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kaminocasey · 1 year

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Bonsoir Chapter 7: Take My Memory

Summary: Order 66 took so much from everyone. Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Death, Angst WC: 2.5K A/N: Okay, I PROMISE you we just gotta get through this chapter and then the next one, it'll be better...

“Are you sure you want to go to this park?” Mara asks Cassia as they near the park that Gregor had once taken Cassia to.

Cassia nods, parking the speeder. “It’s been over a year, Mara.”

Cassia wouldn’t say she’s moved on from Gregor. She’s been thinking about him a lot the last few weeks. It’s weird to see the park now and remember the first night that she and Gregor ever spent together. It simultaneously feels like it was so long ago and like it was just yesterday.

There’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t miss Gregor. No one had had an impact on her like this since meeting Mara. Maybe one day she’ll meet someone else, maybe she won’t. Either way, she’s not going to force it. She’s content enough alone.

As the girls get out and start walking Wedge, they stroll down the pathway along the waterfront. The sun blares down making the day perfectly warm, on the verge of Fall. It’s absolutely beautiful.

As Mara and Cassia find a nice place in the grass to set up their picnic, Cassia lies back on the blanket. It was a good day for her sundress, since she knew she wouldn’t get many more days to wear it.

“I’m thinking about dying my hair pink. What do you think?” Mara shows her a picture in the magazine she’s reading.

Cassia looks and grins. “Oh, that’s different, but I love it and I think you’ll look absolutely gorgeous. Are you sure you want to get rid of your lavender?”

Mara’s hair had been a soft purple for as long as Cassia could remember. It went well with Mara’s sepia colored skin.

“I think it’s time for a change.” Mara grins, excitedly.

“Then, I’ll go with you and perhaps do something different with my hair too.” Cassia knocks her knee against Mara’s.

“I truly inspire you, don’t I?” Mara teases.

“You know it, darling.” Cassia laughs.

After a few hours, they start to pack up their picnic but are stopped by a familiar man. Mara nods her head in his direction and Cassia looks over. She’s seen him before in the store. He comes every couple of weeks.

“Hi, Cassia, right?” He smiles.

She smiles back. “Yeah! It’s Oro right?”

He waves to Mara who’s waiting on Cassia and trying not to give her a big grin. “Yeah, I can’t believe you remembered.”

“What can I do for you?” She smiles, politely.

“I just saw you and wanted to say hi.” He smiles. “Also, I wanted to invite you to a party tonight.”

“A party?” Mara chimes in, picking up Wedge and stepping closer.

“Yeah, it’s not like a rager or anything. Just a few people getting together for some drinks at my friend’s place.” He points to his group of friends who all start waving and grinning like they’re in on some big secret.

“We don’t do parties, but thank you so much for the invite.” Cassia tells Oro apologetically.

“Well, could I maybe take you out to dinner sometime?” Oro tries.

Cassia starts to panic a bit. She knew that this was a possibility one day, that someone might eventually ask her out and she thought perhaps she’d be ready. But she’s not. And she looks to Mara for help.

“Oh, Oro. That’s really kind of you, but-” Cassia starts.

“But you don’t date?” Oro asks, looking kind of irritated now.

He’s always seemed so nice and always buys something when he comes into The Spine. Cassia’s always been terrible at saying no, so this isn’t something she’s used to.

“She doesn’t.” Mara speaks up. “Because we’re married.”

The dread leaves Cassia’s body as Mara takes her hand and lies for her.

“Oh. I- I had no idea.” Oro stammers.

“That’s because you didn’t ask.” Mara interjects with a smug, yet polite, smirk.

After all, Cassia couldn’t go losing business.

“I definitely will next time.” Oro nods. “Have a good one.”

When Oro joins his friends again, visibly shaken and embarrassed, walking like a dog with a tail between his legs, Cassia and Mara can’t help but chuckle. Cassia smiles at Mara, gratefully and Mara just kisses her on the cheek.

“I’ll always have your back.” Mara promises her.

“Thank you.” The tension leaves Cassia’s body and they start walking back to the speeder.

As they walk, they start to notice more people whispering and covering their mouths in horror, all piled around their comms and their holopads. Cassia looks to Mara, concerned and pulls out her comm, pulling up the latest news.

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t this…

JEDI FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON. ANYONE ASSOCIATED WITH THE JEDI WILL ALSO BE FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON. THERE HAS BEEN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON THE CHANCELLOR’S LIFE THAT HAS BEEN PROVEN TO BE CARRIED OUT BY THE JEDI ORDER. AS OF NOW, ALL CLONE TROOPERS WILL BE EXPECTED TO EXECUTE ANY FOUND JEDI ON SITE.

“What the fuck?” Mara pulls the comm to her to get a better look.

“Aunt Joc…” Cassia whispers, tears in her eyes.

“We gotta go.” Mara pulls Cassia into the speeder.

As soon as they get in Cassia’s speeder, they take off down the road back toward Cassia’s apartment. Cassia is beyond confused. The Jedi would never… No Jedi would ever do that. They were peacekeepers. They weren’t violent people. Jocasta would never.

“I need to comm Dyer to see what the hell is going on.” Mara tells Cassia.

Cassia nods in agreement. She doesn’t know what’s going on but she’s an anxious mess all over again. Surely, they didn’t mean the temple librarian right? She wouldn’t be in on any plot like that anyway.

Right?

“I need to get to Aunt Joc.” Cassia tells Mara desperately.

The sun is starting to set and it’s starting to get dark out. That should make it easier to sneak past any guards. If there’s anyone who stops them, they can just say they’re lost.

“It’s not safe, Cash.” Mara murmurs. “In the morning, we can go and check it out. There are going to be clone troopers swarming the temple right now. It’ll be hard to get in.”

“They’re going to kill her, Mar… She’s a Jedi. They said any Jedi.” Cassia glares.

With a sigh, Mara speeds past The Spine and keeps going toward the center of Coruscant. Toward what sort of danger, they don’t know. All Cassia knows is that she hopes she makes it in time. If even to just get some sort of answers.

Daro, Day of Order 66

“So let me get this straight… you want me to train these… soldiers. Who are not clones?” Gregor asks, confused.

The captain nods with a serious face. “That’s correct, Captain. If you don’t comply… well… let’s just say, you should rather us need your services than not.”

Gregor is beyond frustrated. He’d been promised leave. He’s been busting his ass trying desperately to get back to Cassia. After losing everyone, all he needs is to see her and hold her. If she’s even waited around for him. He would understand if she didn’t. He would be sad, of course, but, he would understand.

“Carry on.” The captain dismisses him and walks away.

Gregor stares at the cadets in front of him, already knowing they’re nothing compared to the clones. How this new “Empire” thinks that they could even compare… he’ll never know.

Later that night, in his barracks, Gregor lays in his bed, looking at Cassia’s handwriting like he does every night. The book is beaten and torn at this point from all the shit he’s gone through in the last year.

Gregor decides right then, what he has to do. He has to escape. It’d be easier if the other 49 commando captains would help him, but since they seem to be for the Empire… he feels he’s alone. How could he be the only one who wants to leave?

Gregor slides the book under his bed and looks over at Captain Neo, a former commando captain for the 501st. “Hey, Neo.”

“What’s up?” He looks up.

“You like your post?” He questions him.

Neo tilts his head. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“Really?” Gregor’s eyebrows shoot up in shock.

“Yeah, really. Do you not?” Neo sits up.

Gregor sits up too, putting his feet on the ground. “Well, these new TK troopers are no clone troopers, that’s for sure.”

Neo nods in agreement. “Yeah, but that’s in the past, vod.”

With a noncommittal nod, Gregor lays back down, putting his hand behind his back as he looks up at the bunk above him.

The Jedi temple is eerily quiet as Cassia sneaks through the halls, careful not to be seen. She makes her way to where she’s pretty sure the library is. It doesn’t help that she’s never been here before.

After a few minutes, she finally finds the library, she finds bodies of young and old Jedi littering the floor and she covers her mouth, immediately, tears springing to her eyes.

She had seen dead bodies before, but not like this. She’d been the one to find her grandfather in bed after he’d passed in his sleep.

Mara was outside, keeping guard, while also trying to get ahold of Dyer. Cassia had promised her she would be careful and quiet and not cause a scene, no matter what.

When Cassia makes her way through the isles of books, she nearly drops to her knees. Her Aunt Joc lies there against the bookshelf, holding a young Jedi boy, about fifteen. Both of them clearly were shot by clone troopers. Cassia starts shaking, trying to decide if she should kneel down and touch Joc. She knows that she’s gone, so there’s no point, right?

Still, she kneels down anyway, tears flowing, trying to keep one hand over her mouth so no one hears her.

“I’m so sorry.” Cassia whispers, squeezing Joc’s foot. “I’m so sorry…”

Cassia gets the soft warning beep from her comm, indicating that Mara is telling her that it’s time to get out of there. With one last look, she realizes that Joc’s hair is being held up by the wooden hairsticks that were a gift from her great grandmother when they were children. Her grandmother had a matching pair as well. Not wanting them to end up in the wrong hands, she takes them out of Jocasta’s hair, and places a kiss to her forehead before running back the way she came, tears falling down her cheeks.

“There you are. Did you find her-” Mara looks at the tears flowing down Cassia’s face and then sees the wooden hairsticks in her hand. “Oh, Cash…”

“We’ve got to go.” Cassia gets into the speeder, allowing for Mara to drive away.

Without a word, Mara holds Cassia’s hand while she sobs. Coruscant seems quieter today.

Later that night, Cassia lays on her couch, clutching her pillow, trying to keep her calm, but having a difficult time with it. The tears had finally stopped. The lonely realization of everyone she’s ever cared for, aside from Mara, is gone. Her parents, her grandparents, Gregor, and now Aunt Joc… Mara is all she has left.

“Dyer is here… is that okay?” Mara whispers.

“Do you really trust him?” Cassia sits up, wiping her eyes, noticing Wedge at her feet.

“We need answers, Cash.” Mara shrugs.

She didn’t think the clones were evil. They were made to take orders and ask questions later. And she didn’t think that Dyer knew that Jocasta was Cassia’s aunt.

“Do you want me to talk to him downstairs and then I can just tell you what he says?” Mara asks her.

Cassia shakes her head. “Let him up.”

Mara goes and gets Dyer and a moment later, they come into the kitchen. Dyer’s silver hair was pulled up into a bun at the back of his head like always, and he’s in regular civilian clothes.

“Cassia.” Dyer nods, politely.

“Dyer…” Cassia looks at Dyer’s face, the shared features still so similar to Gregor, enough to make her heart start hurting again like it was just yesterday that she lost him.

The thought angers her and she excuses herself to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Cassia grips the edge of the sink, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to will the tears away. Will this grieving for Gregor ever end? She’s so tired of hurting constantly. And now with Aunt Joc… Cassia is convinced she will never know peace.

After a few minutes, there’s a knock on the door.

“Cash, come out. You need to hear this.” Mara’s voice is firm.

Cassia looks at herself in the mirror, wiping her eyes again, one last time before whispering to herself. “Get it together, Cash.”

Cassia opens the door and joins Mara and Dyer in the kitchen. Dyer is leaning against her counter, arms crossed.

“Tell her what you told me.” Mara tells him, nodding to Cassia.

“My brothers… they got the order to execute the Jedi… it was like they couldn’t help themselves… like they had to do it.” Dyer tells Cassia. “I didn’t… I couldn’t. I knew it was wrong so I didn’t do it.”

Cassia looks between Dyer and Mara, confused. What did this mean? How could they not help themselves? Why was Dyer able to resist the order if his brothers couldn’t?

“I don’t understand.” Cassia tells them.

“I think the Kaminoans did something to the clones… I can’t prove exactly what, but there was talk of a clone a while back trying to assassinate the chancellor, Fives, I think his name was… The Kaminoans did a lot to keep that clone quiet… And now the chancellor is the one who gave the order to execute the Jedi… I think he may be in on it… I know I sound crazy…” Dyer rambles. “I… I can’t go back to base, though… I’ll be decommissioned for refusing the order. Order 66, it was called…”

Order 66… The Order that was responsible for killing off all the Jedi… the Order that was responsible for the death of her Aunt.

“You can stay here.” Cassia looks back up at Dyer, nodding. “You’re always welcome here, Dyer.”

Mara gives Cassia a grateful look.

“Thank you… truly. Whatever you need, I’m here.” Dyer responds.

Her heart warms at his words, at his loyalty. He reminds her so much of Gregor and she thinks that he knows that.

“There is something I need, actually.” Cassia turns, looking out her window at the Jedi Temple.

“Name it.” Dyer tells her, no hesitance in his voice at all.

Cassia knows she can trust Dyer with the information she’s about to give him. A part of her brain is telling her to keep it to herself, but she needs closure.

“I want to give my Aunt Jocasta a funeral. I need help getting her body…” Cassia tells him.

“I’ll do it.” Dyer nods.

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @idlenesses @loverofclones @captain-splock-you

#tcw gregor #bonsoir fic #tcw #the clone wars #tbb #the bad batch gregor #tbb gregor #tcw gregor x you #tcw gregor x reader

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imthediamondintherough · 1 year

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@0lympian-c0uncil

I felt sad reading the new chapter of Lore Olympus not just because of the portrayal of Deme's character (but that was a key factor)

So I wrote this. And decided to share it.

Sorry if the quality is bad. This is not a full chapter. Just something I wrote for fun (sort of).

No promises on whether or not this will appear in the story.

You may be wondering why I am sharing this and not chapter 1-- the answer is simple: I dont do things in order. Probably a bad thing.

Story:

A beautiful woman with sepia skin and auburn hair greeted them. Her yellow dress standing out in the wintery dead of the faded colors of dead leaves. She was nearly as tall as Demeter herself and her green grey eyes sparkled like they carried a thousand stars. Her yellow dress had brown embroidered sunflowers on it and Demeter's hazel eyes widened with recognition.

Demeter blinked. "Mother..!?" Tartarus grimaced but didn't get up from pulling a few leaves out of Anthony's hair.

Rhea beamed "I'm just here for this one," she patted the head of Tartarus's human avatar. Tartarus scowled. "I'm an adult I don't need supervision."

"Oh you started back taking care of yourself! Your hair isn't a mass of tangles anymore! And you smell like hibiscus instead of rain water!"

At this he glowered at Demeter.

"Thanks a lot" he mouthed angrily. Anthony retreated back to Demeter's side.

"You used to be so much prettier before you two separated. Did you move past your fallout with your ex-wife?" Rhea asked trying to be hopeful.

