#one of the first drawings of bullfrog i did

[zephyrinkorporated]

Easy now, friend

#one of the first drawings of bullfrog i did #backgrounds are hard #captain laserhawk #captain lazerhawk fanart #clh #bullfrog captain laserhawk #bullfrog fanart #clh bullfrog #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #bullfrog #clh fanart #just realized i forgot to color in part of his arm thing NOOO #zephyr art

[small-sinclair]

In My Arms

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Contains: passionate kiss, cuddles

Enjoy

At the end of the day, the skies fade to a deep purple and a burning orange light. Vincent normally doesn't see sunsets, but he managed to snag the sight as you dragged him outside to the gentle green and yellow field of wildflowers. You carried a blanket and a picnic basket that you found from a tourist and packed it full with two sub sandwiches, a small container of brownies, and sodas.

"I know you've been working so hard lately," you said as you unfolded the blanket and placed it down. He took off his shoes as you had him sit next to you. "So, I decided to make you some dinner! I know it's not much but..." your voice trailed and paused as Vincent placed a hand over yours. You could fell his smile under his mask.

'It's okay. This is nice, too.' His hands signed. He knows you're still learning how to speak with him, and it'll take time before you and understand him fully. 'It's a nice spot you picked. Why here?'

You take out the paper plates and some napkins, setting them up for you and him. "There's a meteor shower tonight," you said with a smile. "I asked Bo it he could have the lights off in town, so we could get a perfect view." The last remaining sunlight lit a halo in your hair. "Also, it's getting a bit stuffy downstairs. You need some fresh air." You gave him his sub and placed yours in front of you, offering a smile. "And I thought you would need some inspiration from the shower! A little bit of space themes here and there would so some good, I think."

You looked forward and started eating your sub. Next to you, you saw the wax face sitting between you and him. It has been months before Vincent took his mask off around you. When you first saw his face, you thought he was the most prettiest human alive, perfect in every way. When he did have his mask off while you two shared a bed, you'd kiss his scars gently, making sure he knew how much he meant to you. the love for this man was beyond anyone's understanding. Bo would give you shit about it, but he knew that this was one of the best things that's happened to his twin. The kindness you give and the tender lover you two bloomed was just want the artist needed.

His raven hair hung on the other side of his face, and he was facing his "better" side. His bright blue eye sparkled in the dying sunset as his shoulders relaxed to the food. He loves it whenever you cook for him, either if it's just a sub sandwich or soup. He closed his eye and smiled to himself. It's been a while since he's eaten something, but he'll never tell you. Goodness, he's lucky to have him by his side. You'll never know how many drawings of you he has all over his workshop. The photo of you smiling tucked in a locket around his neck hidden under his shirt and a drawing of you sleeping in bed hidden under scraps of papers... he'll keep it hidden from you as long as he can.

"You okay, Vincent?" Your words interrupted his thoughts. "You've been chewing the same bite for a while now."

He swallows hard, blushing in embarrassment.

You put the last two bites of your sub down and slid next to him, putting the mask on the other side of you with care. "What's going on in that mind of yours, darling? Something wrong?"

He shakes his head as he put his sub down. 'Just thinking about things. That's all. I promise.'

You lifted a brow as you playfully nudged his side. "Was I one of those things?"

He lifts his shoulders, laughing silently to himself. You rested your head on his shoulder as you looked at the purple and blue sky. The hum of bullfrogs and crickets started their song, singing for Louisiana herself. You hand intertwines in Vincent's, his other hand holding the sub. The comfortable silence between you two was filled with the sounds of the marsh and bright firefly lights. They circled you two, lighting Vincent's eye in flames and gentle glows. It almost felt as if a part of heaven has dropped on you two.

He finished his sandwich, wiped his hands, and, shifting slightly, he lifted you up to place you on his lap. You let out a giggle as he buried his head into your neck, leaving small kisses down your skin. He held you close as he looks up to the sky. His scars burned without any light as the other half looked up as the stars started to show. He looks breathless in the firefly light.

You blushed as you raised a hand, resting on his smooth skin. He jolts at your touch slightly, but he leans into your hand as a large hand held it there. He turned his head and placed a kiss on your palm. He looks back at you and grins as you blushed.

"Oh, Vincent," you whispered as you felt him pulling you closer and tighter. "You're so beautiful."

He rested his head against yours, his chest rising and falling ever so gently. When he looked into your eyes, he smiled. Fuck the stars in the sky and curse every planet and galaxy. You were his everything, and he could get lost in your gaze forever.

He leaned down and places a hesitant kiss against your lips before placing another, deepening it as he pulled you in. He wanted more of you, more, more, more, and deeper and deeper did the pit in is stomach grow. Vincent thought if he could have you close to him, he would be whole. he thought you completed him from every light and darkness, every daydream and nightmare. You calmed his heart and his mind when thoughts of blood and death plagued him, and he wanted to hold you close and never let go. His arms brought you closer, an arm holding your back to keep you upright and supported, his hans getting tangled in your hair. Your hands clung to his shirt, pulling gently as the grip tightened around the fabric.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathless. You rested against his head as you felt his warm breath down your skin. He lifted your head by the chin. He pushed your hair back and smiled warmly down at you. In his arms, you were here, you were real, you were his.

His lips parted as a raspy voice struggled out, "I love-love you, y/n."

Your eyes grew wide; you never heard him before. But your eyes returned to love as he stole a kiss. You smiled against his lips, your hands pushing his raven hair behind his ears.

"I love you more, Vincent," you said with your smile still showing. "I love you so much."

'All the stars in the world could never compare to you, my muse,' his signed against your skin. He met every word, and he'll repeat it over and over until your heart believes. He takes a deep breath and whispers, "I love you, y/n."

You rested your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Your eyes looked up to watch the meteor shower, but his eye never left you. Never once did they looked up. He had everything right here in his arms.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax #house of wax x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic #vincent sinclair house of wax #house of wax x y/n

[salty-croissants]

Hi!!!! Can I request pre relationship hc for bullfrog. Like when you first meet and stuff? (^^)

Thank you for the request !

I wanted to try and make a bit of a prequel to the events of the series with this one by imagining the reader meeting Bullfrog in the past to then eventually see him again in the Warden’s prison , it just sounded like a cool concept :)👍

Hope this turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

strangers to lovers ; 

presence of mature themes , including swearing , blood and an attempted assault ( reader gets saved in the end , dw !! )

It all begun during one very rainy night …

It was late , and due to the fact that it had been a very long day at work and that you didn’t have your umbrella with you to offer some shelter from the unforgiving weather you had ended up trying to head for a shortcut passing through a more repaired alleyway …

You’ve never liked that road , but at that point you were soaking wet , freezing and just longed for the warmth and comfort of your home … 

You just had to be fast and not draw attention and everything was going to be just fine like usual . 

… or at least , that’s what you thought . 

After some more walking you were starting to see the lights outside the alleyway , which meant you were very close to leave that unsettling darkness and get closer to your apartment , but right before you could let out a sigh of relief and think about how silly you were to always worry so much about things you heard them : 

heavy footsteps behind you … and they were rapidly approaching . 

< Well hello , beautiful … out late , ay ? > 

Your heart started pounding in your chest , as four ominous looking strangers surrounded you , blocking every chance of escape … 

It seemed like things had taken a very , very bad turn . 

  < Come on babe , there’s no need to be afraid … we aren’t gonna hurt you , are we boys ? > 

< Damn , they’re even more cute up close … > 

You found yourself completely frozen in place , as the four cornered you more and more , and immediately jolted back when one of them tried to touch your shoulder …

< G-get away from me !! > 

< Aw , don’t think you got much of a choice here , sweetheart … better make things easier for yourself and just go with it . 

Wouldn’t wanna get in trouble now , would you … ? > 

You could feel your body shake , both for the cold of the rain and your sheer , paralyzing fear … 

You could only close your eyes praying to whoever might be listening that someone was going to see what was happening and get you out of that horrible mess …

… that’s when you heard the man behind you let out a scream , followed by the sound of a blade slashing through his neck .

< What - what the fuck !? > 

< Dammit - I can’t see shit , where did that bastard g - > 

Another scream , followed by a thud told you that another one of those creeps had been dealt with … 

After taking a deep breath , you slowly opened your eyes to get a clue as to what the hell was actually happening , and what you saw made your eyes widen : the two remaining men were furiously fighting against a frog with a white hoodie , without being able to land a single hit on him …

< Stay still you little - > 

He moved so quickly , your brain barely even registered the moment when his blades landed the final hits , leaving a pool of blood mixing with the puddles on the ground .

When he turned around to look at you , you couldn’t help but take one step back , still shaken by everything that had happened …

< Everything is all right now , mon ami … I’m not going to hurt you . > 

His voice was very calm and reassuring , with a bit of a French accent . 

< I , uh … I’m very sorry you had to see all of this … if you wish I could accompany you home to make sure that nobody else tries to harm you .

… actually wait , that might sound like a creepy thing to say - je suis désolé , I — > 

< Pfft … it’s okay … I’d like that . > 

You couldn’t help but chuckle in front of just how unexpectedly kind and … honestly adorable that strange frog was …

As you slowly got up , you realized just how tired you were after the scare you just experienced , but before you could lose balance and fall back down he immediately rushed to support you .

< Attention - >

< Ah … thanks … sorry about that . > 

< No need to apologize … just take it easy , I got you . > 

The journey back home didn’t encounter any more complications , and the two of you had quite a nice time just talking to each other : 

you discovered that the name of your savior was Bullfrog , and that he was an assassin … he didn’t really tell you a lot about himself other than that , but frankly that was all you needed to know . 

< Well , thanks for walking me home Bullfrog … I really appreciate it . >

< Ne le mentionne pas y/n , it was my pleasure . Though I’m afraid I will need to get going soon … there is another important task I need to get done tonight . > 

You nodded in response , while taking out the keys to your apartment from your pocket . 

< Say … I hope this isn’t a bit too forward , but you know , if you ever need a safe place to stay you can always come here . It’s the least I could do , you saved me after all … > 

< Merci , I’ll keep that in mind . > 

Bullfrog smiled at you , before disappearing in the shadows of the night like he had never been there in the first place … 

As you finally entered inside your home , promising to yourself to never enter a dark alleyway late at night ever again , part of you was hoping that one day you would see him again … 

… who knows , maybe that was going to happen … possibly in some maximum security cell … 

#captain laserhawk #x reader #bullfrog x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #gender neutral reader

[next-station-willde-central]

Did you know that I used to draw Ramon and Bullfrog drastically different from now? No? Then whoops, now you know (the bottom is the oldest and it was my first take on Bullfrog I did it almost referenceless)

(Side note: my style actually changes rapidly and I often draw very cute characters more and more "creepy" and detailed over time because of the boatload of headcanons I give every one of which; so that's why now my Bullfrog looks like a tatooed himbo bitten by a bee on both cheeks)

#clh bullfrog #clh ramon #clh rayman #captain laserhawk #bullfrog #rayfrog #every single one of them has lore in them #but i don't digress about them often #nor do i plan to #unless yall wanna hear me ramble lmao

[djsherriff-responses]

okie dokie @quixtrix

Gonna also tag @dextraicarus1994 since he’s a splinter cell fan and most likely has information to add to this discussion

We've heard the phase "everyone is the hero of their own story" at least once and while it's debatable if that is really true of everyone , there are some people who genuinely and unquestionably believe themselves to be the hero

And Sarah Fisher is one of those people

Unlike my Jade post, I'll be working somewhat backwards when it comes to evidence of my theory, primarily because one of the things that convinced me that Sarah has a hero complex was something that happens closer to the end of the first season

In the last episodes of CLH, we learn about Sarah's name and backstory. Her childhood where she got her father arrested , her military education and finally the death of her father

Sarah is a confusing character and until we get season two , theres so many questions surrounding her and very few, if any, answers to those questions

Did Sarah plan everything that happens in the show? If not, how much was Sarah's plan? Was her conversation with Dolph and Marcus genuine or an act? Or some combination of both?

What does Sarah really want out of all this? Did she have any involvement with Rayman becoming Ramon? If so, she's now the last of the board of directors and thus is in complete control of Eden, so what else can she possibly want?

And despite knowing first hand Eden killed her father , why did Sarah forego her human body and become a cyborg spider , essentially another cog in the machine that murdered her own father?

Is Sarah even "Sarah" anymore?

Then it clicked into my head that, the entire sequence of Sarah inside the VR , experiencing her past mistakes and trauma?

Can be read as a test of Sarah's convictions

Or other words, from her perspective ,she was on the hero's journey

And what's a common trope heroes experience? Challenges against their beliefs

Now obviously Sarah's character doesn't actually fit into the hero's journey , at least not without some twisting here. That is not important, what's important is that Sarah believes herself as the hero regardless of her actual circumstances or position in the world

Take note of how the hero's journey is about transformation specifically, as I want to draw a parallel to the anime/manga known as Land of the Lustrous. I don't want to spoil too much of that series as this is meant as a CLH post (I also need to catch up) but there is three pages from Land of the Lustrous I want to share

People who know of this series knows exactly what I'm implying about Sarah with this comparison, but for those who don't know what this manga is about: these three pages only has one character in them

Land of the Lustrous (or Houseki no Kuni) is a story set in a world where humans went extinct, but other humanoid lifeforms evolved from that extinction with one of those being immortal and genderless beings made of gemstones

The main character is one of these gem people called phosphophyllite ,phos for short, and their story is basically:

"what if the ship of theseus was a living being with a conscious?"

Keeping spoilers as minimum as possible, Phos , physically and mentally, undergoes drastic changes throughout the narrative both from circumstances beyond their control and the choices they've made

I believe , much like Phos, Sarah herself is a conscious ship of theseus

I want to bring attention to the connections between Bullfrog and Sarah , both in design and in narrative

Sarah's hair is the same colour as Bullfrog's hood , as well as being styled in a way that resemblances said hood. Both of these characters have colour palettes that share similarities with each other , in that they both primarily wear a monochromatic uniform with silver

They both also happen to have eye colours that's some shade of gold . Dolph's mother in the manga also has gold eyes. Coincidentally, both Bullfrog and Sarah are characters Dolph began to trust after he killed Alex for his betrayal

Bullfrog however leans more into wearing white while Sarah leans towards black, which happen to be colours used to represent themes of conflicting opposites , such as yin and yang or good vs evil

The other difference between them is Sarah has green accents while Bullfrog has red, which makes Bullfrog's palette more warmer while Sarah's is colder , fitting considering their personalities

Funny enough Bullfrog is a cold blooded frog hybrid. Meanwhile Sarah was is a human with a warm skin complexion

Red and Green are also opposites on the colour wheel, much like how Bullfrog and Sarah are opposites in the conflict between Assassins and Templars

Red and Green however, are complimentary colours too

As of season one we have very little regarding Bullfrog's life before the events of the show, but I'm betting my kidneys his life has some uncanny similarities with Sarah's

Remember how I said Sarah doesn't fit the hero's journey without twisting some things?

Bullfrog is an undeniable loyal, genuine character who does what he does out of the kindness of his heart. Bullfrog's heroism comes from caring for others and wanting justice

Sarah however, I believe has a hero complex that drives from her ego and a desire to control others

You can even say Sarah is a twisted remix of a hero

We can actually take a guess what experiences Bullfrog may have had in his life by comparing Sarah's life itself to the hero's journey set up, but let’s just focus on Sarah

I just want to have it at the back of our minds that Bulfrog’s life has likely paralleled with Sarah’s when we go down these points

Call to adventure: This is obviously when Sarah leaves the wasteland with Sam, her father , into Eden

Supernatural aid: Sam meets up with Marcus, who hacks the systems to help Sam and Sarah out

Threshold, beginning of transformation: Sarah snitches on the watch dogs

I want to put some attention to this moment of Sarah’s life as it has had a significant impact on her. Not only did her father loose custody of her and she was placed into Eden’s child care system (or whatever they do with Ray kids who expose their parents doing anything illegal) and was exposed to even more brain washing propaganda without any outside influence (her father) , but more importantly this was the first time in Sarah’s life where she had power over someone else’s fate

When Sam asks why Sarah did what she did, she replies “we have to do the right thing”. Looking at her body language , Sarah is not happy to be doing what she’s doing but fully believes, with no doubts despite her pained expression , it’s what she has to do , it’s the right thing to do

It seems odd, that Sarah was this heavily brainwashed and Sam was unaware of it up till this moment. Considering the wasteland is well, a literal wasteland I doubt there was much after school activity programs to influence Sarah this much. Sam seemed like a very attentive single parent so I can’t imagine the guy would let such pro Eden propaganda influences, such as the Rayman kids’ programs, anywhere near Sarah. Considering how young Sarah is in this flashback as well , she wasn’t exactly at the age of sneaking off and hanging with the wrong crowd

Unless Sam wasn’t Sarah’s only parent

Having a quick skim of the Splinter Cell wiki, Sarah’s mother in the games is a woman called Regan burns. Regan and Sam were on opposing sides during their military careers but that didn’t stop them from having a stormy affair, which lead to Regan becoming pregnant and having a troubled marriage with Sam. In the games Regan is cryptanalyst for the NSA , but who is Regan in the remixed universe?

