, “Oh, fuck, someone just broke into my apartment, I should get ready to run and call the cops.”

Except thirty seconds later, your bedroom door flung open to, and you were met with the face of your panicked boyfriend. “Did I make it?! It was, like, two minutes to midnight when I got here and I, like, booked it up the stairs, bro.”

You merely stared at Mark at first, processing what the hell just happened. Because, truly, what the fuck just happened.

“Baby?” He said amidst all the huffing and puffing--how fast did he book it up the stairs? “Did I miss it?”

All you could do was look at your phone, time clicking on to reveal it was not only past minute, but barely a few minutes past midnight. Wordlessly, you held your phone up, and saw the devastation on his face.

“No! Oh my god. I thought we had time,” he made his way over to you. “I got an earlier flight and everything. Aw, man...”

Finally, you found your voice. “Mark... What the hell?”

He sat down at the foot of your side of the bed. “Okay. So... We got an earlier flight. Or, well, I mean I did... and so did a couple of the guys to make sure I didn’t die on my way here, although Donghyuck said he’d be there to comfort my widowed girlfriend if I did die on my way here--” Sounded like him. His flirting with you (and your boyfriend, to be fair) never stopped since you and Mark had never been bothered by what was clearly a joke. “--and I was gonna come surprise you and be like ‘I made it!’ but I didn’t, so now the surprise is kinda ruined even if it does mean I’m back here now--”

Instead of letting him continue to ramble about how he missed you, something he always did when returning from trips, you just pulled him in to kiss his stupidly cute face. He merely smiled into it, kissing you back immediately. When he drew back, you could see the way his eyes were glimmering.

“Hi, baby,” he giggled. “I know I’m late, but happy birthday. I’m home.”

“Mark, you nearly broke the fucking door!” Someone called from the living room. The two of you shared a look, and he grew more flustered.

“Also... I may have ditched my bags on the stairs. And I think Chenle was already following me up since I forgot some of my shit in the car, so...”

You giggled, planting a quick peck against his lips. “Go take care of things,” you said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

He started to move, only to turn back, smiling as he kissed you one more time. “I love you,” he said. “I’m glad I’m home.”

You were, too.

taglist: @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.fic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct imagine #nct dream imagine #nct 127 imagine #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagine #mark lee fluff #wooahaes.23

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elliyoyo · 15 days

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Elliyoyo's Masterlist (04/2024)

This has everything from my entire time on Tumblr (2017 to now). Being updated as I post more, and edited when one of my brain cells kick in. Hope you enjoy, love you guys <3

Baldur's Gate 3:

Adverse Effects (Gale Dekarios) - You give Gale a ring to help his condition, but don't check its magical properties first. He ends up hot and bothered, and that's on you, good leader.

Burn Notice:

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera (Sam Axe) - You get bored and strike up some spicy chit chat with your boyfriend Michael while on a stake out... Oh shit, is that Michael?

Playing Couple's Therapist (Sam Axe) - You and Fiona grab a couple drinks, and to no surprise, Sam shows up to get drunk beside friends. But friends turns to more when you make a confession he won't let you avoid.

Fallout:

The First High (Hancock) - You have a sesh with everyone's favorite mayor. Shooting the shit and taking some hits... Not the worst way the apocalypse could be going.

Hamilton:

I Make the Reporter Beat Box (Lin Manuel Miranda) - You're interviewing LMM and he decides to make you beatbox for him.

SlytherLin (Lin Manuel Miranda) - For Lin, the boggart turns into a battered and beaten version of you. He realizes some things, and acts on them.

When the Clock Strikes Twelve (Modern!Lafayette) - You get a kiss at midnight from the resident French man.

Saved (Modern!Alexander Hamilton) - You're fed up and decide its time to end it, but a peculiar stranger talks you down.

Home (Modern!George Washington) - Your identifying as trans has taken you down a dark, terrifying road with your family. Luckily, your childhood best friend George gives you the option to leave that behind and live with him.

Horror Films:

Hell Hath No Fury Like Two Mad Scientists Scorned (Herbert West) - Dan and Meg try to care for you after Dr. Hill nearly forces himself on you, but nobody would've thought Herbert would've been the one to actually help you.

Say That One More Time? (Herbert West + Dan Cain) - You make an announcement that blows both boys' minds... once Herbert takes a moment to process it.

Herbert West/Reader/Dan Cain Poly HCs - How the boys would be in a relationship, SFW and NSFW.

Marvel:

Christmas Eve (Bucky Barnes) - Bucky is away on a mission, and you give him one last call before Christmas.

Decorating the Tree (Bucky Barnes) - You and Bucky can't seem to keep your hands to yourself while decorating Tony's humongous XXXL Christmas tree.

Eleven O'Clock (Jessica Jones) - You're desperate to find your cat, so you visit an old friend and rekindle some flames between you two.

The Infamous Pancake Order (Loki Laufeyson) - Loki accidentally orders 37 boxes of pancake mix. That's it. That's the fic.

Kissing Under the Mistletoe (Loki Laufeyson) - Thanks to Mr. Wonderful Tony Stark, you and the newest Avenger friend end up having a small lesson in Midgardian traditions.

Dark Blue Suit (Tom Hiddleston) - You just can't help yourself when Tom dresses himself up all dapper for interviews or red carpets.

Baking Cookies (Natasha Romanoff) - You will simply perish if you stop sneaking cookie dough from the bowl Nat is scooping from... but you might actually die if she keeps catching you.

Cookie Craving (Peter Parker) - Late night munchie shenanigans. You two just want some cookies, but you're not the brightest bulbs.

Nightmare (Peter Parker) - You have a nightmare about Peter dying while you helplessly sit there. Even at 3am, he answers your hurried call and comes over.

Pucker Up, Parker (Peter Parker) - Your boyfriend lets you do his makeup, and you get overwhelmed by how well he pulls it off.

Stealing Sweaters (Peter Parker) - After a long night of fun, you have some breakfast with Peter in his sweater.

Visiting Family (Peter Parker) - You're Tony Stark's daughter, he's Tony Stark's kid genius. All anyone can see when they look at you is your father... until Peter Parker and his Aunt.

Wrapping Presents (Pietro Maximoff) - The speedster helps you get your Christmas wrapping done in the blink of an eye, and he expects a thank you.

Movie Night (Wade Wilson) - You sit down to have a nice movie night with your boyfriend, but he's a dick and decides to pick a horror movie instead of one you can bang to.

Accidental Text (Steve Rogers) - You drunk sext Cap, and when you try to go about your day the next morning, of course he's right there.

Getting Lost in the Mall (Steve Rogers) - You lose your boyfriend in a crowd of fangirls, but you use that time separated to your advantage.

Happy Century, Captain! (Steve Rogers) - Cap is 100! Such a special number calls for a very special gift.

Steve's Jacket (Steve Rogers) - You accidentally throw Cap's signature jacket in the wash while he's away on a mission and it hits you hard.

Cuddling by the Fire (Thor Odinson) - You want to warm up on a cold Winter night, so what better way than to cuddle up to a fire with a book and your godly boyfriend?

Playing in the Snow (Thor Odinson) - You start a snowball fight with a God to show him your planet's culture. Not the best idea.

Holiday Party (Tony Stark) - Tony accidentally spills a drink on you during one of his parties, but don't worry, he makes it up to you.

Ugly Sweaters (Tony Stark) - You and Tony try to one-up each other for ugliest sweater and he plays dirty to see what your contender is.

Mötley Crüe:

Just Another Threesome (Vince Neil) - You and your rockstar boyfriend give a random fan the time of her life to get rid of pre-show jitters.

Walk-Ins Accepted (Tommy Lee) - You get off a shift early and stumble upon your drummer roomie in quite the state.

Queen:

Good Girl (Roger Taylor) - Sequel to Naughty School Girl. More submissive Roger, since he enjoyed the last time so much.

Naughty School Girl (Roger Taylor) - You just can't help yourself when you see Roger dressed up for the I Want to Break Free video.

Supernatural:

Traditions (Castiel) - You and the boys enlighten Cas on human New Years Eve traditions.

Nose Kisses (Dean Winchester) - You and Dean put your toddler to bed with plenty of kisses.

First Date (Sam Winchester) - Sam intervenes when some drunk guy decides to pick on you at the bar and thank god for it because you secured yourself a date with the moose.

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dailypoetryforyou · 1 year

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The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe.

Today, we will be talking about The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.

The Raven is a poem that was first published in 1845 and has become one of the most famous poems in western literature. It is a narrative poem that tells the story of a man who is visited by a raven one night as he is grieving the loss of his lover,Lenore.

The poem is written in trochaic octameter, which means that each line has eight stressed syllables followed by eight unstressed syllables. The use of this meter gives the poem a haunting, rhythmic quality that adds to its eerie atmosphere(reading this as child was like watching a horror movie ngl).

It begins with the narrator reading a book as he tries to forget about his lost love, However he is interrupted by a tapping at his chamber door, and when he opens it, he finds nothing there. He repeats this process several times, becoming increasingly agitated, until a raven enters his room and perches upon a bust of Pallas Athena(the audacity of this bish).

The narrator tries to engage the raven in conversation, asking it questions about its identity and its purpose for visiting him. the raven only responds with the repeated phrase "Nevermore," which gradually drives the narrator to despair.

Throughout the poem, Poe employs a range of literary techniques to create a sense of foreboding and uneas. For example, he uses alliteration and internal rhyme to create a sense of repetition and monotony, which reflects the narrator's growing frustration with the ravens unchanging response. Additionally, he uses vivid imagery to create a sense of darkness and decay, with references to the "bleak December" night and the "grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous" raven.

Overall i find that the The Raven is a haunting and evocative poem that has stood the test of time, and has definitely made an impression on me as a writer. It has also in my opinion been a significant influence on the development of modernism in poetry. Modernist poets, such as T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound, were influenced by Poe's use of rhythm and meter, as well as his ability to create a unified, cohesive work of art. Ithink jts safe to say it had a profound impact on the poetry scene, helping to establish new forms of poetry and new ways of thinking about the art of poetry. Its influence can still be seen in modern poetry, where poets continue to experiment with new forms and styles, where symbolism and the use of the first-person narrator remain prominent features of the art form.

Throughrough out it leads your heart into a frenzy that lingers long after the poem has been read, undoubtedly one of my favourite reads. Feel free to Share you own thoughts and interpretations.

For those who haven't had the pleasure of reading this poem before here you go! Enjoy!

The Raven

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

#the raven poem #edgar allan poe #famous poets #poetry #poetry analysis #poems on tumblr #literature analysis #literature #poetblr #dailypoetryforyou #writeblr #daily poems #poem analysis #writers and poets

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Text

Yandere Masochistic Dabi x healer reader (request)

A request off site for a masochistic Dabi

Tw: violence, masochism, blood kink if you squint mdni

Word count: 1.5k

It was rare for you to leave your apartment nowadays. As the blue flamed villain’s backdoor nurse, your safety and the knowledge of your location were important. In the past, you had others appear on your doorstep. Hero, villain, or otherwise mattered not; only the length of their injuries. Countless broken bodied individuals in need of you aid; all frequent visitors vanishing when Dabi came until only, he remained – your only touch with the outside world. Painstaking hours of awaiting his return or call, and in the times, you had the freedom to leave it was hardly ever without eyes on you in any way, shape, or form. Which is why he was now trailing at your heels as you walked through dingy alleyways back home.

A stalking issue is what led to your gain of a bodyguard, not that you hadn’t had that issue already. A shadow lingering outside your window, it’s aura not nearly as threatening as the shadow of death looming behind you. Dabi's lanky build towers over you; inches away from your back like a shadow. Hooded; one hand rests in his jacket pocket while the other loosely grips an unmarked plastic bag. In your hands lied a rectangular box with its lid torn open, and contents spilling onto the soiled streets as your blistered fingers fail to catch them. You retrieve one of the remaining bandages from the box – its blue hue causing your eyes to narrow. Carefully, you wrap it around your index finger; slowing down enough in the process that Dabi bumps into you.

“Easy there.” He rumbles, pressing his palm to your shoulder to stabilize both him and yourself. “If you can wait till we get back, I don’t mind helping you out with that.”