Tartarus stared at her, unresponsive.

Demeter flinched at how cold the air had gotten. Anthony grimaced hiding behind Demeter.

Demeter almost preferred him glaring at Rhea in embarrassment. At least they knew he was okay to talk to.

Tartarus stared quiet for a long time. At last he looked off to where the sun was setting.

"Yes." He voiced. But he sounded dead inside. As if existing was too painful to bear. He walked a few feet away and sat down, turning a darker shade of brown.

Rhea frowned "you're not going to slip back into your languid ennui mode are you? I won't be able to watch someone so kind become THAT again."

Tartarus flinched. "Then why'd you bring up old events?"

"I saw you were looking better and wanted to be sure you were improving !"

"You did it before," Rhea pleaded.

Tartarus sulked. His adolescent form looking cute in a teenage... Ish way.

"What's languid mean and what's ennui?" Anthony blurted feeling like a idiot for not knowing.

Demeter looked at Anthony. "Oh that's when--" she glanced at Tartarus was pointedly glaring at the sunset. Rhea was still trying to hold a conversation but he only responded every third statement.

"Well languid is a state of being where you become really sluggish like Persephone when I tell her to clear all the roses out of her room.

"And ennui is a state of mind when you can't muster the strength to do things or you feel that nothing can make you content with life," Demeter explained.

"That sounds like depression" Anthony remarked.

"In a way it is," Demeter said sadly. Apparently Tartarus had this problem before.

"Aw how cute!" Rhea said. She'd listened to Anthony and Demeter talking and stopped so she could admire the parenting moment. but then her eyes recognized the similarities between Anthony and Tartarus.

"Cute??" Anthony raised an eyebrow.

" Tartarus you... Have a child?" Rhea asked in disbelief.

"..."Tartarus stopped glaring at the sun which seemed to be setting faster.

"He looks just like you--" Rhea smiled. "I'd like to meet his mother" she said eagerly.

"I'm his mother," Demeter said immediately. She took the reins because Anthony would not handle meeting that woman... And Tartarus shut down when she tried asking about Anthony's real mother.

Tartarus scowled. Rhea gaped.

Her eyes glared at Tartarus.

"HOW COULD YOU?! I SAID GET BETTER! I DIDN'T SAY BED MY DAUGHTER!" Rhea raged.

"I'm not his biological mother" Demeter said but Rhea didn't hear her. Too busy yelling at Tartarus about responsibility.

With a sigh Demeter put her hands over Anthony's ears.

"I know how babies are made. My caretaker had a lot of boyfriends" Anthony remarked.

'Still... Tartarus and Demeter....Scary thought' Anthony cringed.

"Oh FOR FUCKS SAKE DEMETER ISNT HIS MOTHER" Tartarus snapped.

"Who is then?" Rhea asked. Tartarus looked like he regretted every life decision that led to this.

"Do you at least know who she is?" Rhea pressed. Tartarus stayed quiet.

"Why did I walk into that?" He muttered.

It was nighttime now. Thousands of fireflies had appeared. To Anthony they were tiny stars he couldn't touch. To Rhea they were reminders of her ever growing family.

"Anthony," Demeter said.

"yes?" Anthony looked.

"About what I said about ennui"

Anthony looked confused.

"Promise me you talk to me if you ever feel this way," Demeter pleaded. She grabbed Anthony's hands, his own cold in comparison to hers.

"I promise" Anthony said then shivered in the cold night air. Her eyes softened.

#demeter fic #possible spoilers #demeter #its not that funny but i laughed #lore chthonic order #tartarus #greek mythology

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bloodborne-on-pc · 1 year

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I started writing this mid-September and never finished/posted it for some reason so I’ll be doing both those things right now:

Ok, had a dream last night about playing a video game. I can’t remember what it was called, only that it was marketed as a “Soulslike” game. The graphics were kinda low-poly - looked a bit like a Nintendo 64 or Playstation 1 game. I don’t really remember who my character was, except that he was a preteen/young teenager. He wore green, which was a very similar shade to the grass, so it was kinda hard to see him sometimes tbh. The game could switch between third-person and first-person view, though I mostly stuck to first-person. I was supposed to be looking for someone, who was either a family member or good friend. There was a map, showing different islands that I was supposed to travel to while looking for this person. The islands I hadn’t visited were sepia-toned, and the ones I did were in full color.

The first island I don’t remember too well - it was basically a tutorial level, meant to introduce players to the basic controls and story. It was a very short part of the game, and the island itself was shown as very tiny in comparison to the others on the map. At some point I discovered the VIP I was supposed to care about had disappeared, and got myself teleported off the tutorial island.

So this is when all hell broke loose. At some point I tried running away from an enemy that was a bit too strong for me, only to end up in a worse scenario - a small town full of people who hated me for some reason. So then I ran away from there, into a dangerous wilderness. Running through that, I ended up in a castle full of hostile goblins who were very, very strong. I eventually concluded I’d have to run all the way back to the beginning of the island to make my life easier, because everything was just getting more and more powerful.

Also, forgot to mention, there was an honestly kind of interesting mechanic called “memories”. In a place where someone formed a powerful memory, it would leave a sort of mark behind, and entering the area would let you experience a vestige of that memory. In the game itself, these were typically violent and traumatizing memories, resulting in a miniboss fight. There at least was a sign you were entering a memory - it would always start getting foggy when you got close.

I encountered two of these memories - the first one was inside a ruined shack. It depicted a father and son getting killed by a giant spider. Of course, the giant spider in the memory attacked me - and like everything else in this dream, I tried to run away, but I think I might’ve actually killed it, with some difficulty.

The next one I encountered, the area was marked with large, inhuman footprints. I drew close, and uh, suddenly was surrounded by several Sangheili from the Halo games, for some reason? All I remember is that they were much bigger than my young player character, and there were a lot of them. So naturally I ran away.

Anyway I can’t remember anything else from that dream. So end of post.

#weird dreams

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lazysublimeengineer · 3 years

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you bring color to my monochrome world

Summary: Her smile was the burst of psychedelic hues to Takemichi’s dull, greyscale life.

His loyalty and conviction brought out a multitude of colors to Hinata’s sepia life.

His candid, azure irises painted a sheer, rich texture of prismatic hues to Mikey’s void, insipid life.

Characters:Takemichi H., Hinata T., Manjirou S.

“I wish you a kinder sea.”

— Emily Dickinson

i. I will protect you.

Takemichi was drowning.

He was drowning in the sea of doubt and hopelessness. What was he thinking? Going back to the future to undo every mistake that he did there and save Hina? He couldn’t even save himself from Kiyomasa’s punches and roundhouse kicks. He clenched his fists as he stared at the blinking street lights around the city that evening, ignoring the stares from the other people because of his mottled face and bruised body.

However, was it the right thing to do? To run away again? To struggle in vain and restart his stale life all over again?

He could feel his eyes started to water as he remembered Hina’s forthright yet breathtaking smile when she uttered those words at him in the midst of his own torment and wretchedness: I will protect you.

Her smile was the burst of psychedelic hues to Takemichi’s dull, greyscale life.

And he swore to himself that he won’t fail her this time around.

He would save her.

Even it could him his own sanity and life in the long run.

ii. The only way to win is to kill me! I definitely won’t lose!

The first time that Mikey saw Takemichi was when he was in the middle of an underground fight with Kiyomasa which was to be honest looked like a one-sided battle since the poor guy was being treated like a punching bag by his opponent.

He pursed his lips. Underground fights were stupid and he didn’t want to have the name of the Toman to be tainted by a useless slugfest like this. He was about to make his way there when he stopped midway upon hearing the young man’s speeches that was brimming with firmness and determination.

“The only way to win is to kill me! I definitely won’t lose!”

But the one that caught his full attention was his deep blue eyes shining with tenacity and valor. There were only few people around the world that possessed that kind of reckless yet admirable conviction.

He hadn’t seen that kind of eyes and fighting spirit since his late older brother.

That day he had made up his mind. He needed to have a buddy like Takemichi into his life.

He signaled for Draken to make their presence known when Kiyomasa was getting berserk and demanding for a bat.

The crowd went in complete, deathly silence as they presented themselves and was already beating up Kiyomasa after he succinctly made his existence well known in front of Takemichi.

“Takemitchy. See ya later.” He shot him a carefree grin before he turned away and left the place completely. The young man’s befuddled yet ingenuous expression was forever etched into his memory.

His candid, azure irises painted a sheer, rich texture of prismatic hues to Mikey’s void, insipid life.

iii. I ain’t gonna give her up ever again!

Hinata’s hand was trembling.

Nevertheless, she wouldn’t give these people the satisfaction of seeing the fear creeping up slowly within her. She knew that Takemichi was too trustful and forthright to a fault even though it’s also one of the reasons why she had fallen in love with him.

She just can’t stand there and watched the two delinquents domineered him into their own whims and wants whenever they wanted to. She promised Takemichi that she will protect him after all and she always held and fulfill her own promises.

However, she made a mistake of thinking naively that they can get away unscathed after she pulled out a brave yet foolish stunt of slapping the blond right in front of the class. She tried not to shake as she felt a hand gripped her wrist and heard the threat of the tall male with braided locks that made her swallow thickly.

“Hey. Do you want me to kill you, bitch?”

She heard more words and threats that came out of his mouth before she decided to respond and gave him a piece of her mind. Takemichi was always bruised, crestfallen and lost every time she saw him dropping by her flat. She had enough of these people dictating and treating him like their own slaves. Even if this will put her in a risky situation, she will defend and protect the man she loves.

She was now ready for the consequences of her actions but she was taken aback when Takemichi’s hand gripped the tall male’s shoulder firmly and demanded him to let her go. No. No. No. No. She didn’t want Takemichi to suffer and take the brunt of her actions. If she had to intervene again to save him, then she will have to do it even if it could cost this her own life.

She was about to speak again when Takemichi’s next words made her eyes widened briefly and rooted her to the spot.

“I ain’t gonna give her up ever again!”

It was stated with raw conviction and firm temerity that she had to double take and stared up at him with wide eyes that was brimming with amazement and concern for his well-being now that he challenged the two delinquents in front of them.

‘Takemichi-kun…’ Hinata restrained a gasp as she observed Takemichi in silence. It was like seeing another facet of him that was different from what she used to see. But she liked his tenacity and firmness. He may be a crybaby and wore his heart on his sleeve but she knew that his heart was in the right place.

After a troublesome misunderstanding later and apologies pouring from her lips, she waved goodbye to Takemichi and let him hang out with his newfound friends.

His loyalty and conviction brought out a multitude of colors to Hinata’s sepia life.

And she could never get tired of loving him.

iv. That’s why I’m going to create an era for delinquents.

Mikey stared at the horizon in front of them with a serene smile on his face.

Takemichi observed him from a few distances away, looking at the quiescent male who was sitting on the grass. Draken was also standing a few meters away from them, sporting an unflappable expression on his face.

From what he observed so far, Mikey was a delinquent but he was not a bad guy. He was simply a person who possessed some radical beliefs on his own and translated it into his actions that may be questionable to other people due to his carefree yet strong personality and straightforward manner of speaking.

He had also noted some odd yet interesting behavior from the gang leader himself. Even though he’s mostly laid back and insouciant he had a habit of flipping a switch to his moods seamlessly, revealing a hidden cold anger and ruthless nature from within as he had witnessed on how he just beat up Kiyomasa like it was nothing.

There was a saying that the eyes were the mirror to the soul.

But when he looked at Mikey’s onyx eyes it was a bottomless pit of nothingness. Devoid of any emotion and was a vacuum of an empty black hole. He remembered how he stared down at Kiyomasa like he was nothing more than a pathetic insect under his palm that’s waiting to be crush. And how Mikey’s eyes almost suck the life out of him earlier in that tense situation with Hina, almost resigning himself for the inevitable punch that would come from his hands only to be tricked and playfully derided by him that he’s a dummy and he doesn’t hit girls.

Hence, he had reached a conclusion that Mikey was hard to understand and read his intentions sometimes.

However, one thing was for sure: Mikey was not a bad person and he’d be willing to help and save him alongside with Hina to prevent them from meeting their miserable future and demise.

He just had to convince Naoto to get to the bottom of the problem and find out the reason why Mikey turned out the way he was in the future.

“That’s why I’m going to create an era for delinquents.”

The gang leader didn’t need to convince him twice when he asked him to join his gang after he shared his goal and vision to him. Just looking at his charismatic smile and earnestness, Takemichi knew that he was drawn in. Hook. Line. And sinker.

v. You should come with me. I like your guts. Hanagaki Takemichi.

He stood up but he was still looking at the horizon when he finally revealed his vision and intentions to him, uttering his name correctly for the first time.

“You should come with me. I like your guts. Hanagaki Takemichi.”

Mikey couldn’t picture out his exact reaction to his words but he could already surmised the genuine astonishment and wonder that was written on his clear blue eyes. Then the seriousness and determination that would crossed his face afterwards.

That’s the kind of guy Takemichi was. Honest, sincere, determined yet reckless sometimes when it came to defending his beliefs and the people that he mostly cares about. It’s easy to read him. Just dropped a verbal bomb in front of him and he’ll be getting a multitude of interesting expressions from his face.

…and there were times that he isn’t.

He had seen how Takemichi would be like an open book but with hidden pages that was not visible to the naked eye. Takemichi wasn’t a liar yet he was a secretive person as well. He cannot forget his initial reaction when he asked him casually if he’s really a middle schooler in that school. It was an unguarded moment for the young lad and he had a look that screamed of panic and anxiousness.

Interesting.

Even though Takemichi was an emotionally expressive person and vocal about what he believed was right and wrong, he still couldn’t decipher what his real purpose was. All he knew as of the moment was, he was too protective of his girlfriend Hinata who gave him an amazing slap earlier.

He was willing to defend and fight for her even against to the people like them.

What a reckless guy. But he guessed that was a part of Takemichi’s own charm. He couldn’t help but to be intrigue by this person who possessed those electrifying sky-blue irises and a sheer will determination.

‘Hinata huh? What a lucky gal…’ Mikey thought as he gazed at Takemichi’s profile.

For now, he could only basked in the vibrancy and vivid hues of Takemichi’s presence, coloring his monochromatic world with the promises of hope for the future.

(A/N: I don’t own Tokyo Revengers and any of the characters from this franchise. Inspired by the scenes that shows the relationship and interactions of Takemichi with Hinata and Mikey. I believed in Takemikeyhina supremacy but I lived for some drizzle of angst and pining hence the end results of this one shot. Apologies in advance for some grammatical errors and if some of them are OOC as English is not my native language and I’ve tried my best to keep them in character. Reviews are amusing hence I look forward to hear them from you).

