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drakenology · 3 years

Note

How about when your working as a hotel concierge and one of the famous pro heroes (can be anyone u like, maybe Bakugou? 😉) comes in for a relaxin vacation from doing so many hero work. He doesn’t know us, but he will. 🥴

you are a genius, muah!

thank you anon for inspiring this piece.

Room Service! - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings: smut! (minors gtfo), oral (male receiving & female receiving), mentions of cum, size kink, mirror sex (cause it slaps), just a raunchy hook up between two consenting adults (so pro hero katsukiii)

Tonight was making your job really fucking annoying. You sat at your desk answering phone calls about which pro hero would be staying at your hotel (the only bane of your existence).

Of course you can’t disclose that information because of privacy but you didn’t even know that yourself. You sigh as you hang up the phone on yet another greedy fangirl trying to get closer to whomever would be staying here.

You start to wonder who it might be; that 7 foot tall red head or maybe the sexy blonde who could make you blow whenever he wanted.

It was no secret you’d been a fan of Mr. Dynamight since his earlier days of hero work; your coworkers often caught you doodling your name and his last name on a piece of paper like a high school girl with a monster crush. Your mind wandered, thinking of what you’d do-what you’d say if Dynamight walked into your lobby right-

“Yo. I’ve got a reservation under Katsuki Bakugo.” A raspy voice rang in your ears to snap you out of your daydream, making you jump in surprise. Holy shit, it’s him! Fuck. Stay calm.

“Oh! U-uh.. Welcome Mr. Dynamigh- I mean Bakugo.” You stutter, palms clammy and shaking as you look his name up in the computer.

“You new or somethin’?” Bakugo asked, red eyes peering over the counter and straight down at your body.

Even though this isn’t his first time staying here for vacations he’s never seen a hot little thing like you working the desk. All dressed up in an orange button up blouse and a black pencil skirt he could just lift up and have his way with you in. Damn you look good in orange.

You notice his gaze and turn your attention back to the computer, internally screaming as you realize Katsuki Bakugo is fucking staring at you.

“No. Actually this is my third month here. I usually work mornings but we’re unfortunately incredibly shortstaffed tonight so.. here I am.” You nervously laugh, spelling his name wrong about fifty times out of anxiousness before finally finding his name and room number.

“Room 202, sir. Would you like for me to escort you?” You question, standing from your seat and stretching your limbs since you’ve been sitting in that damned chair all night.

Bakugo drank the shape of your body in, following your curves with his eyes and licking his lips enough for you to see.

“Nah, I got it. You just sit your pretty ass down. I might call you for somethin’ later.” Katsuki says with a wink, hauling his luggage in those big strong arms of his off to the elevator, fuck.

Is he being hot on purpose?

You’re left at your desk hot and bothered. You couldn’t help it but your mind was just filled with all the filthy things you’d do to Katsuki. Thank god no one else came through the lobby for most of the night because with the way you felt right now, how could a girl focus on anything?

Almost an hour goes by quickly, your daydreams and fantasies haulting when you hear the phone ring. Sigh. You reluctantly pick it up, rolling your eyes as you brace to hear yet another fan girl’s screaming.

“Hello, This is Y/N. How can I help you?” You say monotonously, looking down at your nails.

“Hey, sexy desk lady. This you?” The same raspy voice that ached your pussy sang to you.

“Th-this is she.” You gasp, so entranced that you actually answered to the nickname.

“What’s on the menu? I hope all meals include sexy concierges.” He says, his smirk audible. “‘M hungry.”

“Oh. Well we do have a steak dinner I could bring up to you. How does that sound?” You stutter, hardly able to seem professional with his blatant flirting.

“Perfect. Oh and tell your boss or whoever the fuck you answer to that your shift is over. I want you in my room.” Katsuki declared, confidence dripping over every word.

“B-But sir, I can’t just-“ You try to speak, interrupted.

“Customer’s always right.” He teased before hanging up, making sure you got the point.

You take in a breathe, taken aback by how swiftly he can turn you on just by speaking to you. You stand from your chair, almost falling back down from the shakiness of your legs. Fuck it if Bakugo wanted you so badly, here you come. Stumbling into the kitchen you put in Bakugo’s order and tell your manager that the Pro-Hero wants you to deliver his food and keep him company.

“Shit! Hopefully he leaves a good tip. He’s gonna put in such a good rating for us and....” She rambled, the rest of her quarrel falling on deaf ears. You were too busy creaming in your panties at the thought of Bakugo grabbing you by the fucking hair and just-

“Order up!” The chef yells snapping you out of your mindless filth. He’s wheeling over the room service cart for you to take upstairs and shouting something about giving it to him hot.

“Smile, Y/N. Make a good first impression.” Your manager said, leading you to the elevator with one hand on your back.

The ride up felt like the longest elevator ride in history. The walk down the hallway seemed even longer as you look for his room.

200...201....202.

You stand at his door, heart threatning to leap out of your chest as you knock softly.

“Who is it?” Katsuki shouted through the door and some loud rock music.