During his introduction Bullfrog rambled about how his ancestors memories live on in his DNA , which is a reference to how in the assassins creed games people can use technology (or other means depending on game) to travel through the memories of their relatives (both close and distant) and learn information from them, it’s even how some get their assassin training

In some stories of the franchise, the main character is the direct child of an assassin, which puts further emphasis on bloodlines and their importance in the assassins creed

Just so happens, the templars use technology to travel through memories and bloodlines play an important role in their organisation , just like the assassins they’re up against

So it’s possible that, in this universe , Regan was a Templar and how she raised her daughter is what influenced Sarah “to do the right thing” and how Sarah was exposed to propaganda such as Rayman’s shows right under Sam’s nose

If Regan was a Templar, that could explain how Sarah not only knew about the order, but managed to get into the position she currently has in show. Regan’s influerence may also have given Sarah (and to some degree Sam) some advantages other people could only dream off, such as an opportunity to have a comfortable life in Eden and her military education

Thanks to Regan, Sam was still allowed to communicate with his daughter despite being a traitor

Dolph , as a fellow soldier in comparison, was taken from his mother and not even allowed any contact with her. He suffered so much just by virtue of having “good genetics”, Dolph and his mother in comparison did not commit any crime and yet ended up with a worse life than Sarah and Sam

If Regan is alive or not in the show does not matter now, what matters is that she was present in Sarah’s life long enough to make an impact on the girl

I do want to say while this was the beginning of Sarah’s transformation, the little girl wasn’t beyond saving at this moment in time

But Sarah, as stubborn as she is, doesn’t want to be saved

Sarah wants to save others

Challenges and temptations: Sarah’s years in the education system and her military training

Revelation , death and rebirth: Sam dies and Sarah makes the choice to become a cyborg

During their last conversation, Sarah brings up that thanks to her good grades, she’s been given the opportunity in becoming a cyborg. Sam is heavily against it , the two argue

Something interesting to note here is how defensive Sarah is of Eden , telling Sam “if Eden was so bad, you wouldn’t be in probation you’d be in jail” , and that he should be grateful Sarah is being given this opportunity at all “despite being the daughter of a traitor”

Sarah does not trust Sam to know what’s best. Not only for his daughter, but also not even for himself

When talking about how Sam died and her grief over losing her father, Sarah asked herself “was he right?”. Worth noting, Sarah never tells Dolph the answer to that question

That’s important because while it shows that Sarah did have doubts about Eden , no , herself , when it comes to how the world works, her behaviour in the last episode tells us exactly what the answer to that question is:

Sarah decided the answer doesn’t matter

What mattered was protecting her father from HIMSELF, and she failed

This was the moment Sarah’s fate was sealed

This was the moment Sarah shallowed her doubts, made the conscious choice to become a cyborg that would set her on the path to become sigma and never looked back

Regardless if she was influenced by Eden propaganda or her mother, Sarah came to her own conclusion about something that day: “order and peace will come through control and rules”

Sam , and all those innocent people, would still be alive if they just did what they were told

If Sam just did want Sarah told him to do

Before I talk about the last two points of the hero’s journey, transformation and atonement , I want to go back to that moment in Sarah’s childhood. The one where she had power

At an incredibly young age , even if it was just this one moment, Sarah had power over the lives of others and influence over what happens to those lives. This likely also made Sarah feel responsible for those around her , particularly feeling strongest towards her own father and his well being. This is where Sarah’s hero complex stems from

I’ve talked a lot about the hero complex, but what exactly is the hero complex?

“Noted author Laura Berman Fortgang, described the Hero Syndrome as a phenomenon affecting people who seek heroism or recognition, usually by creating a desperate situation which they can resolve and subsequently receive the accolades from. This can include unlawful acts, such as arson and attempted murder.” (Link here for further information about this)

We can actually see Sarah display this behaviour early on in the show, particularly in her treatment of team Ghost. The planting of bombs into their skulls under her control is the most obvious example but there’s two others I want to talk about

In the ending of episode 3, Sarah swoops in to rescue Dolph from his own suicide attempt. What she tells Dolph in this scene is damning evidence of her need for control over other people

“I’m the one who decides where and when you die”

Knowing in hindsight that she’s a Templar cyborg , she likely purposely planned it so that the news would catch her “saving” Dolph and label her as a traitor

Why exactly? Can’t really say, but I bet some part of it is just to give Sarah a little ego boost , convince the world she’s the underdog hero she sees herself as

But we can go further than that , in that Sarah wants control over how people live their lives, not just when those lives end in how Jade is treated by her

It’s really easy to assume Jade’s role in the show is due to sexism , and that’s possibly very much the case still

But comparing the role Sarah assigned Jade to the other ghosts, it really makes no sense that Jade was made to play the femme fatale

Dolph and Bullfrog were given jobs that they already do on the regular (Dolph stealing an item using his cyborg tech and Bullfrog sneaking into the building) and while Cody was (presumably) meant to be the one wrestling, Pey’J has the strength and body build to fill in Cody’s absent despite his lack of skills and experience in wrestling

Jade though? She clearly has no clue how to be a seductive temptress, and Sarah must have checked over the ghosts’ profile. Meaning she seen Jade’s profile and seen what she’s actually capable off

Unless Sarah didn’t actually want Jade to do her job

You know what else is common in hero stories? Damsels in distress

I think much like what she did for Dolph in episode three, Sarah’s plan in episode two was to rescue Jade. That obviously did not happen , but my point stands Jade was made a femme fatale so that Sarah can boost her own ego

It’s been brought up on Reddit that Jade’s hair (especially when styled by Sarah in the femme fatale look) resembles Sam’s hair

The two also have green eyes, and wears a hat that casts a shadow over those eyes

We could go a shippy route with this, but this post is already extremely long and I think there’s more interesting things we take from this than Sarah’s weird sexual fantasies

Whether it’s a subconscious thing or something Sarah is fully aware of, Jade reminded Sarah of her father

or rather , how Sarah views her father

I’ve talked a lot about Jade already over here but the point I want to bring to this is that Jade is a passive character in this show. Sam in contrast is not a passive character, but it’s likely Sarah wishes he was

I don’t think Sarah was ever intentionally ableist towards Sam , but combined with her having power over him which makes her feel responsible for his well being from a young age and her believing in the Templar belief that control is the path to keeping everyone safe, I do think Sarah doesn’t respect Sam as a capable adult, especially his life choices that lead to him taking part and dying in the wasteland war

I don’t know what this really means for either Sam or Jade as characters or if these similarities will play a part in season two. What I do know is that this shows Sarah isn’t above trying to mold people to her liking

Which brings me the final two parts of the hero’s journey

Transformation: Sarah becomes a cyborg Templar

”The Ship of Theseus is a thought experiment about whether an object is the same object after having had all of its original components replaced”

Since almost Sarah’s entire body is fully robotic , is it still Sarah’s body, or Eden’s property?

On the off chance that Sarah's brain is also robotic, is the things going through her head Sarah’s thoughts , or Eden’s programming?

Is Sarah even Sarah anymore?

Throughout this whole post I’ve spoke about Sarah , her hero complex and what may have influenced her behaviour. I don’t think Sarah came out of her transition into a cyborg member of the Templar order unscathed

While the ground work for Sarah’s hero complex were present, Sarah was once an innocent little girl who deeply loved her father. Sarah was not born into this world with an ego , she wasn’t born with an intense desire to control other people

Sarah wasn’t born with blood lust in her smile

It was not just Sam who died that day in the wasteland, Sarah’s humanity and connection to other people died with him

There’s something odd about the fact Sarah is the only member of the board of directors who is a cyborg , we know this because Ramon killed the rest way too easily. We also know from Ramon , that people who make it to the top don’t stay at the top

Much like Phos in HNK, Sarah is very much a victim of drastic change due to her own choices and circumstances beyond her control

and finally

Atonement and return: ???

I don’t really have anything to add to this part , mainly because Sarah’s story isn't finished yet

We’ll have to see how things play out in season two it seems : )

#captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk spoilers #hnk spoilers #sarah fisher #rambles #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw death #tw violence #this took me so many hours oh my god #This was gonna be a ship post but it completely derailed into this #I don’t know if Sarah is intentionally meant to be a fucked up version of the hero’s journey #But I do think her hero complex is on purpose

[arandomidoit]

Doodles

This school weeks doodles (Cuz I drew em in school)

I had to put the gay in a box cuz it was right next to mostly -_- and the name inspired the colers he's a cute lil SilkWing who my friend in social studies named when we were learning about the Sahara desert (so creative WOWEE)

This is the first but it's the second (but first good) time I did faces from different angles Sahara is the second one I drew "I DREW A GAY DRAGON" - Karl in the middle of band class also this is a MudWing (I was trying to draw Bullfrog but now he's angy at me 😭😭😭)

I imagined this one as some kind of daycare thing on pantala but uh I don't like the RainWing ear thing but it was tiny and I was to tired to erase it (I'm a lazy gurl) and the scared one is a HiveWing (hence the fear of the LeafWing, the bottom left cornerish) AND I FORGOT THE FIN BUT MY GOOD PENCIL THE ONE I USED ON THIS IS AT SCHOOL AKRBDBGDGDGSVREJDGSGH

#my art #art #wings of fire #wof #wof art #wof oc #wings of fire art #wof oc art #silkwing #hivewing #mudwing #rainwing #seawing #leafwing #school #Art while at school #im tired #AH

[bartoonist]

Assassin Mickey’s Creed: This is my first time drawing Classic Mickey Mouse a.k.a Public Domain Mickey Mouse in my Sonic-Cerebus art style a.k.a Hedge-Vark art style since I just love drawing Cartoon Animal Mascot Characters in that hybrid art style on so many occasions these days, I wanted to take a crack at drawing a fun fan art illustration of Classic Mickey wearing the White Assassin Robes from Assassin’s Creed, so I took some inspiration from both Assassin Ray from the Rayman Legends: Definitive Edition on Switch, and the Assassin Bullfrog from the Ubisoft Crossover Netflix Anime: Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix, which is how I drew Classic Mickey as Assassin Mickey for fun, did this in mechanical pencils and Fine Point Ink Pens, and colored with Watercolor Colored Pencils and used thick and fine point paint brushes to water brush around it to give Assassin Mickey and the Background one of those Shadow 05' promotional image poses you’re seeing now. So I hope you folks like my Public Domain Mickey Mouse fan art picture I did this year.

#mickey mouse #public domain mickey #parody #assassin's creed #shadowthehedgehog #fan art #traditional art #cartoonist #illustrator #colorist #blake andrew roten #ecf #ecfartcenters

[dzmoot]

Well, March was certainly an interesting month but it's time to get back to the tales of the Tuuns. I have many stories in the pipeline, but for now, I have a special treat. While cleaning my basement the other day, I came across several pictures I have done in the past. Severally water damaged and faded to high heaven, I fixed them up and decided to showcase them here today. Some you'll recognize, others you've never gazed at and some might very well be the first drawings I've ever done of that specific character. Either way, I think you'll enjoy them.

MOON OF TOONS DOODLES, CONCEPTS AND NONSENSE 2

Wonder Warriors

Reggie Fastshell, the Snail Speedster. He originally dripped mucus from his arms and mouth and sported a cape.

The first drawing I did of POW! Panda. As you can see, his ears were much bigger but he still retains his trademark jetpack and blasters.

Amphibislash took on a more Ninja Turtle like appearance even though he was a bullfrog with Wolverine claws. Probably one of the few times you'll see him sporting a smile given his cantankerous personality.

Now this character was originally meant to be a villain to POW! Panda called Koalabog (or Koalaborg). However, being a lifelong Koala lover, I couldn't bring myself to antagonize a gentle creature. I think this guy eventually evolved into the sun surfing koala, Kool Walla!

The first drawing of Teddyclops (originally a Halloween die-cut I designed around 2016). Not much has changed with this guy.

Alien Inhabitants

I like to think these are some of the creatures we'd see looming about the evil Lord Bliss Torbelly's castle.

Probably seen this guy in the past. This is one of the crew members of the starship Hovering Horse named Scratchitanius. It's obvious who the sci-fi character was who inspired him. Live long and pros-purrr!

Same with these two. You have the worrywart humanoid robot and the stubborn trashcan robot, only this guy has a tiny alien inside of him with a bulging eye. He keeps his eye on things for sure.

This guy, Sank Survivikus is a vampire ninja and could very well be the sensei of Samur-Eye! Alien vampires hail from the planet Stokeron with no sun in sight and everyday is evening.

Esmeralda is a bounty hunter from Boolikonk and wears a glass helmet over her head. She can breathe fine in space without it, she just wears it so she doesn't mess up her erect Marge Simpson hairdo!

Zoob Noopincher is a mysterious alien who I can very well picture roaming around the Blue Sand Planet, scavenging for trinkets and slaying giant worms with his trident. His species, the Nuix need a high protein diet to survive after all!

RAZLAOBO DWELLERS

A sketch from 2018 depicting Grinkin and Nogg's arrival towards Razlaobo. I liked to depict the stars flashing by in great yellow squiggles of light as the balloon races towards the planet at breakneck speed. The balloon, which is actually called the Spacefloaty can actually change it's face patterns depending on the speed it's going at.

Good old Frigglesnaff was the one who helped the Socktompets escape the Machete Ridge bar. He had pink fur around his feet originally but remained mostly the same. Kinda like the body of Fozzie Bear with the head of the alien from the movie Can of Worms!

When the Socktompets and Frigglesnaff returned to Razlaobo following their adventure on Kowratha's ship, they all returned to their normal appearances and didn't have to worry about the vile hellions tormenting them ever again since the Mitziwonker's influence over the planet dissipated, restoring the planet back to it's peaceful glory.

Hallow End Inhabitants

This guy, officially known as Stormskull is very mysterious. It's not known if he's a zombie or a mutant with an exposed skull but he doesn't make a sound, not even a grunt or growl or snarl like others of the zombie mutant variety. He was a good friend of Baxter Bladely at Goreycrest Academy and got good marks despite being illiterate.

Hallow End has it's own superheroes. In this universe, the horrible killers of slasher movies are in fact the crime fighters, sporting colorful costumes and apparel to boot. Now it's unknown for the time being whether Spider-Man, Batman, Captain America and the like are serial killers in this universe but it's a very enticing thought. There's Mighty Mike, Slashman and the gallant leader Captain Jace!

Of course, we can't forget about the Great Gourdo Head!

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Camp North Star - June 9th

AFAB!Reader x Im Nayeon

Word Count: 2466

Contents: fingering, oral (both reader receiving)

You played with the flower that you’d picked between your fingers as dusk fell. It was a little cooler this evening and most of the other coaches were relaxing in their cabins or hanging out in the rec rooms. A week and a half had passed and soon the rest of the counsellors would be arriving. On top of that, there were still a number of things to do with Wonwoo; trying out all the canoes, mapping out the canoe trip routes, practicing rescues and teaching safety to the counselors. Lots of things should have been on your mind.

And yet, the only thing that was really coming back to you as you sat on your beach towel, staring out over the water of the lake as the last few rays of sunlight left the sky was the idea of a hoe summer. Of all the things you needed to do that was taking up your mental energy. It felt like too far out to really be a rebound or trying to fill some hole that he left, even if you weren’t 100% emotionally healed. But having some fun probably wouldn’t hurt. It could definitely boost your confidence after so much questioning yourself when he left.

There was still the matter of where or how to start. As much as everyone was joking about it you were pretty sure no one thought it was totally serious. If you asked would anyone actually say yes to messing around? What if you asked a bunch of people and they all said no? That might be a bit too big of a hit to your self esteem.