#tokyo revengers #oneshot #fanfiction #takemichi hanagaki #manjiro sano #hinata tachibana #hinata x takemichi #mikey x takemichi #mikey #light angst #pining #character introspection #relationship study #character study #takehina #takemikey

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daily-wof-designs · 2 years

Text

Design Process - Book Six

All designs in this category will be under #mr!

Moonwatcher - She has to be green. tis the law. I also went a bit ham with the teardrops and moon shapes on the wings- I like to think that because she was the first moonborn in... likely many centuries, the moons had so much love to give her that it overflowed. hence the many tears instead of one.

Secretkeeper - I wanted to make her look soft. Also olive greens spoke to me for her

Alba - Not enough pink icewings

Arid - The one time we ever hear from them is in the music club so... drum time!

Peregrine - He’s studying medicine so I gave him a pseudo medical mask

Barracuda - The one line we get from them is “Tag! You’re it!” So i went playful energy

Newt - I wanted a mudwing design that wasnt just... brown

Bigtail - I kind of designed him after the fish he was described as eating because i misread it as... his character description instead of his lunch’s. whoops!

Boto - Nervous energy

Pike - wooo yeah boy red accents!! i made him very similar looking to piranha. perhaps theyr related!

Changbai - Only described as “haughty looking” so.

Pronghorn - described as overentherusiastic, so i tried to get that energy. Also, actual prong horns.

Carnelian - she deserved better rip

Sepia - My first thought was photographer but then i realized they dont have cameras. so painter!

Ermine - wanted to take a crack at trying to design a lower-circle icewing since all the ones we see in canon are 1st/2nd circle!! i imagine lower circles arent as strict about wearing their rings on their necklace and are more expressive. so they tie their rings around their wrist (fifth circle!!) also jingle bells cause it seemed fun.

Siamang - monke

Fearless - i love reddish purple nightwings. so swag

Thrush - I think too many skywings are described as red or bright orange. wheres my muted peach rep.

Firefly - lowkey forgot she existed but i always love drawing hybrids. gave her mindreading for funsies bcus shed prolly be hatched in the rainforest?? under the moon?? also idk if you caught on but the material of the bracelets correspond to their winglet. silver winglet wears silver bracelet, copper wears copper, etc. shes in the ruby winglet because i think theyd expand to more winglets in the future

Garnet - PURPLE SKYWING PURPLE SKYWING

Icicle - I think the royal icewings should have funky colored accents as a treat

#not designs #housekeeping - design process #mr

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iceeckos12 · 3 years

Text

and he sees dawn before the rest of the world

or: a fucked up little au of 200. intended to be unsettling so just be warned warnings for: unreality (i think that’s the appropriate term? please lmk if not), implied self harm, fucked up relationship dynamics; lmk if i should tag anything else

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face, as though he could stop the barrage of sound just by covering his eyes. His alarm was unsympathetic to his whinging, continuing to scream its daily mourning dirge, grieving the end of another period of blessed rest. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up, christ…”

He reached clumsily for the phone on his bedside table, only for his fingers to scrabble uselessly around the ghost of its presence. He was momentarily so stymied by the absence that it took him longer than it should’ve to remember that he’d moved it to his desk, to prevent him from giving into the temptation to hit the snooze button just one more time.

Letting out another slew of curses, Martin shuffled onto his other side and reached for

A jaw-cracking yawn near split Martin’s face in two as he hunched over the gleaming tea kettle, steam beginning to pour from the spout. He shuffled his feet, eyes meandering sightlessly over the cow-shaped mug drying on the counter, the cluster of crumbs that he must’ve missed when cleaning up after dinner last night.

He hated mornings. Maybe it was the preemptive dread he felt at the thought of going to work; maybe it was because he hated having to be upright this early in the morning. Either way, he felt strangely disconnected from his morning routine, each motion carried out with habitual, distant efficiency as his thoughts raced along like a hamster on a wheel just below the surface.

It...was a bit silly for him to be worried about work, though. The stuff he was doing was interesting, and he had the loveliest coworkers a guy could ask for. They’d even offered to teach him a thing or two about artifact restoration once they learned the truth about his CV.

He drew himself up to his full height and rolled his shoulders back, clouded sigh mingling with the fog from the boiling water. Things were going well. Hell, he was actually going to get top surgery sometime in the next year or so, which was amazing considering his teenage self would’ve laughed at the very idea of being out.

There was no reason to dread going to work.

Martin carefully poured the water into the mug, letting the tea steep before adding a splash of milk and sugar. When he picked the mug up, the heat from the tea had bled into the ceramic, so warm as to be uncomfortable against the delicate skin of his palms. He didn’t let go, just kept on gripping the mug, like trying to contain the last gasp of a dying star.

Martin stared around his kitchen. The waterstains on the inside of the cow mug slowly evaporating into the still air; the crumbs that had sat there for who knows how long. The empty, blank face of his fridge.

Martin lifted the mug, and steam collected on his glasses as his breath wafted over the surface of the tea. He drew away, waiting for the lenses to clear, before leaning in for another sip.

His reflection stared back at him, a monochrome facsimile of his face rimmed in white smoke, and he recoiled, the mug slipping from

Working nine to five, what a way to make a living…

Martin stared out the window, his hand pillowed in the palm of his hand as Dolly Parton crooned in his ears. Split second by split second, he let his eyes catch on a point in the darkened surroundings, only letting his vision blur into incoherence when that fixed point whipped out of sight. It was a game he sometimes played when he got bored of reading or playing cards on his phone.

The old woman across from him let out a quiet grunt and shuffled, drawing his attention back inside the train. She was a gnarled old thing, bowed by the gravity of grief and time and life, though Martin couldn’t say for certain whether it was one well-lived.

Barely getting by, it’s all taking and no giving...

That was the thing about people watching: Martin was never quite sure if it was disrespectful to make assumptions about a person’s life based on a passing glimpse. He could never be sure if the person with the grumpy expression had a foul attitude, or if they were just a kind person on the tail-end of a truly awful day.

The old woman was knitting though, and Martin generally found it safe to assume that knitters were nice people.

For a moment he thought about taking out his headphones and striking up a conversation; the pattern looked devilishly complicated, and as a beginning knitter, he always appreciated tips. There was an unfinished set of fingerless green gloves in the back of his closet; it was easy for hands to get cold in the Archives, and the color suited

“Alright, Martin?”

Martin startled, his pen clattering to the floor. He looked up to find Sasha perched on the edge of his desk, grinning like the cat who’d just eaten the canary. Or, he thought she was. His eyes kept skittering from one corner of her face to the other, like a smooth stone skipping across a lake.

“Uh…” Frowning slightly, he let his gaze travel over the shelves of books, the humming lights, his cluttered workstation. He removed his glasses so he could rub at his aching eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Probably just the stress. “Yeah—yeah! Sorry, I’ve been distracted all morning.”

Martin got the impression of Sasha’s grin being tempered with genuine concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Just...work, and my mum…” he gave an expansive you know sort of gesture at life in general. “Thank god the weekend’s coming. Anyway, is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come get drinks with Mel and Tim and I after work, but…” She cut him a meaningful glance, the bottomless holes where her eyes should be boring bright spotlights into the back of his skull. “We’d understand if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Is Georgie coming?”

Sasha shrugged. “Probably. Mel didn’t say so, but they’ve been all over each other since they started dating.”

Martin laughed. “True.” Tried to gauge how he was feeling, whether or not he was up to a night of socializing. You should go, a strangely posh little voice murmured in the back of his head, and he found himself saying, “Actually yeah, I would like to come. I could use a night out.”

Sasha clapped him on the shoulder, and the impact rattled through him like a gong being struck. The echoes of it vibrated all the way down to his toes. “Excellent.”

Martin hesitated, and then, not entirely sure of what he was asking, “What about J

“Thanks for waiting with us,” Georgie said, smiling beatifically up at him. Passed out on her shoulder, Melanie let out a drunken snuffle and curled over, like she was thinking of climbing through the spaces of Georgie’s ribcage and sleeping in her chest cavity forever.

“Not a problem,” Martin replied, scratching the back of his neck.

To be honest, waiting with her was as much for his benefit as theirs. At first, he’d thought it was just stress; now, he was very sure that something was wrong. It wasn’t anything specific, or even bad; more like there was a sepia camera filter tinting the world dusty and nostalgic.

After his third drink, he’d looked into Tim’s laughing face and thought he might burst into tears. And he still didn’t know what Sasha was supposed to look like.

But he didn’t want to worry her, so he just bit his lip and rocked back and forth on his heels, even though the motion made his head spin that much worse.

(Maybe he needed to take a couple of days off. Have a lie-in. But that would—that would delay his work. The Institute’s work. Delays were bad; he felt strongly enough about that to carve it directly into his skin so that he’d never forget. He could roll down his sleeve and take a peek at it whenever his motivation slipped, like checking a watch for the time.)

For lack of anything else to say, he nodded toward Melanie. “She’s really out, huh?”

“She’s always been a lightweight.” Her tone was wry, but her eyes were soft and fond as she brushed Melanie’s bangs back from her face. “Never gets hungover though, the lucky bastard.”

“The nerve!” Martin said, affecting offense, which sent them right into another giggling fit.

Once he got his breath back, Martin mentioned offhand, “You know, considering how similar they are, I’m surprised that her and J̷̧̱̜͕͕̤͉̣̺̺̝͖̠̹̜͙̣͉̩̺̤̟͉͓̞̹̗́̆̂̋͆̊̎́͂̑͋̌͊͘̚͠ͅo̶̧̨͕̖͔̬̖̝̪͚̻̟̠̜̣̰̅n̶̥̉́̎͑̀͂͆̿̾͛̾̔̐͌́̅̂͂̒̆̐́͊̄̾̍̅̅͝

“Stop it!” Martin screamed, grabbing the mug from the counter and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the wall, scattering shards of ceramic across the floor. “I know

“What you’re doing,” Martin gripped the bathroom counter, ignoring the persistent ringing of his alarm, staring deeply into his reflection, “Stop it, stop it, nononon̴̡̡͚̮̠͙̻͔͎͈̜̓̈́̈́͜͜ͅǫ̸̯̠̱̖̲͙͍͎͒̇̑͒ṅ̶̨̩̳̩̝̹̳͎͈̬̦͆́̈́́͐̏̈́̕͝͝o̸̡̻̱̗̥̮̙̳̞͗̄͋̈́̀͝n̸̢̛̟͙̘̱̩͕̦̫̤̮͆͑̊͋́̂̽͜o̶̘̱̗̘̘͑̿͜ņ̶̥̞̠͕͓̠͔͚̮͈̬͕̀͗̄̓͑͑͛̕ͅő̸̮̫̓͌̾̌͋́̂̏̒̃̃̄̚n̵̗̫͕̺̻͔̭͖̉͒͗̀̈́̃̅o̴͓͉͉͗͋̎̕—”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay—”

“No!” Martin shrieked, shoving Jon’s hands away, skittering backward across the broken and cracked stones of the Panopticon. Through the arched windows, the sky was a poisonous green and black, and multitudes of eyes orbited the room, watched his every movement with sickening fascination. “Just—stop.”

Luminous gaze weary and resigned, Jon did as he was bid, dropping back onto his heels.

Rubbing sweat and grime and tears from his face, breathing harshly through his mouth, Martin took a moment to remember where he was, why he was here. It always took a moment for everything to come back.

As though unable to keep silent any longer, Jon asked, “So what was it this time?”

“Don’t,” Martin hissed, dragging his hands through his greasy hair.

Though his expression went mulishly annoyed, Jon raised his hands placatingly, a silent, alright, you win. It was a familiar gesture, one that he’d done so many times while they were living in Scotland, while they were traveling the devastated landscape of the apocalypse. It made Martin ache for when things were simpler, when his heart didn’t just feel like one big bruise.

He gently set the thought aside, and turned a more assessing eye on the Panopticon. Normally the changes were insignificant, but something thick and red and black had started to coil around the windows, weaving in and out of the floor, cracking the stonework. Martin traced the strange things with his eyes, frowning—

“Christ, Jon,” he whispered in horrified realization. “Are...are those corpse roots?”

Jon bobbed his head. “They’ve long since overtaken the rest of London. It’s just us, now.”

Martin sucked in a long, frustrated breath through his teeth. There was no point trying to talk any sense into Jon, not after so long, and force would only result in immediately getting kicked back into that horrible dream world.

“And the others?”

Jon shrugged, tracing the cracks in the earth with his fingers. “Still alive, and living happily in the dream I made for them.” He didn’t say, unlike you, but the implication was so loud he might as well have screamed it.

“Shut up,” Martin muttered, pushing to his feet and limping to one of the windows.

Corpse roots, as far as the eye could see. They covered the city of London in a blanket of tangled black, so thick that it was impossible to see the buildings beneath.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, sagging against the side of the window, too tired to be angry.

When the silence persisted a second too long, Martin turned around to find Jon with his head tilted back, examining the corpse roots consuming what had once been the Beholding’s seat of power, expression distant and thoughtful. The eyes, ever-watching, never understanding, drifted closer, greedily drinking in the sight.

When Martin realized that Jon wasn’t planning on answering, he let out another sigh, ruffled his bangs away from his face, and said, “You’re never there.”

Jon’s gaze snapped to him with a laser-edged focus. “Sorry?”

“If you’re going to trap me in a dream,” Martin said, each syllable clipped and precise, “You could at least be there.”

Like it always did, Jon’s face crumpled, and he looked away. “...I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, we’re well past that and you know it!” Martin shrieked, striking his fist against the stone. “You made your fucking decision to damn the world, to hell with whatever we thought, the least you could do is stop hiding behind your pointless guilt and act like this is what you actually want!”

It would’ve been better, if Jon had simply become drunk with power and was no longer listening to reason. The fact that he’d made this same decision every single day with clear, unclouded eyes and sound judgement—as Jon the human, rather than Jon the lynchpin of the apocalypse, pupil of the Eye—made Martin want to scream.

“I do want it!” Jon snapped back, then quieter, “I do.” He looked up at the corpse roots again, eyes going misty. “I just—I should witness every second of misery and pain that I’m causing. I don’t deserve to just...forget.”

Wind snapped and howled around them like a creature mad with rage, and Martin idly wondered what would happen to this world once Jon died. If it would all go back to the way it had been before, or if the shell of the apocalypse would remain until the end of time, a corpse husk of a reality warped beyond repair.