“Room Service!” You manage, hoping you hid your nervousness well. You hear the music die down and the lock of the door click unlocked.

As the door swung open your eyes beheld the image of Bakugo’s toned and muscular torso without a shirt. His sweatpants hung lazily on his hips, the waistband of his boxers showing proudly. As your eyes unknowingly travel further down you get an eyeful of what he’s packing. And baby it is heat.

His dick-print was so prominent it was almost astounding . Is this him soft? You quickly look back upwards at the tall God in front of you and look at his handsome face. Gruff and just manly looking. His hair was tossed all over his head, eyes low and intense as he smirked at you. How on earth can one man be this attractive?

“Ah. Right on time. Get yer ass in here.” Bakugo rasped, groaning at the sight of you. You push yourself and the cart inside, swallowing the lump in your throat. Bakugo walks in front of you and puts out the joint he smoked just fresh out of the shower.

The employee in you told you to scold him for smoking in the building. But for now, hell, let him do whatever he wants. You push the cart into the small living area of his suite, Bakugo sitting on the loveseat in front of you.

“Damn. You look good behind that cart, ya know that?” He says, looking you up and down with those plush lips between his teeth.

You feel your body get hot, not a single thought behind your eyes.

“I-I u-uhm.” You choke. Katsuki stands from the couch and walks towards you like a lion who had just cornered a gazelle. His hands pull you towards him, face so close to yours he could kiss you if he wanted.

“Speak up, sexy. It’s no fun if you don’t talk back. Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” He purred, leaning into your neck and leaving a chaste kiss.

Your eyes flutter, moaning softly as his kisses become deeper. The trail he left led all the way up to your ear, gasping as he nibbles lightly on your earlobe.

“I-I’m sorry. I am a little ner- ah- vous.” You mewl, feeling like you might drop to the floor as his hands snuck down from your waist and onto your ass.

“Mhm. Just relax. I don’t bite. Well, from the looks of it you like a little biting don’t you?” He teased, letting his hands do more talking for him.

His hands knead and caress your body as he leaned down to kiss you. It was the hottest kiss you’ve ever experienced; his big hands exploring your body while nibbling your bottom lip as he pulled away for air only to dive right back into your mouth. He picked you up and led you to the loveseat; hands planted what seemed like permanently into your ass as he sat you on his lap.

He starts undoing the buttons of your shirt, eventually getting annoyed with the stupid blouse and just ripping it open. You gasp as all the buttons pop and fall on the floor, your bra on full display for Katsuki as he hissed.

“Fuck. ‘So sexy.” He huffs, pulling your tits out of your bra and taking one into his mouth. You’re turning into jelly in his hands, mindlessly grinding your aching pussy against his groin and moaning into the room.

“Shit. You’re an eager one, aren’t you?” Katsuki rasped, pressing a thumb onto your covered clit for you to grind on. Your breathing hitched, knowing he can feel how wet you are through your panties as he took your nipple back into his mouth. Suddenly he stops, causing you to whine from the loss if his mouth.

“Wait, baby. I wanna see what that pretty mouth can do.” Katsuki lulled, pressing his fingers in your mouth while you happily suck on them. You climb off his lap and situate yourself on your knees in front of him, pulling his sweats and boxers down without a second thought.

Fuck was he big. He had girth and length with these sickeningly prominent veins, his pretty dick already deliciously leaking pre-cum. You try not to moan at the upward curve in it, imagining all the spots he can hit with it in just the right angle. And it was heavy too, the spring of his dick leaving his briefs causing it to smack right on his abs. You look up at Bakugo’s eyes who haven’t left you since you got on your knees.

“Go on, sexy. Show me what you got.” He coos, sighing as you take him into your wet mouth.

You tease him a little, swiping your tongue over the head to lick up some of that pre cum. You’re staring at him with hazy eyes, sticking your tongue out and sliding your mouth down until you’re taking him into your throat. Gagging and drooling you bob your head, slurping a bit as he grabbed your hair.

“S-Shiit, baby.” He moans, your drool dripping all over the place as he fucked your mouth with a fist full of your hair. As he’s pulling you up and down on his cock you hollow your cheeks in time with his movements, tears streaming down your face and smudging your mascara.

“You look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth. Fuck.” He hissed, letting go of your hair to let you get up and breathe. You take his cock out of your mouth with a *pop* and stroke him, all your slobber being the perfect lube as you pump and twist up and down with your hand.

Bakugo leans into the loveseat, his head hanging back into the chair as he cussed. You were making him feel so good, shit you were pretty close to making him cum.

“Want me inside you, baby?” He managed, your mouth and hands taking his breath away. You pull away from his dick again, blinking away your tears.

“Uh-huh.” You nod, the fastest thing you could say. Before you know it you’re scooped up and flung onto the bed, your skirt and panties discarded somewhere.

You don’t even ask him to return the favor. To be honest you didn’t need him to. But the way his tongue flicked your clit around was enough to intoxicate anyone. You can’t help the loud moans you let out, legs trembling as he stuck his tongue inside you. He teased your folds with his tongue, sloppily making out with your pussy until you’re completely blank-headed.

