#no editing we post like men | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reddevil-xiv · 2 years

Text

Prompt #29: Building Patience

Prompt 29: Fuse - FFXIV Write 2022 Characters: Talia, various mentions of: Arafel, Edarien, Seviere (@thedarknesssings), Louvel (@louvel-roche), Idristan (@roses-and-grimoires), Inwa (@blisteringstar), Ivan (@ivanxemear), SV, and Priarch. Notes: A follow up to this story.

Mismatched eyes stared at the security footage from the Oubliette for the umpteenth time over the last few days. Arafel was awake. In his cell, and awake. The first time Talia had viewed the footage, she’d hurled her phone and nearly broken it against a wall.

Idristan had fetched it for her and had to spend at least a bell calming her down. She hadn’t expected this quick and sudden of a rage to stir at the mere sight of him. It had taken hands down her arms, and a lot of quiet murmuring to soothe the fox.

The second time Talia viewed the footage, she was possessed of a calmer head and did her utmost not to show any reaction at all. It had resulted in the opposite problem from before, she’d gone cold as she did when sniping, and was fairly certain that she’d frightened some of the workshop staff when she’d gone from her office down towards the stairs leading to the Oubliette.

This time she made it as far as the elevator that led down to the Oubliette and had slumped back against a wall, taking in sharp, shallow breaths while she fought the simultaneous urge for retributive justice, and a persistent blind panic. She didn’t make it further than the elevator, turning and heading back into her office just off the workshop. She should review the footage again, just to be certain. She should do anything but actually go down there.

The third time Talia viewed the footage of Arafel awakening in his cell, she was more careful. She was prepared, and she made certain she was distracted during the entire process. Cleaning the black pistol that had been a gift from one husband, while speaking with the other via her linkpearl, to make sure she maintained her calm.

This time she was more composed, her fuse taking longer and longer to burn to the end. She thought she had it together enough, at last. Her patience was holding, practicality winning out over the firespark quickness of her anger. Once they were done with him, she’d hopefully never have to see-or think-of him again.

And she was inclined to listen to Inwa and Edarien’s good advice. See what he needed, and then get him the hells out of her building. She wouldn’t let Seraphim’s Rest turn into another Priarch situation. Not again. Never again.

“Tonight,” she said at last to the voice on the other end of her call as she pushed herself to stand from her desk and shoved the gun she’d been working on into the holster on her back. The linkpearl in her ear brought Idristan's voice

“We’ll question him tonight. I’ll shoot a text to Louvel and Seviere, see if they’re ready. It’s been a couple of days. Arafel’s stayed in my facility long enough, and I want answers, and then I want him gone.” Her tomestone was palmed up as she exited her office, letting the door close behind her and seal with its usual click.

"I'll be there in a bell or two, Talia. Don't start without me." Came the voice in her ear. Her quiet voice of reason. Or maybe he just wanted to be sure nothing bad happened to her a second time. He didn't trust Arafel anywhere near his wife. But then, he also wasn't sure he trusted her temper around the vampire.

Still, she gave him her quiet agreement and then told him to travel safe and cut the linkpearl call short. Texts went out as quickly as she could type out each of the messages and subsequently hit send.

To Louvel for him and Seviere to make sure they could be there in a few bells; Arafel had finally woken up and she knew they wanted answers before she kicked the vampire to the curb.

To Ivan to make sure he was notified and could be present; she hoped to get answers about their music box, and maybe something of their voidsent issue as well.

To Inwa to ask if he wanted to be there; this might be one of their last chances to question Arafel at all, especially if something went wrong and he ended up dead by the end of the evening.

She headed for the front area of Seraphim's Rest, to wait for the others to arrive for the night. And maybe beg Lakoko for a cup of the lalafellin woman's best spiked coffee. She was definitely going to need the fortification for the night.

#FFXIVWrite2022 #FFXIVWrite #[ Bathed in Twilight ]#[ The Devil Within ]#[ Of Unspoken Things ]#No editing we post like men

10 notes · View notes

rain-grey-falcon · 2 years

Text

Prompt #9: Dreaming

Prompt 9: Yawn - FFXIV Write 2022 Characters: Rainimont Griseaux, mention of Edarien (@thedarknesssings)

“In all my dreams I drown.”

He remembered those words from before, when asked if he dreamed. He drowned. In Starlight. In Shadow. In Ink. In Blood. Every night, he drowned. A ceaseless onslaught that had been happening since he’d been awakened. But just like the way the rest of his life had changed, the nature of his dreams had also changed.

From dreams of drowning, to dreams where tendrils of blackness drug him down into an imperceptible depth. So many of his nights had been filled with this dream. The endless pull down into what seemed like a floating nothingness. Coiling and twisting things that wanted to make sure he never again saw the light of day so distantly above.

From dreams of drowning, to dreams where he stood at the edge of a wide precipice, prowling back and forth like a hunting animal, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond it. The chasm gaped wide before him, so wide he couldn’t see the far edge of it, though he knew it existed. There was something waiting for him on the other side, though if asked, he could not have told you what.