“You shouldn’t have to experience this alongside me though,” Jon continued, rallying. “So I would really appreciate it if you’d stop breaking your dreams.”

“Tough,” Martin snapped back, folding his arms obstinately over his chest.

“You could be happy!” Jon reiterated, stabbing his index finger into the palm of his hand. “You could just...live your life! Forget! There’s no point in being here.”

“It’s a deal, remember? Where you go, I go. Fuck you very much, but I don’t break my promises.”

Jon stared at him for one beat, then another—and then promptly burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Martin stared at him, utterly bewildered, as the laughing slowly began to dissolve into desperate, heaving sobs, as he began rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around himself in a mockery of comfort.

“I miss you,” Jon gasped out, half-crazed. “So much. I miss you every day even though you’re right in front of me. But I can’t go to you, because I don’t deserve to, not when I’m the one who trapped you here. I’m everything that’s wrong with the world. I always have been.”

“Jon,” Martin sighed, low and tired.

Jon buried his face into his knees. “No, you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t forgive me just because you pity me, that’s not what I—I don’t—”

“Who said anything about forgiveness?” Martin shook his head. “Fine. You’re an asshole, and I hate you. But it’s like I said.” He gestured toward the Panopticon, the roots, the poisonous sky. “When has deserving ever mattered?”

Jon lifted his face from his knees, though his gaze stayed rooted to the floor. “...I suppose.”

“Right,” Martin agreed. “I’ve accepted that you’re not going to change your mind, but...at the very least, I don’t want to die alone. So can you please just…”

There was a long, weighted pause.

They’d had arguments like this what felt like hundreds of times before. Martin begging for Jon to change his mind, Jon refusing with that same resigned, determined expression on his face, before sending Martin back into his dreams.

Maybe it was because Martin wasn’t asking him to change his mind this time. Maybe it was because they were so close to the end of all things, and soon they’d be the last two people on earth. Maybe it was because Jon was tired, had been for so, so long, and he had won anyway, so there was no point in fighting any longer.

“Alright,” Jon whispered.

…

...

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face.

Somewhere in the far distance, the toilet flushed. A moment later, a pair of feet padded lightly into the room, hesitated at the edge of the bed, and then made their way over to the desk. The alarm abruptly went silent.

Martin uncovered his eyes and grinned up at Jon as he tentatively slid back between the covers, every movement careful and deliberate, like he was reading stage directions from a script.

“Look at Mr. Workaholic, having a lie-in,” Martin teased, pulling Jon into his arms and inhaling the scent of his coconut shampoo. “Must be the end of the world, or something.”

Jon stiffened for just a moment, before turning around and burying his face into Martin’s chest. “Or something.”

#iceeckos12 writes #my writing #tma #jonmartin but make it especially tragedy flavored

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anonymous0writer · 3 years

Text

how you get the girl | wonderland s.s

author: @anonymous0writer

wc: 1946

warnings: none!

a/n: i literally wrote this right after the first because i love this so much

summary: as the heat rises, so does the curious tension between a certain green-eyed beauty and a handsome dark-haired boy. the impending end of their idyllic last summer looms, prompting stiles to admit a long-held secret.

The pale, smooth skyline of azure and the sprinkle of voluminous clouds lay over the horizon, the air thick with early summer humidity, the only relief a tepid breeze that snaked through the trees and appeared in short bursts like a shy child. Summer had grabbed Beacon Hills in a sudden burst of a heatwave and refused to let go; residents of the town taking to smaller clothes and long hauls to the beach for a break of the unbearable heat. Windows were down in cars, letting the speed of the car create the racing breeze that offered peace and houses had their AC’s turned up, people huddling in rooms to keep the heat at bay.

In the particular case of Lydia Martin and her friends, refuge was found in the small, prettily decorated guest house positioned off the clear blue watered pool of the Martin residence. The teens were slumped along the edge of the pool, legs dipped into the cool water in an attempt to cool themselves down.

Scott McCall sat at the pool’s edge, his mop of dark hair stuck to his forehead in sweaty clumps, the boy mumbling a soft curse before he tore off his thin shirt and leaned forward, dropping into the gleaming, turquoise pool with a loud, attention grabbing splash. His friends, a collection of girls and a boy best friend added to their tight circle of companions rose their brows and looked on in mild amusement. Scott’s dark head popped up from under the water, his lips breaking into a goofy, lopsided grin.

“It’s so nice.” He entices, grin still slanting across his face.

Delaney, her tall figure hunched and her long legs plunged into the refreshing, cerulean water, returned Scott’s infectious grin. In a hurried movement, she scrambled to her feet, her dark hair tied closely to the nape of her neck and her patterned, red swimsuit hugging her generous curves. Stiles covertly watches his friend with amber eyes, the memory of her lips crushed softly against his and her candied taste rushing over him a sudden waterfall. The dark-haired boy is pulled out of his reverie by the flying droplets of chilly water produced by Delaney’s cannonball into the wide pool. Stiles shakes off the memory with a comb through his thick, unruly umber colored hair, telling himself the tall beauty was drunk and didn’t appear to have any recollection of the delicately passionate moment. Some minuscule part of the boy wished that his feelings for Delaney were somehow reciprocated, but the sharp tang of alcohol on her lips crushed any foolishly childlike hope. Despite accidentally overhearing the news of Delaney and Brett’s inevitable breakup, Stiles saw how much his friend liked the broad shouldered lacrosse player. He was a fool for ever thinking anything different.

“Stiles!” The shriek of laughter snaps Stiles out of his daze again, Lydia’s mouth forming his name again as she beckons him to join the rest of their friends. Stiles studies the idyllic scene of his friends in a sentimental attempt to burn the memory in his mind, wishing to stay in this short second of time forever. Malia, her light hair pulled into two tight, now soaked braids, is seated on a laughing Scott’s broad, sun-kissed shoulders as his hands grip the curve of her thighs to stabilize his girlfriend. The couple is laughing and splashing wildly at a howling Delaney. Her dark hair came loose of its tie, the curls floating in the water as she tries to move sluggishly through the water to escape Scott’s sporadic splashing. Lydia is behind her, her hands clutching Delaney’s as the girls try to shield themselves. Stiles' tan face breaks into a beaming smile, the edges of his mouth tugging up and showing off his dimples. An ache to live forever in this idyllic moment forms under the pulse of his heart.

“Stiles, c’mon!” Scott encourages, his dark ochre eyes soft and welcoming.

Delaney looks up, her sage eyes watching as Stiles peels off his half-buttoned blue flannel, exposing the pale, freckled chest of his wiry frame and the sharp cut of his hips. A fierce blush rises to her freckled cheeks as the boy nimbly climbs into the crystal water. The haze clouded memory of Stiles’s soft, fluffy dark hair in her grasp and the lingering taste of his salty lips flashed in her mind, making her cheeks reach hotter temperatures than the humidity of the air. She knows the dark-haired boy remembers the kiss, but she wonders if he meant to kiss her back or if he was just caught up in the ‘we’re all leaving, so what matters anymore’ rationale. Delaney swallows sharply, turning her attention to the game of chicken being organized. Stiles offers to carry Delaney on his shoulders, choosing her as a teammate without a beat of hesitation. Delaney meets his coffee colored eyes for a charged second before she grabs his freckle spattered shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin against her palm. Once seated on his shoulders, she tilts violently to the left, but Stiles steadies her with his hands. His long fingers dig into the tan skin of her thighs, laughing as Delaney pats his damp hair in a gesture of thanks.

The inseparable group dissolves into laughter, enjoying the cool water to beat the heat of the short summer. The lingering threat of their assured end is shoved in the backs of their mind, using it to push themselves further into the moment. The five teens were desperate to outrun their doom.

___

The embers sparked and hovered dizzily around the flickering orange flames, casting dancing and flickering shadows of gold on the ground. The day had crawled away slowly, finding a hidden place to stay as the night descended around the sky, blanketing it in heavy dusk. Delaney lay tucked sleepily in a chair arranged before the sultry fire, limbs folded and sweatshirt obscured face leaning against the fabric back of the seat. Her dark, still damp hair was tied at the nape of her neck and falling out from under the scrunched edges of her hood. Her hands played idly with the frayed strings of the Cyclone hoodie that didn’t even belong to the chartreuse eyed girl. It was Stiles, the boy having given her his worn, and former lacrosse hoodie when the girl expressed the chill of the night air years ago and she’d failed to give it back. Delaney tugged the sweatshirt up to hide the bottom half of her face, imagining the dark-haired boy’s heady scent still lingering on the maroon, velvet-like fabric. Part of her knew she never made a real attempt to give the hoodie back, liking the way it fit on her curvaceous body and the way she could carry a piece of her favorite person around.

“Hey, Del?” Scott’s soft, low voice floats over her, prompting Delaney to lift her exhaustion-heavy head and peer at her friend. “We’re going inside, it’s cooling down. Wanna come?”

Scott was standing tall, dark eyes warm and kind as Lydia fluttered at his side; Malia already retired to the house and deeply asleep on the old pullout couch of Lydia’s basement. Stiles was still seated next to Delaney, the two staring in relaxed silence at the flickering flames of the slowly decaying fire. Delaney’s pale eyes slid to the boy next to her, watching to see if he made any twitch to move into the house, and when Stiles gave a soft shrug and continued his supervision to the glowing embers, Delaney refused gently.

“I’m good. We’ll go inside soon enough to watch the movie.”

Scott gave a nod and turned away, leaving Lydia to grin at her curled up best friend.

“Alright. Don’t stay too long, you may fall asleep.” Lydia jokes, a slanted smile gracing her pretty, delicate features.

Stiles’s coffee eyes trailed over Lydia’s features, studying her softly and giving her a small smile before the red-haired girl danced into the house with a swish of her hips. His eyes lingered, his reverie of the fire broken for a brief second by Lydia’s glorious presence.

“Stiles,” A soft plea of a voice came from the brunette next to him, her eyes worrying over him.

Stiles turns, finding Delaney already watching him, no doubt catching his rapacious gaze on their cherry haired friend. His cheeks blaze pink lightly, barely perceptible in the thick dark of the night. Stiles plows a hand through the thick locks of his dark hair, still sodden from the sun-filled hours spent in the turquoise waters of the large pool. He watches as Delaney blinks, her dark lashes fanning over the smooth plains of her cheeks slowly before she lifts her eyelids; which seems to take a strenuous amount of work by the speed of the flutter. Stiles’s breath hitches, the way it does when something snatches your breath greedily, sneaking it away as you take in the sight before you. A flash of Lydia’s perfectly serene and porcelain appearance flickers in his mind, crashing with the charming innocence of Delaney and the exhaustion tugging at her actions. Suddenly, Stiles is caught between them two, suspended between the devoted years of yearning for the beloved ginger and the sense of serene happiness and unrelenting comfort from the dark-haired beauty. Stiles swallows thickly, forcing the war of attention from his mind and refocuses desperately on the flare of the dying fire.

“Do you want to play something?” Delaney’s soft voice lures him farther into the pull of her magnetism.

“Like what?”

“Twenty questions? Something that doesn’t require me to move.”

“Sure.” Stiles agrees, leaning further back in his seat, feeling the heat of the fire shimmer over him in pleasant waves. His sepia eyes flutter close, drinking in the night with his other senses. “What are you thinking of right now?”

Delaney’s pink lips quirked up at the corners, her dimples showing softly. Stiles loved to remake games, except this time these were just straight up questions instead of making it more complex. She leaned her own head back, closing her pale eyes and relaxed, letting the exhaustion from the day’s activities calm her.

“I’m thinking about you.”

“And what about me?”

“Is that another question, Stiles?” Delaney laughed, the sound sweet and short, hovering in the air. “You know you only have twenty.”

A beat of silence followed before Stiles’s soft, raspy voice answered. “What about me?” He repeated.

“Do you like Lydia?”

The question hung in the air, a pivotal moment of truth that could alter their relationship in ways they couldn’t have imagined. Delaney’s throat was tight, her question a risky plea that flew right over Stiles’s head. Stiles didn’t realize Delaney’s secret attempt at revealing her feelings despite how poorly she hid it; raw emotions and the truth written over her olive skin. Her sage eyes scan Stiles’s profile, optimism playing in her irises like a splash of black paint against a white wall; stark and obvious. Stiles turns to face her, russet eyes locking onto hers as they stare at each other. Hope catches in the girl’s throat, hard and dangerous. Stiles’s eyes run over his best friend, slow and steady as if he’s trying to figure out the answer from her face. As the brunette boy stares, he’s lost. Fallen in the depths of Delaney’s charm and small, gregarious smiles and easy nature. The boy can’t stop himself from getting pulled into her orbit, and at this moment, he doesn’t try to stop it. He loses the fight gladly, finding peace in the solidarity of his best friend. At this moment, Delaney is the only answer. Delaney is the answer.

“No, I like you, Delaney.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles fanfiction #stiles imagine #stiles stilinksi imagine #teenwolf #stiles x oc #stiles x delaney #stiles teen wolf #taylor swift #taylor swift 1989 #1989 era #songfic

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daystens-archive · 4 years

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kandreil but like kandrew and/or kevneil happens before andreil pls and thank you???

hey there!! so. writing this was actually quite satisfying. we deserved kandreil endgame fuck you and everything forever. this turned out a but long tho :/ around 1400 words or so. i feel so powerful. anyway thank you for joining my mini and kinda mediocre celebration!!!!!!!!!

edit: also on ao3

Kevin Day had always been a very organized and clean individual. He kept his stuff in place, and he tried to do the same with his head, no matter how poor the results usually were. His clothes were always folded the same, his books were alphabetically and thematically ordered. He also organized his memories very well, folded them in his mind, categorizing them as good, bad, in between, and the ones to never be revised again.

He had exactly four favorite memories.

The first one was blurry, warm colors and it felt dusty, old, like a sepia photograph. This was how he remembered his mother, bright and radiant under the sun, paler than Kevin himself but the same green eyes, with an exy racquet in her left hand, her head held high and a proud smile after Kevin had scored for the first time.

The second memory was a quiet one, Kevin getting a french word horribly wrong and Jean laughing— actually laughing at him. Between dark rooms and broken bones, Kevin had managed to make Jean laugh.

The third one was one he placed together. An old letter, the first sight of a tall man with the same smile as Kevin, the word 'father'.

The fourth one was the one that filled him with grief, but made his chest feel warm every time. His first kiss with a dead boy, or as well as. Kevin didn't think about Nathaniel often, except he did. Frightened eyes, almost Kevin's height, not one bit of shame, but a peck on the lips that was shy.