“Hey, there you are!”

You turned at the sound of Nayeon’s voice. She was strolling over the sand towards you, carrying her own big, fluffy beach towel. “I saw you out here earlier, I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “I’m just… thinking I guess.”

Nayeon laid out her towel and sat down next to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You turned to look back out over the water.

“Ah, it’s nothing serious.” You tore the last few petals from the flower.

“You sure about that?” She asked softly.

You thought for a moment. “I’m… thinking about what you said.”

“Oh? About the hoe summer?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that.”

“You know you don’t have to do anything like that, right? It was j-”

“No I-” You stopped as a grin tugged at her lips. “Don’t give me that look.”

She leaned in closer,” You do wanna do it.”

“I just think it might be fun, that’s all,” you muttered.

“Aww my cute little slut,” she squealed, pinching your cheek.

“You can’t call me that and act like it’s cute!” You cried, trying to bat her hand away. Nayeon giggled and cooed at you, grabbing at your cheeks as you started to laugh, trying to squirm out of her grasp before falling back onto the towel. She caught herself, a hand on either side of you before crashing down on top of you as your giggles started to subside.

A smile tugged at Nayeon’s lips again as she gazed down at you, not showing any sign of sitting up. “Did you figure out how you’re going to kick it off?”

“I- I wasn’t sure if anyone was taking the idea seriously,” you said, trying to read her expression.

“I think a few of them are. And you have time to get into that too,” she hummed. “You really just need to figure out where to start.” Her smile was curling into a smirk as you brain caught up to her proposition. You turned the idea over in your mind, liking it more and more by the second, not that she hadn’t already planted the seed.

“It was your idea,” You hummed, gaze shifting to her lips.

“It was my idea,” she leaned a little closer.

“Not that you get to call dibs.”

“Of course not,” her voice dropped to a quiet murmur as her lips came closer before she shifted. Her lips landed on your jaw instead and she started to kiss slowly along your neck. You let out a quiet sigh as your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the feeling, your fingers threading into her hair. “But my offer stands.”

“I think I’ll take it,” your voice came out with a slight whine as she sucked at a sensitive spot on the base of your neck.

After a few moments her lips pulled away from your neck and she moved her face over yours, meeting your gaze as you opened your eyes. “I thought you might,” she hummed before her lips met yours. 

Her kisses were slow and deep, tongue pressing into your mouth easily. One on her hands started to slip down your side, tracing the line of your body. Your hand in her hair kept her close against you as she kissed you. Slowly she shifted her body over you, her legs finding a place between yours.

“Can I play with you right here?” She purred against your lips as her fingertips drew along the waist of your shorts. “There’s no one else outside.”

You threw a glance up towards the camp buildings. An inky blackness had settled around you once the sun had slipped past the horizon. Only a sliver of moon in the sky above, in some moments blocked out by clouds, gave any light to the beach where the two of you were laying. Your eyes met hers again in the dark and you gave her a smile mixed with excitement and nerves that she returned sweetly before leaning in for another kiss.

Her hand slipped past the waist of your shorts, moving slowly. She trailed her fingers over your panties first, feeling the way you pressed your hips up to her touch. You let out little sighs against her lips at the light sensation, pulling her ever so slightly closer by her hair and letting your legs fall just a bit further open.

Her fingertips played with the edge of your panties before slipping into them and your breath hitched. Nayeon pulled back enough to gaze down at you as her fingers drew soothing circles into your skin.

“Are you alright?” She hummed.

“Of course,” you said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re tense,” she said.

A nervous grin tugged at your lips as you tried to relax a little. “Ah, I haven’t done anything at all since… Well it’s just been a while.”

Nayeon leaned in until her lips were grazing over yours. “Then let me handle everything tonight.”

Her lips met yours in another kiss. She kept the movements of her fingers slow, letting you get used to the feeling of someone else touching you again. Little by little you let yourself relax, feeling her fingers slip lower and lower slowly. Your fingers curled more tightly into Nayeon’s hair, kissing her more deeply.

Your breath hitched as her fingers found your clit. She held them still for a moment, focusing on kissing you before moving them in slow circles. Light sighs left your lips, no louder than the sounds of bullfrogs and crickets around you, but Nayeon still seemed to hear.

You felt the smile tug at her lips as her fingers found a slow rhythm. Tendrils of pleasure started to curl through you, sparking from her slow ministrations on your sensitive bud. You pressed your hips up subtly into her hand, wanting more as you relaxed into her touch and gave yourself over to the pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” Her voice was already laced with surety.

“Of course,” you hummed.

Her lips fell away from yours, finding your neck instead. She started to leave messy kisses along your skin as her hand trailed lower. Your hips pressed into her hand, growing eager for more and she smiled against your skin as she pressed one finger inside you slowly.

A quiet moan fell from your lips as you let your eyes flutter open. Still heavily lidded but you could take in the stars twinkling above you in the inky sky. A cool breeze blew across your skin, finding its way under your back as you arched away from the towel. Nayeon’s fingers curled and thrust into you at a steady pace that quickly had the pleasure building in your core.

“You’re good at this,” you breathed quietly.

Her lips trailed closer to your ear. “You say that like it’s a surprise.” 

A laugh bubbled off your lips, morphing itself into a moan as she picked up her pace just a bit. 

“It shouldn’t be,” you moaned. “But fuck, this feels good.”

“I’m setting the standard high.” She hummed, slowly pressing a second finger into your core and drawing a moan from your lips. “I have to feel bad for whoever comes next.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, enjoying yourself far too much to think about who the next would even be. The pleasure was building steadily inside you as she moved her fingers faster, but easily finding just the spot that made you clench around her fingers and had your back arching subtly off the towel.

Her lips left kisses and light love bites on the sensitive parts of your neck and along your collarbone. Not enough pressure to mark but enough to draw quiet moans from your lips. You let her hand slip down her shoulder, scratching slightly at her skin as your gaze drifted between her and the twinkling sky above.

“Whoever’s next, you should give them some pointers,” you breathed, neediness evident in your voice as your body crept closer to it’s edge. Your hips were following the movement of her fingers, trying to draw more sensation from them as she teased the skin on your collarbone with her lips.

“Maybe,” she hummed. “But why don’t I set the bar even higher?”

You met her gaze, your own hazy as you processed what she was saying. The loss of her fingers inside you interrupted that thought and a whine came from your lips as she pulled her hand from your panties. You opened your mouth to protest but she shoved her wet fingers inside before you could.

“Good,” she hummed, a smirk pulled at her lips as you ran your tongue over her fingers. “Get them nice and clean. I have a different idea for how to finish this.”

You quirked an eyebrow at her as you sucked at her fingers. “It’s dark out here,” she said. “And everyone is inside. So why don’t we get just a little more risque?”

“What are you thinking?” you asked as she pulled her fingers from your mouth. She didn’t give you an immediate answer, instead her lips came to your neck, kissing as low as your shirt would allow before she shifted down the towel and curled her fingers into the waist of your shorts. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed before slapping a hand over your mouth and searching behind you, looking through the darkness to the camp buildings. Even Nayeon’s fingers froze in place, both of you watching. But when no movement happened and no one came towards the beach you both relaxed. 

Her fingers tugged at your shorts and after another quick glance at the camp you refocused your attention on her, lifting your hips and allowing her to pull off your shorts and panties. She discarded them on the towel before sliding her hands up your legs to your thighs and gently pressing them open.

“Now just sit back and enjoy,” she purred, settling between your legs. “And comes to terms with the fact that no one else is going to make you feel quite as good all summer.”

“I’ll try an-” your response fell off into a moan as she ran her tongue over your clit. Your hand slid into her hair again as she moved her tongue, trying different motions over your clit and watching each of your reactions.

Her skilled movements built the tension in your core much faster than her fingers could, the feeling heavenly. Your gaze drifted down to meet hers and you caught the smirk, evident in her gaze alone. Her fingertips curled into your thighs as she started to repeat the movements that drew the strongest reaction from you.

“Oh fuck,” your voice had climbed higher and far more breathy as the coil in your core curled tighter and tighter from the ministrations of her tongue. You bit down hard on your lower lip to keep your moans from growing too loud but the more you succumbed to pleasure the less you cared.

Nayeon pressed in closer, scratching her nails down your outer thighs lightly and adding to the sensation. Your back arched off the towel again as your hips ground against her face as much as she would allow. 

The moans falling off your lips were growing a bit louder with each passing moment but the pleasure wound tightly inside of you was the only thing on your mind as you curled your fingers tightly into Nayeon’s hair while she wrapped her lips around your clit, moaning against you while sucking it roughly.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Do that again. Fuck that feels good.”

Nayeon hummed, her tongue lapping over your clit in quick movements, pressing closer between your legs as they started to press in around her head. Your eyes drifted up to the stars above, a cool breeze tickling the hot skin of your face as you moaned.

Her lips wrapped around your clit again and she sucked harshly. Your eyes rolled back, blackness taking the place of the stars as you came, back arching off the ground and holding Nayeon’s head between your thighs. The sensation crashed over you in a wave that stole your breath and left you panting as the rush of pleasure washed through your body, leaving you trembling in its wake.

Nayeon pulled away from your core as you caught your breath, only for you to grab at her and pull her in for a kiss. She accepted, grinning against your lips but sounds of laughter in the distance interrupted you.

You both looked over at the rec hall, lights shutting off as a group of coaches left the building.

“It’s getting late,” Nayeon hummed, sitting up. She handed you your panties and shorts and you took them, frowning at her.

“Wait, but I didn’t- you-”

“I guess,” she hummed, grabbing her towel and getting to her feet. You scrambled after her. “You owe me one.” She threw you a smirk you could just make out in the dark. “You can return the favour later.”

A smile cracked across your face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

#camp north star au #cns au #twice imagines #twice smut #nayeon imagines #nayeon smut #im nayeon imagines #im nayeon smut #let the hoe summer begin hehe

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook x OC

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“Are you sure you want to head back to work today, Areum? Hoseok told me that he would give you the rest of the week off if you like... That bruise on your face is looking pretty nasty.” My sister commented mildly, her eyes worried as she watched me dab concealer on the mottled purpling skin on my jaw.

“I need to finish a couple of reports by the weekend. And Namjoon oppa told me he wanted me to be there when we viewed the CCTV footage later today. It’s going to help getting that bastard fired.” I flinched at how bad this side of my face looked. 

The bastard. 

“He’s not fired yet?” My sister made a noise of outrage.

“Of course he is. There’s a restraining order against him. But formally he needs to be terminated and Namjoon wants to do it in a way that it goes on his record permanently. Especially considering he’s already out on bond.” I wrinkled my nose. 

There wasn’t much chance of Junho going to prison over this but I definitely did not want him within fifty feet of me, ever again. 

“Jungkook’s busy with his practice is it? I haven’t heard from him...” My sister prompted and I nodded.

“His big match is coming up on Sunday. That's like four days away ...he’s probably cooped up in that gym of his.” 

“I know... Seokjin works out there too... its a great place...how come you’re never there?”

I frowned .

“He actually has me blacklisted. I’m not allowed inside the establishment. ” I muttered. 

My sister’s eyes widened.

“What? Why?”

I shrugged. The memory was a good one and worth reliving. In fact i relived it quite often when I was particularly horny with only my own hands for relief. 

“I seduced him against his favorite punching bag once and he had to get rid of it because the cum stains wouldn’t come off. He’s a petty jerk.” I grinned at my sister enjoying the way her eyes went wide as saucers. .

She stared at me slack jawed. And then she shook her head in disbelief. 

“You talk about him this way but you always look like you're half way in love with him. I don’t know what is going on in your head when it comes to Jungkook.”

I laughed.

“I love him. Of course I do.... I’m pretty sure he cares about me too, “ I remembered how warm and content I’d felt when he’d held me, how the police officer had immediately concluded he was my boyfriend, simply from the concern radiating off him, “  But, I’m not going to push for anything. I like how we are ...now.”

“Friends with benefits.?”

“I prefer the term enemies who fuck” I winked and she groaned. 

“Whatever you say. But remember, you’re going to have to DTR at some point and I hope you don’t get a shock if he isn’t on the same page. “ 

“Unlikely. Now go distract mom so I can slip out of the back door.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That looks pretty fucking bad.” Hoseok winced when he saw me and I groaned.

“Don’t remind me. I ran into Namjoon on the way up and he swelled like a bullfrog. Is Jungkook in today?” I asked him brightly.

Hoseok frowned.

“you guys are awfully chummy these days ....Need I remind you about the clause on interpersonal relationships in the office?” 

I flushed.

“We’re...not....I mean. We’re friends. “

“I thought the term was enemies who fuck.” Hoseok said thoughtfully and I jumped.

“What-?”

“Jungkook told me, you little brat. I asked him why he went over to the police station and broke Junho’s fucking jaw and he spilled...”

My own jaw came unhinged.

“ He what?!”

 “He posted the bond money for the bastard himself to get him out and then apparently punched him hard enough to land him in the hospital.”

“Oh my God...is he in trouble?” 

Hoseok sighed.

“Of course not... Mr. Jeon had it taken care off at once but I knew something was up . He’s too old to play knight in shining armor , unless there was something between you guys...” 

I sighed.

“We’re in a purely physical relationship yes with of course a splattering of affection for each other. But nothing that deserves a label or close scrutiny from the HR dept. Please Hobi oppa, just let me be. “ I fluttered my lashes and he rolled his eyes. 

“Just as long as you know that Jeon Jungkook is a chaebol. He’s not going to make a honest woman out of you.” Hoseok gave me a pointed look and I wondered if I really did wear my heart on my sleeve. 

Apparently, everyone could sense that my feelings for Jungkook ran deeper than just lust and I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. 

“Anyway, yo answer you question, yes. He’s in his office right now.”

I made to turn away but Hoseok grabbed my wrist.

“You have thirty five memos to answer and seventeen appointments to schedule. Your desk is this way, I suggest you head in that direction.” His eyes glinted in a way that told me he was incredibly serious. 

I pouted.

Fine... I’d wait for lunch to go meet Jungkook.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook had a secretary of his own , the smitten Miss Lee and she gave me an angelic smile, telling me that Jungkook was out to meet someone in the marketing department. If there was anything important, I could leave it with her.

Declining the offer and thanking her, I made my way to the fireescape and the back stairwell. One of the doors opened to the emergency exit in Jungkook’s office and it took me a little bit of running around but I managed to locate it easily enough. 

Jungkook had left the door open and less than ten minutes later , I was in his office, staring around in mild awe. 

Weirdly enough, I’d never been here. before, mostly because Jungkook himself wasn’t in here all that much. But there was no mistaking that he actually did take his work seriously . I peered around the expensive drawing Tablet and the three or so monitor screens , the stylus tossed about. 

It was probably a huge breach of his privacy but I couldn’t help but click on the mouse, watching his monitor come alive. 

I blinked in disbelief when I realized what I was staring at. 

“Oh my  fuck...”  I

I felt my face flood with heat as I stared at the screen. 

It was a drawing of me. 

I was completely naked , reclining against what looked like a thick white fur rug , with countless plush cushions scattered all around me. The snow white fur set off the golden glow of my skin and I noticed the attention to detail, the tiny mole in the corner of my hip, the small half moon scar on the edge of my collar bone and of course an impressive collection of hickeys on my neck and my inner thighs. 

I looked the way I usually did when I was mouthing off at him, a little angry and rebellious, my eyes blazing with a challenge and my lips parted in annoyance . I had one hand resting right between my legs, two fingers pressed against the labia while the other two disappeared into me. The other hand lay on my breast, fingers tweaking one hard nipple . 

I turned away quickly, breathing harshly as I realized that Jungkook had literally drawn an incredibly accurate drawing of me masturbating , purely from memory.

Not entirely sure if i should be angry at this or not, I tried to clear the hazy cloud of arousal that was beginning to settle all over me. I wasn’t angry. 

I was just ridiculously turned on. 

And incredibly curious if he had other pics of me. 

I whirled back around to the computer and then nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized that Jungkook was leaning against the doorway, watching me with an amused smile on his face. 

“Oh, fuck...” I clutched at my heart which felt like it was going to give out. 

“Pretty sure your desk isn’t here, Areum. Are you lost?” He drawled, stepping away from the door and stalking over to me. 

I stepped back quickly, the action purely instinctive. 

“Did you punch Junho?” I asked sharply.