From dreams of drowning, to dreams where he stood back to back with some shadowed and hunched figure. It was mottled, disfigured, with elongated fangs and wide tattered wings and arms that stretched too long and ended in ferocious claws. Sometimes that figure was a man, and without turning, he knew that he was identical to him, with aqua hair that fell in a wave, with a teal and silver gaze that would meet him, unsmiling.

It was him who he had replaced. It was him who guided some of his hidden memories. The figure in his dreams spoke sometimes, like a familiar friend. Like an old lover. The voice was always his own rumbling bass. On and on he spoke, until words that were sweet turned into venom, into poison to drip into his ears. Until Rain wanted to double over and cover his ears and scream. Until chains forged of dripping water of fathomless black lashed out from his spine and coiled around the figures throat and waist and arms and legs, and he could feel it at his back, bound to him. Bound in him.

When he slid into semi-coherency this time, it was to the feeling of fingers brushing down one of his arms, soothing him. He’d been restless, his pillow was balled up beneath his head, the blankets that draped over him bunched down to his waist and tangled around his long legs. He turned into the brush of fingers, a quiet sigh parting his lips., not quite awake and not quite asleep.

His eyes blinked open slowly as he stared up the arm to the ash grey skinned man on the bed beside him. He barely had time to meet ice blue eyes before a low voice was murmuring for him to go back to sleep. His mouth opened, perhaps for a protest, but it never came. Eyes slid closed again, and in another breath he was sinking back into stillness and slumber with ease, body turning towards the hand sliding across his bare arm.

The remainder of his sleep was dreamless, and when he awoke in the morning it was from a satisfying sleep, a hand muffling the yawn he suppressed as he tried to shake off the depths of slumber. He lifted his gaze to watch the man still sleeping on the bed beside him, and another yawn hand him eyeing his pillow once more.

With reluctance he drew himself up from his little makeshift space and folded the bedding he had used once more, tucking them over to the side before he was disappearing through the curtain into the bathroom. Perhaps a hot soak would banish that fatigue. He had enough time to confront what he could have sworn was simply further dreaming once he was fully awake.

#FFXIVWrite2022 #FFXIVWrite #[ Rain Grey Skies ]#[ Rainimont ]#[ Edarien ]#No editing we post like men #Maybe part one of two?

11 notes · View notes

leoswritingcorner · 2 years

Text

Detective Dusty in action! Wrote this at the gym

Tonight, was a Murphy’s night.

Dusty ducks down her head and covers the young girl beside her from the shower of shattering glass. From above, the gargoyle’s piecing roar shakes the tower.

“It’s okay,” Dusty says to the girl. She catches the obvious fear in the human’s eyes. “We’re gonna get ya outta here,” She assures calmly. The girl nods quickly, her shaky hands gripping tightly to Dusty’s jacket.

They move quickly through the darkened room. The fight above the rafters continues, causing debris to fall. A much too large beam collapses not too far, and Dusty already feels the danger it’s about to bring. “Look out!” She cries

The girl yelps as the floor gives way, breaking into a large hole. Her body begins to plummet downward. Dusty catches her by the wrists, the wind knocking from her lungs as she falls against the opening’s edge.

Throng the dark, Dusty’s gleaming eyes sees just how very, very far a fall would be. Not good for any human. Or werewolf for that matter. The girl cries out, gripping frantically at Dusty’s hand. “H-Hold on,” Dusty says, keeping her voice even. Sweat begins to bead at her head and along her neck. She moves slightly and keeps a tight grip on the girl’s wrist “You need to stay calm or-“

“Help me!” The girl screams. Dusty flinches, and suddenly the fight above goes quiet. Dusty’s eyes widen as she hears the gargoyle’s snarl from the distance and his scent moving towards them.

Yup. Murphy’s night. Whatever could go wrong, was very much, going wrong.

Dusty fumbles, grabbing to her talkie. “Zito, come in. Are ya alive?” She speaks into it. She flashes the girl a quick smile. Her eyes catch sight of the spiral staircase just below her form.

“Barely.” Comes Zito’s voice, “He just took off! Wh-“

“He‘s coming this way,” Dusty cuts in. “I’m in a bad position here. I need you to pull a MJ.”

“What? Now?” Zito questions back, stunned, “Where?”

Dusty hears the flaps of the gargoyle’s wings. “Inside. The way we came in. The spiral staircase. It’s the target.” Dusty explains quickly. “Zito, it’s the target.”

“Oh hell.” Zito grumbles.

Another flap of wings joins the gargoyles. “Zito, hurry.” Dusty urges, gritting her teeth. A large form shadows over Dusty and the girl cries in alarm. “Trust me, sweetie.” Dusty says softly, looking to the girl. “You’ll be in good hands soon,”

“I’m in!” Zito’s voice shouts from below.

Dusty opens her hand and lets the girl go. Her screams echo through the tower, as the roof caves in. Through the dark she spies Zito’s winged form catching her. Dusty barely has time to movie before the gargoyle snatches her up and flies out.