Nathaniel had been with Kevin and Riko for a month on probation. He had disliked Riko, despite Riko's efforts to be likable and accepted. Looking back, Kevin felt kind of bad for him and left him thinking, that should have been the first clue. Nathaniel had adored Kevin, though, and Kevin used to melt under the attention that had always belonged to Riko. And it seemed like it would last forever, Nathaniel being their third one, for better or for worse. But Nathaniel disappeared overnight and it took Kevin a whole year to understand that he wasn't coming back. It wasn't meant to be that way, but it was. Someone always leaves first. This was the reason he left Riko. Like Nathaniel disappeared overnight, Kevin decided this family had taken too much from him, and if he was going to die, he would do it as Kevin Day, not Kevin Moriyama.

Because the fourth memory is not one of his favorites because of the memory itself; but because of what it represented to Kevin. Someone always leaves first, and he would never be the one that's left again.

And no matter how much it seemed he would at some point after Nathaniel came back as Neil, and he kissed Kevin again —because there were some things that Kevin couldn't deny to himself, no matter how evident it was that he would lose it— as Nathaniel had come back, so did Neil.

"Satellites can hear your thoughts from space," Neil muttered against Kevin's forehead. Kevin was lying half on top of him, his hand on Neil's chest and Neil's hand on Kevin's back. He pushed Kevin's chin up and looked him in the eye. "What is it?"

It had been three months since Baltimore. Remembering it was almost like a fever dream, a goodbye promise that Kevin was meant to be number one, a phone on the ground, and a zero. Then, Neil with a burned cheek, fast words in French, and an eleven-hour long interrogation. And then Neil was safe.

"How did you even survive?" he said, softly. It was raining outside. It was Saturday, and Andrew had a session with Betsy, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to be affectionate.

Neil shrugged, nonchalant, indifferent as he was. "It's kind of what I do."

Kevin supposed it was. He could never be indifferent about it, though. The longest years and the longest hours of Kevin's life had been those in which he didn't know if Neil was alive, the clock ticking, too much happening and yet nothing at all, his arms restless from not knowing if he would ever be able to wrap them around Neil again.

"Don't you ever want to talk about it? Or, think about it?" Kevin asked.

This seemed to break Neil's careless mask for an instant. "I don't— I don't know what else to expect," he said. "I was always expecting I would die. I think more about the fact that I won't die. Is there a difference? I think there is."

Kevin thought he understood. "Like you think about the future, not the past."

Neil traced Kevin's queen tattoo as if Kevin would break, as if he was thinking about the past. "I've always thought about the right now. There wasn't time to think about the past. Or the future.

There was something unsaid.

"And now?"

Neil raised a single eyebrow, habit he had picked up from Andrew, and his gaze fell on Kevin's lips.

"Now there's time for the future."

"That's good," Kevin said.

"Yeah." Neil kissed him.

The door opened. Neil broke the kiss.

Andrew stood there, an indecipherable expression on his face. He looked at Neil, and then at Kevin, and then he sighed and headed to the bathroom. Kevin felt Neil relax under him.

“He won’t say anything,” Kevin told him.

“I know,” said Neil. Something in his voice assured Kevin that he did know.

Kevin vaguely remembered Andrew when Neil went missing. There was a flame in him, one Kevin had never seen in him. There was also the slight view of the fire that came with the loneliness, and it reminded Kevin of himself, after Neil disappeared for the first time, back when Nathaniel still existed. It was a question he had never dared to even think, but it was there. “Why would he leave me?” even when it was irrational. Even when Neil had had no choice in either of these situations.

“Andrew kissed me once,” Kevin said.

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he did. Not jealousy, but perhaps anger. Possession. Again, irrational. He sort of wanted to laugh every time he remembered; not everyone was like Riko. However, he didn’t expect exact understanding.

“I think he told me he liked me once.”

Kevin blinked at him.

“You think?” he whisper-shouted.

“I don’t know! It was kinda vague,” Neil said in the same tone.

From the bathroom, Andrew said, "I can still hear you, you know?"

Kevin wondered the same thing.

Neil ignored it, as he did. "Besides, you're telling me that he kissed you. Kissed. Want to talk about that?"

That was also a good question.

Kevin could somehow still remember how Andrew tasted, how it felt. Cold enough to burn, a cigarette of ice pressed to his lips. Andrew’s hands in Kevin’s hair— then nothing. Just a standard static in the air, we kissed, it murmured, and that is all.

"It was before we recruited you," Kevin said. “We were both a mess back then. So that happened.” He bit his lip, just a little shy. A little lower, “I won’t happen again. I messed up.”

Neil didn’t have the time to reply when Andrew got out of the bathroom, face just washed. “Am I done cockblocking you two?” he asked, and didn’t wait for an answer. He lied against the wall, way too casual for him to be indifferent about this. “We were both messed up.”

Kevin sighed. Without forgetting that Neil was in the room with them, he figured this conversation needed to happen eventually.

It had been different with Andrew. With Neil there was expectancy, adrenaline, like running away from the same devil. Falling for Neil had been a lot like a tragedy set on fire, but the smoke of it evaporated when they were together and safe. Falling for Andrew, however, was resignation. Static, background noise you couldn’t help but notice.

“I did hurt you,” Kevin said.

Andrew didn’t miss a beat. “You touched, you got too close, and you stopped when I told you,” he confirmed. “And then I closed off, got too distant. You didn’t ask me to get closer, but maybe you should have.”

“Yours was just a reaction,” argued Kevin, heatless.

“So was yours.” Andrew sighed, pushed himself off the wall, and sat with them in his bed. “Here is what happened; I kissed you because I liked you, and you kissed me back because you liked me as well. I needed space as much as you needed touch. This is not something to be ashamed of. We were not for each other at that precise time of our lives, and that is all.”

Kevin had expected, somehow, that having this conversation would quiet the noise, stop the static. It did not. He could still remember the exact amount of care with which Andrew would hold him. Not gentleness, or passion. Care. Quite similar to how Neil held him. As Kevin needed to be held.

Kevin took a deep breath, intertwined his fingers with Neil’s, and said, “And now?”

Something appeared to break inside Andrew. Kevin didn’t have time to analyze it.

“Now, you two are in a happy and healthy relationship,” Andrew said with a sarcastic edge. Neil’s hand tightened around Kevin’s. “I’m not planning on breaking you two up, no need to worry about me.”

“I think,” Neil spoke, for what seemed ages, “that you told me you liked me once.”

Andrew’s eyebrows rose slightly in what meant he was annoyed. “Yes, your point?”

It was quieting. The noise. The rain seemed to be louder outside. Or perhaps it had always been loud, it’s just that there were other louder, deafening sounds drowning it.

As if on cue, Neil said, clearer than before, “I think that, if Kevin likes you and me both, and you like Kevin and me both—”

“I don’t need a pity free ticket to your relationship, Josten.”

“I don’t do pity, Minyard,” Neil said. “You said you wouldn’t mind blowing me—”

“He said what?!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Kev. I think I would mind. ” At Andrew’s scowl, he continued, “However, I wouldn’t mind kissing you. For now at least.”

It dropped, finally.

“I also don’t need you being a martyr,” Andrew said, but it carried no heat. It was just him, asking Neil to argue with him. To prove him wrong. Kevin could tell, as he could tell Neil would give him exactly that.

“I’m not,” Neil stated, plain and simple. “I would like to kiss you for you actually, not for Kevin.” Andrew blinked at him, Neil smirked, just a little smug. “Yes or no?”

Andrew stared at him for so long Kevin almost started to think he was angry. Then he just said, “Yes.”

So they kissed.

Andrew was almost timid; shy even. Hesitant. Neil kept his hands to himself, and Kevin vaguely remembered the first time they kissed; Neil holding Kevin’s face, his arms, his chest. Balance, Kevin thought, amazed. Neil and Andrew kissed with such a care, moved with grace, in syntony. Neil’s hand was still holding Kevin’s when Andrew’s own hand reached out to theirs without breaking the kiss. Kevin got the most warm feeling inside his chest, a wave of infinite affection.

After they kissed, it was simple. Andrew kissed Kevin again for the first time since their terribly messed up first chance. And it was good. Neil had been able to feed Kevin’s starvation for touch, and he had given Andrew his space. It was not only care. It tasted like a victory.

When they broke the kiss, Neil gave Kevin a shallow peck on the lips and lied on Andrew’s bed in his previous position, dragging Kevin down with him.

“I can’t believe you two parasites have invaded my bed,” Andrew muttered under his breath. Kevin chuckled, because he could.

There was a certain balance in the room. Or perhaps it was between them. A certain peace. It was strange, but not unwelcome. And it was raining outside, but it was sunny as well. Neil lied facing the ceiling, Kevin’s face on his chest, Andrew’s back to the wall, holding Kevin loosely but with care while he joined hands with Neil. It was messy but it was okay. It would be. Kevin had exactly five favorite memories.

#kandreil #aftg #all for the game #tania.500 #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten #i worked three days on this so please read it and love it or whatever #also i'll post it on ao3 in a moment 😝😝😝#prompts #daysten #kandrew #kevineil #should i tag ppl. whatever i'm too lazy rn #t.writing

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thatwitchyaunt · 3 years

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Makeup for Magick/Ritual p4: Litha - The Summer Solstice

Now that I no longer feel like lifeless goop, lets get this show back n the road! Litha! I originally waited so long to write this back in June because I was waiting for the Summer Goth Palette from Baby Bat Beauty to show up (it's even got a shade named Litha!). The have cool highlighters and the few metallic/shimmer single shadows I tried were good, but that palette was a nah.

Anyway, Litha, the Summer Solstice. The longest day and shortest night of the year, where we honor the Sun at it's highest point of power. At the same time, we honor the water as this is the time of year when we are drawn most to it, whether we're drinking it (stay hydrated!) or swimming in it. Yellows, bright golds, warm orange-reds, and blue/sea blues are good colors to reach for. However, bright rainbow colors carry over from Beltane. Think of the Sun's bright light filtering through a prism in a window and scattering rainbows all over the room.

The warm nude and rainbow palettes of Beltane are still in play, so I wont be including them in the list. Not my best photo shoot...

First! Tarte!

Tartelette Toasted Palette - It's really the perfect palette for that orange-red, fiery-nude, sun-scorched eye look that seems to be so popular at Litha (on social media, at least).

Be A Mermaid and Make Waves Palette - Fun fact, you can still buy this palette on the Tarte website, but you gotta use the search bar to find it. A good chunk of these shades a rose/nude rose shade of some kind, but no surprise. It's Tarte. HOWEVER! Some of the shimmers in this palette 1) would be really nice for a solstice eye look and 2) are just really pretty in general. "Shell Yeah" and "Mermosa" if you're leaning towards more Sun worship. "Lagoon", "Splash", and "Bubbles" are great for a look leaning more towards water and the sea. "Splash" and "Bubbles" are duochromes that make for a really nice single shadow look, as well.

BH Cosmetics is next!

Hangin' in Hawaii - One of the first Travel Series palettes I bought, specifically for the purpose of being my "light and airy" summer nudes palette. Is it my favorite BH palette? No, but I figured I'd toss it in.

Summer in St. Tropez - If you have this palette, you can definitely get a somewhat decent sun/water eye look from it. Maybe play with the two topper shades up in the top row to add something to it.

Trendy in Tokyo - Obligatory rainbow palette. Mhmm.

Chillin' in Chicago - Now called Amore in Amalfi, because BH are a bunch of cheeky little shites. This palette can lean Summer or Fall, depending on what other palette you pair it with. If you don't want to drop a crap ton of money on the Tartelette Toasted palette, this can give you a somewhat similar look. They're not dupes, not by a long shot, but they can give you that similar "sun-scorched" vibe.

Mimosa - If you already have this, you can get a good summer-sun yellow-orange look out of it.

Now for Give Me Glow!

Summer Vibes - This is an amazing go-to summer palette, solstice and beyond. Summery neutrals, sunny yellows and oranges, and a couple of nice ocean-blues. The metallic blue, "Summer Fling", has a really nice "Sun reflecting on the ocean" look to it. A bunch of the shades make great summer blushes too. If this palette is every discontinued, I'm buying backups!

Pastel Dreams - These brighter pastels can give off "sun bleached" vibes. Just as appropriate as bright rainbow colors.

Extra Spicy - Perfect for a brighter, more fiery-sun look.

Time for Juvia's Place!

The Masquerade Mini - The blues and green-blue in the top row, paired with the warm brown in the bottom two rows can make a decent "seashore" look that I like on solstice, usually with a pop of yellow in the inner corner.

The Zulu - A more summery rainbow palette. The turquoise shades are beauty!

The Afrique - Obligatory rainbow palette with a nice pop of gold.

The Saharan II - Does the same "Seashore" type of look as Masquerade, except you can go lighter. If I had to make a list of favorite summer palettes, this would be on it.

And now, ABH and Norvina!

Norvina Pro Pigment Palette Vol 2 - A decent amount of blues and couple of yellows if that's what your missing in your solstice look.

ABH Modern Renaissance - When I paired the matte pinky-reds with the gold shimmer, the first thing I thought was "Midsummer Fairy". And so, it made the list.

ABH Rivera - The colors in this palette lean more sun-bleached than a typical colorful palette. And again, I consider it appropriate for the sabbat.

"Our lord and savior, ColourPop!" - Theresa is Dead

Limoncello - It's yellow-toned neutral palette with a pop of green and a pop of blue. If you're leaning towards a more yellow-sun look, it's great! but if you wanna make a water-blue look, you're gonna need another palette. It's so damn pretty though. And the shade "Easy Peasy" is a dupe for the duochrome in the Natasha Denona Zendo palette.

Yes, Please! - I'd say stick to the first three columns for sunny, fiery Litha goodness, and pull in the last darker column for Mabon, but that's just me.

Dream St. - You know those scenes in movies, where they're trying to convey how sweltering hot it is by putting a sorta sepia filter over everything, and filming it through the heat waves coming off of the hood of a truck? Yeah, that's this palette. It always gave off that sort of summer vibe to me. So in the "sun-scorched" category, I guess?

As for specific CP monochromatic palettes; Blue Moon and Uh-Huh Honey are excellent blue and yellow palettes for water and sun looks. Also, fuck that yellow pressed glitter.

On to the solo palettes!

Urban Decay Beached Palette - Though it's got a couple ocean blues, it's better for the sun-scorched eye look.