Not typically the type for the domestics, the thought of wrapping up your wounds in a brief moment of intimacy was nice to Dabi. Nearmt anything for you sounded nice. You straighten up, yanking your shoulder away with a rough jerk you think he doesn’t notice – but he does. It’s the little things, as they say. His lips pull into a smirk.

“I’m fine. The air feels nice right now and I don’t want to go inside just yet.”

“Would you like to do something else then?”

“No, with you so quiet back there it’s almost like you aren’t even here.”

Harsh; yet oh so bold. For you to talk to a guy that could turn you into ash in seconds; lighting the world ablaze in the process. It was – exhilarating for him. A jolt of electricity up his spine that kickstarted an urge like no other. To you, there was no point in beating around the bush which is why you were often vocal about your aversion for Dabi. It didn’t do much to deter him from you. In one case, you faintly recall a glint of desire in his eye as you berated him for showing up out of the blue injured like a wounded dog.

“I'm just saying. We could use more time outside.”

“I do, and I would get it if you weren’t monitoring my every move.”

“I think I do a pretty good job at-"

You hold your hand up, halting him in his tracks and train of speech. “Quiet.”

You point forward. Standing behind your apartment building; head tilted to where yours sat on the second floor, was the figure you saw nights before. An unidentifiable male, from what the half mask he wore let you see. The midnight shines off an object he held. You shift your footing, ready to return and flee before he spots you – but it’s too late for that. His head turns, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment – before they land on Dabi.

“I thought I’d have to kidnap them before you’d show your face.” The stranger states, addressing him. “My brother was a patient of our doctor friend there, before you made them turn him away.”

“I’m sure there’s a hospital nearby he could go to.”

He doesn’t bother with a reply, instead choosing to charge at Dabi; steel pipe dragging behind and scrapping the ground. As he nears, Dabi lights the general area on fire, blue flames licking up the walls of nearby buildings and kissing the skies above. The man vanishes the second they reach him, his weapon clacking to the ground at Dabi's feet. Not even a spec of ash. He looks around the area, on guard for the next attack. He glances back at you, remembering he wasn’t alone in his equation and the other factor was almost more important than himself.

You stood off to the side in the safety of the shadows, protected from his flames. Your eyes were highlighted in the dark, unblinking; observing. Like an eager visitor at a zoo. Like you knew what would happen next.

And maybe you did. You did work on the man's brother after all.

A grin splits across your face. Heat gathers around Dabi's feet, not from his own fire, but from faint spark of electricity spiking from the pipe on the ground. Something he notices a moment too late for him to react.

The cold metal connects with his face, a staggered Dabi stumbling backwards and losing his footing over an unknown puddle on the street. His assailant stands over him, veins and bone visible through his skin as electricity surges from his body; arm connected to the pipe. Dabi's head spins. He looks up at the sky for balance, at you. Maybe the smile on your face was a figment of his imagination as you stare back with tight lips. Your eyes, however, remained the center point of where your emotions lie. An unwavering, demanding glare that boar into his mind. An expression with only one worded comparison.

“Get the fuck up.”

And so, he does. Anything for his baby.

Dabi closes his eye as you slap a bandage on his cheek, rubbing the adhesive into his skin. He sat shirtless on your couch, you tending to the few injuries gained in the fight. Drying blood clots tissue plugged up his nostrils, the brunt of the damage he received.

“Hey, Doc. Can you fix this up for me?” He asks, pointing at his nose.

You don’t even bother to look up. “No. You’ll be fine.”

“I think it might be broken.”

“If it was then I’d help you, but it’s not and would be a waste. I’m already getting a headache as it is.” Your quirk was like an exchange of sorts. A deep stabbed wound in place for a mere scratch for you. Even the deadliest of injuries was little more than a slap on the wrist or more closely, a sprained wrist. That didn’t mean you were ready to do it at any moment for any small injury.

“Please?” He presses, placing his head on your arm. He knew your patience was running out. A moment he yearned for.

You ball up your hand. “I said no.”

“Pretty please?”

Your fist connects with his face, head whipping back from the blow. The force is so powerful that he hears his neck crack as his head pivots on his spine. The pain hits fast, blooming from his nose to the rest of his face. The small stream of blood from it becomes a river, gushing down over his lips. He feels the beat of his hurt with every throb of his definitely broken nose, thumping even harder as his bloodshot eats gaze into yours.

“I think that is warranted for a fix, but I’m not sure if you even want it.”

The first time he begged you to hurt him, you thought it was a test. To see if you had the guts to try something. You were so pissed off at him; the man that stole your freedom and trapped you like a bird that you didn’t care. The groan of pleasure that left his lips filled you with so much disgust that you did it again.

And again.

At first it was just about getting your frustrations out, even if he found ecstasy in it. As time went on, the fire behind your blows came from somewhere deeper; darker. You started to enjoy it. His body crumpled on the floor, stuck on you like a lifeline. The sight of any new wound he came for you to heal. Pain was the thing that bounded you to Him, both his and yours. You’d comply with his demands for affection as long as if gave into yours for affliction, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The hurt just another form of love for him.

Dabi gives you one of his famous shit eating grins, blood dripping onto his teeth. He smears it across them with his tongue, sticking it out for you to see the weight of your damage. If you had to give him any compliments, his blood was beautiful; a mixture of it and saliva rolling down his chin.

“Not just yet.”

He pulls you in, a new branch of pain forming as your nose crashes against his as jams his lips towards yours. Hot blood; passion reaches your mouth as he kisses you, coating your bottom lip in every part of him. It was disgusting – he was disgusting. He’d let you devour him if you’d so please.

You bite down on the wet muscle slipping through, earning an open mouth moan from Dabi.

And maybe one day you will.

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isagrimorie · 1 year

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We’re just a few hours before episode 50 and its nearly midnight* where I am and I’m feeling restless enough with worry that I just wanted to articulate my thoughts, for the past two weeks I’ve been watching earlier episodes of Campaign 3, and before then I don’t think I’ve noticed how Imogen really is tormented, and its because I think Imogen tries to downplay how much being around people affects her.

(* I’m very sleepy so I apologize if this is incoherent!).

In the last two years traveling with Laudna seems to have helped strengthen her mind shielding. But Imogen’s powers are terrible and isolating, and she has mentioned dropped more than one hint that she suicidal thoughts.

I won’t be surprised if Imogen was just as touch starved as Laudna before they met. And going through this, I realize that Imogen pre-Laudna might have been on her way to becoming how debilitated Buffy was when she got the mind reading powers in Earshot, especially considering how her powers just keeps growing and how frightened and confused she was with everything happening to her.

youtube

In the above scene Giles learns the other person who has the ability to mind read had to isolate themselves far away from civilization just to stay sane.

And the way Buffy gets overwhelmed is how I imagine Imogen dealing with her mind powers the first time they manifested. At first it was fun and then it started to get worse as more and more voices entered her mind.

Because apparently even in Exandria, especially if they’re far away enough from cities, magic users are still dealt with some suspicion.

Imogen seemed to have put Liliana on a pedestal and idealized Liliana. The certainty she based her life on was that her mother was the best especially given the distance Relvin has put between himself and Imogen.

Imogen then gets a one-two combo, pushing Imogen off center: Learning Liliana is alive and willingly working with the enemy must have rocked Imogen’s world. Personally, I feel Imogen questioning if they were on the right path felt natural because of the aforementioned body blows but also it feels like Imogen was processing out loud, working through her thoughts. In a strange way this reminds me of the moment in Grey’s Anatomy where Cristina and Bailey had a heart to heart about having a baby in the midst of their careers. I know its not an apple to oranges thing but it was what Bailey said that made me go… oh.

About how Bailey and her husband tried to have a baby for years and yet when she realized she was pregnant that she can’t work the hours she worked and the career she wanted to have and not take pause.

And Bailey took a pause for a very long time.

I know the scope and scale is different from the Apogee Solstice and a typical Grey’s Anatomy episode but I think, in a way, this was similar in mechanism to what Bailey did. She took a pause to process everything she thought about and the carrot Liliana dangled in front of her, except Imogen’s process is talking things out. Get it out of her head.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it Orym was there and before she could even work through her thoughts, about what she saw and experienced, Imogen processing is shut down.

Of course Ludinus and rest of the Vanguard are evil, of course!

But god killing beings are also too nebulous a concept and the world Liliana showed Imogen was tantalizing— living pain free and alone in her head.

The dream world is how Liliana and possibly many Exaltant Ruidus born fell prey to the Ruby Vanguard propaganda. Isolated, alone, looking for answers and a purpose.

(Another thing most of Bells Hells share with each other, the desire to have purpose and meaning).

So, while shutting down the line of doubt and questioning is a good thing it still left Imogen bereft. And now she’s also left with a sense of just doubting might mean she was evil.

And through all this I do like Laudna was a silent observer except for the one question where Laudna asked: “Why do you need to be convinced?”and Imogen threw a hurt but also annoyed glance at Laudna and answered in the negative.

But also, Imogen sought Laudna out and they finally had a talk and honestly I do think out of everyone, even without their bond Laudna was the perfect person to talk to because she approached their conversation without judgment.

Apart from the romantic overtones, Laudna’s walked a similar path Imogen is considering walking: The What If I give in, what if its not all bad? It’s also not the first time they had a conversation where Laudna commiserated with Imogen about something that was potentially dark. Before Delilah derailed their conversation in episode 23, what Laudna said struck a chord:

LAUDNA: You know I can understand this feeling quite a bit, actually. →

IMOGEN Really? →

LAUDNA A false sense of security and power from an ungodly source. → That doesn’t… → You don’t have the control.

[SNIP]

It can be intoxicating, borrowing from a power beyond you. → Just be careful of the moments that you can no longer separate yourself from it. →

And of course, in episode 50, Laudna reminds

LAUDNA: We still have the chance to live a normal life. If you wish to have a quiet life in a cozy cottage in a field, raise horses, and just be. No gods or fates or destiny can keep you from that. Can keep us from that. The gods have never kept us from our ability to have choice.

[SNIP]

And you don’t have to make these choices alone.

And that’s the crux isn’t it? Concept of choice and also the reminder that Imogen isn’t alone.

Imogen maybe similar to Liliana in a lot of ways but she’s also different from Liliana in very definitive ways: Imogen has friends, and Imogen has Laudna.

Imogen saying: “You have to love it all.” Feels like an underrated breakthrough.

Imogen learned to love the weird and everything that comes with being born different.

Because after everything, after all the pain and heartbreak that came with her powers, at this point, I don’t think Imogen truly wants to give up her powers, when having her powers led to meeting Laudna.

(But also, Bells Hells truly are the X-Men/Doom Patrol team, huh?)

I don’t have a sense that Liliana ever learned to love her powers, nor embrace the weird. Instead Liliana chose to leave her family behind and stay out of contact. And its just so easy for a group like the Ruby Vanguard to swoop Liliana up.

Imogen chose to leave Gelvaan with Laudna and formed new attachments and friends. And having friends too is a super power all on its own.

#thinky thoughts #cr spoilers #laudna #imogen temult #critical role spoilers #speculation #critical role c3 spoilers #pre cr 3x50 thoughts #buffy summers #sorry for just ending abruptly #i really am very sleepy #bells hells #Youtube

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kota-corner · 13 days

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Midnight is already so uncomfortable and I'm not even halfway through yet.

Firstly, Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw MAY be related- they are possibly second cousins. Sandstorm is Squirrelflight’s mother, and Sandstorm’s father is generally assumed to be Redtail(and her mother is assumed to be Brindleface). Redtail’s sibling is Leopardfoot, who’s son is Tigerstar, who gave birth to Brambleclaw. In other words, if Redtail is truly Sandstorm's father, that means that she and Tigerstar are first cousins, which could make their kids second cousins. It has not been confirmed in the books or by the writers, so honestly it could just be a common interpretation that isn't actually canon.