“Look at me, baby.” He hummed, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit.

Your eyes roll back, trying hard to look at his face as he devoured you. His fierce eyes caught your hazy gaze, a fucked out expression written all over your face as he quite literally sucked your orgasm out of you. Katsuki’s lips left your pussy, his chin glistening in your slick with a shit eating grin on his face. Maybe he should stay here more often.

“Heh. First time in my life a woman’s left me speechless.” He says sitting up, his dick standing at attention right above your cunt. The bastard starts tapping his cock on your already sensitive clit with a devilish smirk, biting his lip at your reaction.

Every tap made your eyes cross, your puffy clit throbbing at the sensation. Your whines become desperate, causing Katsuki to crave the satisfaction of your begging. With a raised eyebrow he pushed himself only half way inside you, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat.

“You want it? Hm? I’m talkin’ to you.” Katsuki teased, raising your face to look at him by your chin.

God you looked so sexy like this; legs spread, thighs quivering from all the pleasure, a tantalizingly dumb look on your face.

“Y-yes.. Katsuki p-please.” You plead, mewling when he starts moving but way too slow for your liking.

“All of it, yeah?” He further questioned, really enjoying teasing you. The look on your face as he plunged deeper inside you just enough to stretch you was priceless, a little shriek escaping you.

“Yess, god yes.” You bellow, desperate for your itch to finally be scratched. With a dark chuckle Katsuki slams all of his length inside your gummy walls, your head thrown back into the pillows at the brute force. And that dull stretch felt so good, as if Katsuki’s dick was made to fuck you.

“So biig- ngh!” You struggle to say, covering your mouth as you notice you’re screaming for him. Bakugo takes your hand off your mouth and pinned it above your head, smirking down at the dazed face before him.

“I know, baby. So good for me. So fuckin’ tight.” Bakugo rambles, rutting his hips into yours as he lifts your thighs up and throws them over his broad shoulders.

The new position sent shockwaves through your whole body, your cries so audible you swore you heard them echo in his room. His pace was slow but deliberate, that fucking curve hitting that spot over and over again.

“Oh my god! Oh my godd!” You chant, your wet walls clenching down onto his cock threatening to cum all over him.

“Thats it, cum all over my fuckin’ cock.” Bakugo urged, taking one hand and rubbing insane circles into your throbbing clit his thrusts becoming more brutal as you feel him hit your cervix in the most pleasurable way.

You say something about cumming for him or something, the sentence scrambled as you boil over. Your face was too sinful for words to explain, tongue hanging out as you pant and fat tears bubbling in your eyes.

“I’m not finished. Turn around.” Katsuki demands, smacking your thigh to get you to muster whatever strength you have left to turn around.

Next thing you know you’re bent over, Bakugo plunging back inside as if he had already missed the feeling of your sweet walls. His dick was made for this position, the upward curve hitting that sweet spot perfectly.

“God, look at you..” Bakugo says, his gaze meeting the full length mirror in front of his bed. “So fucking sexy.” He muttered, pulling you by your hair to make you behold what he was looking at.

Your eyes meet the glass reflection of you being absolutely railed senselessly by a man you’d desired since you were a teenager. And it all felt so good. You watch his movements, every flex of his muscles, every heave of his chest as he panted. He was so gorgeous. Even when he was pounding your poor pussy into submission; all sweaty and sticky he was really something to marvel at.

“Fuuck you’re gonna make me cum. That’s it baby, just like that.” Bakugo moans, grabbing a fist full of your hair and smacking your ass all while locking eyes with the mirror and back down again to where you both connect.

You’re so fucked out you can hardly speak, chanting filthy words to coax him into cumming while throwing your ass back on him in time with his thrusts. He’s cussing up a storm, his pace speeding up as he hummed nasty words back at you.

“Want me to cum, baby? Yeah? Shiit, you’re pussy’s so fucking good.” He groans, snapping his hips into you and biting a little into your shoulder. Soon you’re cumming for him again; you don’t know how or when but a mixture of his disgusting words and that big fat cock sliding in and out of you just pushed you over the edge yet again.

“Fuck.” Bakugo hissed, pulling out of your gummy walls to cum all over your ass. He’s pumping himself for a while, staring down at your glazed ass and moaning at the sight.

Bakugo nearly shoves himself back inside you when he sees you reach back and swipe some onto your finger and taste his cum.

“Shit.” You both gasp, panting and sharing the same high as Bakugo jumps up to get a towel. You lay limp and damn near lifeless on the bed as he wipes your ass off, smacking it once it was clean.

“That was the best fucking room service I’ve ever ordered.”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #segsmail 🌈#anon you da best #queue made me do it 🥴

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likeastarstar · 3 years

Text

Bright Things- Hoseok

(A/N: A little bit of a longer form of content with my one true love Hoseok to switch things up. Listen to Whisper by Park Ji-Woo while you read for the full effect. Feedback is appreciated.)

masterlist.

It was a big night for you.