Glamlite Ice Cream Dream Palette - A brighter pastel rainbow palette, and some shades can read 'sun-bleached", so that works great!

Too Faced Life's a Festival Palette - A bunch of fun, summery duochromes and shimmers, though the more yellow "Fun in the Sun" and "Beamin'" would be the ones I reach for for Litha.

Now the single shadows!

The top five are from Shroud Cosmetics. The middle three are from Terra Moons Cosmetics. And the bottom seven are from Looxi Beauty. As you can tell, my singles lean more towards watery blue-greens and less towards the for fiery sun colors.

Shroud Cosmetics

Ignite (fiery copper)

Vigil (yellow-gold)

Oracle (champagne gold)

Sea of Ghosts (a denim blue-based shimmer with a gold/green shift)

Azura (teal blue with a green shift)

Terra Moons Cosmetics

Skyfall (sky blue with a silver and lavender duochrome)

Meteorite (a golden, pink shimmer with hints of green)

Festival (vivid blue with gold shifts)

Looxi Beauty

Sleep Forever (turquoise blue)

Nectar (golden yellow with shifts of green, blue, and orange)

Catty-Pillar (orange with shifts of pink, teal, gold, and purple)

Dream On (aqua blue with a silver sheen)

Siren of the Sea (aqua, blue, green, and gold)

Slurp! (turquoise with a slight green shift)

Donner (blue with gold reflect)

Now onto the Give Me Glow singles. I'm doing something a bit different this time. Here's the concept:

All of my eyeshadow palettes have mysteriously disappeared and all I have left are my GMG singles. Now I have to use only those singles to curate a palette for the holiday. So mu curated GMG Litha palette is:

First (Top) Row: TBT, Fierce, Sweet Tea, Cream Lace, Cream Please

Second Row: Chili, West Coast, Spiked Punch, Havana, Peach Glaze

Third Row: Starboy, Sky High, Bubbles, My Sunshine, Beach Bum

Fourth Row: High By the Beach, Seaside, Mojito, Deep Waters, Halo

And that's it for Litha! Whoo.. Shop your stash and share your picks for Summer Solstice! Next I'll get the Lammas one done and dusted. Then once Henri fucks off, I can get started and Mabon! Lets go!

#Makeup for Magick/Ritual #Litha #Summer Solstice #sabbats #travel witchcraft #broom closet #witchcraft #magick #rituals

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themonkeycabal · 3 years

Text

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Episode 1 SPOILERS

If you need to blacklist, I will be tagging all things as #tfatws and/or #tfatws spoilers

My roommate keeps calling this The Falcon and the Snowman. I'm not entirely sure it's accidental.

I was going to watch at midnight and then fell asleep. Betrayal. I will not forgive this, brain.

Bucky Barnes character development. Sam Wilson character development. Six full episodes of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. When we watched Civil War, did we think we'd actually be lucky enough to get a buddy idiot cop movie? Let alone six hours of it? #blessed

What are we expecting here? I have no idea, honestly. I think all the clips we've been seeing are from the first couple episodes, so they've hidden any sort of plot from us. We know Baron Zemo's around with his stupid purple ski mask and burning hatred for superheroes and probably specifically for Bucky who he tried (and honestly kind of succeeded, before then ultimately failing dramatically) to set up. And Sharon Carter will turn up at some point. OMG guys, Sharon Carter character development!

I'm just here for the buddy bickering and badassery.

SPOILERS BELOW

New World Order: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes realize that their futures are anything but normal. *Realize*? lol

Also, it's tagged as "science fiction, action-adventure, buddy" Awww.

Aww, Sam looks sad as he gazes at The Shield.

"How's it feel?" "Like it's someone else's." "It isn't."

That's right, Sam! Listen to that voice. That's yours now, baby.

We're just going to roll right into a mission. Rescuing a Captain Vassant, whose plane fell out of contact shortly after take off, from the ridiculously named group LAF, somewhere over Tunisia. Sam's got to keep LAF from doing bad things and the US Military can't be seen doing anything blah blah blah, violation of treaties, yada yada. And Sam's all "blah blah got it". We're on the same page, Sam and me. Nobody wants to hear it, Briefing Exposition Guy.

We will have a Lt. Torres on the ground following along and offering helpful commentary as they go.

Sam is warned to be subtle as he falls backwards out of the cargo plane in very dramatic fashion and then swoops off on his brightly colored wings. lol

Sam gets to the captain's plane but the pilot is dead and a shady LAF guy is piloting. Oh no. Hey, it's Batroc. Last seen getting his ass kicked by Captain America in "CA: The Winter Soldier". He makes some jokes about their prisoner - presumably Captain Vassant. Awful cocky for a guy with a history of getting stomped on, you know.

Anyway, he's about to get his ass kicked by a Captain America again as Sam breaks into the plane. You might just be using wing shields now, Sam, but you're Captain America in my heart. Also, hey, dumb bad guys, don't open fire with an automatic weapon inside a plane or the ricochets might kill your pilot. And his body will slump forward and put the plane into a steep dive.

Batroc distracts Sam while the bad guys gather up Vassant and jump out of the plane with him. They have wingsuits, but Sam has, you know, wings. And like a jet pack. Don't hit the canyon walls, Sam!

Somehow the bad guys have waiting gunships. Did they expect to jump out of the plane over this canyon? I can only assume. Red Wing takes care of one of the helicopters. Man these guys are a pain in the ass. They wing suit into one of the many many helicopters that just happen to be right in the right spot. They're racing for the Libyan border. Then Sam shows up, they throw Vassant out the copter again — this guy is having the worst day — and glide into another chopper.

Man ANOTHER gunship? The hell? They're causing serious ecological damage to this canyon, what with all the zillionty missiles they're firing at Sam. How strapped is this thing?

LT Torres is trying to keep up, and you know, trying to get Sam to not fly into Libyan territory and cause an international incident or some such. Sam is struck by inspiration and not by a missile. But, the missiles are following Sam and Sam is following Batroc's chopper. Sam zooms through the open doors of the chopper, knocks poor Vassant out of the chopper AGAIN (but then catches him), and LAF blows up their own helicopter. Alas, Batroc escaped.

Sam saves the day and LT Torres is like super excited. Don't break your humvee, Torres.

Torres and Sam stop by a tea shop in Tunis, or somewhere. Sam's trying to fix his tech that got a little shot up and Torres buys the tea. A man comes up and thanks Sam for saving his wife. It's sweet. And then Torres gets up and wanders about a bit with his phone as he exposits about LAF. Is Torres about to become a pin cushion? Only instead of pins it'll be bullets? I'm not feeling good about his continued health. He's too cute and earnest.

Oh, he's looking for some sort of hidden, augmented reality tag on the walls. A red handprint, id'ing some group that calls themselves the Flag Smashers. Bad guys are really scraping the bottom of the evil name barrel. Anyway, they think the world was better during the blip. Nothing says better like mass failure of infrastructure and probably world wide famine. They want a unified world without borders. I have big doubts the world would be a borderless utopia during a blip-like event. Power vacuums invite trouble, seldom unity.

Anyhoo. Sam kind of agrees with me, "every time something gets better for one group, it gets worse for another".

Torres will track the 'online chatter'. But he's also heard some wacky things about Steve Rogers, conspiracy theory stuff, "they think that he's in a secret base on the moon, looking down over us". LOL. What? Is Steve a moon angel now? or Santa Claus? "You didn't like fly him to the moon?" Sam assures him that's all very much silly foolishness. Steve's in Boca working on his tan.

Sam's back in D.C. giving a talk about Steve at the Smithsonian's National Air & Space museum. "And he mastered posing stoically". Hey, I have that picture. Also, RHODEY! Hi Rhodey!

"A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after 5 years away. Sending the world into turmoil." Again. I know this was meant to come out before WandaVision, but timeline-wise this works better.

"We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning." Sam holds up The Shield. "I don't know if there's been a greater symbol." Aww, he's retiring the shield. He hands it off to museum people and they put it in a display case. I think Rhodey has some thoughts about this. I suspect Rhodey maybe doesn't agree.

Sam and Rhodey wander through the Cap exhibit and Sam's talking about how when he left (or got snapped, it's not like you had a choice about that, Sam), his nephews were babies and now they're little men. Awww. Rhodey says Sam should bring them to D.C., he'll teach them how to fly, "the right way". lol.

Rhodey says it's crazy to think nobody will be carrying the shield. Sam points out they went 70 years without, so like …

Rhodey wants to know why Sam didn't take up the mantle. BTW, this is a cool exhibit, marvel peeps. Sam says it feels like it belongs to someone else … Steve. Rhodey says everything's broken. Allies are enemies, things are torn apart. People are looking for somebody to make it better. Having made his pitch, Rhodey leaves Sam to stare mournfully at the shield. I think you're afraid to pick up the shield, Sam. Afraid you won't measure up. But, you can do it. I have faith. Also, Steve was kind of a disaster in his own way. He wasn't perfect, which was the point of Steve as a hero. Pick up the shield, Sam.

A fancy hotel, chatting people in the lobby, up to a mezzanine, a group of very Russian oligarch looking dudes and their security. And lo! A metal arm punches through a wall and the Winter Soldier, looking very Winter Soldiery appears and stabs some dudes in the neck. This has a sepia, dream/nightmareness to it. Oh yeah, it's his old shiny silver arm. Totally a nightmare/very bad memory. "Hail Hydra" and he kills the head Russian guy. The poor dude who was just chatting in the lobby is caught trying to get into his door. He swears he didn't see anything, begs for his life and the Winter Soldier shoots him. Bucky wakes up, breathing heavily. Poor Bucky.

Glad he's in therapy. I'm sure goat herding in Wakanda was good and peaceful and all, but, goats will only get you so far. Also glad we've skipped the "wanted terrorist" part and gone on to traumatized hero.

I get the feeling he's not the best patient. He lies to his therapist straight off. Twice. lol. "You're a civilian now. With your history the government needs to know, you're not gonna … [therapist makes stabby motion]." lol (I love this actress by the way. She's been in everything for ages. She's great). "It's a condition of your pardon. So tell me about your most recent nightmare." "I didn't have a nightmare." She starts writing, Bucky objects and tells her she's being passive-aggressive, but he gives in.

He has a list of amends to make and three rules to follow. He crossed a name off. There's a Hydra pawn who's a senator, he helped her get into office. "After Hydra disbanded, she continued to use the power I gave her." Hmm. He tracks her car and listens in on her plotting to have a congressman killed.

* Rule number one: Can't do anything illegal.

He's hijacked the Senator's car and is remote controlling it, making it drive all out of control and freaking her out. He says he was collecting intel to give to an aide to convict her. Absolutely only did that. Not one illegal thing about that at all, no ma'am.

"Rule number two?" "Hmm. What was rule number two?" "Nobody gets hurt. It's a big one." "Then why isn't it rule number one?" Oh, Bucky, you're a jackass.

* Rule number two: Nobody gets hurt.

"I didn't hurt anybody. Promise." He totally broke a dude's hand and then punched him in the face, knocking him out. I mean, there's levels of 'hurt' I suppose.

"The whole point of making amends is to fulfill rule number three." "Of course I completed rule number three."

* Rule number three: "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes. And you're part of my efforts to make amends." He says to the corrupt senator he's just been terrifying. And then he walks away as a tac team pulls up. lol.

What I'm getting from this therapy session is that Bucky is a big fat fibber.

Also he's got a little black book full of names. Including, I see, H. Zemo. That's not going to go as smoothly as taking down a shady government fatcat, I think.

"So you did it all right, but it didn't help with the nightmares?" "Well, like I said, I didn't have any." Fibber.

People wanna help you Bucky and you can trust them. "I trust people," he mutters grumpily. She asks for his phone and he hands it over. Look, lady! Trust! Probably government mandated trust, but still!

"You don't have ten phone numbers on this thing." … I don't have ten phone numbers on my phone. :( "Oh, and you've been ignoring texts from Sam." Well …

"I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad." lol. Tough love from the therapist. I'm feeling a little judged myself, though. "You're alone." ALRIGHT DON'T RUB IT IN!

"You're a hundred years old. You have no history. No family—" "Are you lashing out at me, doc? Because that's really unprofessional." I love you Bucky, but you are a disaster patient.

Bucky relents. "I'm trying. This is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything. I had a little calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years." Get this man a goat farm!

"So now that you've stopped fighting, what do you want?" "Peace." A goat farm. "That is utter bullshit." lol "You're a terrible shrink." "I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell." Get some friends, Bucky. "I know you've been through a lot. But, you've got your mind back. You're being pardoned. These are good things. You're free." "To do what?"

On the streets of Brooklyn. Bucky breaks up an argument between neighbors about trashcans. Hey, Bucky has a friend! Yori Nakajima who's probably like 80+. Did you babysit him back in the day, Buck? har har. They were going to meet for lunch, but some punk named Unique was putting his trash into Mr. Nakajima's trash can and just derailed the whole day. The horror. No joke, though, people get so nutted up about that. It's weird to me. Of course, I did also have a neighbor who never put out his trash for pickup and just snuck out at night before trash day and distributed his garbage into in other people's bins. Cheapass.

"Hey man, I'm Unique. Like Monique but it's got a 'u' in there for uniqueness." Yeah, you should have let Yori smack him, Buck.

Well now Yori is just not in the mood for lunch. Bucky tries to persuade him, but one grumpy old man out grumps the other. "But Izzy. We always go to Izzy on Wednesday. What if I buy?" "Fine. But no talking." lol. BFFs!

Yori is looking at the obituaries. "Look, nobody made it past 90 this week." Bucky tsks "So young, such a shame."

Bucky kind of smiles at the girl behind the counter at the sushi joint, Yori tells him he should ask her out. Bucky makes a "are you nuts, shut up" face. That doesn't stop Yori. "He would like to take you out on a date. Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle." You're a wild man, Yori!

She's down by it, though, and she and Yori hammer out the details while Bucky's like uh, okay, so wow, that's happening. "There's a dance to these things. You can't … you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943."

Yori sees something and suddenly gets sad. His son loves red bean mochi. His son was a consultant, working abroad and he was killed. Oh. Oh Bucky, why you gotta … Yori's son was the innocent witness he killed at the hotel in his nightmare/memory. "I will never know what really happened to him." Brutal.

Delacroix, Louisana

Sam's on his way home. Wilson Family Seafood. Aww. His nephews are helping mom with the catch. "Blue for the snapper, orange for the white fish," Sam calls out. The boys run over to him. They do look like fine gentlemen. It's weird, Sam, I get it. I recently realized my oldest nephew will be 13 in May and it's like "no, he's only in kindergarten, what are you talking about?"