Dusty grunts as she thrown down on the tower’s balcony. The stone scrapping into her skin as she skids along. Barely on her feet, Dusty stumbles as the gargoyle lands heavily before her.

“Are ya gonna come in quietly?” Dusty questions, bracing herself against the ledge. “You’ve cause a riot not only at the SBI, but now the humans.” She says, watching the stony creature carefully.

The gargoyle leans forward, it’s wide jaw opening into a thundering roar. Dusty stares impassively as it roar slowly dwindles into a shrill gurgle.

“I had a feeling ya wouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head. With a lunge, she slams her fist into it’s cheek. A sharp pain seers through her nerves as she flesh hits against its stony skin. It’s enough to surprise the gargoyle, however, as it stumbles back. Dusty advances, putting all her strength into a kick to its chest. The gargoyle falls against the walls, and screeches, showing it’s decaying sharp teeth

Dusty bares her fangs back and growls. The gargoyle moves, and knocks at Dusty with its wing. The detective goes flying, and falls over the ledge.

Wind whips around Dusty. The ground below, once again, is too far for any survival in a fall. Dusty grips the ledge’s edge tightly and grunts, her feet fumbling to find any footing.

“Dust!” Zito cries from the balcony. His bat face gazes at her worriedly. “H-Hold on!” He urges. “I’ll-“ the gargoyle leaps on Zito. “Ah shit, never mind!” Zito hollers, trying to fight it off.

Dusty glances over her shoulder to the busy streets over 60 stories down. Her claws scrape hard against the ledge and pushes her body upward. Her body moves away from the danger of a nasty fall and back into a deadly fight. Zito falls weakly as the gargoyle pins him down under a clawed foot.

Dusty dives at him, her arms looping around it’s neck. The gargoyle screeched and trashes, but Dusty holds firmly. Her eyes squeeze shut as she tightens her arms. The gargoyle slams her body against the building, a pained groan leaning her. Dusty moves herself closer, keeping her firm hold.

The gargoyle’s body begins to slow before dropping. Dusty catches herself and she looks down at the gargoyle. It breathes lightly but was out cold. “I didn’t think that’d work…” she breathes to herself.

Zito rolls away with his own pain groan. “Did you knock a gargoyle out with a sleeper hold?” Her partner asks

Dusty drops to the ground and looks at the gargoyle before looking to Zito. “I guess so,”

“Bad ass.”

Dusty scoffs, rubbing her face, “How’s the girl? Is she safe?” She asks.

“Yep. Human relations was waiting. She’ll be okay,” Zito says, sitting up. He stretches out his bat wings and winces.

“That was a nice catch,” Dusty compliments, rolling her head back against the tower wall. Zito nods.

They sit quietly for a moment before Zito speaks up. “So boss is already looking for a report-“

Dusty groans, covering her face.

#dusty holliday #and introducing a new minor oc zito Dusty’s partner!#no editing we post like men

7 notes · View notes

mixtapedoh · 25 days

Note

vernon as highschool crush pls for lonely boy 🧍‍♀️

vernon my bestie beloved bastard ♡ you really are requesting for the people, lindsay.

;༊ — lonely boy

pairing: hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader genre: fluff, high school au word count: ~3.3k warnings: language, mild threats among friends, a lack of originality (but perhaps ameliorated by an understanding of the conventions of trope?)

olive's notes: firstly, hahaha.......... pretend like this wasn't something you sent me actual months ago.... and pretend like i gave the prompt the justice it deserves....... shhhhhh, i answer things in a timely manner and can still be considered a tumblr writer. secondly, this is quite glaringly based off of and colored by my memories of high school, so expect United States education system nonsense <3.

☄. *. ⋆ hansol vernon chwe x high school crush.

— the hardest thing about crushing on this fucker is that he's everywhere

simultaneously the biggest cryptid in the whole student body (if you had a nickel for every time your journalism teacher asked: "has anyone seen hansol this week?" to absolute crickets you'd be able to pay for at least 2 years of college) and also the most social person to ever grace your high school halls, hansol was everywhere all at once, and contradictorily, nowhere when you sought him out.

you wanted to avoid seeing him because of something embarrassing you were sure he had noticed? bam. right there beside you, sitting on the same row of auditorium seats for the assembly.

you wanted to catch a glimpse of him while the both of you were assigned to photograph the basketball game? viola. gone, nowhere to be seen; and yet your friend will tell you later that he was there the whole time, snapping the best photos of boo seungkwan's legendary 3-pointers (which you certainly hadn't missed, so where had he been??).

— yes, having a crush on hansol vernon chwe was exhausting. there was no way to save face — trust hansol to be there at your worst hours (like that chemistry presentation where the color palette you used for your PowerPoint was too light for the old projector screen to show properly, and so you half of your graphics were unreadable, inspiring your professor to dock 10 points, despite that fact that when you pulled it up on a computer screen - or any other device that wasn't an old ass projector at least 15 years out of date - the graphics were just fine and the detail above required). it didn't matter the specifics of the occasion, it was simple fact you'd always somehow manage, in your darkest moment, to look out and see hansol — always a kind smile, with something encouraging in his eye, despite, but still horribly, embarrassingly, and irrevocably present.