Your final thesis project, the collection of art you had been working on the entirety of your senior year in grad school was finally out there for people to see. Hung up in a well lit art studio surrounded by your peers' art felt right- like a shiny red bow on the end of your schooling.

You had no idea what came next, there were a couple options on the table as far as a job went, but you were determined to soak in this moment. Your parents had already visited and gone home for the night, your professors had given their feedback and made their rounds around the exhibition- now all that was left was for you to do the same.

By the time you were back to yours, there was a good number of people admiring your art. One person in particular seemed stuck on what you'd say was your very favorite piece.

Bright, colorful, and loud- the piece had given you the most grief out of all of them. It had a deep meaning, not one you cared to share with others. You were a little notorious for having deceptively psychedelic art. While it seemed bright and sunny to others, the ultimate message was about being lonely.

Which you were; Lonely.

You stood by the man tilting his head to one side, dressed in all black with a long coat thrown over his shoulders. He was pretty incognito, a hat pulled low on his head. He shifted his gaze towards you briefly, turning back towards the large painting, "It's so sad."

"What? The painting?" You laughed, "How? It's as if a rainbow threw up on it."

He hummed, shrugging slightly, "Bright things can be sad, too."

You looked at him closer, admiring the straight bridge of his nose and his slightly wide set eyes. He was handsome, his lips were almost heart shaped as he sent a small smile your way.

"Sorry, I guess that's wrong, huh? I'm not an artist, clearly. I'm a dance major but I have a friend in the sculpture program." He laughed, "I seem to have lost him, though."

That's when it dawned on you that you did indeed know this man- Jung Hoseok. He was a bit notorious around your school for a couple different reasons. You should've known it was him instantly, all anyone ever talked about was how perfect he looked.

"That's okay. I'll keep you company," You said quietly, sending him a small smile, "I've always been curious about you anyway."

"Me? You know me?" He said, caught off guard.

You smirked and shrugged, feeling particularly bold, "I know of you. About the way you dance...among other things. I think there was a story about a very expensive art piece and a pool involved?

It was his turn to smirk, melting slightly where he stood. Talking to him was like dancing in itself, a balancing act with the power between the two of you shifting constantly, "That just happens to be the worst rumor about me out there, great. So if you've heard everything about me, why bother humoring me now? What's there left to be curious about?"

You sighed, looking around the room vaguely, "You looked at a rainbow and called it sad. Call it boredom, maybe I just want to see if the rumors are true, or it might be genuine intrigue. Wanna stick around to find out?"

He looked slightly surprised but nodded eagerly, letting you lead him around your other pieces.

"What do you think about this one?" You asked simply, neglecting to mention that you were the creator.

So the two of you went on that way, exchanging thoughts and comments on art around you. At some point you flittered closer to him and he responded by offering an arm, letting you slip yours through his comfortably. You didn't even tell him your name, nervous that whatever spell you two were under would break.

"Okay, this one is my favorite," He decided, staring at what could only be described as your most erotic piece. You made it after you dumped your ex-boyfriend, using it as an alternative to texting him to hook up one night. The image wasn't really about him, no, it was about you. About your tendency to mistake physical chemistry for intellectual. You had printed your body on a giant canvas, super layering strokes of paint and textured medium to cover the most important parts that would clue anyone into the fact that it's your literal naked form.

"Whoever that is, she's hot." he mumbled, making you stifle a smile.

"Oh, hey! Hoseok, I've been looking for you!"

You raised your eyebrows as the boy who's arm you were borrowing, watching him light up in recognition.

"This is the friend I mentioned, Taehyung this is..." Hoseok smiled, gesturing between you and his friend, "I've just realized I haven't even asked for your name."

You smile and told him, watching his eyes widen dramatically and whirl towards the art piece in front of him, zeroing in on the small plaque next to it with your name printed on it. You laughed, admiring the way all of his thoughts could be read so clearly on his face.

"Wow, you make amazing art," His friend, Taehyung, commented, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You slid yours out from where it was wrapped Hoseok's arm and took it, bowing slightly in thanks. "Unfortunately, we have to get going pretty soon if we're going to meet up with the others, Hoseok."

He looked stuck between you, still reeling from realizing who he had been talking to all night. You felt a little bad, in all honesty. Maybe you should've clued him in sooner.

"Oh, that's alright. Thanks for keeping me company, I'm glad you two enjoyed the art." You said quietly, ready to walk away from the two of them.

You didn't get far, Hoseok catching you by the elbow and standing in front of you with a wide look in his eye, "Wait, what you said earlier, about being curious. I know you probably already have an opinion about me but, I-I'd like to see you again. Can I see you again?"

You smiled easily, wanting to say yes really badly. But you knew him, he didn't date. If he wanted to see you again, he'd have to prove it.

"Ask me out when you know my worst rumor too," You said quickly, taking a couple steps backwards, "You're right by the way- about bright things."

You walked away hoping you hadn't just made a huge mistake, also that he realized that your phone number was on the business cards you had left at the front of the exhibit.