I personally like to believe that Sandstorm's parents were two completely unrelated cats that died tragically when she was very young, and that's why she doesn't seem to talk much about family. This alone wouldn't be too bad since again, it's all speculation currently and Warriors has some issues with continuity and keeping things consistent, so I'd take this on its own with a grain of salt until the writers or books themselves directly state it. However, combined with all the other stuff that is toxic about this pairing, even the mere thought of having these two be closely blood related on TOP of it all is disturbing!

Scientifically, you share nearly none of your ancestors DNA after about eight generations and it is not classified as inc*st, which is far from where Squirrel and Bramble would be as second cousins. I understand they are cats, and in reality, they do inbreed at high rates. However, the difference between that and having it happen in Warriors is that real life cats do not have the cognitive or emotional capacity to differentiate between a blood relative and a potential mate. They act on purely biological instincts and they don't have any concept of inc*st, meaning that they are completely blind to it. Meanwhile, Warriors is a FICTIONAL story. The cats are strongly personified, they have intellectual thoughts and conversations, they can recognize their family members, they can fall in love and develop relationships outside of just mating to produce kits, etc. You can't apply the argument that "it isn't inc*st they're cats" when they are written to behave like us in many ways. Giving an animal human qualities means that a lot of human morals have to apply to them.

Also, Brambleclaw is ALREADY SHOWN TO BE LOWKEY SHITTY TO SQUIRRELPAW AND THE TWO ARE NOT EVEN TOGETHER YET. One of the first remarks Bramble makes about her to himself is that he'd claw her ear if she gave him an "attitude".

The age gap itself is not that bad- it's about sixteen months according to my calculations, and cats mature differently than humans, and often rapidly, so Brambleclaw is the equivalent of around fifteen, and Squirrelpaw is about the equivalent of eleven or twelve, which would be a very concerning age gap for humans, but again these are cats and their age process is different since they have shorter lifespans.

The problem is more the emotional power he holds over her, treating her as beneath him because she's still an apprentice, which makes for a very troubling beginning for the two of them when you consider that they are going to be a canonical couple not too far out from now.

I do already love Squirrelpaw, but I do not like the direction Brambleclaw's character is going in. I really liked him in TPB, but now he seems more like a mini Tigerstar. If his whole journey is about not judging others based on who their parents are, why are we making him act like this? And from what I've heard, he only gets worse.

Anyways, Squirrelpaw/Squirrelflight should allowed to be a lesbian and leave the toxic males in her life because she deserves a loving girlfriend thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

(Me, slapping Tigerstar for being awful to multiple of my favorite characters/j)

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thequeertiefling · 2 years

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Expecting

Summary

With his wife pregnant, Snotlout has new insecurities to battle.

Notes

Arnora is my own oc, I’m adding her cause I can.

Takes place about a year after HTTYD 2 (ignoring THW cause I can)

The small dragon is one of two smothering smokebreaths that belong to Arnora and live in the Jorgenson house

Did onesies exist in viking times? Don’t know dont care, its cute and that's all that matters

Content Warning: Abuse is alluded to, pregnancy, birth scene

Word count: 1 788

Big thanks to @rosiethedragongeek who was a huge reason I'm even posting this, and also for the baby's name

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It was well past midnight when Snotlout shot up in his bed, panting and shaking as his head fell into his hands. Trying to calm himself down, one hand ran through his hair as the other dropped to his side. It was then he remembered he was not alone in the bed, and looked to his side to find his love layed on her side, her back facing him as she slept peacefully. Good, he didn’t wake her.

He decided that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, even if he tried, and got up from the bed to leave the room. While traversing the dark room he almost tripped over a munch of metal scraps, making a loud noise that woke their owner in the process. The little dragon looked at Snotlout for a moment and growled quietly before closing it’s eyes again. Snotlout cringed as he looked back at his wife, who was still sleeping despite all the noise.

He managed to find his way to the living room, where he lit up the fireplace and took a seat on the rocking chair near the window, the one he had built for Arnora in just a week after finding out about her pregnancy. He sighed as he looked out of the uncovered window. The sky looked so beautiful at this time. It could almost make him forget about the dream. He sighed again as he looked down at the basket next to him. Inside the basket were knitting instruments, wool, and a half-knit, baby-sized onesie. Recently he had taken up the craft as a way to release his pent-up stress and anxiety, while also making something that his baby would be able to use (nevermind the fact that he built practically everything the future Jorgenson would need)

He took the project out of the basket and started working on it. It was a nice red colour, and the wool was top-notch, only the best for his baby.

Even while knitting he couldn’t get his mind away from his dream. It was the most vivid one he had in a while. Sometimes he barely remembered the dreams, other times, like that night, he could remember every excruciating detail. Sometimes they weren’t even dreams, not really, more like memories. It was never the same dream, but every dream always followed the same formula. A scene would come up where he did something his father didn’t approve of, or was disappointed over, and he would start scolding Snotlout. Sometimes Spitelout would even hit him. But that wasn’t the worst part of the dreams. In every single dream his father would slowly morph, twisting and pulling, until what stood before Snotlout was his own image. A crueller version of himself, but still recognizable as Snotlout.

These dreams reflected his own fears, he knew that. He was so afraid of becoming his father that even his subconscious wouldn’t let him forget it.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts and his knitting that he didn’t notice the light at the corner of his eye until a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He yelped as he jumped, chair rocking in the process, while also holding the, now nearly finished, onesie close to his chest. He turned his head to the side, finding that the hand on his shoulder belonged to his excruciatingly beautiful (his words) wife, Arnora. She wore a small smile as she set down the oil lamp she was holding onto the floor. Both her hands came up to his face, holding him in her hands as her thumbs wiped his tears away. Huh. He hadn’t realised he’d been crying. He practically melted into her hands, one of his one leaving knit-work, which was now on his lap, to be placed over her hand. Her hands were callous, but to him they were softer than the softest silk. He always felt so safe in her hands.

Arnora looked at him with a deep love, and a bit of sadness, and whispered; ”Hey.””Hey,” Snotlout’s soft response was immediate. “How long have you been up?” as she asked this she walked around the chair to stand in front of him, revealing her large stomach. She was 8 months pregnant, another reason for Snotlout to be so stressed. He lifted items off his lap in order to make space for her to sit, which caused the chair to rock slightly. Her hands left his face as she turned around to sit on his lap. His arms wrapped around her, resting the knitwork on her enlarged stomach. “I’m not sure, kinda just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I did get to work on the onesie though, look,” as he said this he lifted the onesie up so that Arnora could see it better,”I made sure to make it slightly bigger, mom said I was a pretty big baby so I just wanted to be sure.” There was pride in his voice, there always was when talking about the baby. Arnora hummed and took the item from Snotlout, so she could inspect it even closer. She was always impressed by his craftsmanship. Snotlout’s hands went back to rest on her bump. They sat in silence for a little bit, just listening to the fire, rocking ever-so-slightly on the chair.

“It was another dream, wasn’t it?” Arnora’s question cut through the silence like a knife. Snotlout’s breath hitched as he shut his eyes and laid his head on her shoulder. A shake breath left his mouth as he replied,”Yeah,” his voice coming out shaky. Arnora turned around, prompting Snotlout to lift his head, shifting herself so she could sit sideways on his lap with one arm hanging over the back of the rocking chair and the other coming up to rest on his shoulder. Snotlout rearranged his own arms so that one wrapped around her back and the other fell to her thigh. She looked at him with so much love and compassion he swore he could cry. Her voice came out softly,”Tell me about it.””It really wasn’t much. Just, the usual,” he hated how weak he sounded. He needed to be strong, especially now. But Arnora understood, she always did. “You know they’re just dreams-””Of course I do,” his voice came out more aggressive than he would have liked,”it’s just.” he sighed and slumped even more, if that was possible,”I just can’t stop thinking about it. What if I’m not cut out for this? I don’t really know what it’s like to have a good father. What if I end up like,” his voice wavered and his eyes turned downcast,”him.”

Arnora knew that look. This wasn’t the first time the two had had this conversation. As the pregnancy progressed Snotlout’s insecurities had only grown with it. She was convinced that his insecurities wouldn’t die down until the baby was here, probably not even then, but she would try her best to try and relieve those insecurities.

“Snotlout-” she didn’t quite know what to say. Sometimes it was easy, but she could see in his face, in his voice, in the way he held her, that this wasn’t one of those times. The best she could do was say what she knew was true, and hope that he believed her.

She was in deep thought, trying to find the perfect words to try and comfort him. “Snotlout, you are a greater man than Spitelout ever was, and you’ll be a greater father than he could ever dream of. You’re a good, kind man. I know that, our friends know that,” she took the hand on her thigh and held it to her stomach, “and they know that.” Almost as to prove her point, Snotlout felt a kick against his hand.

Snotlout’s eyes were glassy and his lips were quivering as he looked down at Arnora’s stomach. He sniffled as his head went to rest on her shoulder, before finally allowing himself to cry, properly. His shoulders shook and his breath shook with it. The hand hanging off his shoulder came up to run its fingers though his hair.

And so they sat, one comforting the other, until the sun rose.

Snotlout felt like he was about to faint.

It had been two hours since Arnora went into labour. Two hours of screaming, panting, and having his hand crushed. Not that he could complain much, after all he was partly responsible for the position his wife was in now, as was so kindly reminding him.

“When this is done,” she panted, “I am going to kill you.” Another contraction hit and Snotlout winced at the grip she had on his hand. He brought her hand up to his mouth and softly kissed it, cringing as another scream left Arnora’s mouth.

One of the three women standing there looked up at Arnora and, in a supportive voice, said, “Just one more push.” She complied, and before long a loud cry flooded the room. The woman from before wrapped the baby up in a warm blanket and gave them to the panting mother, smiling as she told them that it was a boy.

Arnora held their son in her arms. ‘Even like this, sweaty and panting and tired,’ Snotlout thought, ‘she was the most beautiful being in the world.’

She looked up at Snotlout with joyful yet tired eyes, smiling as she shuffled closer to him. “Look,” she said, “isn’t he beautiful?” He was. “Here,” Arnora held the child, his child, out for Snotlout to hold. As he was placed into his father’s arms the baby stopped crying, looking up at him in curiosity. He had Arnora’s eyes. Snotlout couldn’t help tearing up at the sight of his son. His son. He almost couldn’t believe it. In his awe, Snotlout managed to choke out, “Stormlout.” A quiet chuckle filled his ears, “Stormlout?” He met his wife’s amused eyes and, in a teasing voice, replying, “Just let me have this.” Her chuckles died down as her eyelids became heavier. He could see how tired she was, she deserved the rest. “Go to sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up.” Arnora hummed at her husband’s words and allowed her exhaustion to take over, her breath evening out as she allowed sleep to take her away.

Snotlout looked from his wife’s peaceful face, back to his son’s big, curious eyes, his own still wet with unshed tears. “I promise,” he whispered to the boy, “that I will always take care of you, and your mother. I love you both. So much.”

And he knew that he would never break that promise for as long as he lived.

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Didn’t know wether or not I should’ve included the whole last part, but I decided to cause I thought it would fit this one shot

#httyd #httyd snotlout #httyd oc #how to train your dragon #snotlout jorgenson

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thesyndicateofeden · 1 year

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Second post of my debut to tumblr,

As always, let me know if you enjoyed, feedback and criticism always appreciated!

Paradise Overthrown

In the middle of the pitch black midnight, Daniel awoke in cold sweat on his cot. A young private in the Royal Army of the United Kingdom, he was dressed in uniform and a carbine rifle by the side of his cot. He was tall and had short black hair that just barely let its locks tickle his white ears. Gray eyes blinked the sleep out as he listened to the rain pattering the roof of the tent serving as the troops barracks. Officers and higher ranking members were allowed actual roofs and walls, the grunts had their large tent. It wasn’t cozy, but it was certainly functional enough to not complain that much. Dan was quite sure he had a nightmare just moments earlier, but when he tried to remember what had frightened him so, nothing but a haze met his mind’s eye. He frowned because it seemed...wrong. Of course forgetting a dream was extremely common, but the mist seemed nigh on tangible. Like there was an actual haze preventing him from seeing what was beneath. Shaking it off as a byproduct of waking up at such a time Daniel managed to sit up in his bed and look around to see if anyone else was awake. The rest of the cots were filled with the slowly rising and falling silhouetted chests of his comrades. Were they his comrades truly though? An unbidden thought in his mind poked through his rationale. Immediately fearing the treasonous idea Dan banished it from his mind and laid back down to rest. Sleep came fast in a wave of black, almost too fast, but that first red flag was drowned by inky depths.