His sister greets him then tells him he's looking all sneaky. Sam deflects. Their boat has seen better days. The Paul & Darlene. Aww. Is that his parents names? "Baby being held together by duct tape and prayers." Just needs to float long enough for his sister to sell it. But Sam's all, uh I thought we were going to *discuss* that. Uh oh, family drama. "We did, and then you were off fighting Dr Space Cape or whatever (lol), while I was holding it together for five long years." Ouch.

Sam is not down by this selling the boat thing. His sister doesn't seem to think they're in a position to hold on to it. Also, she'd really like to not hash this out on the pier with like twenty other people around, Sam.

They get into more of an argument on the boat. The family biz is not doing well financially. Sarah won't let Sam help for some reason, and he makes some comment about the house and loans and she punches him in the chest. lol "I forgot how hard you hit."

Sam insists they can turn it around, consolidate loans. And she's all, been there done that, I've come to terms with this. He's a persistent little jerk. This is such a perfectly sibling argument. Notably he has moved himself out of punching range.

Aww, she wants to believe he can save the boat, but she has DOUBTS.

Back in Brooklyn. Bucky attempts his date. He turns up at the end of the sushi girl's shift and gives her flowers. "Well, if that's not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone's ever done."

They chat while she tidies. He tried online dating oh lol. It didn't take. She tells him "You sound like my dad. Wait how old are you?" "Hundred and six." Oh yeah, what a funny joke. Next she wants to know why he's wearing gloves. "I have … um … poor circulation." He grimaces at himself and glances out the window. Smooth as silk, Bucky. Smoooooth.

"Let's play a game." Now, I'm thinking like some weird dating word/get-to-know-each-other game or something. I don't know. But, nope, she means Battleship. lol. I like her.

The drinking game version of battleship. Bucky sucks at it. "You sure can drink." "Yeah, well." Super assassin, unfair advantage.

We're just going to rub in this whole The Winter Soldier killed Yori's son thing, as she says it's nice that he's spending time with the old man. Since he was all messed up after his son was murdered and how it was extra hard because he didn't know what happened. I'm not sure this is healthy, Bucky.

"There's no word for someone whose kids die." Okay, ouch, lady, jeez. Bucky looks like he wants to puke. Or crawl into a deep dark hole. Or something. "Because it's the worst thing that can happen." Bucky nopes right out the front door. So, maybe they should have played pinochle instead.

Bucky goes to Yori. Are you really going to tell this man you murdered his son when you were a brain-washed Hydra assassin? Yori asks how the date was, and Bucky sees a shrine to the man's son in the apartment. Poor Bucky. He makes some excuse about owing Yori for lunch and leaves. Yori's name is in his book of amends. :(

Back in Louisiana. Sam and the kids are packing up meals. His sister maybe wants to sell meals in addition to fish. Sam says they've got to get going to their appointment at the bank. She's says it's in an hour. Sam must be just the worst brother to live with "There's no such thing as on time. You're either early or late. Pick one." Man, no wonder he gets punched.

Switzerland

Lt Torres is walking down a street with an unusually large number of people just sort of milling around in the middle of the street looking at their phones. He's got his kind of hidden, recording. He stops a guy and asks if he knows what they're supposed to be doing. Oh it's the flag munchers, or whatever. There's a weird phony bird whistle and then people gather around a person handing out masks with red handprints on them. His decoy bad guy phone chirps and gives the order to run. A guy jumps out of a nearby building with two huge duffle bags (of money it seems) and walks off while the previously milling people become a seemingly panicked mob, distracting police and whatnot.

Torres tries to arrest the jumper guy, who appears to have some super strength as he kicks a policeman halfway across the street. Torres, you're cute, but not super bright. Torres gets body slammed and then stomped. He survives again, however, defying the odds.

At the bank. The account manager keeps giving Sam the side-eye as he goes through their paperwork. "Do I know you from somewhere." Sam's all modest, "I don't know. Do you?" And then he makes a little wing flappy move with his hands. lol. What a nerd. "Falcon!" Then he takes a selfie with Sam. Sarah is very done with all this. She tries to get them back on track. Account guy wants to know how Avengers make a living. Probably not looking good for your loan, Sam.

"Is there some kind of fund for heroes? Or did Stark pay you when he was around? My condolences, by the way."

Yeah, financially this is looking bad, my dude. "You have no income over the last five years." Well, but, he was blipped. I mean …

Alas, shot down for the loan.

Sam and Sarah argue on the street. Ah, Sam ran off to the Air Force and didn't deal with what was going on at home. Oh my, this is getting ugly. Speaking as someone who got disowned on account of a family business, let me just say, they're not easy. Nuh-uh.

"Half the boat's mine and so is the house. We're not selling our family's legacy." "You gonna do me like what when you know I'm right?"

I get it might be awkward to ask, but I bet you could have asked Pepper for a loan, Sam, and she would have given it to you gladly. Come on, man.

Later. Sam's working on the boat's engine, and it's not cooperating. In the cabin he looks at the family pictures on all the walls. He's having a rough day. About as rough as Torres who texts him to find a secure line and call him along with a selfie of his bruised and battered face. #important (lol, really?)

Sam watches the footage Torres caught and they chat about how Torres was supposed to be doing that stuff online and not getting his face kicked in in Switzerland.

Sarah interrupts and turns on the TV. Some guy is giving a speech about how everybody needs a hero. "We need someone who can inspire us again. Someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero." hmm, no comment. Except, you should have taken up the shield, Sam. Now it's Sam's turn to look like he's going to puke. What did I say about power vacuums? Somebody will fill them, whether you want them to or not.

This new guy looks like a goober. There, I said it.

credits

So … lots of setup. And very clear on the two guys trying to figure out where they fit in this world post blip and big wars. Both of them trying to fix broken families.

Plus a goober in a Cap suit.

So far so good.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

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cxffexngel · 3 years

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[ @aaetherius ] || [ dFSÑDSFDf thanks for reminding me to open the submit page, so now you have free real estate with length of asks!!! ]

Kiss day was something the Singularity had mentioned to him before, and something he was already familiar with due to Sandalphon once citing it as a reason for suddenly stealing a kiss from him a day that felt like less than a breath ago. But when it had come up again in conversation with the airship's stalwart leader, whom Lucifer, unfortunately, happened to get far too much information from when it came to the customs Skydwellers held, he had learned just how scared a holiday it was. Now he was utterly determined to return the favor to the archangel. But Sandalphon had slipped from his grasp early, and in his sleep-touched daze he hadn't truly registered the other's missing warmth against him until he had groggily sat up on a collection of tangled sheets as his palm lazily patted the mattress in search for the other only to find the area beside him empty. A few blinks and he woke to a room devoid of the Supreme Primarch, losing his chance to gently wake him with a kiss.

Swiftly following his first failed attempt to ensure he celebrated the day properly - as the Singularity had ensured him not doing so would have dire consequences, and he would not wish for anything ill to befall Sandalphon - he quietly made his way over to the cafe where he expected the other to be. The smell of coffee had been fresh in the air when he had slowly poked his head in, but, alas, by the time he had gotten there Sandalphon had already left. With his wings sagging against his back, he carefully followed after any trace of the archangel, the Singularity even popping in from time to time to help him locate the other. But every time he came close to, he could sense Sandalphon's presence begin to fade. By the time sunset had become to trickle in through the windows of the Grandcypher, his core is heavy with worry. He's scarcely seen the other all day, and he fears Sandalphon is working himself too hard once again. It morphs his excitement into dread until, finally, he spots the other beneath the orangey-pink hue of the dwindling light, and allows a breath of relief to flutter past his lips. His core, the fragile thing that it is, simply can't wait to embrace the other, and instead of following the advice the Singularity had given him (urging him to surprise Sandalphon), he simply rushes over to the archangel.

His strong arms come to wrap so tightly, yet still somehow gently, about the other's waist that he nearly, unintentionally, lifts Sandalphon off of his feet. Burying his face into the crux of the other's neck, he allows the scent of coffee to almost overwhelm as he nuzzles softly into the other's skin, and the fabric of his shirt. "Sandalphon," he whispers faintly as he slowly lifts his head after a few moment, gingerly holding the other as close to him as he can manage. "Forgive me, I pray you have not been working too hard, but I have missed you." Slowly, he leans forward to give the other the gentlest kiss upon the tip of his nose. "The Singularity has informed me it is Kiss Day, and I wish to celebrate it, together, with you, if you will allow me to."

All the day spent with the other’s footsteps trailing his heels, and Sandalphon wasn't doing it for any ill intention at al - no. It was just fond fear, Lucifer now most prepared than ever with newfound knowledge he really has to someday question it’s sources had the former Supreme primarch much more giddy and all the more determined to properly 'celebrate' days such as these. The itch to go and throttle the life out the captain bubbling like a gentle fire fueled by petty alone, but the chance for retribution never once dawning for his hands hold that little trouble seeker. No, instead the danger loomed dangerously close, always sensing the other's presence no matter where Sandalphon manages to excuse himself to. From somehow making it out the bed without waking the former, to at least opening the cafe until time had called and he left someone else to serve for the time being. Manage to hang some laundry without much trouble and then unceremoniously scramble from the other's field of vision. And again, it wasn't for naught nor because he did not wish for Lucifer's love at all. It's just that he knew that once the other's strong hold embraced him, that's all for the supreme primarch; it's mark his penance and be showered upon kisses and kisses until left a complete breathless mess laughing like an idiot, feathers sticking everywhere and his hair a worse mess than it somehow manages to look certain mornings, as if a strong storm had hit the airship while taken by slumber.

Yet sundown is already before the Grancypher's periphery, strong orange rays painting sepia the grand vast of skies and dots of what could be lone islands within the distance to be seen - And worry paints Sandalphon's core now that it's been a while, the chase having drawn enough to at least spare the other and left Lucifer find him, finally. So he stops, the handrails that make the best part of the airship's edges so no one would fall a good leverage to let his palms rest atop them, leaning a bit so his armor less frame meets the edge and take in a gasp pf air that his lungs had begged for a while now - unable to shake the fluster that weights his core and the slight guilt that also hangs from that branch, which he knows wouldn't last. Fate sealed when those footsteps once more meet his ears and muscles reflexively tense a bit, but then relax with silent relief; praying the skies to be prepared and let all that contained love the other bleeds with overwhelm his soul, whisper an apology for purposely hiding from the other in some sort of childish play the younger crew members often entertained themselves with considering the grand amount of rooms, corridors and places to hide they could choose and test their abilities. Yet it all proves for even more naught, no matter how much he braces himself or trains his mind and body to somehow meet the other's presence and simply melt with it - his strength rips the air from his lung, that bold hold striking the deepest parts of his core and cold blod rush through his entire body as blinding lightings and leave trails of scalding heat in their stead. Unceremonious noise, akin to a gasp and squawk unfiltered past lips that part with the surprise clearly painted across sharp visage and that's how he knows that not even today Sandalphon was going to survive this man's shamelessness. yet, as always, there will never a better way for Lucifer to express his emotions like this, it is something he'd never change or wish for it to cease in any way. Just prays his own core can somehow build enough stamina to not painfully throb at each and endless ways Lucifer finds to express himself outrageously.

" L-Lucif— " Strained voice barely manages out, a higher pitch as hands had somehow found where Lucifer's circle his waist, relishing on his the tip of his heels seem unable to meet the familiar worn wood of the deg's surface as the other holds his smaller frame as if his life depended on it - and probably it does, because now that he finally has a look, from over his shoulder, to Lucifer's messy strands as they veil from sight how his visage might be. Yet even without looking Sandalphon already can feel the relief dawning upon the other, how that intake of air simply nourished his core with everything that is right and bright. It doesn’t fail to dust his cheeks a faint rosy color, and it doesn't help too the bashful chuckle bubbling from the depths of his chest as it heaves out within their silence. " I... Missed you too. I apologize for my absence. " But he doesn't have the heart yet to say the truth, not when it had somehow burdened the other now that he thinks of it; did Lucifer think something worse? But nearly tangent thoughts banish the second he processes the kiss laid upon his nose, blinking his own worries away in a miraculous spell as he slowly shifts to face the other better, and rest his hips upon the handrail as it lazily creaks with the newfound weight added to it. Sound that gets carried away by the gentle breeze along the downy pale skirt that flutters slowly under the belts that keep them upright, laying his palms at the edge where those long gloves end, and skin peek from Lucifer's biceps. " If to celebrate it with you somehow fills for the time we spent apart, then I would never say no. " It was impossible to deny further the other, his core also yearns for it even as they have exchanged more touches and kisses than the two thousand of years worth of silence could dare and even recall. Oh how Lucifer's soft tone was all in the world to undo his own stubbornness, the only thing along; stronger than Lyria's beady eyes or Gran's unbearably kind soul, that could sway his core into caving and forget about responsibilities for once in a while, even if his war torn body aches to do things, to meet battles or go around the airship doing things. So one of his hands, the one even now adorned with the shining golden ring carefully traces where that pale skin radiates warmth, touches with featherlight gentleness against the other's broader neck where fabric edges with golden rims, and then cups the taller primarch's jaw with an unspoken apology all written on his eyes as they soften when he meets his gaze with one of it's own. Thumb tracing aimless circles where the a rosy hue paints the edge of the other's lashes with life and admiring how the sunset's light never cease to frame his visage almost as if he had been descended from the stars themselves. " I hope this counts as an apology, too, dearest Lucifer. " He tries to sound a bit timid, but it's impossible to not let his adoration drip from his tongue, head tilting as eyes relishes on Lucifer's clear senseless and unconditional worry even now having a strong hold to Sandalphon's own guilt, one he will make up no with endless spoken apologies, but with actions that would tear the remaining hours this day was left with, and simply let himself be engulfed by the cocoon of feathers the other may subject him with, if his own didn't manifest first and steal Lucifer for himself in a selfish streak.

#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ]#and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ]#aaetherius #[ and this is how sandy dies he cannot escape love #[ he couldnt escape gran's love nor he will be ever be free from lucifer's grand affection!!!#[ omg now all i can picture is a ultra sleepy Lucifer slowly patting the empty space where sandy was with him #[ and lucifer going the sleepy version of math lady meme just to realize that nope he's alone in bed. this is a crime!!!!#[ Gran ur in for an ultra knuckle rubbing into ur head and arm wrestle if sandy ever spots u #[ lucifer taking it so seriously my heart..... he's trying his best!! he has to protect sandalphon!!!!