Thankfully, he didn't make you wait too long and called two days later with the first of a long list of potential rumors he'd work his way through to date you.

#hoseok fic #jung hoseok fic #bts fic #j hope x reader #j hope fanfic

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starlost-andfound · 3 years

Text

at the divide // d.s (seasons change au)

Warning: The events in this au are an addition to the timeline of Seasons Change by @chilling-seavey (also pic credits to her <3). To avoid spoilers, please go read that amazing masterpiece first (and check out her other writing)

Inspired by If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves

Summary: Daniel searches for Marigold’s presence in a time he misses her the most.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and grief, alcohol consumption, kind of unedited

Word Count: Approximately 3K

A/N: If you want to really feel this one, listen to If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves and Marigold and Daniel’s song Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

I'll meet you at the divide

To break the spell

It was too good to be true, like a fantasy with a tragic twist, a hope for a sunny day clouded by storms. Daniel carried a heavy heart yet he felt empty. His heart beat in his chest, pumping life into his veins but he loomed around in silence. He was a ghost haunted by the walls of his own home. The house was draped in an eerie quiet, so quiet Daniel could hear the clock ticking in his bedroom from downstairs. He set aside his freshly washed plate in the drying rack and dumped his emptied beer bottle in the bin. When Lennox went to school, lunches were painfully quiet. Daniel often found himself in front of the TV, eating his lunch with the background noise of any program playing on the screen.

With a sigh he rested his hands against the counter, leaning forward. His eyes drifted to the living room, where a line of photo frames stood on the mantle above the fireplace. She was everywhere. Daniel didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse. The clock ticked rhythmically, Daniel couldn't count the hours. His fingers traced the frames on the mantle. She was always smiling, even when it hurt the most. He never understood how. How could she hold all the rays of the sun while her star collapsed? He was the moon without a sun sharing its light, a dark unlit sky with lonely stars.

Stars. Lennox. Daniel smiled shakily, his vision blurring as he stood in front of the last photo on the fireplace. Even as the faces and colours blended together with his tears, he could still remember the image clearly. Lennox’s first hockey match. Lennox was squashed between Daniel and Marigold, wearing his hockey gear. They all held matching smiles on their faces. She was everywhere and maybe that’s what made it so hard to let go, suffocating when her presence was embedded in the air around him.

Daniel grabbed himself a beer and sat down on the couch, picking up a familiar belonging: a scrapbook Marigold had crafted for them, celebrating their early dating anniversaries. The book’s cover was brightly decorated with stars and stickers. He sat down, tracing his fingers over the scribbled text in her handwriting. He flipped through the pages, taking his time to trace the stuck-on tickets and read the small love letters Marigold had delicately weaved in her writing.

A point where two worlds collide

Yeah, we'll rebel

His mind felt dizzy with the slight tinge of alcohol. All the memories printed into the scrapbook seemed like distant conversations and hazy images. He turned the page over, his eyes falling to a scribbled date in the middle and countless doodles and stickers in the background. His heart dropped as his mind took him back to one of the most special nights in his life.His mind and heart pulled him down like an anchor into the sea, dragging him deeper until there wasn’t enough light left to see.

Daniel wiped the stream of tears off his face, closing the book. He sunk down farther into the couch, holding his head as he cried. He exhaled shakily, feeling a light feather touch trailed up his shoulder. Daniel tensed as he heard a whisper. The voice was smooth like a calming wind, familiar like the arms of a lover.

“Why so many tears, my sweet?”

He opened his eyes and from the blurry mist in his eyes he saw the form of the woman who carried his heart.

“Sunshine,” he breathed. Daniel threw his arms around her in an instant. He cried, clinging on to her tighter as sobs shook his body.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Marigold held him close, rubbing soothing circles over his back. She kissed his head as he cried. She tried to pull back slightly but Daniel only held her closer.

“How- you-you’re here-I don’t know what to do, Marigold,” he whimpered. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Why would you say that, hmm?” she pulled back and cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, my sweet. I am so proud of you.”

Daniel shook his head from side to side. He gripped her shirt and rested his head against her chest. His lips trembled, “I just want you back.”

Marigold sighed quietly, “You know that’s not possible.”

“Please don’t go. ”

And we run

Until we break through

“I won’t leave just yet,” she stroked his hair gently.

Daniel sniffled, and looked up. He reached his hand up, brushing his hand along her jaw and then cupping her cheek, “You are very real.”

Marigold laughed softly, “Yes, I am here.”

“Do you-” Daniel held her hand. “Does it hurt anymore?”

Marigold smiled, “Not anymore, no.”

Daniel smiled shakily, feeling the tears build up again at the answer he wished he had heard many months ago. He sat up and his hands reached up to caress her cheek. She had this golden glow that reminded Daniel of when she was carrying Lennox. “You’re so beautiful.”

Marigold smiled.