A few seconds or hours later, that black wave vanished to reveal..flame. Fire! Fire! Smoke immediately choked Daniel’s lungs with an iron grip and he rolled out of the cot, not being able to process that what he touched was dirt, not the felt floor of the tent. The fire blazed high and it seemed like it was all around him. Nearly blinded by the massive glow of hateful orange and red, Daniel couldn’t see anything but the swirling flames, moving like a malicious water, flowing over itself and curling up and around him, buffeting his skin with heat. His body hair began to singe as the fire burned hot. Through the panic parts of his mind managed to truly take in the perspective, above him was..rock. Red rock like magma, and flicking back down, the fire was indeed moving strangely. It looked both smooth and jagged at the same time, and his eyes felt naught but pain as he tried to discern the nature of it. The blood-red dirt below him was slick, and just like the fire, it seemed like every single description and its opposite were occurring at the same time. His mind began to falter, it didn’t understand. Or perhaps..it couldn’t understand what was happening. He shouted to the strange, indescribable landscape, “WHAT IS THIS?!” A second passed..two..silence except for the crackling and whooshing walls of fire surrounding the young soldier. This was a nightmare, he had to wake up, wake up, wake up, wake UP!

The strange, alternate fire suddenly slammed into him with more mass than flame should ever strike with and he was sent flying across the horridly slick yet dry dirt, his vision fracturing as the motion blur became too intense to be real, the floor falling apart into more fire, but then reforming. Suddenly he was upside down, reality made no sense as the flames stuck to his clothes like goo. Within seconds the cloth was reduced to vapor, like he was just tossed into the sun. His own body was far too hot to live..but he wasn’t dead. All he felt was the agony of the worst hellfire, unable to die from it. Once more, time seemed nothing but a suggestion as either seconds or eons passed, all on fire and in a state no human mind could hope to comprehend logically. Then it was over, and Daniel was dropped to the ground with a squelch and a last cry of pain.

“Welcomeeeee mortal.”

An ancient voice said in the back of his mind. Its feminine beauty could barely be noticed under the seepage of power and knowledge it held. It felt so..wrong to the brain, perverted, alien, demonic, like a spray of iron filings across the mental landscape, cutting apart sense and logic and leaving naught but raw power, emotion, and chaos. Daniel forced his eyes closed and began to beg himself to wake up. He clutched the silver cross around his neck; a little necklace given to all soldiers holding the symbol of their religion. The woman in the back of his mind gave a low, guttural snarl. Dan immediately retracted his hand from the cross, it having turned into molten metal, dripping and scalding across his skin. With a strange red flicker in reality the entire, melting piece disappeared into the awful red dirt below him. The soldier shivered in fear, finally beginning to wonder if this wasn’t a dream, and if some succubus-

The thought was cut off instantly by the voice:

“Succubus? Why, pathetic little boy, you dare demote me to a creature so weak in comparison?”

The terrifying flames dissipated for a moment, revealing what lay all around the man. Blood red skies over disturbing, seeping land, and above that, dark rocks. Gasping in terror and shock he tried to stand, naked and in pain. His eyes could see and could not see, his mind fraying at the ends as he blinked and the world turned to red fractals, and then to amorphous blobs, and then to a gorgeous crystalline red palace of immense proportions, shifting like liquid, it settled, and then vanished. The ground beneath turned to quicksand, before becoming nothing but a sea of viscous blood, perfuming the air with iron and death, choking for oxygen Daniel could barely think, or speak, or even..be. Reality made no sense here. Nothing was true here. Nothing. Everything. Nothing, Everything.

“Is it not beautiful? I wonder...what a mortal mind would see this place as.”

Daniel was pulled out of the blood ocean by some unseen force, and thrown into a wall not there previous. As he hit his vision swam with strange glowing runes, like the world was made of text, and then it was back to dirt, and then it was made of light. He tried to speak but Daniel had already forgotten what language was. Spoken at least. He tried to think and his mind was paralyzed in pain with blood, death, and torment. Flashes and images beyond a human’s ability to comprehend assaulted him until reality in itself became a paradoxical, impossible thing. He managed to just barely pull through a begging question to the horrible, eldritch voice in his head: “W-hat is...happening..?”

“Oh, was it not obvious? You’re in Hell.”

Daniel screamed his eyes and mouth open, shrill and terrifying against the storm outside of the tent. Fellow men began to wake in confusion and equal terror, afraid that a midnight ambush had occurred. A friend of Daniel’s, John, rushed up to his cot, shaking him,

“Danny! Danny, what's going on?”

His eyes were full of concern and worry and his rifle was locked and loaded. Danny himself was pale, and rapidly patted his clothing and bed around him. Too stunned to speak properly he stammered,

“H-hell Hell, Hell. Night..nightmare, hell. HELL!”

John shook his head quickly and held the man steady, shushing him. In a calm but firm whisper he tried to reassure his buddy,

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, it’s okay. No demon can touch us, we’ve got our crosses mate.”

He held his up with what he hoped was a positive grin.

“Don’t be shouting that, Sergeant will think you’ve gone shell-shocked. I gotcha if you did, brother, just keep it between us.”

John quickly waved everyone back to sleep, a few gave dirty looks but they had just fought a nightmarish battle a day ago. Nightmares of the mind were..acceptable. Daniel, shaking, fought tears and nodded a bit. Giving him a half hug John sat down on the cot and whispered,

“Want me to stay by you tonight? Make sure no hellfire scalds my brother? Or do you want to stay up?”

Daniel didn’t notice the question because his stunned eyes were settled down his sweat-soaked shirt, where there was no longer a cross, but a black burn mark, scarring a black, reversed pentacle within his chest. Gulping and now definitely freaking out more he quickly covered it up and held his shirt tight. John took notice and went to help but Danny pushed him away.

“N-no No no no no. No. I..I..I..”

“Should get some fresh air”

The voice of the woman entered his mind again with that horrible feeling of perversion and wrongness, and to his horror he saw John nod.

“Sounds like a decent idea, go keep watch, maybe your jumpiness will be useful eh?”

John smiled encouragingly and sympathetically like nothing was wrong. Daniel was too afraid to move, or do anything. Had..had she just spoken through him? Was she in John’s mind too? The question of what power this creature had was answered as Daniel stood up and walked out the front door of the tent.

No one but the Devil could hear his mind screaming for control of his body.

Out in the moonlight square the body stopped in front of the fountain in the middle of the plaza where the temporary camp was made. No one was around except for the guards on watch near the sandbags keeping perimeter on the square. Terrified and confused, the soldier challenged,

“I..I..what do you want?”

“A fair question.”

Whipping around Daniel realized with a mixture of hope and despair that this voice came from the real world, not his head, as far as he knew at least. Air whooshing past his ears his body swiveled from the guards and to the fountain. There, sitting upon the edge of the marble leisurely, casually, and with a tad bit of playfulness was a woman. She seemed to shift in appearance, hair, eyes, body, mouth, race, ethnicity, proportions, even a few species, all fluidly moving like a constant paint across a changing canvas. Her body was All, and yet it was None. The pale moonlight contoured consistently naked features in an ethereal beauty and arousal beyond any human’s possibility. For his fear at talking to what is possibly Satan’s trick, he managed to politely look away from the terrifying and irresistible woman. To his credit, the Devil chuckled, sounding like every voice ever possible in a harmonious cacophony of sound.

“I’ve had far more...distasteful actions..attempted over the eons, soldier. You may look, for I may be the last thing you see after all.”

Afraid to refuse the thing for even the slightest suggestion Daniel looked up from the ground. Apparently she had found an appearance to stay as. Gorgeous black hair down to her lower back, and milky skin that gleamed in the moonlight. Her eyes were the purple of royalty. Whether it was her preference for the evening, or perhaps her projecting what he desired most, he couldn’t tell and definitely did not have the foolishness to ask/imply he was important enough for her to do such a thing. Still finding it quite hard to speak, Daniel weakly gestured to her and the guards around, millions of questions in his eyes. Chuckling again she shifted on the marble, almost catlike, for Danny couldn’t tell if she was getting more comfortable or getting more serious.

“They cannot see, nor hear, nor do any of their..frankly limited methods of observing reality. You and I are alone.”

Swallowing for perhaps the 500th time this night, Daniel stammered,

“W-w-w-w-w-what do you want? W-w-w-what the hell are you?”

Apparently deciding to play coy, the Devil laid down sideways on the marble, leisurely stretching onto her back as if she had all the time in the world to relax and show off, which she probably did to be honest. Purple gaze flicking to the shivering soldier, she whispered teasingly, inviting disaster or praise for the answer,

“What do you think I am?”

Trying to vainly pat his trouser legs for the answer like they would appear from his clothes, Daniel tried to keep his voice level as he revealed the small burned pentagram in his chest.

“I...I believe the D-Devil Ma’am, S-S-Satan, The Leviathan, A succubus, the Snake in the Garden, Lilith, the first wife of Adam, a-a-an incredibly beautiful magical prostitute I cannot know Ma’am, I am sorry.”

Daniel gained a bit of confidence in the reaffirmation he was a devout Christian and he dared,

“The-the Bible doesn’t mention th-that t-the disgusting s-slime that c-caused s-sin was a degenerate dog.”

His daring earned him a smile and unknowingly, a pass on the comments. She did like it when the prey had a sense of humor or was brave enough to try and challenge her, for it was more fun when her catches fought back. Sitting up from her stretching she stood atop the marble before disembarking without a sound.

“Correct on most accounts, I apologize for the confusion, the bastards who wrote your little Sky-Daddy’s propaganda book thought that a woman was too weak to be the angel that killed God.”

Daniel was a deeply religious man, as most soldiers were at the time, and in fact it was ingrained in them. Muscle memory and old instruction saw him take a threatening step forward.

“That’s not true! God is-”

In a flash of red the Devil was gone from his front and he felt her hair press against his back, slowly. The words caught in his mouth as he felt her breath next to his ear.

“A dead, wrathful, egotistical, cruel murderer you prayed to every night.”

Daniel swung around and tried to bring his knee into where he thought her gut would be. It hit nothing but air, but the air shattered into fragments of..stuff. His mind collapsed at the edges, and the world was again in that awful state of incomprehensible paradoxes and unexplainable mechanics.

“Oh please Daniel, I thought you were going to be better than another blind follower.”

Whipping around he screamed out in pain. For a flash he saw the Devil’s true and terrible form. Not terrible in that she was ugly, nor even terrible in its evilness. Terrible in the sheer, raw power in his eyes. For a moment he saw total dominance, the Beast, the Predator, and an Angel so glorious and dark his mind shattered with the force. The darkness stayed in his eyes, and he realized he could no longer see. An infinitely small second later his mind’s broken pieces left him. What was “see”? What were eyes? What was light? The blinded soldier couldn’t resist a manic laugh, what was he?

His savior’s voice tore through the din of black like a holy hand through impurity. Her voice would make Helen of Troy weep and all the sirens of the world to be in turn uncontrollably charmed. It was perfection, oozing into his ears with so much beauty it was the only thing his broken mind could process..It cooed to him, quoting long ago another who had once seen her, yet all more elegant than Dante or the most great of writers could ever be,

“How frozen I became and powerless then, Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not, Because all language would be insufficient; I did not die, and I alive remained not; Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit, What I became, being of both deprived…”

Daniel heard his own voice repeating the words like it was the litany to cure all his wounds. She paused, and with a sentence that was the epitome of relief, declared,

“And now..thine wit returns.”

Pleasure seeped through him. His vision slowly slid back into place, and he was kneeling by the fountain. Kneeling, he saw, at the feet of the Devil. His mind was alight with the truth. The world’s inner designs, the mechanisms that made it function, the magic seeping through this dimension and them all. He saw the truth of God and the Heavens, and the Truth of the Devil and Hell. The Truth of Humanity and the Universe had been gifted to him. Not daring to look up at the face of his savior he stared at perfection’s feet and legs, not daring to appreciate her ethereal beauty out of the respect and reverence he had for her showing him the truth. To the ground he spoke,

“W-why me? Why?”