— and then, as it if weren't bad enough, hansol vernon chwe had the absolute gall to be unbothered, unfazed, unable to be rattled or shaken in any way, by comparison.

oh sure, you'd seen him cringe before at him friend's (mostly kwon soonyoung's) antics; you were familiar with the way vernon expressed any and all emotion with the whole of him — his every muscle tensing and twisting in a way so visceral and real, you could feel embarrassed, too, by just looking at him — but the envy was this: it was never at his expense that such feelings would arise. vernon was never embarrassed because of something he did or caused or felt. his life was far too chill and unbothered for that. others could be embarrassing around him, but all of his actions flowed so smoothly — rolled over the shoulders of everyone else.

the closest he'd ever get was doing something explicitly stupid just for the enjoyment of others. but, the catch was this: they enjoyed it !!!! it was funny and not cringe worthy !!!!! the net effect was positive.

it was infuriating. sometimes you weren't sure if you wanted to kiss hansol or strangle him with your bare hands.

— but let's take things back to journalism.

— because of course he took journalism.

not exactly the most exalted of the journalism students or anything, hansol was mostly known for his opinion piece articles and, of course, availability and willingness to go to any school event to take pictures and help fill in the blanks of the article anyone was writing.

he had friends in any and all school functions and events. from sports to musicals, science fairs to choir recitals, you could say, "is anyone going to this very obscure and random FBLA presentation?" or "did you know that the coding club is going to be attending an event at another high school this saturday?" and hansol would immediately perk up, pull out one of his headphones and go, "yeah, i'm gonna check it out. did you need a ride?"

— and it was because of that — his being everywhere, inescapable and offhandedly thoughtful, open and so easily warm — that these pesky feelings even started, in the first place.

— just when it happened is perhaps inconsequential (in all actuality, it likely started before your journalism daily exposure, just slowly, more of an itch at the back of your mind than the brash insistence it was, now) but it was definitely the fault of journalism. maybe that band and orchestra festival in 11th grade where you went with hansol to do a write up on all the high schools attending (placing undue emphasis on your high school's multi-talented band leader, lee jihoon, who could play half the instruments in the room), or maybe that series of debate tournaments you both covered in 11th grade, or when the two of you took over the baseball column that same year and when the heatwave spiked early, vernon would attend each game in sleeveless tops, always with an extra ball cap in tow since you would (conveniently, perhaps?) forget one of your own and the sun made it impossible to see what was happening, beyond.

yes, just when it hit was neither here nor there, because at the end of the day, the problem remained: you were hopelessly down bad for one hansol vernon chwe. fuck.

— and you couldn't escape him if you tried.

and trust me, at one point, try, you had.

— after all, at the beginning of your senior year, you somehow ended up being in the same spanish class as him and his friend joshua, and after a whole year (and subsequent summer break, when your journalism teacher found an opportunity to have a section of the city newspaper be dedicated to "the youth of journalism," and weekly, your journalism club was able to publish in the city newspaper) of crushing on hansol with a vehemence perhaps concerning, you knew you couldn't handle having to have embarrassing debates, conversations, and role play scenarios with him.

in perhaps two weeks you were in the counselor's office, exploring alternate class blocks. in the end, you were stuck in a ceramics course instead of your preferred electives, but at least when the unit on "la familia, el amor y todo lo interpersonal" came up, you were role playing as a couple alongside jeon jungkook, who couldn't stop making you wheeze with laughter from his overextention of the r at every available chance, rather than your crush, hansol.

(all it would have taken was one "te extraño" from hansol through your fake hand phones to absolutely floor you. someone call the school nurse, you're fallen and perhaps can never get back up again.)

— so you avoided him there, and even before that, during your junior year, you had mostly eaten off campus on your second schedule days when you and hansol had the same lunch hour and the risk of running into him at a time potentially embarrassing was at an all time high, seeing as nowhere was safe — the social butterfly he was, hansol managed to have business in every hallway of the school. not a single area was risk free.

yeah, junior year really had just been a mess of emotions you hadn't wanted to name, and so instead, elected to pointedly ignore. you were glad to say that while spending your hard earned money to eat out 2-3 times a week was a bit of a low, you had solidly moved out of that phase of your life by spring that year, and could stomach the risk of Being Seen by someone who had captured your attention so strongly.

and yeah, even though you had a bit of a backslide when changing spanish classes senior year (which could be chalked up to self-preservation, truly), you had solidly moved past that whole Avoidance Stage of your Crippling Crush on One Hansol Vernon Chwe.

— so hansol couldn't be avoided. that much was abundantly clear. and you had to interact with him in journalism and (god willing) be normal while doing so, and luckily, while all that exposure didn't exactly desensitize you to his overwhelming charm, admirable confidence, infectious smile, endearing jokes, comfortable aura, and oh so beautiful eyes, it had forced you to just,,,,,,, accept some things.