Daniel pressed his forehead against hers, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, my sweet.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips on hers. Her soft lips and skin disappeared under his touch, fading into the air. Daniel fell forward on the couch, his hands gripping the fabric. He snapped his head around in search of her, letting out a strangled cry as he was met with the walls of his living room.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

Daniel was falling into a routine and he was growing to hate it. With no energy by noon, he often landed on a couch, a drink in his hand and the multiple CD’s of home videos by his side. He never drank too much before Lennox came home. Lennox was the only light which filled the gaping hole in his chest but the sharp taste of the beer numbed his mind. It calmed the storm of emotions he carried inside, just for a few moments and for him that was enough. Daniel entered the living room with a beer in his hand, heading to the CD’s by the television. The text on the CD covers were fading where he held them, some more than others, exposing the amount of times he watched them.

I feel my loss every night

Not long to wait

He slumped back down on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand as the video loaded. A crackle echoed over the speaker before a soft voice spoke.

And if I do this thing right

I dream of our escape

“Lennox, say hi,” Marigold whispered behind the camera.

She zoomed in on a baby Lennox, waddling around the flowers in the garden in his small yellow boots. He wore one of Marigold’s old sweaters, far too small for her but slightly too large for the little boy. The sleeves and hem of the sweater were rolled up, hugging his body. Spud turned to the camera and grinned, his two little teeth sticking out. He waved his arm at the camera and turned back to the flowers decorating their garden.

He pointed at the bunch of hydrangeas and tugged at his sweater, “Blue. Like mine.”

Marigold gasped, “Yes, well done my shining star!”

Spud giggled and the camera turned just as Daniel’s car rolled into the driveway.

“Daddy’s here!‘ Marigold captured Daniel stepping out of the truck with a smile. Lennox squealed, running to Daniel with his hands up. “Dada!”

Daniel scooped him up into his arms, bouncing him gently, “Hi Spud, I missed you!”

Marigold shuffled closer to Daniel, the camera lens covered as they shared a quick kiss, “Hi my sweet.”

“Hey sunshine.”

The camera flipped, fitting all three of them into the frame. Lennox grabbed the camera in his hands and pressed the lens close to his face.

“Oh, careful Spud.”

The curious child attempted to hold the camera out like his mother, pointing at the flowers, “Blue!” The garden twisted into a spiral as the camera tumbled out of his hands and the video cut off.

Daniel sniffled quietly and took a gulp of his beer. The next video began to roll. He heard the familiar sound of her footsteps down the stairs. The camera trailed the floor until it lifted up outside the house, pointing at Daniel.

“Look how handsome my baby daddy is.”

Daniel glanced up at the camera with a bashful smile. Marigold pulled him up by his arm so he could be seen better and she set her hand against his chest, giving him a pat.

“I’m going to have to keep close eyes on you at Sunday brunch. All the ladies are gonna want a piece of this.”

“Oh my gosh.” Daniel chuckled shyly.

“And my other handsome man!” Marigold added, shuffling around the open door to get a good shot of the baby in the car seat. “Gonna be fighting the ladies off you too, my beautiful boy.”

Lennox blinked up at her but her same smile could be seen forming behind his pacifier that bumped excitedly against his little nose. Marigold turned the camera around as she leaned in with Daniel, capturing both of them together and Daniel just smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She looked up at him lovingly, “Happy first Father’s Day, my sweet.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled, meeting her halfway for a kiss. “And thank you for making me a father.”

They shared a few more kisses and ‘I love you’s until Lennox let out a small cry.

“Oh my.” Marigold said, addressing the camera again as Daniel left the frame to care for Lennox, “Well, when Lennox says it’s time to go, it’s time to go! We have church to get to and a bunch to show off at.”

When she was a few steps away, the camera caught her admiring her husband over her shoulder as he finished buckling in the baby.

She looked back to the camera and spoke gently with her wide grin spread all over her soft face, “Lennox Blake, if you’re watching this some time in the future when you’re grown up and annoyed by your parents – just know that you have the best daddy in the whole stinking world. I picked him out myself for you so that’s how you know he’s good.”

The camera clicked softly and a another video played.

The screen zoomed in on Daniel and Lennox across the grass. Lennox was tucked up on his shoulder and Daniel was pointing out little flowers and the buds on the trees as they walked. He finally looked over and caught Marigold filming, a shy smile taking over his face and he rested his head against his son’s tiny body.

And we run

Daniel was a mess, his stray tears turning into quiet sobs. He turned off the TV, the bright screen of colours and memories turning into a reflection of his pain. He chugged down the rest of his second beer and dragged himself off the couch. The air felt stuffy, like he couldn’t breathe properly. He swayed as he stumbled to the garden door, nearly falling down the steps. A choked sob left his lips and he covered his mouth. He stormed past the bushes of overgrown, wilting flowers.

And we run

Until we break through

Daniel stumbled to the back of the garden, grabbing the support of the garden swing. The tears fell down his face , smudging the darkening colours of the flowers around him. He slid down to the grass, leaning his head back. Daniel dug his fists into the ground, tugging out strands of grass with a yell. The pain in his chest burned into tears and he closed his eyes, drowning himself in his loss. His head felt heavy with what remained of the alcohol in the system and his tears. A soft breeze rustled gently.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

A soft hand brushed his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“My sweet.”