He felt a hand cup his chin, impossibly soft and smooth, and a voice, again, more soothing than all songs,

“Do not deign to understand the wants of the Devil.”

Danny just nodded, too afraid and too reverent to push. What felt like a feathered wing patted his back as the legs walked to his right with beautifully razor sharp points of midnight feathers that preceded them.

“Good boy. Come now, I have things for you to do.”

Obediently Danny rose and blinked as his carbine rifle appeared before him, floating to his hands. Walking away was an incredible pair of wings, shielding the Devil from view save her feet, head, and occasional glimpse of arm. No..not one pair, several. What seemed like one set unfolded itself like a budding flower into seven glorious pairs of massive wings, with ebony feathers rippling as Lucifer walked. The bottom points of the feathers became alight with crackling embers, and then flame, and then inferno became the rim of her angelic mantle which left a trail of orange and yellow as she walked. At the entrance of the tent, which her wings could easily land upon and burn, she turned and put her hand to his chin, two upper left wings flaring forth in indication, flames centimeters from touching the felt of the tent.

“John would survive the war, afterwards in which he’ll become a heretical priest, spreading the lies of God.”

She tapped the rifle with her free hand, Daniel, for a moment, felt for the first time the physical strength of Lucifer. The gun, from a light tap with a single nail, bent inward several degrees and his hands buckled as if gravity increased a hundredfold. Less than a second later her finger had removed itself from the now cracked wood. Luckily, the internal mechanism survived, any longer and Daniel was sure his puny mortal wrists would have snapped clean off. Her assertive command broke his awe,

“Destroy that timeline. Do this for me, and you’ll make a wonderful servant. Hell is quite lovely this time of year, I assure you. I shall meet you in Pandemonium itself, for you do not fear the hanging rope. Death, my beloved sister-daughter, tastes of naught but freedom and will only aid you.”

The Devil bent, placed Danny’s chin in her hand that could crush his jaw, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Once his legs had recovered from the overpowering nature of her demand and generous gift that caused the electricity of attraction to zap through him, he nodded, proudly took up the carbine, and went into the cabin. At the last second a thought entered his mind.

“May John join us? He’s a good man, milady. I promise, when you show him the truth, he’ll want what’s best for humanity, he always did and always will.”

The Devil smiled and pretended to think for a moment, crossing her arms in front of her chest, before confidently answering.

“Destroy his cross, for his faith is larger than even that of yours. If those cruel demons of Heaven abduct him, he will not be worth my effort in saving from Michael. He will have a chance though.”

Daniel nodded and clasped his hands together in prayer over the rifle.

“I cannot thank you enough, kind Lucifer, I promise that he will be wonderful if he chooses. Thank you. Thank you.”

With that the Devil vanished in the blink of an eye. The soldier immediately felt intense remorse and sadness she had left his sight, but no matter, he had another person to save in order to see her again. Daniel approached John’s bed. Quietly touching the sleeping soldier’s cross, his mind and skin hurt with feeling its hot silver, but he managed to warp reality just how Satan had told him it worked, and it cracked into thousands of melting shards. With a smile on his face Danny put the rifle to John’s sleeping head and whispered, eyes tearing in joy,

“See ya in a moment mate, I promise it won’t hurt, just wait till ya see the truth!”

Without another pause the tent was alight in a flash of golden fire accompanied by the bang of violence and smell of destructive smoke. It was only Daniel who heard the Devil’s irresistible giggle and felt her warm approval wash over him before a rifle stock knocked him to the floor.

He would never see the Dawn, for his once-comrades did not realize he had already been knocked unconscious until after his uniform had pooled with crimson and the floor of the tent had soaked in his Life…

If you read this far, or just scrolled to the bottom, thanks for giving me your time however you did. I hope you enjoyed, soon, I’ll post the third of the stories I have prepared.

If you’re curious about the title, it is a reference to Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained by John Milton, and his world is the basis for this one, with some key differences. I very much plan to expand this in the future.

Thank you again from the bottom of my heart, and until next time, may the stars guide you.

-Eden

#fanfiction #literature #fanfic #writing #fanfic writer #writeblr #lucifer #fantasy #AU

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mika-shion · 1 year

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Messy, Midnight Thoughts

Ah midnight... A wonderfully terrible time for a mind to wander amongst its own thoughts, whether they be good or bad, right or wrong, profound or basic, whatever. Midnight is the time for us overthinkers to either delve into the best or worst parts of ourselves.

Any number of things could be keeping me up tonight. My past friendships/relationships, the mountain of mistakes, cringy or embarrassing memories, or being terrified about the future and its uncertainty.

But no, tonight I am kept awake by a horribly sour stomach.

That being said though, it does give me more time to sit and think.

Every day that goes by it gets harder and harder to not acknowledge the numerous situations that I was ill-prepared for because of my questionably subpar schooling, amongst other things...

Most everyone's story is different, right? Well... While mine isn't packed to the brim with heartache nearly as much as others I know, each one has felt like one truckload after another. Each one being heavier than the last.

As I sit and dwell on some of these thoughts, I find myself realizing just how much weight I give to each of my thoughts and some of them have been made heavier, seemingly by choice.

What I'm saying is that, just like everyone else, I decide what ideas or concepts or whatever are important to me specifically and, at first glance, it seems like I've taken on unnecessary baggage that I probably shouldn't have.

However, upon closer inspection, I have also realized that I'm not entirely sure who I would be without some of these. Which worries me, not as much because of the uncertainty, but it's more so because these particular ideals/thoughts/feelings or whatever they are are a huge part of what's causing me the most grief at the moment, and it's caused me to consider letting them go.

"Well what are these thoughts or feelings" you might be asking, that's easy - some of it is my guilt, my conscience. Some of them are ideals or promises to myself that I've held on to for about as long as I can remember.

Y'see that's part of the trouble with my mind - Even with things that most would consider to be simple decisions, they become a thousand times harder when I begin to wonder why I stop to think about them at all. But see if I didn't do that, I know for a fact that I would come across as a much more heartless person than I actually am or want to be.

I feel like ever since I started seeing therapists at a young age, the concept of metacognition somehow ingrained itself into my mind. I instantly became obsessed with it without even realizing.

I trained myself to think about thinking before stopping to think because it helped me avoid conflict. (Yes that was a sentence I just wrote and you read)

Every new thought comes prepackaged with its own special flavor of anxiety just for me.

And you know what's worse? I experimented to see what it would be like if I didn't do this as much... Maybe about 4 or 5 years ago now.

It didn't end well and I somehow lost the ability to do it for a period of time. I've started trying it again recently and... It helps, I've gotten faster with it, and on top of spiking my anxiety it's also now extremely draining mentally and physically.

I normally save it for periods when I'm meditating, reflecting on what it is I want, what I've done recently to achieve these things, the conversations or interactions I've had, and why I did or said any of what I did.

See this feels so fucking weird to talk about... Because it feels like a thing that should more or less happen automatically, or at least it seems to with other people. Or maybe it's just another case of others being able to process information faster than I can. Which is fine, sort of. I've been trying to come to terms with that for a little while now, but it's a lot harder when I know there are things I can do to improve my ability to focus.

And the worst part is that every time a problem like this comes up, I'm always left to wonder if this is even something that anyone else struggles with, or if this is just another instance of me having missed out on some important class or whatever in school that would have explained even a fraction of this issue.

Either way, leaving me to feel inadequate.

I suppose there isn't much of a point to this anymore, I'm kind of just jotting down whatever comes to my mind in an attempt to lessen the load and maybe get some sleep.

All I can say is if by some chance I'm not alone in this particular issue, then please let me know. But if I am, then... Idk I just hope no one else has to deal with this at any point... Cuz good God does it suck lol

Anyway, love y'all and I hope you have a good week!~

#mika-talks #adhd #autism #metacognition

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daisyvstheworld · 1 year

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Day 14 - Jan 14 - Salzburg

Oh dear god lmao

Some girl checked in to stay in the bed below me at midnight and she was making so much noise.. I woke up at 4am obviously and I think I did a stinking good job at being quiet. Although on the train I realized I forgot my underwear that I washed and left to dry on the bed. Oh well, it was an old shein pair.

I remembered in the early of the morning that I needed to remove the sheets which was a whole process - THAT was what was so loud when that girl checked in, freaking crazy

Anyways, I started walking at 4:30am to the Neubegasse U station and I almost panicked bc I thought it was closed for construction.

Anyways, I eventually found it and then I got to the Wien Westbanf train station and took the train no problem to Salzburg. It wasn’t super comfortable but I fell asleep for an hour or so and got to Salzburg on time!! I walked to the hostel and put my stuff in the locker. The hostel had free coffee so I had some and charged my phone. I realized I had time to walk around a bit so I walked around the east side of the old town area and ended next to Mirabell Palace where The Sound of Music tour stop was.

The tour bus was fairly full (mostly Australians, some English, and just a handful of Californians lmao) but I sat at the front so I could be closer to the tour guide, who I initially thought was fun but she ended up giving me a weird vibe.

We started driving around the city and then went to the palace hotel where the lake scenes and back of the house was filmed. It was a BEAUTIFUL sunny day, everything was perfect. She told us a bunch of great fun facts about the movie and how it compared to the actual Von Trapp family story, which I knew some of bc I read the wiki page the night before lol.

Our second stop was the -insert- palace where the bodega from “16 going on 17” was and the yellow long wall is from the song “I am Confident” also very pretty

Our third stop was this viewpoint in Mondsee that was LITERALLY ONE OF THE MOST GORGEOUS VIEWS IVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. I’m soooo grateful it was sunny!!!

After that we drove into the town bc that’s where the church where they filmed the wedding ceremony was and it’s so interesting how editing makes a place look soo different. This church is PINK! It looks so dark and emo in the movie. The town is cute and I bought a goat HAHAA

I tried apfelstrudel too but they served it cold so I was like meh it’s aight. People seemed to give me a really cold shoulder for traveling solo for some reason.

When we got on the bus tho some Australian asked the tour guide if the nuns actually sabotaged the Germans cars and like of course not lady they didn’t even run away from the Germans like that, that part is entirely made up. Except the guide said it in a nicer way and then the lady responded “Yeea naur yea naur ok” HAHA Australians are so funny I was dying

Anyways; after that we watched this doc that Liesl the oldest sister filmed a while back revisiting Salzburg and Mondsee.

The tour was just absolutely everything. It was amazing and I cried.

After we got back to town, our last stop was the Mirabell Palace and Gardens where they filmed Do Re Mi except in the winter it looks quite depressing bc the flowers aren’t in bloom, its not very green, and it’s blocked off. Sad. So I just rushed to old town to see the museums and fortress before everything closed. The town was bustling which was very cool. I started with the Mozart House and it was interesting to learn about him and his family. He died super young but composed so much in his time. I didn’t realize his dad was the talent that shaped him into a prodigy and that his sister was also a super talented pianist and composer.

Afterwards, I walked up to the Salzburg Museum which was super empty and much bigger than I expected. The history was quite interesting to learn about bc music and art is such a huge part of this town, especially with Mozart being nearly synonymous with Salzburg, but the political powers have also been trying to transform the town into an economic city beyond the tourism. I remember seeing the town when I first arrived and thinking it was far more modern than I expected.

I was starving after the museum, so I ran to Billa and grabbed another Mediterranean chicken sandwich and literally SCARFED it down while hiking up to the Fortress. I probably looked like a homeless person who hadn’t eaten in days.

The hike was brutal - I was sweating, but I caught the most BEAUTIFUL sunset. I was in AWE. This whole day was incredible. Panoramic views of the city. Missed the museums though lmao. I thought it closed at 6pm but it actually closed at 5pm. Thank god I left the museum early and made it for most everything though.