Jungkook gave me a small smile.

“That is a very mild way to put it yes. He’s gonna be eating through a straw for a couple of months , yes.”

I glared at him. 

“What if you got arrested.” I folded my arms.

He laughed.

“Baby, come on. fucker had it coming. Anyway enough about that loser. Why are you hovering near my desk. Corporate espionage is generally frowned upon baby... Am i gonna have to spank you, you naughty girl?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

I rolled my eyes before walking up to his desk and turning the screen around to show the lewd artwork . 

“how long have you been drawing me like that?” I pointed at the screen and Jungkook looked surprised. 

Surprised but not particularly bothered. 

“Ah... i love that one... Did you see the way I only drew four of your fingers between your legs baby, your thumb is supposed to be rubbing on your clit.... I was working on it when I got called away earlier....” He looked apologetic. 

I felt like I had turned the exact shade of the marron carpet under my foot. 

“Jungkook how long have you been drawing me naked...” I snapped. 

“ Oh... probably the first time you let me see you naked.” He said nodding lightly and I stared at him.

“How come I’ve never heard of this?” I hissed and he gave me a grin. 

“Because it’s for my own personal...use.” He grinned. 

I glared at him.

“How many....?” I demanded.

Jungkook shrugged.

“50...? 60? Definitely at least fifty.” He said casually. 

I stared at him.

“I wanna see them.” I said sharply. Jungkook sighed, like I was being a pain , which was so unfair it made me want to scream. 

“Areum, I-” 

“Jungkook?” A soft voice called from the outer office and I frowned when Jungkook startled. 

“Oh, hey... Sana..... Come in.” His voice had shifted into something mild and pleasant and I felt my hackles rise. 

“Oh..hello... Areum ssi...” The girl gave me a confused smile and I resisted the urge to fold my hands and demand what she was doing there. Instead , I moved away from behind Jungkook’s desk, grabbing a file. 

“Good afternoon Sana ssi.” I smiled.

“I’m sorry, I missed lunch, Sana.... I wanted to give you this. “ Jungkook pulled out a small envelope from his jacket, smiling an absolutely angelic smile at her. 

Sana looked suitably enthralled, her eyes trained greedily on his perfect face as she took the envelope.

“Oh.. are these--?”

“Tickets to my match on Sunday yes...” He smiled. “ I’m hoping you’ll be there.” 

I felt my lungs expand as I took a deep breath to calm myself down. The urge to screech like a banshee was increasing by the second. 

“Oh, I’ll be there for sure. I’ll be cheering you on from the front row, Jungkook !!” She all but bounced on her feet, looking positively giddy with excitement as she bowed to both of us and literally floated away. 

I waited till she was fully gone before turning on him. 

“There better be another envelope in there with my name on it.” I gritted out. 

Jungkook grinned wide at that, eyes dancing with mirth. 

“In my jacket? Not really. But there’s something much better in my pants with your name on it. Want me to whip it out for you baby?? “

He grabbed the edge of his belt buckle, tugging the leather out of the hoops and I glared at him. 

“You are out of your mind if you think I’m going to be okay with you letting everyone watch you fight but  me. That is just unfair and uncalled for.” I snapped. 

Jungkook was still tugging on his belt, but he paused to give me a look.

“What’s in it for me?” He said softly. 

I frowned.

“What?”

“I’m not going to enter a deal without an equitable pay off....Its obvious that you’re really turned on by the thought of watching me fight . So unless you give me something I’m thirsty for.... I’m not going to indulge you,” He said casually. 

I laughed in disbelief. 

“There is literally nothing I’ve denied you in bed , you're crazy to even suggest -”

“I haven’t fucked your ass yet.” He said casually. 

I could feel myself turning red.

“No.” I hissed. “ Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not?” He frowned.

“Because it fucking hurts. I’m not going through that again.” I snapped. 

Jungkook groaned like he was in actual pain. 

“Baby, its hardly my fault you’ve never slept with a real man before me, is it? Why should I deprived the pleasure of fucking your ass just because those buffoons didn’t know how to do it right?” Jungkook’s voice was dangerously close to a whine and I resisted the urge to throw something at him. 

“I don’t fucking care...its a no. So drop it. ” 

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll drop it. For now.” He muttered and then made a big show of thinking, “ alright fine. How about you let me tie you up.”

I stared at him.

“You literally do that every time we have sex.” I pointed out. 

“And I get to use my toy box.” 

I blinked.

“Your toy box.” I said , confused. He grinned mischievously. 

“You know the one...Big mahogany box  underneath my bed. The first time I showed you, you kind of screamed and called me a monster?” He grinned wide.

i had a brief flashback of an assortment of whips, floggers and gags. 

I shuddered. 

Nope. 

This wasn’t working. 

“How about this.... Either you get me those tickets or you don’t get to fuck me. At all.” I smirked.

Jungkook hummed.

“Why would you punish yourself like that love?” He drawled. “ You can’t live without my dick, the sooner you accept that the easier life is going to get for you.” 

The audacity of this bitch. 

I walked right past him , ready to stalk out,  but his hand shot out, gripping my elbow and pulling me into his embrace.

I struggled against his hold, but he brought both arms around my waist, flexing his muscles so I could feel just how futile it would be to try and break free. 

“Come on baby, walking out in the middle of negotiations...that’s just really poor etiquette. Think of the poor hostage....” He pouted , doe eyes wide and I nearly caved. He had no fucking business being sexy  and  cute. 

I laughed in disbelief.

“Hostage??....are you talking about your fucking ego....?” I stared right up at him , tilting my face when he moved to kiss me. His lips latched on to my jaw instead, tongue licking the skin there gently as he hummed . 

“No...I’m talking about my dick.” He grabbed both my elbows, swinging me around like I weighed nothing, one arm holding me in place as he pressed up against my back, hips rolling so I could feel the hardness of his dick right against the swell of my ass. “ Dude’’s feeling pretty darn trapped right now. Poor thing just wants to get inside you and ruin you baby, why you making it so hard for him...?” 

I elbowed him sharply, vindicated when the sharp edge of it caught something hard and fleshy. Jungkook grunted in discomfort but didn’t let go of me. 

“My little hellcat. “ He bit down on the juncture between my neck and shoulder, “You know why my dick is hard?”

“To match your cold unfeeling heart?” I snapped and he moaned in mock hurt. 

“Not fair baby...I have the kindest heart... Soft heart, hard dick....That’s literally my entire persona.” Jungkook nuzzled my neck .  

I fought the urge to laugh . 

“So why then? Because I’m within ten feet of you? Isn’t that all it takes usually?” I muttered, wincing a bit when his teeth sank in a little deeper.

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle.

“Normally I’d agree but today... I’m so fucking hard because you looked like you wanted to claw Sana’s face off when I gave her those tickets....” 

I flushed.

“Well, I just don’t think I should be the only one not allowed to see you fight.” 

“Or maybe you just hate the idea of any one else getting to touch my dick...because like I said...it’s got your name on it right baby?” Jungkook laughed against my ear and I blushed . 

“I still think its rude that you don’t let me come to your matches.” I grumbled. 

“And why do you think that is, baby? Why do you think I’m so adamant about you not being anywhere near me when I have something important to do...”

I didn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut when he suckled on the skin near my neck. 

“Its because I’ll probably lose..” He growled into my ear, “ Don’t wanna get knocked out in the first round because I was too busy staring at your pretty, pretty face and delicious fucking body... My only distraction, my  favorite  distraction.”

  I felt myself melt like an ice cream cone in the fucking sun. 

“Oh, fuck you....you honey-tongued son of a bitch...” I choked out, unable to fight the wide grin that was taking over my face. 

Jungkook chuckled in victory, hugging me tighter.

“So tell me.... Can I tie you up tonight? Get some of my favorite toys...Want to play in your sandbox....” He leered and I laughed despite myself. How could this man make the most innocent of phrases sound so fucking sexy.... 

“Only if you let me pick the toys.”

Jungkook let go of me and gently turned me around. He was frowning deeply. 

“Babe you don’t even know what their called.” He complained.

“But I can gauge how much damage they’ll do and that’s more important to me.” I pointed out. 

Jungkook gave me a thoughtful smile.

“Hmm....fine... But I get to offer the choices. “ He said softly. 

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Okay, in that case you need to let me see every single drawing you’ve made of me... right now.” I smiled.

Jungkook grinned, already grabbing my wrist and tugging me back to his desk.

“Deal...but I’m gonna need you to sit on my cock and keep it warm while I show them to you..... okay?” 

I glared at him but he was already moving to the wide , comfortable chair behind the desk. He sat on the chair, manspreading and unbuckling himself before wriggling the slacks down past his waist and tugging his boxers down. 

I watched him reach in to pull out his hard cock ,  pumping the hard length of it a couple of times before smiling at me expectantly. 

“Horny bastard.” I muttered under my breath, before letting him maneuver me into his lap, fingers slipping up my skirt and tugging my panties aside , before lining himself up against my center. 

“Ready baby?” He kissed my cheeks fondly and I nodded lowly. He pressed a couple of fingers against my slit, dipping in just enough to make sure I was wet enough. I wasn’t dry per se, but it still stung a bit when he drove himself in with one swift stroke. 

“Oh, fuck...” I groaned when he entered me , the rock hard length of him cleaving my insides and making my tongue go dry. I clenched down on him, thighs beginning to tremble already. I gripped the edge of the table in front of me. 

“Maybe I should call Sana in now.? Huh baby...that’ll show her who this dick belongs to, right , angel?” He whispered against my ear and I moaned, a gush of arousal staining my thighs at his words., Jungkook laughed knowingly, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me still before rolling his hips gently and settling inside me. 

“So baby, which ones do we start with.... Solo shots? ones with me....? There’s one of me fucking your pretty pink hole, maybe that’ll change your mind about letting me take you in the back...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : I’m stopping here because the next chapter is just like 5k of porn and I wanted it to be a standalone chapter. 

Comments are love , Feedback is really appreciated. Send me your thoughts, ideas or even just scream about how hot Jungkook is....anything works. 

taglist : @veronawrites @aamxxrii  @brooky95

@apollukee

@ladyartemesia

@yoongisdragon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ if you guys wanna be on the taglist just lemme know...

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook au #bts au #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook fics #jungkook reactions #bts smut #bts fics

[tahthetrickster]

His Feet Stained Red (1.2k)

an old experimental OC short from 3 or so years ago that tumblr apparently ate so now i have to repost it. love a hellsite

x

There's something about a summer evening in the backwoods of Georgia that makes a man want to settle up.

Maybe it's the nights out on the back porch, watching the neighbor kids running 'round in bare feet with Mason jars in their hands to fetch lightning bugs, admiring them at home for a night or two before they die in the jar. Maybe it's the dull, constant hum of the zapper by the porch swing, flaring up as the swarms of summertime moths take their annual Icarian flight into the light. Maybe it's the return of the little local church's Backyard Bible Clubs, the kids dusting graham cracker crumbs off sticky lips and chubby hands and finishing out the Lord's Supper with thimble-sized cups of Welch's Grape Juice.

If you asked me, I'd tell you it's the way the summer heat crashes over you when you walk out your back door, washing over every inch of bared skin in an instant. It's reminiscent of when Brother Aubrey's wife—God rest her soul—would bake bread in the cramped church kitchen, tossing a cup of water into the oven base, scalding steam curling around her bony white fingers as she shut it up again. It's the way the air itself settles on you, heavy as anything, scorching and sticky with humidity, making even drawing your breath a struggle for all the moisture. “Air you can wear,” my granny used to call it years past.

It only takes one Sunday evening of sweating through your sundress in the rickety old pews, fervently fanning yourself with your tithing envelope and cursing the busted window unit, to realize that you don't never wanna go somewhere that's hotter than this.

I reckon that's why folks are more pleasant in the summertime down here in the back end of nowhere. More willing to lend you a hand tool, or offer up a glass of sweet tea in exchange for some help out in the yard. More liable to show up to church on time, filling out the back pews but for the few aging deacons who still took the front.

More liable to try damn near anything they could to make sure they were well-respected in town. I reckon they figured it would transfer over in the end. Still not sure where on God's green earth they got that idea from. I sure don't remember my daddy ever reading that passage in the old leather-bound red-letter.

I reckon that's the reason he came up every summer. Wasn't no exception this year.

He always came up from the road that led down to the swamps, his bare feet stained red from the ruts dug into the old clay dirt road he walked on. My house—my daddy's house, before he passed some years back, God bless him—was the furthest one down that road. I suppose that's why I always saw him before anybody else did. I suppose that's why I never had much to discuss with him.

It was always an unspoken rule growing up in my daddy's house. Don't say nothing to nobody that comes up the road from the swamp if you ain't seen 'em go down into the swamp first.

He was black as night but for his feet stained red, and didn't ever have a scrap of cloth on him. If you weren't looking out for him, you might never even see him in the pitch black of the evening.

"Evening, ma'am," he called up to me as he approached. I nodded politely, leaning over the arm of the wooden rocking chair to spit into the brass jug on the floor. He stepped into the circle of my porch light and grinned up at me. Were it not for his bright white teeth and eyes the color of Georgia red clay, he'd've looked like a man-shaped hole cut out of the air. "Nice night, innit?"

I reached over to flick a spent cicada husk from the porch railing. "Yessir." I watched him for a moment, mulling over the pinch of dip held under my lip. "Hot as the Devil's own, though."

That made him throw his head back and laugh, revealing a blood-red tongue that came to a point in a mouth the color of tar. "I'm looking for work," he professed at last, still staring, still grinning. "You know how hard it is to find work these days. Reckon I could help you out some kinda way? I can do nearbout anything you need."

For an instant it seemed that the whole world went mute from the sheer intent in his voice.

"Sir." I paused for a moment, running my tongue over the packed dip thoughtfully, the only sound besides the cicadas and the nearby bullfrog the soft creak of my rocking chair on the wooden porch floor. I spat into the jug again. "Can't say that I want for much of anything, I'm afraid." I nodded at the porch stairs. "Why don't you sit a spell? Too damn hot to do much anything. Hottest damn night we've had in a while."

His smile vanished for a moment.

When it returned, it was sharper, an unnatural slant to the sides of his mouth. "You know, I believe I will."

He said nothing when he sat on the steps, simply watching me and grinning with that too-fake smile of his. I didn't say nothing neither, leaning back in my chair to enjoy a mild breeze brushing against my flushed skin. My nearest neighbor was still nearly a mile and a half back, as the crow flies, but if I strained my ears against the sounds of the evening, I could just hear the staticky twang of that old country radio station she liked to play at all hours on the wind.

I spat again. "You take dip, sir?" I was already packing the tin against my knee.

His eyes nearly glowed as I held out the open tin. The pinch he took seemed far too big, but he packed it under his lip expertly anyway and grinned broadly up at me. "For the road, then." And he stood again, far taller than he appeared to have stood before.

"Best walk on home," I advised, leaning back in my chair. "Past the witching hour now. Haints might be out to get you."

He laughed again, a jittering, hooting sound, and stooped to spit in the jug. "Soon, soon, soon. I still gotta get somebody willing to barter some work with me. Got any neighbors you wouldn’t mind pointin’ me towards?" I held his gaze evenly as I spat again. He grinned up at me, wide and feral, teeth stained with tobacco. "You're a saint, ma'am."

I waved him off. "Just as much a sinner as the rest of us." I ran my tongue over my dip again, watching him carefully. "Some of us more’n others."

He hooted with delighted laughter, thanked me again, and went off down the road, heading on his usual pilgrimage down the old dirt street towards town, his feet stained red in the night, leaving no sign he’d ever been by but for the shallow cloven prints in the Georgia red clay.

#writing #original writing #his feet stained red

[b-does-the-write-thing]

The Unforeseen, Unanticipated and Unexpected: A Tale in Three Parts

Dear @moonlight91  Your prompt was so amazing (I do like a challenge) that I wrote a million different stories before I finally settled on a bit of fairytale hilarity with a little bit of the fake dating trope thrown in just for fun. So, thank you for your patience these last two weeks, and a big thank you to @rumbellesecretsanta for allowing me to help out. 

Merry (belated) Christmas- I do hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3

At the seventh stroke of midnight on the seventh day of the seventh month, the Dark One found himself summoned with blood, ash, and bone to a deep, dark grove.