— accept that you had a raging crush on hansol, but that it could be managed... so long as none of your mutual friends found out.

— you were pretty sure that wonwoo knew, but at least he was ✨subtle✨ and generally checked out of things like that. genuinely, he could not care less, and so he made it no one's problem. you could probably tell him your most rancid, vulgar thoughts, and he would just file it away in his mind as: "nasty shit i can never unhear" and go about his day. compare that to your other mutual acquaintance, seungkwan, and well...

— but for the most part, it seemed that senior year was inching away, another year with a crush on hansol, and another year where you didn't say a damn thing and refused to leave anything close to a hint for him to pick up on.

— but mercy didn't exactly exist for you, now did it.

— the horrible series of Epic Fumblings and Incriminating Moments began in october, when hansol and joshua decided to make a podcast to convince the school that an AV club could be a fun addition to the roster of School Sanctioned Clubs (an idea they really should have had back in august — you know, when clubs were first getting registered and students were accosted in the hallways with club information slapped on astrobrights with strong ~graphic design is my passion~ presentation)

they had needed someone tech savvy enough to get them the podcast equipment and teach them how to use it (and just,,, do all the technical aspects for them 🥺👉👈 pwetty pwease 🥺👉👈 we're just silly boys who want to talk about random shit but are trying to pass it off as being Constructive in Some Sense so that it looks good on college applications) and so obviously their search had sent them in the way of wonwoo, who only seemed to have free time on the exact day and time you two would joint study for your college level government and politics course.

so of course he asked if the two of you could move your study sessions to a different location (he swore he could multitask? okay overacheiver) so that he could both study with you and help the stupidly handsome hansol and joshua with their brilliant podcast idea.

and of course, you'd forget the first time and wonwoo would conveniently not answer his texts for 20 minutes, allowing for the most embarrassing stage of him finally picking up his phone (on speaker?) to you yelling "jeon wonwoo, i will personally castrate you and throw it in the ocean so you can be eaten alive by the creatures birthed from the subsequent sea foam if you don't come to the library to study right now. i have been waiting for 20. minutes. where are you?" and hansol and joshua would hear you. and have the gall to laugh.

and of course wonwoo wouldn't even give you the grace of not having to show up to his house (your new study location) to study for the day. in fact, hansol gave him the brilliant idea of threatening to train an eagle to peck at your liver daily - not eating it fully, just put in it's beak and twist the flesh. since you can't grow another liver overnight, of course. don't you just love mythological punishment.

(and that wouldn't be the end of the embarrassing podcast adventures, either. the time shua cajoled you into being a special guest????? truly, you dodged a bullet not being in spanish with that fool. he's impossible to refuse and the worst of it was that he knew it.)

— or what about the december gift exchange in journalism?? that was certainly not your finest moment, trying to get chaewon to change names with you so that you could gift something to hansol (something lady luck had never granted you despite all the blood, sweat, and tears you sunk into this journalism group of yours), and he heard you, mid-conversation.

seungkwan had told you hansol had been talking about it later, and you quite literally saw him connect the dots in slow-motion as he recounted the story. "y/n, do you have a crush on hansol????" it would have been bad enough that he practically yelled the accusation in the stands of the football field, but then he had the gall to triumphantly gasp and break into hysterical laughter upon your clear embarrassment at being caught. it was during lunch! you're shared lunch break with hansol! who knew where that fucker was! he probably saw the whole exchange!

(in the end, chaewon didn't change names with you (she traded with some other journalism traitor so she could gift to sakura) and even though hansol didn't have your name, he got you something regardless, saying it was thanks for putting up with he and shua stealing wonwoo during your (once peaceful) study sessions. you had decided against getting him a gift regardless, and so you had to awkwardly seek him out during winter break to shove a poorly wrapped box in his hands, with a mumbled apology for your tardiness in gifting, something he pushed away cooly, as expected (but were those red ears of his from just the cold, alone?).)

— and then, well, once everyone came back from winter break and seungkwan knew of your crush on hansol... school became less a Place of Learning and more a Viscous Time Loop of Shutting Seungkwan Up Before He Spilled The Beans.

kicking him under the table. threatening his livelihood. slapping a hand over his mouth on one occasion because seungkwan couldn't take a joke and his retaliation of choice was calling over hansol right there and then and forcing you both to awkwardly sit in the bitter soup of Revelation.

— and then there was february. oh, february. how easy it is to loathe february.