After that, I just went back to the hostel, showered, and decompressed. It was only like 6pm so I was like I should be social..

so I messaged on the Hostelworld app and a girl Lana said she was down, and then I was chatting with this guy in my hostel and he also was down to come out. He ended up being kind of weird. A big of a prick if I do say so myself. Lana was super awesome though and her suite friend was also super chill - both from Australia, different parts. We ended up spending the whole night together chatting, walking from one place to the other. We didn’t stay out too late but it was like 4-5 hours together! They both had pretty cool lives

Oh- we ran into other yoho mates but they was weird

One guy who lived in Italy from El Paso, lived in Korea who was dating this girl from Guam who “looked asian but isn’t” like wtf yes she is if she looks asian. And then he kept ripping on the US and I was like ok

So we ditched them

Went to a wine bar in old town

Walked into a 50th birthday by accident

Went into another wine bar

Dog loved my cuddles

Went home

Went to sleep

Awoke remembering I forgot to book my Swiss trains and realized they’re twice the price now and cried

#europe2023 #winter2023

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twilight-resonance · 2 years

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Echoes, Inside and Out

Going to do some writing again, as promised. I’m not sure if I promised here or not. But I definitely promised in my head, at least. As ever, it’s the grounding thing, so.

Doing my best to decompress after this week. This week has been insanely busy - seriously, working straight from waking up at 6AM ‘til going to sleep at nearly midnight. One of those was the first day of my new job, and thus the long commute and such; but the rest of it has been the crazy amount of prep I’ve needed to do for it, both beforehand and afterwards. Making character creation charts for FalJL, updating the rulebook so that I can get it printed, updating my website for the new season (and restructuring it to work for the new job), answering a billion emails - I’ll get to that one in a second - all-day meetings with my assistant, another build sleepover to make more equipment, driving out to get then trailer repaired, picking up more bins and materials, etc etc etc... It’s been just absolute crazy town. So I’m a bit wrecked from it in a working sense. Need to take some time to myself to just be myself and have my own thoughts and process, which is what this is. I’m reaching the point where working is going to happen significantly less efficiently if I don’t, so...

The emails, though. That was a day. One, I don’t know how the world managed the timing on this one, but every single day that I was busy driving and in meetings all day was without fail the day that I would get a bunch of emails all at once. So I couldn’t respond to them, and they’d pile up, etc. Two, the day that I got around to responding to the second batch of them - which also happened to be the day after the first event - was just. They were coming in faster than I could respond to them. I’d reply to one, and three more would appear in my inbox. And it was like that for five hours before it finally tapered down. On the one hand, I could feel myself leveling up in emails and general communication, so to speak - slowing down and remembering small lessons here and there, about boundaries and about communicating with students’ parents specifically and so on and so forth, and practicing applying those - on the other hand, auuuuuuuuuuuuugh. It meant that I couldn’t get any planning done that day, which fucked the rest of my week up a bit. I’ve been patiently un-fucking it, and this is the last piece of that process I think, just. Ugh.

So anyway. That’s why we’re here, and talking, and processing a bit. Had a nice morning with Hearthsnail - been our first easy morning in a week or two, and it was nice. Had breakfast out in the garden, and got to watch lots of hummingbirds going about their various business. As well as some clear-winged pollinator insect that was illuminated by the sun shining through its wings and was just absolutely glowing the way that the sun glows when you look right at it. As in, don’t, because it hurts. Super neat, though.

There was somewhere I was going with this, and I don’t remember anymore. It’s bugging me a bit. There are lots of other things I could ramble on real quick, but they don’t feel like the right call. But there was something. Hate that.

Well, I guess I could write about how day one went. It was good. A half day, I suppose - it was just the afterschool portion rather than the class - but I headed down at the normal time anyway so that we could take some time to plan beforehand. I walked - I’ll need a name for her - let’s go with Ladyknight for now I guess - through the new equipment and the roster, and we planned out the first semester’s worth of major story beats for this location. We’ll need to do the same for the second at some point, but it was a good time. Then there was driving over, and all the school logistics and meeting folks, then unpacking and desperately trying to re-sort equipment into the new bins before players started showing up. It was a bit chaotic all told, but it went smoothly enough. So far all the kids seem interested in the new setting and world, which is a huge burden lifted from my back. There are some adjustments I’ll need to make to day flow routines for this group specifically, but I know that now and we’ll do ‘em next time. My main worry at this point is that we only got through maybe ten kids’ characters for character creation, which means we have about twice that many to get through next week. Which is... fine, but it puts us back in the story further than I’d like. It’ll be fine though.

Definitely made the right call with asking Ladyknight to assist. There’s a lot of things she understands intuitively that make it all flow much easier. It’s funny having worked with or trained enough assistants at this point to be able to pick out a particular style and mindset very quickly. Got to start thinking about what I'll want to do about FalJL this year, if [another name I need] can’t do it; Ladyknight’s the go-to choice after that, but two weekly leagues may be plenty to put on her plate for now. After that... I don’t know. There’s someone who’s expressed interested in GMing for FalAL but wouldn’t want to do FalJL, there’s someone who has expressed interested in GMing FalJL but might not be around the whole year, there’s someone I’ve been after as a GM for FalJL right now but hasn’t been around in a long time... There aren’t any clear stand-out next choices. Things to think on. Puzzles to solve, really, is how it feels - so it’s a good thing.

I dunno. I like people puzzles. I like working with the soft, uneven edges of people and quality rather than the hard, defined edges of quantity; and figuring out how to stack up all the qualities in the right way for them to operate at their best. The one that stands out to me (mostly as the moment I realized I enjoy that) was organizing a group of ten people such that we survived a night mission with the important things we were carrying intact. But I like doing that in other contexts, too. It’s infinitely more interesting when there isn’t one right answer, but many possible ones - a bit like trying to hit a target that’s in motion rather than stationary. Anyway. So that’s part of the interest and appeal for me.

Ah, what else. Had a fun night with my writing group the other night - don't remember if I wrote about that. Was just a happy hour after the usual writing session, but it was a good one that went on for a few hours. I know I've said it before, but it’s really nice hanging out with other writers. In the sense that, it’s people who understand how that particular creative process works and the underlying supports and mechanisms that need to go in with it; and as such who have some similar creative roots. I don’t know quite how to describe it, at least not in a way that’s short; but it’s incredibly helpful. It’s part of that being understood thing, I think. We are all sapient beings with so much depth, and we all want to be understood; and that can be hard when we have sometimes had such vastly different backgrounds and life experiences. But the experience of writing is shared, and thus so is some of the understanding. It’s good. <3

Oh! I remembered what I meant to talk about, like, four or five paragraphs up now! More new things. Dude, making friends as an adult is weird. One of Hearthsnail’s co-workers invited me to her birthday hangout with a bunch of other people from the department, and it was just that moment of realization, like. Oh. We’re friends, then. I get it now. It’s so much less clear-cut as you get older, in a lot of ways. I’m looking forward to it, though. The idea is to all do a spa day together, which is something I’d been curious about anyway, and it’ll be a fun group of people to do it with. She said no gifts, so I’m considering conspiring to get her something small and silly anyway, or at least make her a card... We’ll see. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it, in ways that are (once again) harder to express. Has to do with the way things mean - not what, but the way. Has to do with that process of reflecting on how the world comes in, and reflecting the world back out, and then it reflecting that in turn... Something about how people become people? Again, hard to explain. Hard to describe. At least in a way that’s short. It’s the echoes of the vast distance between the inner world and the outer and how the two become melody and harmony across the years of your life.

I was about to say - hokay, Mitholos, slow it down - but no. That’s urge is one of those reflections that come lancing back - the one that is conscious of the way you might be perceived, but isn’t always necessary. It isn’t. That was genuine, and I’m going to stand by it. That’s what I mean, when I say the self reflecting the world reflecting the self reflecting the world - it’s that process.

It’s also to do with the way that connections flow between other people. There was a ramble I had, as some point - did I have it here? I’m not sure -about how part of what a connection between two people is, is the process of building a shared lexicon through which we understand each other better. It’s the way that any person can say “oh, it’s going” in response to “how’s it going?” - but it doesn’t always mean “I’m having a bad time”. Sometimes it means “I’ve been busy”, and sometimes it means “things are normal and steady and I don’t have anything in particular to talk about”, and sometimes it means “I’ve been very bored and unfulfilled”, and how a person is most likely to mean it is part of that shared lexicon. Again, it came to me in talking with my aunt and uncle, and realizing that we kept glancing off to the side of one another’s meanings when one person or the other would say a particular thing; because we don’t yet quite have that shared lexicon. And building that is part of becoming friends. There are other things that build too - shared experience of one another, for one - and that’s one of the other things I’m looking forward to. Being with people in a context in many ways wholly unlike what is normal, and seeing some of those other pieces of a person that don’t always come to light in a given place or time.

So you know. That’s where I am right now, I guess. I’m enjoying my writer’s self being back again, because these kinds of thoughts come from there. It’s been a few years of looking at the world and seeing it flat in ways that I knew were false - sure, what I wrote above is just called “making friends with someone”, but there’s so much interesting and intricate nuance that gets lost in putting it like that. Though, it is more concise. But I think there’s so much worthiness and meaning in those layers and interconnections and concepts that build to the whole, and it’s worth exploring them. The world is richer, that way.

Let’s take another turn to another current. One of the other things that has kept me busy the last few days was preparing snack for Hearthsnail’s department (it was our turn on weekly Friday snack). I thought a teatime theme would be cute, so I made some tea sandwiches and petit-fours... foolishly thinking that all the complaining that people do about making petit-fours was akin to the complaining people do about pie crusts, where it’s actually not really that bad, just at tiny bit of a pain. What an absolute fool I was. I did not know any better, but I know now. I was up until 2AM making those damned things, and I even cheated by doing store-bought sponge cake! Good lord. It was certainly something new, but never again - not without better tools, anyway. With tools meant for the job, it would be significantly less insufferable. Sounds like people appreciated/enjoyed them, at least (I actually didn't like them very much, but then again, I’m not a huge fan of fondant), but it was. Very busy. Also very challenging to do in a small kitchen that was also incredibly messy. I’m chipping away on cleaning up after it today, here and there; so it’s a start. But it was a lot.

Also validating is having people ask for recipes! People asked for tea sandwich recipes too, but I was actually thinking about players after the build sleepover. One asked for my tikka masala recipe, and the other for my wild rice soup recipe. It’s validating picking the right dishes for a group (both in terms of quantity and taste), and having them like it enough to want to make it themselves. That said, it helps that I think almost everyone we had over likes to cook - everyone volunteered right away to help with cooking, so I had to have them take shifts. It was good though.

That reminds me in turn that I’ll need to figure out what to cook for setting day... Once I decide when setting day is... Once I decide where FalAL is going to be next year... Which is its own other slough of decisions and factors. To say nothing of, I still have an event to run this weekend. Which I should be planning for. But, am doing this instead, because my brain is full-on not going to cooperate with me if I don’t do this first. Turns out processing is important, and so is taking some time for yourself.

I think I would like to go get some lunch, though, and maybe some tea. So I’ll go ahead and do that now, I think, and stop this for the moment. Maybe we’ll go do some work, maybe we’ll decompress a little first; either way, we've got D&D in a couple hours, so we’ll need to be ready for that. It’s times. Anyway -

#blog #journal #friendship #afterschool LARP #FalJL #GMing #writing #philosophizing #rambles #cooking #people #emails #work #self-reflection #busy #decompressing #communication #shared lexicon

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dearlittlecanary · 2 years

Text

If You Give a Lab a Cluster . . .

Two years ago I wrote this commission for @eclecticegomaniac ! Originally posted under my now lost side account @.bearswritingaccount. This is a Steven Universe fictive for their original character and Steven! It ended at 5,103 words.