Daniel shook his head, “No, go away.”

“Daniel, my sweet. It’s okay, I’m here.”

He wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath as he saw her again. “Mari.”

“Come on, let’s get you up.” Marigold reached out her hands to pull him up to his feet. She dusted off his shoulders and smiled. “There. Much better. Come on.”

Daniel sniffled, his eyes focused on Marigold in some state of confusion and surprise. Her arm was wrapped around Daniel’s as she guided him inside the house. He lifted his finger to touch her cheek. Marigold giggled softly, “What are you doing?”

“Where are we going?” his voice cracked.

“I haven’t seen Apollo and Venus in so long,” Marigold smiled, looking up at Daniel. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Daniel moved at a slow pace, trotting beside Marigold on her horse. Marigold looked around at the green fields ahead of them, a glow in her eyes. He watched how her hair moved in the wind, her blonde curls flowing. The sun reflected on her face, and Daniel smiled. Her face was full of colour, no longer pale, no longer lifeless. For once she seemed at ease and Daniel had forgotten what that felt like.

Marigold slowed down to a stop and for the first time Daniel turned his head away from her. He gasped softly, instantly recognizing their surroundings, their spot. He followed her movements as she climbed off her horse and sat down at the spot where he would normally park the truck. Marigold shifted closer to Daniel, if it was even possible, and placed her head on his shoulder.

Daniel held her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. Marigold sighed, “No matter how many times we come here, the view still takes my breath away. It’s beautiful.”

Daniel hummed in agreement but his focus seemed to lie on staying as close to her as possible.

“You haven’t been singing much lately, my sweet,” she remarked.

“I know,” Daniel mumbled. His voice trembled and he took a moment to breathe. “It’s hard.”

Marigold smiled softly and caressed his cheek. “Could you sing something for me?”

Daniel nodded. His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. “A h-heart on the run.” He gulped. His eyes connected with hers and he sighed shakily. “Keeps a hand on the gun. You can’t trust anyone. I was so su-s”

Daniel’s head bowed down and he wiped his eyes, “I-I’m so-sorry-”

Marigold shook her head, cupping his cheeks. She wiped his tears away and smiled softly. “I was so sure. What I needed was more, tried to shoot out the sun,” she sang.

Daniel lifted his eyes to hers, his frown breaking into a shaky smile. “The days when we raged, we flew off the page. Such damage was done,” he joined in unison.

Marigold stood up on her feet, reaching out her hand. Daniel stood up, his hand in hers as she pulled him closer. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and Daniel held her waist, sucking in his breath. “But I made it through, 'cause somebody knew I was meant for someone.”

They swayed gently from side to side. Daniel cried quietly, pulling her closer until there was barely space between them, his forehead against hers. They shared the kisses that had been stolen from them, singing the unfinished lyrics of their song with their lips just a touch apart. A setting sun cast a dreamy light over the couple. Daniel’s singing was consumed by his tears and he buried his head in between her neck and shoulder. He held her tighter, his tears staining her beautiful dress.

“So cover me up and know you're enough.” Marigold rubbed her hands soothingly over his back and kissed his shoulder. “To use me for good.”

Marigold moved her hands to his chest. Daniel didn’t move, wanting to be in her arms. “My sweet, it’s getting dark. We should get home.”

Daniel pulled away reluctantly, holding her hand as they walked back to Apollo and Venus. Marigold waited by his side as he climbed his horse. She placed her hand on his knee and they leaned closer, their lips meeting each other halfway. Daniel nearly wished he couldn’t breathe when he pulled away for a breath. Marigold pecked his lips again before climbing her horse.

She travelled forward, Daniel following behind. Marigold sped up, urging her horse to gallop faster. Daniel frowned and tried to catch up with her.

“Sunshine,” he was an arm’s reach away.

“My sweet,” Marigold turned back to him with a smile, but it wasn’t the same. There was some underlying loss in her smile and it made Daniel’s heart drop to his stomach. “It’s time to go.”

“Sunshin-” he hurried Venus to run faster. “Sunshine! Marigold, wait!”

And we run

Daniel struggled, panting. The wind blew harshly in his face as Marigold moved faster, turning into a blur. Marigold faded farther and farther away until she disappeared. He cried out for her, his voice dying out into violent sobs. “Mari-stop!”.

Venus turned to mist from beneath him and Daniel fell to his knees. He pulled himself up, ignoring the ache in his legs and he broke into a sprint.

He felt himself fade the faster he ran, hearing a voice call out for him, but it wasn’t hers. The distance he covered never seemed enough as the fields ran endlessly in front of him. His legs gave out under him and he fell, head first into the grass.

Until we break through

Daniel’s eyes opened and he turned over with a groan, feeling someone shake his shoulder. “Dad, dad!”

He sat up in a sudden movement, startling Lennox. Daniel pulled himself to his feet, marching past Lennox to the stables.