— it was already hard enough getting through the embarrassment of valentine's day themed fundraising — every year, your literature teacher (who oversaw the student body officers — that first exposure to the cruel reality of rigged elections, a popularity win if there ever was one) offered extra credit for students who volunteered time to help the sbo's with their silly little business venture of "roses for $3, sugar cookies with shocking pink frosting for $2, heart suckers for $1, sonnets written by the creative writing and theatre kids for $7.

every year you volunteered for some reason or another - maybe your grade needed it, maybe you were doing sbo president seungcheol a favor because no one signed up, maybe you were following the stupid advice of seokmin and were doing it for the plot (code for: please don't leave me alone at the stand, i will buy you all the sugar cookies you'd like, just don't consign me to spending my lunch break in this particular layer of hell in solitude). this year was no different in you signing up to do time, but seungkwan sure was different, asking you every day if you managed to see if vernon sent anyone something (he had — soonyoung had convinced him to pitch in to send jihoon 16 sonnets, to be read aloud in the middle of class). if he had sent you something (he hadn't).

but when you got an anonymous rose sent to your 2nd class of the day, with a cryptic note attached, your friends wouldn't let you live it down all week. (who had sent it, though? they would have had to be very strategic as to when they placed the order — you had certainly never seen one for yourself in your daily exchange of goods, and seokmin was suspiciously tight lipped about the whole thing (very uncharacteristic of him — who had the ability to buy dk's silence, and better yet, how had they done it???)).

— yes, valentine's day was bad enough. but to add to the mix was always hansol's birthday. last year you'd gotten him a gift since you had worked quite a lot together during that month, and it just felt... normal. comfortable. something kind to do that wasn't weird in anyway. but these days, facing hansol was almost as embarrassing as it had been during junior year when you avoided the mere sight of him like seeing him smile would end in you contracting the plague.

as the day inched ever closer, you were seriously considering missing the day entirely. taking the day off. pretending to be sick. but that wouldn't get you out of seeing him the day after. and the day after that.

perhaps fleeing the country would be a totally normal reaction and solid plan.

— and then joshua invited you to hansol's surprise birthday party.

well. at least that cleared up whether you should get him a gift or not.

— to say that, at that moment and for the subsequent days afterward, were overthinking the whole thing would be to extremely understate reality.

you were about to pop a blood vessel over this shit.

wonwoo was invited, too (how charitable of them. making sure there'd be someone there to scrape you off the floor when you inevitably discovered the power of self combustion) and it was rather comical to see the two of you: cool and calm wonwoo, and you with the internal dialogue of WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHA

all holding a cute little gift between you.

— and the surprise birthday party really was a Legitimate, 5-Star, Genuine Quality, Surprise Bona Fide™ - a success by all measures. a shock in more ways than one: a surprise for hansol who had no idea the party was happening in the first place, getting called over for what he expected was a casual videogame night; a surprise for lee chan, somehow, when he saw that shua got you to come 15 minutes before show time to help blow up balloons - a shock so big he started to say something with a wild grin and was immediately dogpiled by mingyu, junhui, and hoshi; a surprise for all the friends amassed when you proved to be quite adept at party games like their incredibly convoluted version of mafia; and a surprise for you, later that night, when hansol offered to take you home

— the two you decided to stop at an empty playground before parting ways and see who could jump farther off of the swings. he won by a wide margin, but you had the skinned knees to prove your effort and the memory of hansol laughing so hard he could barely breathe — his smile so wide it could've filled you completely, banish any longing from your chest for a moment of unique closeness and bliss — and perhaps that was a consolation prize, enough.

but then you and hansol were on the swings again, seeing who could tighten the swing chain the most and spin the longest, and between the motion blur, you heard hansol admit defeat and when the swing stopped, his face was all too close to yours to shrug off as friendly, and his hands were holding the swing chain on either side, and when he spoke soft and low to crown you the victor, you kissed him.

and the biggest surprise of the night was when he kissed you back.

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

#olive.writes #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #vernon x reader #vernon imagine #vernon x you #svt vernon x reader #svt vernon imagine #fuck idk how to tag anymore someone tell me what i'm doing #also me????? WRITING??????????? SOMETHING LONG FORM?????????????? ohmygod it's been actual years since i've posted writing on tumblr #if my formatting isn't pretty yet give me time i'm out of practice okay #no i have not edited this we die like men

81 notes · View notes

carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 7 months

Text

many years ago someone complimented me on how sincerely i wished my ex well after a break up and i did mean it at the time but im truly not that bitch anymore i hope his nose is stuffy the rest of his life tbqph

#op #this is a diary post ill be real #theres a little heart shaped lock on it and everything #when i hear songs about fatherhood i no longer grieve the relationship i never got to have with my father #i only grow deeply enraged with my ex that he forced that same pain on my child when he literally could have bounced AT ANY TIME #but no he waited until immediately afterwards LMFAO #king of shit timing #call me a bitter baby momma all you want #i am #and ill stay bitter until my child is old enough to work through it themself in therapy #which he will be paying for #men will see women with trauma and promise before god that he will break the cycle then be like ''ctrl+c ctrl+v''#EDIT I do want to be clear tho he’s no deadbeat whatsoever #he pays and he’s present (12/30 days but it’s not zero at least)#he’s just also… free. he doesn’t have to deal with being a parent #he gets the sometimes and I have the always #and it burns when he promised me we would both have the always #that we would be a team #we’re not a team #I’m sponsored #and it kills me #and if there were a deity who listened I would pray to them that it does not kill my baby #not the way it killed me a thousand different ways when I realized my father was never interested in being one #not when it was hard #not when it was inconvenient #not when it was always