Lab Rat: a person or thing used as a subject for experimentation Inhumane: without compassion for misery or suffering; cruel Betterment: the act or process of improving something’s standard or process Mankind: human beings considered collectively; the whole of the human race

There was once a time, when the lighthouse brought a sense of uneasiness, perhaps even loneliness. However, that was in the past, and now, now they were in the future; and Steven wouldn’t give that up for the world. It wasn’t quite sunset, nor was it still afternoon. Rather, it was that peaceful time when the sky was just beginning to turn, the soft rose golds, burnt oranges, and crisp golden well, golds, were starting to wake from their dianural slumber. As pretty as the sight was, that wasn’t the one that had captured Steven’s attention. Rather, it was the young woman that sat beside him. If you asked him which part of her that held his heart the most, Steven would be hard-pressed to find a proper answer. Was it her spit-fire personality, which always kept him tethered to what mattered most? Was it the fact that she never seemed to be far, allowing him to have someone to rely on when he needed it most? Or was it something more cliche, more . . tangible? Such as her eyes, as mysterious and tempting as a starless midnight sky? Her hair, which was always pulled back in it’s signature braid, a beautiful shade of strawberry blonde that seemed to exist no where else? Steven would say that it was all of those, and at the same time, none of them. He had grown up learning all kinds of different definitions of love, and each time he tried to apply one to what he and Mia had, none of them seemed to fit just right; but, is that really a bad thing?

“Penny for your thoughts?” an achingly familiar voice questioned, mirth never straying far from her words. Steven blinked, said thoughts scattering like tadpoles that had just been startled by a skipping rock. A soft smile pulled at his features, it was also so hard to keep one from forming when he was around her. “I was just thinking about you.” he said honestly. Mia couldn’t help the quick glimmer of . . perhaps surprise, that flickered through her gaze before she laughed, a sound that Steven knew he would never get tired of hearing. “Surely you have better things to think about.” No sooner had she finished her sentence had the boy shook his head. “If I could think about nothing but you all day I would.” Okay, so maybe he had been brushing up on flirting skills in the library. He wasn’t very experienced when it came to things like this, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try his very best. “Well that would certainly make for some interesting lesson plans down at the school.” Mia replied, that ever-present tone of mirth coating her words. Steven couldn’t help the snicker that quickly turned into a full-blown laugh at her words, clearly in agreement.

Unbeknownst to both of the young teens, their date was under a rather scrutinizing and overly disdainful watch. A nearly silent drone, a BlackBear-289 (a rather small and surprisingly un-bear-like drone), hovering by the rails of the lighthouse; it’s attached camera zooming in on the pair without any trouble at all. “We have eyes on Subject 0190.” a disembodied voice spoke, travelling to a small yet elite strike team that was perched on the cliff-face, away from any prying eyes. “You’re clear to initiate Project CL-164. Be advised that the Subject is accompanied by one of the Crystal Gem threats. Be prepared to take injuries, possible casualties. Remember. . . failure is not an option.” The voice itself was rather monotone, almost robotic. As if it didn’t care what it was sending this team to do. After its warning about failure, the voice faded into static, and the lighthouse hill seemed peaceful once again; the air as tranquil as a hidden pool in the forests of lore. But alas, the peace and tranquility lasted only another heartbeat, for such things were never built or meant to last.

The team of four scaled what was left of the cliff with ease, having come up behind the two teens. Their plan rode heavily on the element of surprise. The team was dressed all in black, wearing advanced headgear, their faces entirely covered, with nothing giving away their identities. One individual pulled a slender canister from their waist, the only sound being made was the pin being pulled. Steven and Mia turned, the sound startling both of them, but by then it was too late, the grenade was thrown. Just as Steven summoned his shield, it exploded against the ground, the concussion grenade spitting smoke, a bright white light and a high-pitched squeal, not unlike the feedback of an old television or radio. A pained cry escaped the teens, and the team wasted no time in moving in, pulling crackle rods from their belts. Electricity sparked off of the blue rods, the setting on the sticks set to stun; enough to render the teens unconscious should the blow(s) land. While failure wasn’t an option, bringing Subject 0190 back dead would certainly hasten their own meeting with the reaper. Their very organization rode on her existence, after all.

Speaking of, Mia was the one who recovered from the grenade first, using her gem-given abilities to bend the light that the grenade had given off to make the light equivalent of a smoke-screen, giving time for Steven to recover as well. Unfortunately, while this was a great idea in theory, the headgear that had been issued to the team counteracted the movement easily, the same way a baby gate would deter any toddler from dangerous areas. Of course, this wasn’t a detrimental factor, at least, not to Mia. But then again, she had always been overconfident when it comes to situations like this. Beside her, Steven had recovered, his hands now covered in those ‘bubble boxing gloves’. “Ready?” he questioned. “Do you even need to ask?” came the retort. The grenade’s residue had cleared, and now the teams faced off, the tension akin to an old fashioned stand off in the Wild West, though it was clear this duel wouldn’t be as honorable.

“Subject 0190, you have one chance to come with us amicably.” one of the lab’s bounty hunters said, their voice sounding just as robotic and monotoned as the voice that had come through the drone some minutes before. Steven raised a brow, glancing from the team of four to Mia for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough. A look of pure fury, much like the wrath of a God that had been awakened from their slumber far too soon, was on her features. In the back of his mind, Steven was casually comparing her to an Amazonian. She certainly had the fight and determination of one. “I’m never setting foot back in that place willingly.” she snarled. “If you want me, you’ll have to drag my corpse back.” Of course, Steven had no intentions of letting that be the case, or well, any of it for that matter. “As you wish.” came the eerily calm reply before the team darted forward with the precision of a panther that had been lying in wait for its prey.

Mia dodged the first blow with ease, while Steven used his bubble gloves to block the ones aimed for him. Drawing her sword from her neck, Mia parried away the next blow with confidence, almost laziness really. Matching the lab’s lackeys blow for blow, Mia and Steven moved in tandem, it was a wonder they hadn’t accidentally fused yet they were so in tune with each other’s battle motions. Any spectator would assume that they were communicating in some unspoken way, so deep was their bond. Unfortunately, when it came to those that followed a belief so blindly, to those that made the title ‘zealot’ look like child’s play, such a bond was something to laugh at, to scorn even. “Are you done playing?” The black clothed assassins spoke as one, as if they shared a hive-mind mentality. For all Mia and Steven knew, they did. Were they even human? Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

With renewed vigor, the elite force pressed harder, their blows reaching near supersonic speeds. Of course, such a thing is exaggerated, but that was certainly what it felt like. Steven grunted in exertion, trading his bubble gloves for his actual shield as he tried to knock back one of the individuals, however, in doing so, he left his right flank open. This was when the numbers game truly came into effect, and there were no words to describe the startled and pained shout that escaped Steven. Of course, at his cry, Mia slipped up, her head practically snapping to find him, his name falling from her lips in a panicked nature. “Steven!?” And that was all it took. One of the enforcers practically rammed their rod into the small of her back, not hesitating to use excessive force. It was a wonder the girl didn’t poof, but then again, she had always been the hardy type. Steven stumbled away from the two that had been taking some mighty liberties with the blows that rained down upon him, in an effort to get to Mia; and it was her turn to have her name dropped so fearfully. “Mia!!” It was to no avail. Steven wasn’t too sure where his final blow landed, he just registered the unhesitating waves of currents that wracked through his body, and he fell to his knees, unable to help the one he loved; who was getting similar treatment.

The last thing he saw was Mia passing out in the arms of their attackers, Steven’s final thoughts being ones of failure.

Opting to leave the Crystal Gem hybrid where he lay, the lackeys picked up Mia in a rather careless fire-man’s carry, opting to go down the hill instead of climbing the cliff again; so as not to risk damage to the Subject. At the bottom of the hill, an unmarked and unremarkable white van waited for them. Tossing Mia in as though she were nothing more than a sack of rocks, two of the individuals climbed in after her, while the other two moved to the front of the car; heading back to what was left of Ocean Town. After it’s Great Disaster, much of the townspeople had left, opting to live in more safer residential areas; which made things far easier for the Lennox Scientific Research Center (L.S.R.C). No longer did the head researcher need attend those press conferences, or attend the town meetings, claiming that their research was perfectly humane and safe; keeping up that angelic front. No, now their deeds could be done truly without shame, no longer did they have to hide in the dark like monsters, hide their natures. No longer did they have to fear the people misunderstanding what they stood for.

That being the betterment of humanity, that is. Some may say that the LSRC was playing at God, trying far too hard to make Earth and mankind perfect, so much so that they had long since forgotten their morals. It was bold of them to even assume that the Center had any morals to begin with, really. “We have successfully apprehended Subject 0190.” the driver said, speaking to a seemingly invisible ear-piece. “Excellent.” came the simple reply. The rest of the drive passed in utter silence, one could hear a feather drop, so deathly quiet it was. It wasn’t long before the team arrived at the institution; which in and of itself was just as unremarkable as the van they had arrived in. The logo was the only identifying mark on the otherwise spotless white and gray building. It sported limited windows, and only two exits were visible to the naked eye. The front, which boasted the pair of simple glass doors, and then the back, which was a stainless and heavy duty steel garage-esque door, which was the one that the van pulled up to. After sitting for about thirty seconds, the door opened, giving way to the lab itself. Though, this first room was rather forgettable, it was filled with countless vans that were identical to the one in which Mia rode.

The next couple of actions passed rather quickly. The individuals left the van, one of them carrying Mia out (in another careless fireman’s carry), only to hand her off to a team of researchers that looked as though they had just left a Doctor Who convention. After Mia had been passed off to them, she was brought to an observation room, devoid of anything but a medical bed, which was fitted with metal cuffs. Setting her down with the care that the enforcers had been lacking, the same researcher that had set her down made sure to secure her while the others (about six or so) flitted about her like bees at a freshly bloomed flower, the scratching of their pens filling the room until it seemed as though there was no other sound that existed in the world. Each camera sported a camera, and each of them were focused intently on Mia, each at different angles and zooms, so that the lab wouldn’t miss a single thing. Once the researchers had gotten their fill of notes (for now that is), they exited the room, retreating to a hidden observatory, waiting with bated breath for Mia to come to.

Some might wonder why they had waited so long to bring her back. The reason for that was simple. It wasn’t as though they had been afraid she would leave, nor were they afraid that they would lose complete and utter track of her. You see, the drone that had been stalking her and Steven on their date, was only one of many that had followed Mia throughout her life. She had been under constant hidden surveillance since she had first left the lab. In addition to the drones, hidden cameras had been placed in the areas and establishments that Mia frequently visited. The lab also had no qualms about hacking into existing security footage in order to keep track of their precious little Subject 0190. Of course, that brings us to the reason as to why she was brought back now. It was through this constant surveillance that the L.S.R.C had gained so much information and knowledge on gem-kind and what made them tick, so to speak. The biggest nugget of knowledge that they had gained, had been that of the cluster and the ‘Gem Mutants’ as the Crystal Gems had called them. The lab’s team (and more specifically the head of it) had been intrigued as to what may happen when a small fused gem-shard cluster was integrated in the same host that a ‘pure’ gem called home. Of course, Mia’s history of becoming corrupted made for an unexpected and rather wild factor in the experiment, but at the same time, that only made the ideas of what could happen all the more intriguing.

Speaking of the host. . . it wasn’t long after the researchers had retreated to their observatory ‘ledge’ had Mia come to. Her first thoughts were of Steven, for the last thing that she had seen was him being beaten down that team of clods that had dared to lay a hand on them. Her second round of thoughts were trying to figure out just where the hell she was, trying to piece together what she remembered. It didn’t take long, especially as she had tried to move in order to get a better view; only to discover that she couldn’t get very far at all, perhaps a centimeter. Everything came crashing down then, with the force of a tidal wave in a thunderstorm.

It was harder than she thought to push down that equally large wave of fear that roared up within her.