All this pomp and ceremony was unnecessary, but if he didn’t go about setting weirdly-specific conditions, he would be summoned left and right and would never get anything done. As the summoner rose from the make-shift altar, the moonlight bounced silver off the figure revealing the Dark One had been called forth by, by his least favorite thing in this world and the next, a knight.

Said knight was already peering down his nose, clearly unimpressed. Rumpelstiltskin knew the type. He could have shown up as a fire-breathing dragon, and this fool still would have been disappointed. “Do I have the honor- “ the knight’s tone made it clear it was anything but- “of addressing the Dark One?”

Rumpelstiltskin cracked a particular toothy grin. “Present!” he trilled, adding a flick of his wrist for a pop of flair. Knights loved pageantry; it always helped to give them a bit of a show. “And who might you be exactly?”

“I am Sir Gaston LeRoux, the First Sword of Avonlea, and I have need of your aid.”

“And what help could a great warrior such as yourself possibly need with little old me? Can’t be ogre problems. I got rid of those things centuries ago.” Rumpelstiltskin tipped his head back and forth in consideration, mulling it over. “Perhaps you are in need of a magic sword, that sort of thing?”

“I have no need for magic weapons,” the knight managed through a clenched jaw.

Rumpelstiltskin picked a moonflower from a low hanging branch. It must have just bloomed, for the scent was ripe and sweet as he plucked first one petal off and then another, and another- “Then, tis a woman.”

He knew he was right. True, this Sir Gaston was more handsome than the usual lovelorn sort and well aware of his good fortune judging by his perfectly styled locks, but men of the sword were often hopeless when it came to affairs of the heart.

The knight bowed his head in acquiescence. “Thou speakest true. I am betrothed to the Lady of Avonlea, but my heart belongs to another.”

Rumpelstiltskin tsked. How boring. He ever only got involved in this sort of nonsense on the off chance he stumbled upon a case of True Love. And there was no chance this vain peacock knew the first thing about love. “Then, why not just break it off?”

The knight cleared his throat. “It is no easy feat. I have tried, but….the reason I have come to you is...in truth, I suspect my betrothed is, herself, a sorceress. She has bewitched all those around her to do her bidding. Her father has stepped aside to let her rule in his stead. Why even I was briefly under her sway. I fear, not for myself, but what she would do to my love if she ever uncovered my heart is no longer a slave to her spell.”

For the first time in the conversation, Rumpelstiltskin’s interest was piqued. A sorceress was rare. Sure, the occasional noble lady did pick up a spell or two here and there, but more typically, they just had a magical heirloom of sorts at their disposal. Perhaps this wouldn’t be a colossal waste of his time after all. “I do like a challenge,” Rumpelstiltskin acknowledged, already mentally listing possible lost artifacts he might acquire. “What’s in it for me?”

The knight grew even more somber, impressing, considering he had yet to show any actual emotion. “I have heard of the monstrous price you require. So be it.” He inhaled deeply, then as if it pained him to even speak the words, he said,” For the Dark One’s assistance, you shall have my firstborn.”

Oh, great. This again.

Rumpelstiltskin had rather thought he had put an end to this rumor sometime last century. Honestly, he had no idea where people kept getting the fantastical notion that he wanted their children. It had just been the one time, and he hadn’t even been serious then. Besides, any halfway decent looking man was sure to have a litter of bastards in every kingdom. “I hardly want your byblows,” he scoffed. “You shall have my help. But first, I require three truths from your lips, and afterward, a favor.”

The knight hesitated. “You...you’re sure you don’t just want my firstborn child?”

Oh, for the love of - It had been a slow decade and growing more monotonous by the minute. There was no excitement anymore. Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t even recall the last time he had been called upon to partake in some great struggle between the forces of good and evil. It was just the same thing day in and day out. What he wouldn’t give for a good war right about now...

Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers, and a rather long, intricate scroll appeared, the terms of the deal neatly inscribed upon it. “Three truths and a favor. Do we have a deal?”

These were words that could change a life forever, especially when said by the Dark One himself. Only the truly desperate or truly deluded ever agreed to them, and the man before him did not appear desperate.

As anyone could have predicted, the fool agreed to the terms of his demise without so much as reading the fine print. There, in the heart of some nameless swamp, the knight committed to his ruin. He finished signing his name with a flourish, only for it to shift and change in a shimmer of light and magic.

“Gaston LeGume,” Rumpelstiltskin read aloud. He bared his fangs in a mockery of a smile. “My, my. A baseborn son of a landless farmer has styled himself the First Sword of Avonlea.”

As expected, his companion’s mood darkened in an instant, a hand descending to the hilt of his blade. “I warn you, sir- do not mock me!”

Rumpelstiltskin almost wished the knight would draw his sword. It had been ages since he had turned anyone into a frog. But business was business, and he was confident he could not only profit here but have a little fun with this destined-to-be bullfrog. So, he simply wiggled his fingers, adding in a giggle for good measure.

(That always threw these types off.)

“Touchy, touchy,” he admonished. “What do I care about your birth? You owe me three truths, and the first one has now been collected. Count yourself fortunate. Now, for the second truth, who is this paragon of beauty that has awoken you from the sorceress's spell?”

Gaston hemmed, and he hawed, but the magic got the truth from his lips in the end: Princess Allissa Óir, the only heir to the throne, riches, and lands of the great kingdom of Ormiston. Gaston waxed on a bit about her beauty, grace and the usual nonsense men said about women they barely knew before Rumpelstiltskin cut him off to ask the question that truly mattered. The third and final truth: “And this paradigm of a woman- does she love you as well?”

The knight clutched passionately at his breast again to drive the point home. “Most ardently. Her father has even blessed the union.”

No wonder this fellow had gone to such desperate lengths as to summon the Dark One. With just his good looks and silver tongue, the son of some carrot farmer had transformed himself to the next king of the most powerful kingdom of the age. There was just one thing in his way, his betrothed, the Lady Belle Levasseur of Avonlea.

The Dark One knew Avonlea; it was a minor holding on the edges of Ormiston. Which explained why the false knight could not just disappear into the night and emerge as a king. The two lands were neighbors, and if the Lady Levasseur was indeed capable of magic, the new King and Queen of Orimson would pay dearly for their marriage.

Yes, yes, an almost interesting case. A king in his pocket would do nicely. After all, Rumpelstiltskin had been purposefully vague on what “a favor” entailed. First, he had to deal with the one responsibility that fell to him: removing Lady Levasseur from the equation.

It was best to get it over. So, Rumpelstiltskin made his way straight to the small fort that the inhabitants of Avonlea called a castle. It was an odd, misshapen thing with a sloped roof tower by the gatehouse that looked like someone had been drunk when designing it and even drunker when building it. The rest of the hold appeared stable enough, though there was not one taller than an adolescent ogre amongst the five turreted towers.

There was a light in the gatehouse, but the lone watcher was none the wiser of the wolf lurking in the shadows. To ensure it stayed this way, Rumpelstiltskin swept his hand up and over his head, and oblivion helpfully draped itself about his shoulders, rendering him as visible as a spiderweb in the dark.

Inside was no better in terms of architecture. Every wall, both exterior and interior, was composed of an assortment of gray cobblestones, held overhead by low hanging wooden beams that even someone of his low stature would risk walking straight into. Though he was loath to call this hovel anything more, the inhabitants of the castle had done their best to make the place look respectable. Rich tapestries hung in strategic spots, and the candelabras upon the wall were pure gold, equipped with beeswax candles that had been neatly wicked.

In a residence of this size, it was easy enough to spot the Lord’s Tower. It stood in the center of the courtyard; a royal insignia stamped helpfully upon the wooden doors. A simple snap of his fingers and the doors were gone.

It was easy enough to make doors disappear, but he had not quite determined how to handle the disappearance of the lady herself. For to ensure his end of the bargain was met, she would have to be removed. Perhaps he could turn her into a swan; that had been rather popular last century. Or a sleeping curse was always an option. The lady could stay young forever, and perhaps after a hundred years or so, some prince would wake her with true love’s kiss. Oh, there were endless options. All of them were as easy as the right words and a snap of his fingers-

He just had to find the lady first.

Because despite the hour, she was not in her chambers.

Her bed had been slept in or at least laid upon. The windows had been drawn and shuttered, and the fire had dimmed to embers. He stood in the doorway for a moment, considering the scene, when he noticed a small drop of wax right inside the door. He shifted and then spotted another drop, a larger one out in the hallway. Both were hardened but not scuffed. Not fresh, but made this night.

To his left, there was a staircase descending back down from which he had come. To his right, a long hallway. Had the lady gone to visit a lover? How droll. Perhaps he could simply expose them, allowing Gaston to annul the betrothal and marry his princess without penalty. It was hardly titillating, but Rumpelstiltskin had long ago learned to keep his options open…

The hallway dead-ended into another door, no doubt the Lord’s Chambers, judging by the heavy snoring emanating from it. To his left, there was another staircase, but this one ascended. And there was a faint drop of wax on the third stair.

He followed it to the top of the turret, only to find one last door. This one was ajar, and from within, a light was burning. The tip of a turret was always a popular spellcasting spot, but there was nothing he could sense in the way of magic. Nor was there any sound of passion, no whispered words or bubbling potions- just silence—a conundrum.

He paused, considering for a moment. This task was proving to be a bit of something different. If pressed, he would almost admit he was enjoying himself. He made a careful note to keep the door from so much as making a squeak lest it announce his entrance.

But of all the things he might have imagined, he could not have predicted he’d find himself in a makeshift library of sorts. The rounded room had books piled along the walls, large and small, with spines of every color, carefully stacked in orderly rows. There was no fire to keep the night’s chill at bay or brighten the darkness, nor was there any tapestries or rugs to make the room inviting.

Besides the hundreds of books, there was just a single desk with a candle nearly burnt to the last. There was a lone cloaked figure at the desk, but they had fallen asleep, their head upon the desk’s surface, dead to the world. There were no cauldrons, no familiars, not even a vial of something foul. The only clue to the figure’s identity was a mass of auburn curls spilling out across the desk from beneath the hood.

He made his way closer. The floorboards silent; knowing better than to so much as creak underneath his weight. Outside, an owl hooted as if sensing a fellow predator. The call was followed by the sound of wings as it swept down from the roof upon its helpless prey down below-

And just as the Dark One reached out his own talons to squeeze around the neck of the sleeper, she stirred. He prepared for a gasp or even a scream- but he was not, however, prepared to find a dagger pressed into the underside of his jerkin.

“Another move, and your entrails will be on the floor.” The dagger pressed deeper as his “prey” slowly stood. She was a head shorter than him, but the light of the almost extinguished candle was too meager for him to make out her features. He could only see the fine-boned hand currently wielding what looked like to be a letter opener.

As annoying as it was to find himself in such a predicament, he had to admit it was rather masterfully done. If he were any mere ruffian, he would be entirely at her mercy. But the Dark One was not in danger of something so trivial as a dagger in the dark. He snapped his fingers, and in a heartbeat, her weapon turned into a single red rose.

It’s thorns bit into her white-knuckled fingers, drawing first blood. She hissed in surprise, dropping the flower to bring wounded fingers up to her mouth. “Magic,” she mumbled around her hand, sounding rather impressed. She lowered her hand with a sigh. “He must have paid a pretty penny. It’s almost flattering, truth be told.”

Rumpelstiltskin chose to ignore the insinuation he could be bought with something as trivial as money. As if he needed gold.

He whispered a simple charm and a twist of his finger; the candle burned back to full life. “You know for what purpose I have come?” he demanded. The lady nodded, and in doing so, her hood shifted and finally slid down to her shoulders.

Rumpelstiltskin was rather lucky he had not dropped the cloaking spell yet, as he found himself at an utter loss for words. This was the woman Gaston was spurning? He understood the man had been ambitious, but good lord, was he blind? In his long lifetime, Rumpelstiltskin had seen the great beauties of lore, the ones who the bards still sung of- none of them had ever struck him as half as lovely as the woman before him. Her features were delicate, classical, and yet there was a strength in the set of her jaw and intelligence in her manner that set her apart from the usual vapid emptiness that so often accompanied the truly beautiful.

She laid the rose upon the desk, subtly casting her eyes in his general direction. “Of course. You’re not the first to come. I wasn’t naive enough to think he’d stop trying.” If she was afraid, her eyes didn’t betray her. She looked more put-out than anything. “You’re the first with magic, though,” she added, in what sounded oddly like a compliment.

He held the cloaking spell in place. He wanted answers, and if the Dark One were to materialize before her, he was not sure Lady Belle would continue cooly discussing her brushes with death. Well, she might. This did not seem like a woman prone to hysterics, but he wasn’t taking that chance quite yet.

(He really loathed hysterics.)

“Why wait for death? Why not use the magic you possess-”

She began to laugh. “Wait- magic? Magic I possess- Is that what he’s telling people now?” To his complete befuddlement, she collapsed back into the chair, wiping away tears of laughter. “Me! Magic!” She fought to regain some iota of self-control but was failing miserably. “Oh, that’s a good one. As if I wouldn’t turn him into a toad first thing-”

“He’d make an impressive bull-frog.”

She made a genuinely horrendous noise like two gears grinding, and he realized she was laughing. “He would, wouldn't he?” she managed through laughter. “I can just see him sitting on the side of the lake, all puffed up.” She helpfully mimicked this by puffing out her chest and filling her cheeks full of air.

He had somehow completely lost control of this encounter. There was nothing to do for it. He discarded the cloaking spell, and her laughter died in her throat. “Oh,” she breathed, eyes widening. He was gratified. Most ladies tended to faint, scream or try and attack him, so this was at least a nice change of pace, if nothing else. “Oh. You’re-”

He sneered. “That’s right. So, if you are quite done laughing- you should know I have struck an agreement with your betrothed. But-” and here he raised a finger, “figuring as I’m in a good mood at the moment, I shall gift you a boon. You may choose your fate.”

His anger rarely ran hot. This self-control had served him well, allowing him to contrive and dole out some truly horrendous forms of revenge in his long life. Gaston would become king. He would rule, safe in the knowledge that he had gotten away with it, that he, a lowborn knight, had hoodwinked the most powerful creature that had ever existed. Only then, would the Dark One drop the Lady Belle back into play, reveal Gaston’s true nature, take all that he had gained, and leave him in the dirt. Possibly as a bull-frog. He’d have to see how he felt in a decade or so. There was nothing quite like a fate delayed. Ask Oedipus.

“You have three options. The first is that of the air. You shall live as a swan for a decade and a day, free to roam the world as you see fit. The second is of the earth. I shall turn you into a statue, and leave you here to watch over your people for a decade and a day, and on the second day, the sun shall rise upon you as a human once more-”

Just as he was about to explain the fire option, which was an excellent spell that involved the sun’s rising and setting- she, to his utter and complete astonishment, raised her hand. “If I might-”

Oh, for Nimue’s sake-

“Is all of this necessary? I have no interest in marrying Gaston. His precious princess is welcome to him.”

He sucked his teeth. This woman was making it impossible to get anything done around here. “Then, why, pray tell, is he trying to kill you?”

She made a sweeping gesture as if encompassing everything around them. “For Avonlea! Why do you think- Ugh!” She pinched her brow, and he could hear her counting to ten under her breath.

He hadn’t needed to ask. He was well aware of how these things worked. With Belle out of the way, Gaston would claim there had been a marriage. The elderly Lord of Avonlea would soon pass either from a broken heart or a knife in the back, and then Gaston would be Lord and Ruler of Avonlea, a fitting husband for a neighboring princess. Their union would unite the two lands...and Ormiston would continue to grow and prosper.

There was no earthly way that the knight had thought of this himself, which meant the King of Ormiston had gotten someone else to do his dirty work. Rumpelstiltskin ground his teeth. He had been played for a fool.

But a deal was a deal. He’d make sure they’d all pay in kind, but the fact of the matter was...this Belle would have to first pay the price.

“You can no longer remain here as the lady of this land.”

“Fine,” she huffed, standing abruptly. “I have to go away for- what was it? A decade and a day? Fine, so be it. I’ll go with you then. Surely, you need….I don’t know some sort of assistance. You have a castle, don’t you?” He opened his mouth, but she did not need an answer to continue the conversation. “Wait- no. Hold on, answer me one question. The deal- was Avonlea a part of it?” He mutely shook his head. “Oh, good. Here’s what we’ll do-”

And then, she laid out in very clear detail her master plan.