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thescorpioracer · 3 years

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Sen Çal Kapımı 1 - Episode Recap

To be honest, this series of posts is mostly going to be a fashion roast. But DISCLAIMER! I really do love this show and Turkish TV in general, it’s just my preferred mode of media analysis is to pick things apart. 😂And I need everyone to know that I am very pro-women, and believe people should be able to dress how they want and not be judged for it or be looked down upon for it. But oh my god this wardrobe department/costumer needs to be STOPPED. I also have zero credentials to be talking about fashion, but will that stop me?

I’m going to make these posts assuming you’ve watched the show, and just comment on whatever comes up. There will be spoilers. Let’s go!

We start off with a voiceover from Eda Yıldız, an A+ romcom trope. (It wasn’t until my rewatch that I remembered that Eda used to do VOs at random intervals, and I’m kind of glad she stopped tbh.) She is a strong woman who wants to get her education and become a landscape architect/designer. She was all set to do that until- dun dun dun! - Serkan Bolat destroyed everything.

Check out that dart board of a man (and this is the only time we see that photo there). And these outfits are probably the most normal and reasonable clothes she wears in the show. She’s a beautiful young woman, who was a college student, and now works outdoors as a florist. 10/10 outfit.

Of course that transitions us into an epic slomo of Serkan exiting his private jet. He of course begins to berate his assistant on the phone in a way a friend described as reminiscent of The Devil Wears Prada.

@teamnick‘s commentary back when she first started the show.

Serkan returns to his office for the first time in 2 months after working on business deals in London. Chaos ensues: Miranda Priestly is baaaaaaack.

See... here we have some good fashion choices! We meet the girls for the first time, while they try to sneak off to their graduation without making Eda feel bad that she won’t be receiving her diploma. Melek “Melo” is dressed in a sweet dress with a bold, romantic color, which captures her personality perfectly. Ceren, the rich daughter from a family of lawyers, looks a bit more high-fashion. The dress is short but it has long sleeves and no cleavage so it works out to be chic and elegant. Fifi is unapologetically herself with her full-black, punk wardrobe. Eda is again dressed in a pretty, but casual outfit. Nicely put together for her lower-middle-class lifestyle and her job as a florist.

Enter: the plot device to get our protagonists together. Serkan’s face says it all.

We are then introduced to the main couple’s respective cars. Serkan has his 2020 BMW (though the show blocks out the copyrighted branding) while Eda’s beat up SUV is clearly unreliable. What’s that? Another plot device being introduced? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Also, I just noticed this, but for someone as uptight as Serkan, I’m surprised at how fun his suit jacket lining is. If I’m not mistaken the pattern is of a bunch of rainbow fish. #Snazzy, but they seem out of character?

Plot highlights:

Eda learns she can come back to school and finish her final year, but she’s lost her scholarship and will have to pay. She can’t.

Serkan gives his talk at the graduation (?)-- Is his talk just for architecture students? If so, why are Ceren, Fifi, and Melo there? We’ll never know. I know, I know... it’s all for the ~plot~

Eda calls Serkan out in front of everyone for taking away the scholarship that she earned from his company, Art Life. He is confused but unrepentant. She refuses to tell him her name.

She tries to deface his car with lipstick after keying the side (we never hear about the damage to his car after that). He catches her and wants to call the police, so she impulsively handcuffs them together with the plot devices from Selin’s wedding invitation sitting on his passenger seat.

They then have to go to Serkan’s urgent business meeting with an out-of-town client. Eda drives while they’re handcuffed together. Bickering ensues.

What is this? Foreshadowing? Symbolism?? Eda’s last name “Yıldız” is the Turkish word for “star” so... file that away for later.

One of my favorite parts about watching Turkish dramas is the experience of trying to decipher the fan translations. Add to the fact that Turkish only has 1 pronoun *chef’s kiss*

Eda refuses to take the elevator to the 15th floor (we’ll learn about her claustrophobia later). Serkan is equally as stubborn, saying she owes him for screwing up his day. But he has met his match in Eda with regards to stubbornness. They take the stairs.

More highlights:

First instance of fake dating - they need to hide the handcuffs from his client so Eda pretends she’s his girlfriend and a fellow investor.

The girls track Eda’s phone to the hotel and try to find her by asking around the premises.

Eda charms the client into selling his land to Serkan.

We learn that Serkan is allergic to strawberries and has a lot of health anxiety. He’s a very tightly wound person.

Serkan says “Mashallah,” translator hears 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Engin brings way too many people to open the handcuffs and chaos ensues.

I feel like nothing can do justice to the comedy of 58:45 to 1:00:00 with Fifi using a bobby pin as a lock pick. The dramatic editing is 👌🏼

Leyla gets fired for somehow causing this drama??? And she is so happy to leave that stressful workplace omg, we don’t deserve her 🥺

Serkan and Eda go their separate ways, Eda prepared to never see her enemy again, but of course her phone and purse are still in his car so she has to go to his office at Art Life and confront him again.

Serkan has found out that Whoops, Art Life did cancel the study abroad scholarships to cut costs, but his CFO did it without telling him. And Serkan is pissed, but I think mainly about the fact that Eda did have some (SOME) grounds for yelling at him in public.

Leyla then explains the nonsensical reasoning behind her being fired-but-not-fired and still working. (Spoiler alert: she never goes anywhere and she is my favorite side character to this day).

Eda: “How can I piss Serkan off?” Leyla: “Find a mistake he’s made and he will fixate on it forever. But you won’t find anything.” Eda: “Hold my beer.”

Eda walks into Serkan’s office and his meeting. She gets her purse back and they fight about him not being willing to apologize for ruining her life and education. He refuses and says she owes him an apology for embarrassing him in public (no, dude).

He wants to give her back the scholarship and make it all go away but she rightly tells him that it won’t fix her broken pride from begging the company and her university for a second chance. But somehow her calling him a heartless “Robot” is what gets to him???? And he short-circuits. Eda walks out triumphant.

~dRaMa!~

MEANWHILE

Melo, as well as being a perfume sales girl, also works as a flight attendant and wants Eda to cover her shift (we’ll get into how that doesn’t make sense in a minute)

Eda says no, she’s going to meet her boyfriend, Cenk, who she hasn’t seen in months and has just returned from Italy.

Enter: Selin. Serkan’s ex who he dumped a while ago and is now engaged to the heir of a hotel empire. Serkan doesn’t like this. The two of them grew up together and are set to each inherit 50% of the holding company that Serkan’s father currently runs.

Right away Selin serves us with a gender reveal level color scheme. Personally not a fan. They confirm that Serkan is coming to her engagement party tomorrow.

Meanwhile Eda meets up with Cenk. Her outfit is still reasonable and cute for her character. He looks mildly like a hobo and doesn’t seem to have anything going for him (I know he’s a throwaway character but the two of them really don’t have anything in common).

This creeper keeps staring at them, but Cenk tries to explain it away and says he’s busy and can’t meet her again until the day after tomorrow. Eda is disappointed but accepts this. Creeper girl remains and remains a red flag to viewers, but apparently not to Eda.

Cut to later that evening, and of course our broody main man enjoys astronomy in his free time (???) idk what he’s charting and to what purpose but okay?

Eda finds a mini first aid kit in her purse that Serkan put there before returning it. Queue montage of them treating their respective wrists for handcuff-related injuries. #couplegoals

Of course we also needed a sepia-toned flashback to earlier that day when the handcuffs contrived their faces to get too close together. #romance

Finallyyyyyyy it’s morning again and a new day.

Since Eda can’t see Cenk (good, he’s so boring), she agrees to fill in as a flight attendant for Melo, who’s side job is for a private plane company.

Now. This should not be a thing. Eda was in college to be a landscape architect and now works as a florist for her aunt... Where has she learned any relevant skills to work as a flight attendant?? Presumably nowhere. And I really don’t think a private plane company would be so easygoing about just having a random person fill in to cover for her friend?

But does this show care about that? What do you think...

Also, instead of the standard white shirt, black skirt uniform requirements, the girls decide that this skimpy dress and heels is fine? Hmmm

Also lol @ Melo for assuming that the client who wants jasmine tea and fruit salad is probably a woman. And her telling Eda that the PRIVATE JET COMPANY would in fact have its own tea was very random and unnecessary.

Back at the Bolat house compound, we meet the parents: Aydan and Alptekin. We’ll see them again later. Selin’s engagement party is today.

Meanwhile Eda is just.... being a flight attendant, I guess??? And who could possibly be the passenger she has to take care of? Take a wild guess. Of course it’s Serkan Bolat.

And of course that tiny dress (THAT ALSO HAS A LEG SLIT?? WHY?? I really don’t need to see her vagina) looks very practical and professional... not! (Hande Erçel is a gorgeous human, and the dress looks good on her, don’t get me wrong. BUT THIS IS SITUATIONALLY INCORRECT ATTIRE). Also him just folding his vest and then social distancing from it... K? 😂

Eda panics and doesn’t want Serkan to see her and runs away back to her seat pod thing - Serkan takes issue with his fruit salad for ~plot reasons~ (EDIT: I’ve been informed that it’s because there was a strawberry in his fruit salad and since he’s allergic, of course it needed to be fixed. Why doesn’t the plane have a note of that??) and comes back to find this mystery flight attendant.

Eda is very stressed out about this encounter and is also starting to have a panic attack because, surprise, she’s also claustrophobic.

After Serkan calms her down, they have a cute/civil conversation for the rest of the flight.

When they land, Eda realizes they’re on an island 2h45min away from Istanbul and she isn’t sure what to do with herself (How did she not already know where they were going, as the FLIGHT ATTENDANT??? So may red flags with this private jet company).

Serkan convinces Eda to come with him and she can hang out at the beach while he’s at Selin’s engagement party.

At the engagement party we finally meet Selin’s fiancé Ferit. He’s sweet and non-threatening and clearly insecure about Serkan being Selin’s ex.

This dress/skirt outfit Selin is wearing isn’t terrible, but it doesn’t scream rich socialite to me. Anything with feathers seems... a bit tacky/too showy? Like someone pretending to be rich? Idk, this outfit isn’t one I’m going to really take a stand on.

Does this engagement party warrant being a 2h45 min flight away? No. They try to explain it away as the couple wanting to have something small and private, even though they also invite the press?? But okay whatever, as long as Serkan and Eda cross paths again, I suppose.

Kaan Karadağ has been mentioned a couple times in passing, but now we finally meet our “villain.” Ferit’s friend, and Serkan & Selin’s childhood acquaintance, who has it out for Serkan bc he somehow bankrupted Kaan’s dad? Idk and I don’t really care but tl;dr they’re enemies.

Another thing I love about Turkish dramas is the censoring. Like, they’ll allow alcohol to be on screen, but they won’t say the word and they’ll just blur out the bottle and any liquid that we’d assume is alcoholic 😂

In the evening, Serkan is tired and wants to leave and Ferit snidely jokes about how Serkan is too picky to have a fiancé of his own. Serkan flashes back to 1 entire day ago when he and Eda pretended to be dating at his business meeting, and says that actually he is engaged to someone and then peaces out.

Serkan finds Eda on the beach, and they are preparing to leave when a crowd of people (Selin, Ferit, and Kaan mainly), arrive to get a peek at Serkan’s new “fiancé.” Eda very reluctantly plays along (good thing she has that unnecessarily sexy “work” dress to help her look the part) and Serkan notices that for the first time ever, Selin is jealous of another woman. #drama

After they finally escape the crowd, Serkan makes an annoyed Eda an offer: Pretend to be his fiancé for the 2 months leading up to Selin’s wedding so he can get them to break up and prevent Ferit marrying into the company. In return, he will pay all the fees to help her complete her last year of studies in Italy.

Eda refuses, stating that she doesn’t want anything from him, and besides she has a boyfriend (Sure Jan; Cenk is such a joke). They have it out and then fly back to Istanbul. But of course the gossips at the engagement have spread the news of Serkan’s new woman so the paparazzi corner them at the airport when they land.

So glad that we got to see this random mechanic find out the news (???)

They escape the cameras and Serkan takes her home, saying that Art Life has a press conference tomorrow, and she should come so he can save face and tell everyone that she was his assistant accompanying him for work to the party. Eda agrees.

It should also be mentioned that Serkan still doesn’t know her name at this point?? She refused to tell him and Engin still hasn’t sent him the names of the scholarship candidates so it’s a bit miraculous that their relationship was at all believable.

The next day, Cenk wants to meet but Eda has to go to the press conference. The girls come too for whatever reason, and Melo is convinced that Cenk wants to propose. Eda just lets that fantasy take hold (why tho?), and Cenk shows up unexpectedly right before the press conference and takes Eda into the nearby hotel’s cafe so they can talk.

Eda seems ready for a proposal (they haven’t seen each other or really communicated in months??) but Cenk wants to break up. Eda is shocked (???) but then Cenk mentions that he has a new girlfriend from Italy that he adores, and oh by the way, it’s the creepy girl from the other night who also happens to be here right now?

Okay fine, I guess??? Cenk: “She’s doesn’t speak Turkish” Girlfriend: *clearly a Turkish actress*

Eda is upset that he brought his jealous girlfriend with him to break up with her and says something about how actually, she’s seeing Serkan Bolat now (maybe it’s just me being someone who doesn’t follow tabloids, but are business people really that popular in every day society where everyone knows who they are?). Cenk laughs at Eda, saying that everyone wants to be with Serkan Bolat, and that she’s bluffing.

Eda makes an impulsive decision, and walks away, over to where Serkan has started the press conference. And seals their fate as fake dating in the public eye.

Queue confetti. No really.

And there we have it. That’s the episode!

In all seriousness, it’s a pretty great pilot, especially for a romcom. It hits all the right beats, includes enough tropes, and tells us a lot about what we should expect in the episodes going forward. And no matter how much I make fun of it, I really do enjoy this show! It’s been such a nice distraction from Current Events. I’ve spent a lot of time watching these episodes just saying “oh my god” out loud to myself as I watch all of the cute/romantic gestures that give me a lot of second hand embarrassment (I forget that PDA makes me kinda uncomfortable 😂).

There wasn’t actually that much terrible fashion in this episode, which I didn’t notice until my rewatch. If I continue with this series of posts, I’m hoping they’ll end up being less plot-centric, and more about the situationally inappropriate outfits and strange subtitling choices.

See you next time?

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renaerys · 3 years

Text

PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

“Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

#Blossick #PPG Reds #Blossom #Brick #Powerpuff Girls #PPG Fanfic #Powerpuff Girls Fanfiction #february fic prompts #ppg shook

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