Fortunately for Mia, Steven didn’t intend to let her feel (or try to not feel) that fear for long. Coming too, a groan escaped him; the sound mixed with pain and exhaustion alike. Spitting out dirt and grass, he pushed himself up as he looked blearily around him. It took only a few seconds to realize that Mia was gone. It took only a few seconds after that for Steven to be on his feet and using his floating ability to jump down to the temple. While a part of him wanted to get into the Dondai and race to get her back himself, he knew that he would need the backup; especially if more of those black-clothed goons were wandering the lab. He didn’t know much about it, just what Mia had told him all those years ago, but what he did know was enough to send shivers of fear and worry alike down his spine. Bursting through the door, Steven didn’t hesitate to speak, the words spilling over his lips as quickly and harshly as a waterfall that had just shaken off the last ice of winter. “MiaandIwerehavingadateatthelighthousehillwhentheseg--”

“Steven slow down!” Pearl said, raising a hand, eyes wide at how frantic Steven looked. “Yeah man, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Amethyst said, looking over Steven’s . . . disheveled appearance. Steven hesitated, then took a deep breath and tried to start again, trying to be a little calmer. “Mia and I were on the lighthouse’s hill, having a date, when these guys from the lab came and attacked us. They overpowered us and took Mia and now we have to go get her back before they do something horrible to her.” It was a wonder that Steven managed to say that all without yelling honestly. That’s not to say that a part of him didn’t want to scream and shout and throw apart the entire temple, but the logical part of him was winning out. For now. He was trying to push down those feelings of failure, incompetence, and frustration. There weren’t enough words in English or Gem or any other language, really, to describe how inadequate he felt. First it was Spinel. Then it was Blue-Bird. Then those two Lapises, and now . . . now he had lost Mia to the very people that had tormented her since she was a little girl. And while he knew that she was more than strong enough to take care of herself. . he knew that she shouldn’t have too.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt as though each passing second was a year long. The other gems, to their credit, had been quick to move, working through their shock more efficiently than Steven ever could. “Let’s go then dude!” Amethyst said, eyes wider than Steven had ever seen them. Mia had long since become a part of the family, and an attack on the family, was essentially a death sentence. Letting the gems practically usher him to the Dondai, as it was impossible to warp to the laboratory, Steven couldn’t help but feel on autopilot. Once he was in the car however, he seemed to come to life a little, his movements jerky; the only sign that gave away his emotional distress. That and the speeding of course, when he actually managed to get the car into drive. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning whiter than snow.

I’m coming! He wanted to scream, Please don’t be afraid.

Please don’t give up. Please don’t give up on me.

Steven’s unheard pleas were for naught, for several reasons. Of course, there was the obvious answer. Secondly, Mia couldn’t even hear them. Besides, at the moment, she was a little preoccupied. . Now that she had come to, a voice was carrying through the space. “Subject 0190, otherwise known as Mia Lennox, Human Host, otherwise known as Rainbow Spectrolite, Alien Gem, are you aware of your surroundings?” Like the voice that had been used by the brutes that attacked her and Steven, the voice was robotic, monotone, as if it’s life was nothing but black and gray. Mia didn’t bother answering, not seeing any reason to cooperate with them. There was a minute or two of silence. “Subject 0190, we are aware that you can hear us.” the voice said, before repeating it’s earlier statement. Once again, Mia didn’t say anything, and instead flipped off one of the cameras. However, this seemed to be answer enough to the voice and the unseen observers. There was another few minutes of silence, perhaps the white coated sheep were trying to figure out what question to ask first. Mia idly (and rather condescendly) wondered how they didn’t pass out from the excitement that she undoubtedly brought to their tiny brains. “Are you aware why we brought you in today?” the voice finally asked, as though she was being pulled over. “Well I sure as fuck wasn’t speeding.” she drawled. “Did I run a red light? A stop sign?”

There was an almost silence, for Mia could just hear the scritching of pencils coming over the intercom. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help her figure out where the room was. “It’s good to see that you retain some sense of humanity.” Mia couldn’t (and didn’t really try to) resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Since when is humanity and humor the same thing?” Honestly, Mia couldn’t stand holding a conversation with these people, but it served as a good distraction. She was trying to figure out how to get out of here, and the working idea was to use her abilities to try and melt the cuffs. The only problem with that was the constant surveillance. Even if she managed to get her hands free, she had no idea how many individuals in black they had, or even what other weapons they had. . .

These concerns only lasted a moment though. She was Mia Lennox after all! She could accomplish anything she set her mind to, come hell or high water! There was no way that she was going to sit still and let the lab do whatever they wanted with her, not again. Not ever again. So, she did her best to keep her movements subtle. All she needed was a little laser right? She could do that just by pointing her finger. . . maybe. “You have been brought back to us because we have a procedure you must undergo. For the betterment of humanity, you will be the one that brings us closer to salvation.” While the words, the mantra really, was eerie enough, hearing it said through a robotic voice made it even creepier. Mia knew that those words would be haunting her dreams without a doubt. Though, the sound of a new ‘procedure’ didn’t exactly sound all that promising either. “Will there be tea and cookies after?” Mia asked, though it would take a total dunce to miss the sarcasm that dripped from her words, thick like honey. Listening to the faint echo of pencils scratching on their clipboards, Mia took her chance to try and cut the cuffs around her wrists. It was a painstaking process. She didn’t really care if she hurt herself while she was doing this, no, she was more worried about the cameras catching on to what she was doing. “Why do you feel the need to ask questions that you already know the answers to, Subject 0190?”

“Does that mean ‘yes’?” Mia replied, not skipping a beat. She could practically hear the eye roll through the camera, the voice changing the subject. “Are you familiar with the gem cluster at the center of the Earth, Subject 0190?” The question caught Mia completely off-guard, her little laser plan halting in her surprise. “What about it? I’m certainly not helping you adopt it, if that’s what you’re getting at. You’re not exactly parents of the year.” The Cluster was actually rather sad. She remembered Steven’s story about it when he had come back from saving it with Peridot. It had also helped them fight Yellow and Blue Diamond when they had come to try and claim Steven for their own. . She would be rather be shattered than help the lab freaks get their hands on it. “You misunderstand. We have a piece of it.” Mia felt as though the floor had just been ripped out from under her. Her brain seemed to be working overtime in order to figure out just where the hell they were going with this. “Unfortunately, many of our tests on it. . . have been inconclusive.” Well that could mean any number of things, honestly. “So, we have decided to go ahead with our next phase of the experiment. To study how our piece of the Cluster, otherwise known as Project CL-164, reacts with a human host that has already been integrated with a ‘pure’ gem. Of course, you have already been corrupted, but have also been healed, so while you are not a truly ideal candidate, you certainly exceed many of our expectations as it is.”

If Mia could breathe, she would. If she could come up with some kind of snarky reply, she would. But it seemed as though she stopped functioning altogether. It wasn’t as though she hated the Cluster, itself, in fact she was sure that it was quite nice. No, rather, she hated that she was once again going to be a guinea pig, a lab rat. She hated the idea of having another gem, or in this case, gems, forced onto her. It was hard enough keeping Spectrolite out of her head. She didn’t want to have to fight to just be herself, she didn’t deserve such a fate. Though, once again, it seemed as though she had no choice. The voice, seemingly having taken her silence as a ‘sure go ahead, I’m totally fine with this’; clicked off, and a previously hidden door slid upwards, for it was integrated within the wall. Four researchers walked in, and activated previously hidden wheels on the bed that she was strapped down on, wheeling her out of the room. A few seconds after she started moving, the true gravity of the situation seemed to come crashing down on Mia, and she began to thrash, to struggle. “NO!” she shouted, not once, not twice, but rather over and over again, until she was practically blue in the face. She took a breath then, and was about to continue shouting some more, but one of the researchers held her arm down and she felt the familiar prick of a needle; and the room started spinning. “N-No!” Of course, it wasn’t anything to knock her out, not yet. They hadn’t quite decided if the operation would be more successful if she was unconscious . . . or not. After all, these shards weren’t like the Spectrolite they had implanted oh so long ago, and anything less than perfect was a failure, and failure. . . . was not tolerated in the Lennox Scientific Research Center.

Wheeling Mia into a more than expensive medical wing, it seemed almost as though someone went through every modern medical catalog and ordered one of everything; forgetting how big their designated room was. Everything blinked or beeped or both, and if Mia wasn’t already on some kind of drug, she would have thought that she was having an overdose episode the way that her surroundings all ran together. (Though, quite honestly, this was more likely due to the serum that had just been administered to her). The researchers paid the seemingly wordless babbles of Mia no attention, letting her head roll from side to side and up and down while she tried (unsuccessfully) to take in all of the room, for it seemed to her that each time she looked in a new direction there was a new thing to see. Just what had they given her? She wasn’t sure, but she did like the warm and fuzzy feeling it gave her, it reminded her of a blanket that had just come out of the dryer. “We need to integrate the CL-164 shard into a nerve-heavy area.” one researcher said. “The neck or spine is out of the question, we have no idea how either gem will react being in such close proximity to each other, and we need Subject 0190 alive for as long as possible.” another chimed in.

“The hand perhaps?”

“Above or around the heart?”

“In the center of her forehead?”

For each suggestion, a black ‘X’ was marked, and it wasn’t long before her body was seemingly covered in them, each one marking a vital organ or places where nerves were known to accumulate. Finally, the team came to a decision. “The heart it is.” The words were said with clinical detachment, as if they had asked for a specific surgical tool. Perhaps it was a blessing that Mia didn’t really register what was about to happen to her. Around her, the researchers skittered about, getting scrubs on and wash their hands thoroughly, their actions reminding Mia of busy bees, and well, because of her fun little drug, they actually started to resemble bees. Not realistic bees, thank goodness, that would be far too terrifying. Coming back to her side, the researchers unclipped her classic overalls, so that her shirt was on display. “Scissors.” With a few efficient motions, the last remaining garments were cut away. “Scalpel.” One of the researchers wheeled in the small gem cluster as another handed over the requested tool. The small cluster seemed to be made up of four different gems, and they were melded together in a shape that didn’t seem to be invented yet.

Mia thought it looked like a star honestly, but she was soon distracted from the shining thing when the warmth she had previously felt started to almost evaporate in a sharp and almost painful way. This of course, was due to the researchers cutting her open, the scalpel cutting through her skin with ease, bright red standing out starkly against her skin and the otherwise stainless steel. Just as the researcher in question was about to make the second incision, Mia squirming at the notion, the doors burst open. Steven and the other Gems bursting in with fury unbridled, their weapons all at the ready. Taking in the sight, Steven could no longer hold back his rage, his true rage, and once again, that pink tint came over his skin; and he lunged towards the researchers with every intention of making sure they had to crawl out of that room. Pearl, the unofficial medic of the team, rushed to Mia’s side while the others backed Steven up.

Caught completely off guard, the researchers barely had time to call in for back-up, not that any would have arrived anyways; for the Crystal Gems had taken care of them before they managed to find Mia. Speaking of, she was staring wide-eyed all around her, her motions almost frantic. “Steben.” she tried to say, her tongue feeling heavy, a side effect from the drug. “Steben.” she repeated, a low whine almost daring to enter her tone. “Shhh, you’re safe now.” Pearl said softly as she did her best to patch Mia up safely and quickly, all without hurting her too much. “He’s fighting to save you.” Indeed he was, and he was being utterly ruthless about it. The researchers that went down under his blows took a good second to move again, though such a thing didn’t seem to bother Steven, at least, not at the moment. Once all the researchers were taken care of, and the few backup lackeys that had somehow managed to get past them in the first place, Steven was quick to join Pearl’s side, who had just gotten Mia free from the table.

Taking her into his arms, a sense of relief settled over him. “I’m so sorry.” he said, his voice no higher than a whisper. It was a wonder it didn’t crack. “Steben.” was all she said, and he couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes, the pained smile that pulled at his lips. “Yeah. It’s me.” Mia seemed to relax a little in his arms, which only caused him to hold her closer. “Let’s go home.” he said, louder, addressing all of the Gems at that point. Taking their leave from the building, Pearl drove them home, Steven sitting in the back with Mia; not daring to leave her side for even a second. She had fallen asleep in his arms at some point, and she looked so peaceful, so at ease. He couldn’t help but acknowledge the consequences of his failure, the fruits of his incompetence. A few silent tears streamed down his cheeks. “I won’t let them hurt you ever again.”

“I swear.”

#steven universe #steven universe commission #steven universe x oc #gemsona commission #writing commission #steven x oc #writing commissions open #5k plus commission #open commissions #commissions open

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the-one-true-dykahol · 6 years

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Question?

Why has no one called Trump “Trumplestilskin” yet? Cause that’s gold 😂

#trump #anti trump #a mean #its nearly midnight and this is my thought process

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sukirichi · 3 years

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— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you��re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places. “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

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