It was beautiful in its simplicity, calculating and cunning in its execution, and nearly diabolical in terms of vengeance. By the time the sun rose upon the Lady of Avonlea and the Dark One, a new alliance, had been forged. One that would change the landscape of the world forever.

It went as thus. On the evening of the eighth day, at the eighth hour at the eighth minute, the Dark Lord came (back) to Avonlea. His arrival was not expected at the pre-nuptial feast of Sir Gaston LeRoux and Lady Belle Levasseur, so his appearance was met with (alas) hysterics.

“I hear there is to be a wedding,” Rumpelstiltskin crackled. He rubbed his hands together briskly, clapping them at the end in glee for good measure. “I love weddings.”

Gaston was quite taken aback, but he rallied to put on a good show. He drew his blade, proclaiming loudly and for all to hear that he would protect his lady love. As for the bride, she simply sat in her seat, finishing a custard while an older man with a halo of white hair tugged at her sleeve, urging her to flee.

“Begone, foul beast!” Gaston roared, but he was slowly backing away from the dais, leaving the lord and lady of the castle unprotected. Not that anyone noticed. The entire hall had fled or was cowering under trench tables lining the room. “I shall strike you down before I let you so much as gaze upon my fair lady.”

“Pretty words for a pretty boy,” Rumpelstiltskin cooed up at him. He took another step, baring his teeth in a smile. “I came to allow you to mend your mistake, Lord Maurice.”

“My-my-” The old man was stuttering, white with fear, but he had not let go of his daughter’s arm.

“I had rather thought my wedding invitation must have gotten lost,” Rumpelstiltskin supplied helpfully, starting to pick at imaginary lint on his sleeve. “But then I started to think perhaps I wasn’t invited-”

“You were not!” The knight demonstrated a few fancy parries, and then with a little fancy footwork, he danced his way to the opposite side of the Dark One, blocking the remainder of viewers from the rulers of Avonlea. “Begone from this place at once!” Gaston crowed and had the audacity to wink. The fool, he was still playing checkers; they had moved onto chess.

Rumpelstiltskin waved his arm in a lazy arc, and the knight-who-would-be-king was stopped dead in his tracks, frozen with his sword raised overhead in a rather wickedly uncomfortable position. “Now, then, where were we? Ah, yes. I’m sure it was not your intention to purposefully slight me, was it, Lord Maurice?”

The older man’s jowls were quivering, mouth opening and closing with no sounds coming out. Belle took the opportunity to rise, placing herself pointedly between her father and her conspirator. “There was no slight meant, sir,” she assured him. In the light of the candelabras overhead, her golden dress glowed warm and bright. “What can we do to atone for this grievous oversight?”

A few of the party-goers were starting to creep out from beneath the tables and from behind pillars, their self-preservation losing out to their curiosity as he knew it would. Happened every time.

“You know, I’d rather like a wedding of my own, come to think of it.” He turned to the gathered, huddled masses. “Good people of Avonlea, I shall spare your lands from pestilence and pandemonium on one condition.”

“Good heavens, but name it, sir!” Lord Maurice exclaimed. “Anything and everything I have in my power to give is yours!”

Rumpelstiltskin whipped around, a huge grin spreading across his face. She had worried things might not go according to plan, but he had told her it would be easy. People were so predictable. Well, most of them. The ones not named Belle, at least.

“A bride!”

The entire congregation moaned in horror, and Lord Maurice collapsed in his chair.

“But-but-but-”

They had worked it out carefully; each knew their lines as well as each other’s - but Rumpelstiltskin always did love a bit of improvisation. “Let’s see,” Rumpelstiltskin sang, already descending the dais towards a group of young women huddled in a corner. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

The girls, predictably, descended into sobs. They clutched at each other, but he turned away sharply, peering under a table at two serving wenches. “And who do we have here?”

One screamed and started to push the other at him.

“Enough, sir.” Belle had descended after him. “ As I am the only bride here, and it was my wedding which so slighted your honor, ” with a court curtsy, she prostrated herself before him, “I am the only one suitable.”

When Belle had suggested this ploy, Rumpelstiltskin had nearly swallowed his tongue. She made it clear she had no interest in marriage, and while she would like nothing more than to roam the world to explore new and far-flung places, her place was here in Avonlea, and if she could, she was honor-bound to remain. As a married woman, wife to the most powerful creature in the world, she could do just that.

After nearly an hour of debating, threatening and whining had not changed her mind; he had finally relented. Rumpelstiltskin would be free to come and go in the decades the lady lived, and Belle would be free to do as she liked as Lady of Avonlea.

The terms of his deal with Gaston would be met, with his betrothal to Belle broken beyond repair. Of course, without Avonlea to bring to the table, Rumpelstiltskin rather doubted a crown was in Gaston’s future, but as Belle had so cleverly seen- Avonlea had not been part of the bargain.

That was why you always read the fine print.

“Done!” Rumpelstiltskin proclaimed, and taking her hand, he helped raise her to her feet. Around them, the crowd began to whisper and moan, a few of the ladies having fainted. Belle met his gaze, bright blue eyes twinkling in mischief. Rumpelstiltskin realized he hadn’t known what color her eyes were, but he was reasonably positive he would never forget again. “We shall be married here, and now, that is unless anyone objects?”

“Belle!” her father moaned. “My dear girl-”

“It’s fine, Papa,” she assured him, but she never took her eyes off Rumpelstiltskin. “I know what I’m doing.”

There was utter conviction in her voice. Rumpelstiltskin had to suppress a shiver as he was still holding her hands. Some little voice in the back of his head was starting to wonder if he was way over his head in this after all, but he ignored it.

There was a clatter of steel on stone as the spell containing Gaston dissolved. The knight pitched backwards, down the stairs, and onto his back. There were gasps, and the crowd began to murmur, even louder this time as their favorite son, and would have been lord raised himself to his feet.

His beautiful face was twisted in rage. “WE HAD A DEAL!” he bellowed, already charging at them. He swung his broadsword, fully intent on cutting them both down where they stood. Rumpelstiltskin instinctively drew Belle to his side, sheltering her from the swing even though a crook of his finger was all it took for the Dark One needed to send the sword spinning into the air.

Even weaponless, Gaston was not cowed. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” he railed, far too lost in his rage. His perfectly styled hair fell into his face as he thrust a finger at them. “We had a deal, Dark One. She was to die, and Avonlea was to be mine! I was going to be the king, you-”

Now, the words died in his throat as the murmurs of the crowd swelled into a furious chorus. It appeared the First Sword of Avonlea might have been well-loved but not more than their lady.

“Scoundrel!” an older woman called out, ignoring her husband’s attempt to pull her back behind the safety of a suit of armor. “Blackguard!”

Belle took charge. Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t realized he had still been holding her tightly to his side until, with a squeeze of his hands, she stepped out of his arms and towards the man who wanted her dead. “Sir LeRoux, you are to leave this hall and this land at once. Return to your master of Ormiston and tell him Avonlea has a new lord. But first, I believe it is only fitting that you bear witness to our union, seeing as you had a rather large hand to play in its arrangement.”

“You b-”

Gaston did not get to finish those words. His hands, already reaching out for Belle’s neck, went to his own throat as invisible hands cut off the oxygen. There was no humor in Rumpelstiltskin’s voice now, all acting had gone out the window. “That is my bride you are speaking to, sir. Have a care what you say, or I will feed your tongue to the dogs.”

As Gaston struggled to breathe, Belle turned to a portly gentleman who was tightly wedged between his seat and the table. “Good Uncle Bartholomew, will you read the bans?”

The man looked from Belle’s calm and collected face to Gaston’s purple one, to the Dark One. Then, he turned to where Lord Maurice sat, still collapsed in his chair upon the dais. “My lord?”

“Belle, my dear, surely we can-”

“Papa,” her voice was steel. “I’ve made my decision.” She half-turned to Rumpelstiltskin. “All of you have borne witness to Sir LeRoux’s words. On the eve of our wedding, he has plotted my death to take over Avonlea as his own. If the price for my life and the prosperity of our lands is to wed the Dark One, who has saved me though he may not have known it at the time- then so be it. It is a price I will happily pay for you and all of Avonlea.”

“Here, here,” came a voice, and another echoed this and then another. The people closest to them were still eying Rumpelstiltskin warily, but with Gaston now on his knees, no one was daring to make too big a fuss.

In the end, the bans were read. It was an odd wedding. The bride’s father cried the entire time, the guests were somber and morose, and the man who should have been the groom was prone on the floor, barely able to breathe, much less object when that part of the bans was read aloud.

As for the bride and groom...Well, Rumpelstiltskin had been married once upon a time, and while this was in name only, the usual flutter of anticipation was in his belly, and he couldn’t quite help the lopsided grin on his face. He would tell anyone who dared ask it was all an act, but in truth, he couldn’t help smiling at his bride, who was positively beaming at him like a cat who caught the canary.

The guests would tell anyone who would listen (and everyone wanted to hear the tale) they had never seen a happier bride. Others would swear the groom looked almost nervous, but no one believed the Dark One could be nervous.

Gaston fled to Ormiston, only to be flogged, denounced to a hedge knight, and banished from the kingdom forever. That was the last of Gaston they ever heard of, and the princess of Ormiston married some other lordling’s second son who had more interest in farming than war. Rumpelstiltskin always denied he had a hand in it, but after that, Avonlea and Ormiston’s kingdoms were at peace.

As the bans concluded, and after Gaston had long made a run for it, Rumpelstiltskin was walking his new bride out towards the Lord Tower to her chambers. He would lock them both inside and then depart back to the Dark Castle, returning in the morning, and rinse and repeat for the remainder of the fortnight to ensure no one challenged the union. “So,” Belle said, her arm neatly in the crook of his own. “Told you it would work.”

“Yes, yes,” he grumbled. “Your clever plan has left you wed to the most fearsome creature in the world. Just wait. Scores of knights will show up to defeat the evil dragon and rescue the fair lady. You simply tell me which one you like, and I’ll play dead so you two may run off into the sunset. Do we have a deal?”

Belle considered this for a moment, tipping her head back and forth. Then, her blues eyes twinkling as bright as the stars overhead, she said, “No. I’m afraid I never much cared for courtiers. Besides, being a married woman comes with some advantages. No one can tell me what to do anymore, and if anyone gets too out of hand, I have a husband to sic on them. No, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. I’ll remain wed as long as you don’t behave too beastly.”

He shook his head at her, but internally, found he was rather pleased. “I’ve been told I’m incorrigible,” he warned. “Impossible and ill-mannered.”

As the lock on her door swung shut, she simply grinned at him and quipped, “I do like a challenge.”

--

If you were wondering, it took Belle five months and five days, but she finally got it through to her husband that she was perfectly happy being his lawfully wedded wife. He relocated permanently to Avonlea having fallen very much in love with his wife, though it took her seven months and seven days to make him understand she felt the same way and was very much ready to be his lawfully bedded wife, but that dear reader is another story.

(and as always a big thank you to @prissyhalliwell for being a wonderful friend/sounding board0

#rumbelle secret santa #rss 2020 #rumbelle #rumbelle fan fic #b does the write thing #for the first time since 2019

[snifflyjoonie]

Tourner Dans Le Vide

In which Taehyung goes thrift shopping in Paris with a sensitive nose and not of drop of French in his vocabulary.

snz-centric with Taehyung as the sickie(?) and Hoseok as the caretaker.

Word count: 2945

a/n: This is a request fulfillment for the ever lovely @featherypromises as well as my sweet allergic!Tae anon. Thanks for the patience, as per usual! (I will put all of the French translations at the end of the fic for those interested) I really hope you all enjoy this one!

note: there are small mentions of panic & anxiety in this one for those who may be sensitive to that. Just a fair warning!

–

 Taehyung loved Paris. The scenery, the food, and of course, the fashion. Every time Bangtan had the opportunity to visit Paris Taehyung always cherished every moment. He especially valued his rest days where he could wander around, sightsee, and do as he pleased.

Today was exactly that — a rest day — and he decided early on that he wanted to spend the day thrifting. It wasn’t an activity he was able to partake in very often, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He insisted on going alone without security, something their manager was very wary about at first, but Taehyung convinced him that he would be fine. He couldn’t deny that he was more well-known now than he ever dreamed was possible, but if he was careful enough, he could typically sneak under the radar pretty easily in foreign countries. Security tended to just draw more attention to him, anyway.

Taehyung got himself ready quickly, throwing on a black newsboy cap, black face mask, and long brown trench coat—really, any type of clothing he could find that would help him mask his identity. He let the other members know where he was heading and when he would be back before leaving, denying both Jimin and Hoseok’s offers of company in the process. He wanted to go alone. He was very much an introvert, and as much as he loved his second musical family, his time alone always helped him to decompress, and it was something he needed to do often during touring season.

Taehyung made his way down the bustling Paris streets with a smile under his mask. There really was nothing like Paris, and he paused often to take pictures. From what he could remember reading on online travel blogs, the hidden gem thrift store he was heading to was only a few blocks away from the group’s hotel, tucked cozily into a small alley off to the right. He continuously pulled out his phone to check if he was heading in the right direction, unable to read the French signs around him.  He almost walked right past the alleyway, only catching it when the map app on his phone beeped angrily at him.

He turned down the alley with vigor, spotting the thrift store sign “Le Vide” quickly. He had read so much about this tiny, locally owned shop and could barely contain his excitement about the wonders that awaited him inside.

Taehyung pushed open the heavy wooden door with a small grunt, hearing the tiny tinkling sound of a bell above his head. He was instantly hit with the smell of mothballs as he entered and scrunched up his nose. It even made him cough a little, but he did his best to shake it off because what he saw inside the shop itself was incredible. Crammed into the tiny building were rows upon rows of French vintage clothing, beautiful tapestried quilts draped over different racks and wooden beams, many different trinkets scattered across shelves, and even a small section dedicated to peculiar looking hats. He was in heaven.

“Bonjour!” came a call from across the room. Taehyung looked around quickly before catching the eye of a whimsical-looking older woman behind a small desk. He pulled his face mask down to his chin and smiled a boxy smile at her paired with a tiny wave, “Bonjour!” He called back. The lady seemed to realize Taehyung’s lack of French communication skills from his accent alone and simply gave him a warm smile and a small nod back.

Taehyung stepped deeper into the near-vacant shop with wonder in his eyes. He was so preoccupied by his ethereal surroundings that he barely registered the prickling sensation that was starting to form at the base of his nose. He sniffled once to try to alleviate the itch but was only hit again with the strong scent of mothballs, making his nose burn fiercely. His breath abruptly caught in his throat and he scrambled to pull his face mask back over his nose and mouth before lurching forward into his hand with an ear-splitting “hH’EEEEEHhuh!” that echoed off the walls around him, causing a nearby patron to jump.

Taehyung stayed bent at the waist for a moment and gingerly opened one eye, his hand still firmly pressed against his mask-donned nose. The mask now felt wet against his skin and made him cringe. Quickly, he pulled it from his face and began to shove it into his pocket, pausing only when a call of “À vos souhaits!” from the other end of the room caught his attention. 

The older woman, who Taehyung realized had to have been the owner, had been the one to call out to him, seemingly taken aback by his booming sneeze. Taehyung wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she had said to him but assumed it must have been a French equivalent of ‘bless you’ (an English phrase he wasn’t entirely that familiar with, either). The singer hurriedly straightened himself up and bowed his head sheepishly in her direction.

“Sorry!” he called in English. “Thank—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “No, no—merci! Merci!”

She laughed lightly at his French and shook her head, turning her attention away from Taehyung and back to her current task.

Taehyung sniffed hard and sighed, slightly embarrassed. So much for staying under the radar. Luckily, it didn’t seem like the shop owner — nor any of the patrons, for that matter — knew who he was. He brought up the back of his hand to rub at his nose, continuing to venture his way into the shop. The base of his nostrils still tingled dully and he felt a pang of worry in his gut at the prospect of loudly sneezing again in this cozy, quiet shop, but he did his best to brush it off. He wasn’t going to let one sneeze ruin his day.

The vocalist did a quick scan of the building, not fully sure where to even start before his eyes locked onto a small, vintage-looking stuffed rabbit from a nearby shelf. He immediately made a beeline for it, eager to get a better look. He stumbled on his own feet on the way over but managed to catch himself before any type of fall could embarrass him further.