131 notes · View notes

peridots-pixiwolf · 9 months

Text

sketches from @mipexch 's whiteboard a couple days ago!!

also feat. a very small reference to @onlineviolence :]

#peridots-art #bugs #bots #ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #swordsmachine ultrakill #bugzapper ultrakill #minos prime ultrakill #v2 ultrakill #plus the rest of the fumos but those weren't done by me. someone was drawing v1 so i put a v2 beside them and came back later to like 5 mor #hence why they are out of frame. anyway this was a LOT of fun I lost track of time and stayed up till dawn even #there were so many cool and/or recognized artists.... i keep checking the ultrakill tag to see if anyone else posts their own sketches #it was posted at like 2am my time though so i didn't get to stay very long.... i checked in today on the fumo drawings and there was #just so much new art over there and in general. so many people doodling and having fun and complimenting each other and bonding over #the things we all like. im gonna cry #anyway. i think this is the longest period of non-posting (not inactivity. lol) on tumblr i've ever had #so might've forgot some tags. also i think i'll use alt text for multiple images and regular id for 1-2 #edit also i wrote 'today' in the tags up there but it was in fact two days ago. regardless #ALSO. sorry if the alt text is hard to read or anything. never used it before + penchant for lengthy descriptions #can you tell i'm really proud of the beetle gabe btw. men will see a character say 'anyone gonna buggify that?' and not wait for an answer #WAIT i've already made that joke haven't i. whatever turn your blorbo into an insect or some sort of gay bug today

81 notes · View notes

dreaamerwrites · 11 months

Note

things you said under the stars and in the grass >> Cho Guesung, because you know he is our starry-eyed babie.

things you said -> still accepting! things you said under the stars and in the grass.

couple: cho guesung x gender neutral reader rating: G notes: ??? unconfirmed r/s status? lmao

♫

He's lying in the grass.

Arms and legs sprawled out, chin up, eyes wide open. You can make out the way they shine even in the darkness, the lights of the training grounds long since shut down now.

"Everyone was looking for you, you know," you murmur, not bothering to announce yourself. He knows it's you.

He knows it'll always be you.

Guesung merely grins, a lazy, sideways tilt of a thing as he pats the ground beside him. You settle down beside him, legs folded in front of you. It's clearly not what he had had in mind.

"You're doing it wrong," he rolls his eyes.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he gives you a tug. One time. And then once more, with purpose. You roll your eyes back at him before flopping backwards onto your back as well.

The grass scratches at the back of your neck and your ears and you shiver at the sensation. He wiggles beside you until you're pressed to his side, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. The bare skin of his arm is warm against yours, even in the cool evening air.

"I don't know why you enjoy this," you whisper. It's much too cold for May. "The grass is so prickly."

He merely snorts.

"Very romantic," he teases back -- but there is nothing teasing about the way he shifts his position, then.

Guesung slides one arm under your head, pulling you into his side easily; prickly grass suddenly replaced by his very solid, very warm chest.

If he can feel your breath hitch, he thankfully doesn't comment on it.

"Look," he whispers into your hair. "The stars look amazing tonight."

You twist slightly, glancing at the way his face is still turned up to the night sky, and then follow his gaze. Up, up, and up -- past the empty goal net, past the training ground stands, past the concrete of the building that has come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time.

Up, up, and up -- until all you can see are stars.

Endlessly, they stretch on, sparkling in the air as if someone has painstakingly sewn them into this blanket of peace and night.

"They're beautiful," you agree, voice so soft you wonder if he'll even hear you. His grip around your shoulders tightens. "I don't think I've ever seen them like this."

He hums in agreement, tilting his cheek until it rests against the top of your head. Your hair catches his stubble and you want to laugh but the moment seems too fragile for it. The stars are too delicate. You're not sure when you'll get a moment like this with him again.

After all...

"I'm going to see the stars in England, too," Guesung promises quietly. You wonder if it's meant more for him than you. "I'm going to see the stars in England. Maybe Spain. Maybe Germany. But definitely England."

Something catches in your throat and you force yourself to continue staring up, up, and up.

(After all, come the end of this summer, who knows when he'll be here like this again?)

"I know," you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. He still smells of his shampoo and body wash and freshly cut grass, still soft and worn post-training. You try to commit the scent to memory. "You'll see them in England. I know you will."

The silence that stretches between the two of you after that feels like the stars. Endless. Fragile.

But then his lips are on your forehead, brushing a soft kiss there. Barely touching, but quietly hopeful in its own gentle, careful way. You grip at his shirt more tightly, your heart pounding.

"You'll see them with me too," he murmurs against your hair.

You can't tell if it's an invitation -- or a question.

Regardless, you shift slightly to look up at him. At his eyes, still shining in the darkness, staring right back at you. The prettiest stars you've seen all night.

"If you want me to," you reply.

This time, his smile is full. Wide and sincere and warm as he pulls you in, strong arms firm and secure around you.