Taehyung skidded to a halt in front of the shelf housing the stuffed rabbit and chuckled quietly to himself. The shelf was completely packed full of strange dolls and old stuffed animals, ranging from clowns with porcelain faces to bullfrogs wearing hats. He studied them all for a moment before focusing back on the rabbit. All he could think about was how much it reminded him of Jungkook and how much the maknae would laugh if he surprised him with it. He pulled it from the shelf without thinking twice (and without noticing the fine layer of dust that came off the shelf with it) and tucked it under his arm. He suddenly scrunched up his nose as the tingling feeling that had been lying dormant came back with a vengeance. He pinched his eyes tightly shut and tried his best to wiggle away the tickle before bringing up a knuckle to scrub into his nose aggressively. For whatever reason, the scrubbing only seemed to increase his sinuses’ irritation and he slowly felt himself begin to lose control. The vocalist’s next breath came out as a stutter and he quickly cupped a hand around his nose and mouth, pitching forward with two rapid-fire sneezes. “hH’EEEEHSh! RREESSHh!”

The sound bounced off the walls in a similar way to his first sneeze and Taehyung could immediately feel the shop owner’s eyes (as well as the other patrons’) fall back onto him. He gulped hard and wiped the wetness from his hand onto his pant leg, pulling the stuffed rabbit out from under his arm to stare at it in slight shock. Had this been what made him sneeze? He felt fine enough until he grabbed it. He mulled it over for a moment before deciding to place the rabbit back onto the shelf just to be safe. He could find a different present for Jungkook; one that wouldn’t irritate his sinuses. 

Taehyung continued to browse the shop’s trinkets – albeit now with a slightly runny nose – before making his way towards the clothing items, honing his attention in on a rack that seemed to house many different 80s patterned button-downs and a few weathered-looking jackets. He flipped through them excitedly, throwing a few funky patterned shirts over his shoulder to try on later. As he did so, he became increasingly more aware of how damp his nostrils were becoming. He sniffled thickly in an attempt to stop the wetness from dripping, throwing a worn Sherpa jacket over his shoulder in the process. His nose was starting to feel stuffy, and he brought the back of his wrist up to rub at it harshly. Was he getting sick? He frowned to himself and let out a sigh as an all too familiar prickling sensation started to pick back up in the very back of his sinuses. He shoved a closed fist underneath his now twitching nose and spun away from the clothing rack as best he could, bending hard at the waist as a series of loud sneezes forced their way out of him, “HhHAHSsh! HHEHhHu! HHASHHiew!”  

Taehyung opened back up his eyes with a sniffle, quickly seeing all the clothes he had piled onto his shoulder spread haphazardly onto the floor in front of him. Groaning, he bent down to gather them all back up, cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He had no idea what was wrong with him or why his nose burned so badly, but he decided it was probably time to just pack up and leave. It wasn’t fair to the other patrons to have to listen to him practically screech every few minutes, and it was getting harder to ignore the way his sinuses continued to buzz urgently.  

Taehyung quickly straightened himself up and made his way towards the shop owner’s small desk, placing his pile of clothes upon it. The older woman smiled up at him and began sorting through his clothing, eyeing the vocalist warily as he snuffled into the back of his hand.

“Vous n'arrêtez pas d'éternuer.” She commented with a light chuckle, catching Taehyung off guard. He blinked down at her in confusion before responding back in English, “S-Sorry, I-I don’t speak…French.” His accent was thick and she cocked an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything back, simply continuing her task of scanning and folding his various items. Taehyung continued to watch; the silence of the shop only being broken by his increasingly urgent-sounding sniffles. After a moment, he plucked up enough courage to try speaking to her again, “Uhm…S-sorry,” He began, “D-do you had…have…any, uh…cloth?” His English was rough and it made his stomach bubble with anxiety. He had no idea what the English word for ‘tissue’ was, but he hoped with his entire being that the shop owner would catch his drift.

“Uuuh, pardon,” She said, a look of sympathy on her face, “je ne connais pas l’anglais.”

Taehyung swallowed hard, anxiety swirling into his chest as he realized the only word he could recognize was ‘pardon’. To make matters worse, each time the older woman shook out one of his garments to fold, the buzzing in his nose would increase dramatically. Before Taehyung could even fully register what was happening, the intense urge to sneeze hit him like a truck, and he pushed himself away from the desk with a force that made him tumble backwards. He sneezed hard and loud, tripping over his own feet in the process and crashing into a nearby rack of clothing. Taehyung could hear the shop owner gasp as he tumbled to the ground, the force of his body managing to knock a week’s worth of dust from the items on the rack. The dust cloud floated down towards him delicately and immediately sent him into a vicious and rapid fit.

“hH’AHHKShu! AHKSHhu! IIIISHhuh! hH’EESHHhiew!” The sneezes came on hard and fast and his eyes began to water fervently as the dust settled around him. Dust. Of course it was dust. This explained everything. Taehyung mentally kicked himself for not taking any of his allergy medication before coming. He should have known better.

The vocalist could hear the shop owner call out to him in French but the foreign language only increased his anxiety. He had no idea what she was saying to him and he had no way of communicating what he needed from her back. He tried his best to respond, but his words came out as half-English half-Korean, interrupted every second or two by his booming sneezes. He was starting to cause a scene and he just couldn’t handle it. Quickly, and with a hitch in his breath, Taehyung bolted for the nearest changing room he could find. He needed to get away, he needed to get out of there right now.

The vocalist practically threw himself into the room, locking the door immediately behind him. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears at this point and his nose burned so viciously that it made him whimper. He just wanted to go home.

“Hh-HE’EEESH!” Another violent sneeze exploded out of him, forcing Taehyung to clamp a hand tightly around his nose and mouth. He felt a new wetness on his upper lip and nearly burst into tears. How could this be happening?  

A small knock at the change room door nearly made Taehyung have a heart attack. He stuttered out a few English words, voice muffled by his hand, hoping that whoever was out there could speak it, “S-Sorry, sorry! It is…uh…full!” He was unable to think of the English word for “occupied”, panicked, and spat out one of the only French words he knew, “Merci! Sorry! Merci!” His Korean accent was thick and muddled his words together. He choked out a sob, cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as his nose continued to run steadily into his hand.

“Taehyung-ah?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened as he instantly recognized the voice behind the door.

“Taehyung-ah…is that you?” It was Hoseok. The familiar sound of his hyung’s voice and the overwhelming relief of hearing his native tongue forced another sob to sneak its way out of him.

Hoseok quickly began to rattle the door knob upon hearing his dongsaeng’s muffled cries, “What’s going on? Are you okay? Tae-yah, let me in!”

Taehyung brought up a shaky hand to unlock the knob before Hoseok tumbled his way inside. The older boy looked the younger up and down for just a moment before springing into action. He pulled Taehyung into a warm embrace, trying his best to tenderly shush the younger boy. Taehyung was nearly full-blown sobbing now, and all Hoseok could hope to do was comfort him in some way.

“What’s going on, Tae-yah?” Hoseok cooed, rubbing the boy’s back, “You were gone for so long I came looking for you. I thought you got lost. I was really worried. Please don’t cry. Do you need a tissue?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head, his nose still buried into his cupped hand. Hoseok quickly fished around in his pocket before pulling out a small packet of tissues. He always tended to have one with him during the fall months as his own allergies typically got the best of him as soon as the leaves began to fall.

Hoseok pulled a few tissues from the pack and pressed them into Taehyung’s free hand; the younger singer immediately using them to clean himself up and blow his nose. All of his crying seemed to have helped flush the lingering dust from his nose and eyes, and the buzzing in his nose had died down to just a small hum.

“H-how did you find me?” Taehyung murmured, sniffling softly. Hoseok smiled.

“You told us where you were going, remember?” He chuckled slightly, “I would have been here sooner but…Yaah, this place was so hard to find! I walked past the alleyway at least three times!” Taehyung’s lip twitched up into a hint of a smile before Hoseok continued, “You were taking awhile so I came to find you. I had just walked into the shop when I heard what sounded like you sneezing coming from in here, so I came to check. I’m glad I did!”

Taehyung smiled as Hoseok’s cheerful laughter filled the change room. It was hard to stay upset when Hoseok was around.

“Thanks for coming to find me, hyung.” Taehyung sniffled, dragging the back of his hand under his nose, “I think I’ve had enough alone time for one day.”

Hoseok giggled at this and nodded, “I think you’re probably right. Ready to head back?”

Taehyung started to nod but stopped himself, “Wait! I still have to go pay for my clothes!” He jumped up quickly and made a lunge for the doorknob but Hoseok grabbed his forearm, pulling him to a halt.

“I think it’d be better if you go get some fresh air.” Hoseok smiled politely, giving Taehyung a small pat on the back, “Let hyung take care of the rest. I’ll meet you outside, okay?”

Taehyung paused a moment before smiling. Hoseok was definitely right. He nodded at his hyung enthusiastically and handed the older boy his wallet before making his way out of the shop. There was still plenty he wanted to see and explore of the small thrift store, but that could be saved for another day. And next time, he wouldn’t forget his allergy pills.  

 --

French:

Tourner dans le vide: turn into the void (yes this is a song and yes I listened to it a lot while writing this lol)

À vos souhaits: to your wishes (French version of ‘bless you’)

Vous n'arrêtez pas d'éternuer: you cannot stop sneezing

je ne connais pas l’anglais: I do not know English

#bts sickfic #mine #allergic!taehyung #bts snzfic #bts snz

[fontainebleau22]

Box of Frogs (Part 7)

From @tramstrams‘ not-at-all-serious prompt, ‘an AU with magic, but something has gone terribly awry and people are being turned into frogs. Only Sam Chisolm can stop this madness’.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here. Part 5 here. Part 6 here.

---

‘What about your jobs?’ asked Emma. ‘Wasn’t there trouble about the time you’d missed?’

For a group of men who’d spent a week as frogs they seemed surprisingly unresentful, yet a residual guilt kept her prodding at the topic. On a golden afternoon like this, though, it seemed difficult for anyone to hold a grudge: the park was busy with sunbathers, frisbee-players, and old ladies sitting primly on benches gossiping with the pigeons.

They’d found a secluded spot under the trees where they could sprawl out on the grass: Red was setting up a barbecue while Jack unpacked an apparently bottomless cooler of food, and to Emma’s relief Gavin had ignored the promise of sausages and lolloped off to join in chasing the frisbee.

Faraday shrugged cheerfully. ‘Boss was pissed off I hadn’t turned up for a week, but just happened they’d had a big order come in that morning that he needs me to deal with, so it all worked out OK.’

Ale stretched lazily with just the smallest of sparkles to draw attention to the shift of his muscles. ‘Maria started shouting when I showed up at the cafe, but I smiled at her some and next thing she was feeding me blueberry pie to make up for all the crickets.’

Billy cracked one eye open from where he was lying with his head in Goodnight’s lap. ‘I just told them I was back and they should pay me for the break.’

The week since she’d met them all in such inauspicious circumstances had been like being picked up by a tornado, but in a good way: from that strange first evening when Josh had led them charging out to celebrate being human again, this ill-assorted group had adopted her into effortless friendship, filling her empty days with argument and activity and anchoring her again in the here-and-now.

Billy shifted a little, squinting against the sun in his eyes. ‘Teddy, could you?’ Goody asked at once. Teddy leaned over to lay a hand on the trunk and concentrated: the tree obligingly rearranged its branches to shade Billy’s face. ‘Better, cher?’ asked Goody solicitously.

Ale tsked disapprovingly. ‘He was just the same when you were a frog: humidity this, fruit flies that, is the heat lamp strong enough...’

‘Goody always takes care of me,’ said Billy with smug satisfaction.

‘Only the best for you, sweetheart,’ agreed Goody, stroking his hair. ‘Though I hope they’ll give me a refund on the equipment.’

‘I saw the size of his tank, with all those leaves and the little stream and everything,’ groused Faraday. ‘Mine don’t look much in comparison. You could’ve put more effort in.’

Ale batted at him, irritated. ‘I don’t know what you’re complaining about – I looked after you perfectly well.’

‘I was a frog the longest,’ declared Josh with a perverse pride. ‘What if I’d dried out? You could have got me one of those fancy misting sprays.’

‘Guero, I swear…’ Ale lunged up to tackle him, sending the two of them rolling on the grass; at that precise moment the Frisbee came zipping in, skimmed harmlessly over Josh’s head and bounced off Sam’s ear.

‘Damnation,’ said Sam resignedly; Gavin raced up, grabbed the frisbee and charged off again.

Ale had Josh pinned, knees on his shoulders, grinning as he squirmed. ‘I got in the tank with you, ingrato – did Goody do that?’

‘Not for lack of trying,’ said Sam, shuffling over to let Goody run a hand over his rapidly-rising bump.

Emma let the good-natured bickering fade into the background, closing her eyes to appreciate the warmth of the sun on her face, the rustling breeze in the branches above and the sound of distant excited barks.

Her grief was always with her, the sense of absence at her side a constant, but now as well there were Jack and Goody, gentlemanly and courteous, Teddy and Red with their shy smiles, Josh and Ale with jokes to distract her. You’d have liked them, she told Matthew silently. She opened her eyes again to Sam’s concerned gaze, and when she smiled he came to settle beside her on the plaid rug in wordless sympathy.

‘You know he kissed you to see if it would turn you back?’ Teddy was asking Billy.

‘Billy is attractive in every form,’ declared Goody, unabashed.

‘Oh, please.’ Josh pulled a face.

‘If anyone was a handsome frog,’ asserted Ale, ‘it was me.’

Teddy snorted. ‘You? You were just a green blob.’ Ale choked in outrage and Teddy smirked. ‘You had no neck.’

‘I have to say that Teddy’s right,’ agreed Goodnight, ‘you were a singularly unattractive frog. Plain as anything.’

‘Josh didn’t think so,’ said Ale, nettled.

Goodnight sat up straight and fixed them both with a severe gaze. ‘Do you have any idea what it was like once I put you in the tank with him? It was worse than the Discovery Channel – I was going to buy a screen.’

Gavin came galloping back to collapse panting at Emma’s side, and she buried a hand in his fur. Red appeared silently with a bowl of water which he placed in front of him, and Emma nodded her thanks as Gavin slurped enthusiastically at it. ‘You might want to be careful with the meat...’

They both looked over to Jack, pulling a string of sausages from his cooler. ‘No need to worry,’ he called heartily: he arranged the sausages precisely on the grill, then handed the tongs to Red and squatted down to scrub fearlessly through Gavin’s fur. Gavin writhed in delight. ‘We understand each other, don’t we?’ cooed Jack, and Emma stifled a stab of amusement at the similarity between the burly high-voiced man and her sofa cushion of a dog.

‘I hope you weren’t too inconvenienced by being…’

‘…a bullfrog?’ Jack beamed. ‘I found the whole experience quite refreshing, and Goodnight kept me out of harm’s way. He raised himself a little and put a hand to his chest formally. ‘Your hospitality was much appreciated, Goody.’

Goodnight looked pleased, though slightly puzzled. ‘I’m not sure I’d call a week in my bathtub hospitality, but you’re very welcome.’

‘Look,’ said Billy suddenly, ‘isn’t that Mrs McCann?’

Emma craned round and there indeed was Thelma, strolling along the footpath in the company of a tall ginger-haired man in a well-cut suit.

‘Is that her husband?’ Ale sounded incredulous and Emma couldn’t contain a giggle. 

‘No.’ They watched as the man drew Thelma to a halt in front of a rosebush; he reached out a hand theatrically and it burst into flower, the buds swelling and opening to full bloom.

‘Nice work,’ approved Teddy. The man picked one and offered it to Thelma with a flourish; she took it, eyes lowered coyly.

‘I did go over there and offer to turn Thomas back,’ said Emma thoughtfully, ‘but she said it might be best to wait a while.’ Ale nodded understandingly and they watched the pair of them wander away.

‘Though if you’re still game for some frogging…’ Emma turned to Josh warily, but winked, unabashed. ‘This oily little guy’s started hanging round the cafe, Bogue he calls himself, and Maria thinks he’s working to undercut her franchise: maybe you could come and have a look at him?’

‘You can’t solve every problem with frogs,’ said Emma primly, aware of Sam raising his eyebrows beside her, but Ale grinned brightly. ‘I think this is one you can.’

Calm had finally settled, everyone relaxed in the sun as the scent of browning meat drifted appetisingly on the air; Billy and Goody laughed low together and Gavin’s tail thumped lazily.

A striped balloon came bouncing over the grass towards Ale, its string trailing, chased by a small girl in dungarees. ‘Here, mija,’ said Ale obligingly, reaching for the string.

‘No!’ shouted the girl, skidding to a halt; Ale had already plucked the balloon from the air and made to hold it out to her, but as he did so his arm jerked up and he started to rise from the ground, tugged smoothly upwards. ‘What the…!’ 

‘Let go, quick,’ pleaded the girl; Ale, already at head height, looked down in consternation.

‘Your face!’ cackled Josh gleefully.

‘Don’t just stand there, grab his feet!’ Teddy jumped, but Ale had drifted beyond his reach.  

Emma turned to Sam. ‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’

‘Nope,’ said Sam contentedly, settling his hat over his eyes.

‘These things have a habit of working out on their own,’ Goodnight assured her, Billy still comfortable in his lap.

‘How high is he likely to go, miss?’ Jack asked the girl, and she shrugged helplessly. ‘Heavy people go up faster’n me.’

‘Red?’ asked Jack, and there was a flutter of feathers as his companion launched himself upwards. ‘He can puncture it with his talons, let him down gently.’

‘Noo!’ the girl’s wail of protest faded as she raced off after Red, waving her arms.  

‘Wait till you’re over the trees and then let go,’ called Teddy as he and Josh followed the ever-rising Ale across the meadow.

‘Or see if you can drift over the lake,’ offered Josh, earning a faint, ‘Pendejo’ in return.

Emma hesitated. Should she follow? Turning Ale back to a frog could hardly help at this stage, and no one else seemed worried; Jack was once more clattering industriously at the grill.

‘Hey, Sam,’ added Goodnight idly, ‘how was your thing? Never did get the chance to ask about it.’

‘Good,’ said Sam from underneath his hat, ‘always worth it.’

‘Never heard you say different,’ approved Goodnight. He settled himself more comfortably against his treetrunk.

‘And you?’ asked Emma. ‘You had the hardest week of anyone…’ The thought of how distraught he’d been still brought a pang, but Goodnight cut her off with a flashing grin.

‘I’m fine – we all are.’

 ‘Well, not Ale right at this moment,’ interposed Sam cheerfully. From the corner of her eye Emma could see a small crowd beginning to gather, shouting advice and holding outspread blankets.

She turned back to Goodnight. ‘Truly?’

Goodnight looked down fondly at Billy, dozing in his lap, then winked at her. ‘Fine as a frog’s hair split four ways.’

---

#fics #mag7 #the magnificent seven #box of frogs #the end #i have written 12000 words of this tomfoolery

[mamazano]

Richard Wright performing Echoes in Live at Pompeii

Remember a Day was the first Rick Wright penned piece to appear on a Pink Floyd studio album, and was one of the first songs to be recorded for A Saucerful of Secrets. It features, quite uniquely, Rick on the Farfisa organ and Syd Barrett playing slide guitar on his Telecaster. The song in itself is simple and straightforward in its lyrics and composition; it reminisces lost time, and speaks of the innocence of childhood. However, thematically – I’m not sure if by design or by accident – it is a concept that Pink Floyd would go on to explore to great success in Childhood’s End and, of course, The Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall. It also set Richard Wright on a path of more complex songwriting – a path that would reach its crescendo with the flawless Echoes from Meddle (1971) which, for me, is arguably the single best Pink Floyd song ever written.

Remember a Day has been performed live only two times to date: at a show in 1968, and in September 2008 by David Gilmour on a broadcast of Later… with Jools Holland on BBC Two. Richard Wright was originally slated to perform with Gilmour at the show and follow up with appearances at Gilmour’s Live at Gdansk tour, but his battle with cancer had made him so ill and weak he had to cancel a couple of weeks before the performance. And sadly enough, Rick Wright died on the 15th of September, 2008, about a week before the show.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Euzx98wRj74 

Interview

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfKHyOfiDf4

Performance

I draw your attention to certain points from the performance and the preceding interview.  It is obvious that Gilmour chose to perform this song as a (fitting) tribute to his long-time friend and musical partner. What is touching, though, is his use of the Telecaster and the slide, just like Syd does in the studio version. Now, Gilmour is a man who swears by his signature black Fender Stratocaster. And he has gone on record to speak of his disdain for slide guitars; to the best of my knowledge, a small segment in Live at Pompeii is the only prior recorded occasion where he uses one. For him to perform a little known Rick Wright song exactly the way Syd did in the original is the best possible tribute he could have bestowed upon both Rick and Syd, who had passed in 2006.

Secondly, David Gilmour is almost always a very composed man when he talks and when he performs; the bends in his solos may drive even the most stone-hearted of listeners into a musical daze, but he remains unstirred, like a particularly stoical bullfrog. But at this particular performance (especially around the 3:25 mark in the video) he seems to be giving all he has to keep himself from losing it.

Like I have stated time and again to the point of boring people, Rick Wright’s ethereal sound – that intangible element without which everything around crumbles to nothingness – was what defined the “Pink Floyd sound” and was the glue that held Pink Floyd together. And the times when the musical chemistry between Rick and David got seamlessly interwoven with Roger’s conceptual brilliance – that was Pink Floyd at their unstoppable best. He was a man who was not unfamiliar with being taken for granted by the rest of the band. But he never seemed to have cared; he was not one to let the petty tribulations of being a rock musician get to him. That seems to explain why it took anyone from the band forty years to perform this rare gem of a song. But when it did happen, it was quite the eulogy.

~~Delicate Sound of Thunder (https://thedelicatesoundofthunder.wordpress.com/)

#rick wright #dave gilmour #pink floyd #remember a day

[charlienick]

riley & maya, 6

things you said under the stars and in the grass

okay babe, i didn’t give you grass, but i did give you (fingers waggle) so much more.

ao3.

“C’mon, dude, it’s cold.”

“Lucas, stop being a fucking wimp,” Maya sighs from her place beside him on the trampoline. “If you’re gonna keep bitching and moaning, go back inside and measure your dick to Farkle’s again or something else equally stupid.”

“We’ve never done that!”

“Sure you haven’t. Or better yet, go make us some pasta. We’re hungry, aren’t we Riles?”

“Mmm.” Riley only snuggles closer into Maya, burying her head even further into the warmth of her skin.

“Whatever. Farkle’s right, we’re just getting eaten alive by mosquitos out here and will probably get frostbite.”

“Lucas, it’s April in Upstate New York. It’s like 45 degrees out. We’re not gonna get fucking frostbite.” Maya snorts when she turns her head to find Lucas laying next to her, arms crossed with his hands shoved underneath his armpits in an attempt to keep them warm, back rigid. “What, a li’l Texas boy like yerself can’t handle the fearsome outdoors?”

“Yeah, Lucas,” Riley giggles, voice muffled by Maya’s skin. “What’s a country boy t’do?” The accent she uses is significantly worse than Maya’s, but it makes Lucas and Maya smile anyway. Riley could do pretty much anything and it would make Lucas and Maya smile.

“You, too, Riley?” Lucas asks, eyebrows raised.

“Maya’s right! You were so used to hot weather for so long, and it almost never snows in the city. All that smog has you spoiled.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely spoiled,” Maya agrees with a conspiratory grin. “Save yourself, Huckleberry! Go on without us!”

“Please, Lucas! You must make it to dry land and tell our story!” Riley cries.

“Okay, I’m going,” Lucas laughs as he gets off the trampoline, jostling the girls. “But not because you told me to. Spring Break Lucas does what he wants and is not bossed around by his friends like he usually is.”

“Sure. As long as Spring Break Lucas still makes that delicious Three-Cheese Chicken Penne that Regular Lucas is so fond of.” Lucas just shrugs, but he’s grinning, and calls out to Farkle who Maya can see reading on the recliner to start boiling water. Riley and Maya hear do it yourself, I’m not your maid! from inside, and they both laugh as the door opens, flooding them with light briefly before submerging them in darkness once again.

Without Lucas, without anyone else, when it’s just Riley and Maya, it’s usually quiet. Hushed voices, soft touches, everything draped in fabric that mutes the outside world. They don’t notice the cars backfiring outside, or the yelling from the Morgensterns down the hall, or the sycamore tree scraping outside the window. Usually when it’s just Riley and Maya, they’re in the Bay Window, and the drapes and curtains always make the world seem softer somehow, safer.

Or maybe it’s just Riley and Maya that do that.

Maya thinks for a moment about how safe she feels right now, wrapped up in her best friend at her step-father’s house upstate. Riley talks sometimes about how this place looked before Maya ever saw it: drab, lifeless, boring. No pictures on the walls—not even any that Shawn took himself—no area rugs, no interesting furniture. It looked like a house and not a home. But then Cory started visiting more once Riley was old enough to take the train without getting nervous, and Topanga would stay home with Auggie while Cory and Riley would visit Shawn. They’d always bring something along when they went. Something permanent. A photostrip from the boys’ childhoods, or a drawing of a cat Riley made on the train ride up, all jagged lines and the kind of innocence they all thought she’d have to lose eventually.

The picture of the cat Riley drew at age nine is still up on the fridge, and it has the same lack of finesse that her art still has today. But that’s the thing Maya admires most about Riley: she never lets being terrible at something stop her from doing it. Maya knows if she hadn’t had a natural talent for art, she would’ve never pursued it, even if she knew how much she loved it. Fear of failure and rejection runs so deep in her that she thinks it must be paramount to her personality that this point. She doesn’t know who she’d be without it.

But she doesn’t need to; at least, not for the next four years. She is going to the Tisch School of the Arts in the fall, and this is their group’s last spring break together. Maya, Zay, Lucas, Farkle, Riley and Smackle have all been going to Shawn’s cabin every spring since their freshman year of high school. The first two years, Cory demanded that Shawn come along to “babysit.” Shawn ditched them to go hiking both years, and once Cory caught wind of this and the fact that nothing even remotely scandalous had happened while Shawn was absent, he allowed the six of them to go the next year unsupervised.

Most of the time, when the six of them are together, it’s chaos. They’re all loud personalities, and being cooped up in a tiny house for five days doesn’t usually go swimmingly. Last year, they nearly burned the place down when Zay and Maya got into a “flaming sword battle” with burning marshmallows on sticks. The year before that, Smackle and Riley got into an all-out fight over whether or not Buzzfeed quizzes were stupid or not. Riley told Smackle she doesn’t know how to have fun, and Smackle called Riley shallow, and Riley cried, and it took two whole excruciating days for them to start talking again. Lucas, their mediator, couldn’t even solve it. It ended up being Zay who finally out an end to it by telling them he was sick of needing to choose sides. They’re all friends, and they need to act that way. Riley apologized first, which still infuriates Maya to this day, and that was the fight that caused the biggest rift between Smackle and Farkle. He confided in Maya that he couldn’t stop thinking about how torn apart Riley was by being called shallow by his girlfriend.

Things became even more strained between the two of them after that, and their breakup came ten months later and was more drawn out than anything Maya has ever seen. Worse than when Lucas thought there was something romantic between them. Worse than her crush on Josh that was strung out to its last dying breath until Alan fucking Matthews sat her down and asked if she was okay and if his son was hurting her. The reality of the situation sunk in then, how she had been chasing him to ignore a much larger truth, and her come-to-Jesus moment about her sexuality came shortly after.

Worse than… anything.

It’s still bad even though it’s been a full year. They’re all still friends—Smackle is currently inside watching Animal Planet with Zay—but it’s strained. Maya can tell that Smackle feels more left out than she did when she was on the outside of the group looking in, even though they all invite her wherever they go, and Lucas has been dancing around both Farkle and Zay with long looks and stolen glances—the same long looks that Farkle himself gives to everyone he’s friends with, falling in love more easily and freely than he’d ever be able to quantify scientifically. The same long looks that Maya has been giving Riley since the day they met.

Maya is tired. She just wants everything to be alright. She wants to paint and see her friends happy and kiss Riley. Apparently, the world only wants her to do one of those things.

But even if she can’t kiss her, Maya is happy with Riley. She always is. Being with Riley in any state is better than being with anyone else. Even without the Bay Window, without cars backfiring and people screaming, they’re still safe. There’s stars to blanket them now, and bullfrogs from the pond just through the woods to talk back to them. No matter where they go, they’re still Riley and Maya. Riley is Maya’s best friend on earth, she always has been, and she knows that will never change.

Which is why she should’ve known that kissing her wouldn’t change it either.

“Hey, Maya?” Riley says sleepily from her place on Maya’s shoulder. Maya hums, lost in her own thoughts. “Why are cicadas so loud?”

“Why are you asking me?” Maya snorts. “There are two scientists right inside that I’m sure would be happy to ramble for hours about the etymology of cicadas.”

Unlike anyone else, because Riley is very much unlike everyone else, she doesn’t note Maya’s usage of a two-dollar word. Instead, she ignores the answer entirely, still trapped in her thought process. “Do you think they’re screaming?” It almost makes Maya laugh that Riley continued on as if Maya hadn’t said anything until she realizes that Riley knew all too well what Maya had proposed and how awkward it is for her to talk to both of those scientists right now for much different reasons. She sees the long looks Riley has been giving Farkle for years, and she sees the crafty ways she avoids conversation with Smackle. Maya notices more about Riley than she does anything else. If Riley were an academic subject, Maya would be a scholar in the field. “It kind of sounds like they’re screaming. I worry about them whenever we come up here. They only make noise at night. Do you think they’re hurt?”

“No, honey. I think maybe…” Maya sighs, pushing Riley’s hair away from her eyes so she can look at the night sky better. Riley’s hand tightens in the sweatshirt she borrowed from Shawn’s closet and turns her head slightly to watch the stars move while Maya thinks. “I think maybe they’re singing.”

Riley hums happily at that. “I hope so. Singing in their own special cicada language.”

“What songs do you think cicadas would like?” Maya is always glad to distract Riley from the negative thoughts that flit through her mind.

“Oooh… Bad 80s pop songs with weird beats. Yeah, definitely. Like, you know that one that Lucas is always playing?” Riley hums a little bit of it, and then starts singing it choppily. It’s a bit off-key but she’s clearly trying so hard, just like the way she always sings. Maya recognizes it immediately as Dela. Riley’s right, Lucas played this song non-stop when he discovered it in his venture into genres that weren’t the country music forced on him his entire childhood. She’s missing a few words here and there, so Maya joins her to fill in the spaces.

“I’ve been waiting for you all my life! Hoping for a miracle. I’ve been waiting day and night, day and night!” Riley suddenly sits up and clambers to her feet in that innately clumsy way she always seems to move with and begins jumping as Maya attempts to join her whilst still singing. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life! Waiting for redemption. I’ve been waiting day and night. I burn for you!”

Maya bears down hard on the trampoline at the right moment, and Riley sails high into the sky as they loudly finish the chorus of the song. She collapses onto her back with a shrill giggle, momentum bouncing her several times before she comes to rest. Maya joins her once again, a bit breathless, and then Riley looks over at her with her perfect toothy grin and Maya wonders if she’ll ever be able to breathe again.

And then Riley leans over, cups her cheek delicately in the cover of night, and kisses her. Simple, like they’d done it hundreds of times before, and for a moment, Maya thinks maybe they have. Maybe she’s met Riley before this life, with no bay window but the same amount of safety. Maybe they kissed then, too, and this is just a continuation of everything they’ve done before. It somehow feels more believable than something this natural being their first kiss. Distantly, Maya can hear Dela playing from the portable speakers inside, and she smiles into the kiss. She cradles Riley’s cheek, and Riley’s other hand rests against her steadily beating heart, and it’s perfect. Maya feels like she can finally breathe again.

Riley pulls back only slightly to look at her, and while Maya knows she’s blushing, Riley is not. Her smile is sweet, candy, like spun taffy that Maya wants to pull at until her smile is all that’s left of her. She wants Riley to be this happy always. It makes her a bit dizzy to know that she has the power to do that for someone who is constantly pushing aside her own happiness for others.

“Always wanted to do that,” Riley says in that quiet way she gets sometimes, but only ever around Maya.

Maya nods, and matches Riley’s grin. “Me, too.”

And perhaps it was always as simple as that. Their friends are still a tangled mess of unspoken feelings inside, but under the cover of darkness, her and Riley are just fine. There has never been anything tangled about them, and Maya feels foolish that she convinced herself there ever was.

#ask #amelia #rilaya #fic #girl meets world #is amelia your tag now? your url is too powerful #masterpost