"Of course. I want you to be there," his voice comes rough, when he finally replies. The sound seems to resonate deep in his chest and it shakes you right through from your fingers to your toes. "I always want you."

He knows it'll always be you.

#QUICK I'M HITTING POST SO THAT I DON'T CONVINCE MYSELF NOT TO LMAO #cho guesung imagine #cho guesung drabble #cho guesung #my sweet cutison nation anon #this is for u #my no 1 cheerleader #my no 1 bebeto #ilu #dreamer answers!!#no beta no editing no proofreading we die like men #PS - here's to looking forward to cgs' career :' ) reach for the stars bb u deserve it all

66 notes · View notes

rad-roche · 1 year

Text

taking another stab at the oil paint tools with gloria. still have to wrap my head around them, but i had a lot of fun doing this!

halfway through i accidentally merged my sketch into the actual painting, so that required me to get a little. Inventive. not included is the audio of me swearing when i realised

#gloria roche #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #rochedotpng #that's my broad and i get to draw her looking sickly and utterly miserable #song is net cafe by yoko kanno. i always associate her with this sort of guitar sound for some reason #no post painting finagling no editing no touch ups. we slop like men #dead man talking

104 notes · View notes

liminal-storage · 7 months

Text

#28: Disturbance

Prompt: Blunt

Characters: Kuni

Content Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault

—------------

Red eyes watched from between paper-barked trees crowned to bursting with yellow leaves. Hands braced on moss-flocked stones, ears perked for any sound she might be able to pick up from the Wood Wailer standing next to the path just a few fulms away. Impatience curled clawed fingers against the stone, and it was only their soft, velvety surface which kept the ensuing loud scrape at bay. She'd been here for three hours already, crouched uncomfortably in the dirt. Just in case of any early shift in the guard. But such a thing never came, and she found herself grateful that the man's drowsiness kept him from taking notice.

The man yawned for what had to be the third time in ten minutes, swayed a little on his feet and leaned upon his lance to keep himself from toppling over. Just a little longer. Before long he'd move away from the path to relieve himself. That would be the time for her to move too. But until that perfect moment came, she must not move, must not allow her tail to swish in agitation lest she brush it through a patch of crisp fallen leaves and make a noise. Even were this not something akin to a hunt, she needed to hone her patience.

Though it pained her to admit it, she could not in fact follow her urge to simply spring from hiding and bury a dagger in the Wailer's throat. Though she'd met them, she herself was no Erinyes. Nor was she of the Elementals, an entity crafted solely, it seemed, to spin their whims for man. And what whims they were. This man walked free and unseen while outsiders lay dying and denied healing.

No. Not unseen. She saw him. She'd been tailing him off and on for three days now. Even if the Elementals could not see his sin all because of some arbitrary rules and a hunk of wood over his face, she did. And what she witnessed, there where shade was, made her very teeth itch.

At last, the man moved off the path. On silent steps, she followed. She saw the moment he leaned his spear against a tree to fiddle with his belt. A leg kicked forward to strike him in the back of the knee. The Wailer buckled and stumbled forward, face scraping bark on his way down. Supple vines pushed through the dirt to bind him in place face down. She watched him flail and struggle a while before clearing her throat.

"Well, well. Bet you didn't think you'd be caught with your pants down, huh?"

She didn't bother turning him over. Let him struggle like a fly in a web, she thought. She did reach down to pull off his mask though. Now there was no hiding. Not his face, not his crimes.

"L-let me g–"

"No."

A mask of her own covered her cold expression, the judgment in her eyes. The irony of hidiing her face to hide from greenwrath wasn't lost on her. She cut off his protests before he could even make them, vines growing up over his mouth.

"I know what you did. I know you grabbed her. The pretty young…what was it you called her? Ah yes. The 'shade wench.' She came out this way to gather wild honey and you cornered her. Put your hands up her skirt."

The man wouldn't manage to break free. But he did manage to twist, just enough to try to see her, and enough for her to read the expression on his face.

"You let her go. But only after she smashed a rock into your face. It was your first time doing that sort of thing, wasn't it?'

She'd been too far away to help. Walking another path through the woods to go home. But she'd heard the scream and gone running. By the time she got there she'd had to get the details from a very shaken young Duskwight woman, and she'd promised she'd see to it that such crimes wouldn't go unpunished.

The Hyur gave some muffled response and Kuni tsked. She reached down and patted the side of his face, fingers stiff like they wanted to wrap around his neck instead.

"You won't get the chance to perfect your method. Ah, and before you ask me. No, I'm not going to kill you."

But the vines wrapped themselves tighter, pinned his limbs to the earth. A lie. But not a lie. She wondered if the magic in the vines would give out before he did. What would get to him first? Sun? Dehydration? Predatory beasts? The guard rotation would probably look for him. But by that time he'd be practically buried in green, smothered to death if nothing managed to get to him first.

"But you're going to have plenty of time to reflect on what you've done."

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ritz writes #i hated the other thing i wrote though to write an entirely new thing #no editing we post like men

7 notes · View notes