“Dad, what happened? Where are you going?” Lennox followed him, his school bag bouncing on his bag as he kept up with his father. Daniel entered the stables, his shoulders falling as he found the horses well kept in their pens.

“Dad?” Lennox walked up to his side and held his arm, looking up at a distraught Daniel. He looked down at Lennox and brushed his hand over his head. Daniel pulled Lennox close, hugging him tight. Lennox welcomed the hug, unknowing of the inner turmoil in Daniel’s heart. He could still feel her in their own shining star, little remnants of sunshine and beautiful blooming flowers.

“Let’s go inside, Spud,” he whispered.

Lennox pulled away with a smile and jogged back into the house. Daniel watched him go before he turned back to the stable. He looked past the open entryway where the green fields stretched out to the horizon, meeting the sky.

And we run

------------------

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee @bessonbae @hiya-its-amber @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

#Daniel seavey #Daniel seavey imagines #seasons change

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wallstoothin · 4 years

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momma’s boy united (pt 1?)

I need to go soon but I wanted to post this as soon as I’m done, I’ll fix it up later. Ryuji was on his knees as the little girl continued to cry in front of him. He really didn’t mean for all of this to happen. It was an accident, he swears ! He was just jogging in the park when a little girl bump into him at full speed. The girl was fine at first after she fell into the ground with a small ‘oof’. She was staring at Ryuji in surprise and it was all fine until her gaze fell to the little stuffed hamster in her hands.

‘It looked expensive too.’ Ryuji thought as he and the girl both stare at the large gash on its stomach it’s mouth as left wide open as if it was screaming silently before its death. With the way the stuffings falls down to the floor and the girl’s mournful look it really looked like Ryuji commited accidental murder then and there. It was the first sniffle that dragged Ryuji out of his thoughts. He lightly touched the girl’s shoulder and gently coaxed her to look at him or at least have her look away from the corpse.

“Mii-tan is dead!” The little girl screamed out. “Mii-tan is broken!”

Geez, he feels really bad now. Where’s the kid’s mother? The girl was still crying from the top of her lungs, while people from young mothers to bored elders walked around the two each showing their distaste on the two for making a racket.

Incidents like these have been happening more often lately. People ignoring others in need in order to satisfy their own happiness because of that Tokyo has been seeing a rise in crimes in the past two years. It’s like everyone has been hit by a magic spell that made them assholes are something (Ryuji was sure he saw that plot in a movie long ago). Back to the kid, she was still crying and Ryuji still has no idea of what to do.

What would his friends do? How would they help the girl out? The best solution is to help the girl fix her stuffed animal right? But Ryuji has zero skills in sewing and he doesn’t want to bother his ma over his mistake especially since she’s been taking later shifts for the past few weeks.

“We should take Mii-tan to the hospital.” He blurted out. The girl looked up her eyes wide and hopeful. “The hospital?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s where we take sick and injured people yeah? There’s a special hospital just for uh- Mii-tan.”

It was something that Ann has mentioned during lunch a few weeks ago. When she was younger she used to bring a stuffed cat everywhere has one day lost it’s ears because of her constant tugging. Her caretaker at the time send her broken doll to a “doll hospital”. A few weeks later she received her fixed doll along with pictures of the doll’s “stay” at the hospital. His mom also mentioned something about it too. How there was a stuffed animal hospital inside the fabric store run by an old lady. It shouldn’t be far from his place. He picked up the kid and place her on his shoulder, adjusting his grip so he doesn’t accidentally drop her.

Kids like these types of things, Right? He remembered wanting his father to do the same when he was younger. So here he was jogging with a little girl on his shoulder while making ‘wee-woo’ sounds. The girl was laughing now as the wind picked up and a light breeze blew in his hair.

Twenty minutes later and they arrived. It was an old fabric store surrounded by a 100 yen shop and a convenience store. It looked very out of place between two modern shops but who was he to say anything about it. The apartment he lives in was about thirty years old which is pretty old compare to all the other buildings in Tokyo. He carefully place the younger girl on the ground,the young girl- Meika was grabbing his ring finger with her little hands tightly as Ryuji slides the door open.

“Welcome, how may I help ‘ya.”

What he expected to be an old and withered lady turns out to be a broad shoulder young man with slick black hair and sharp eyes staring at the two. Meika immediately hid between his legs leaving Ryuji to fend for himself.

“We uh- we heard this place is an uh- hospital for stuffed animals.”

The young man’s eyes soften at the sight of the girl. “Yeah bring the patient here.”

Meika gently pushed the back of Ryuji’s knees as the two approached the front desk and Mii-tan was lying on the cold counter. The man carefully lifted the doll up to assess the damage. He pointed at the chairs by the door.

“Take a seat, this little guy won’t take long.”

The two awkwardly shuffled to the chair and sat down. Ryuji spend his time looking around the store. Little dolls and knick-knacks litter the shelves. Picture frames of old newspaper clipping and print out of some news article. Most were about twenty year old. There are nothing recently.

There were also sign up sheets of classes offering to teach how to make some knitted dolls, run by someone of the name Tatsumi Kanji. His eyes went back to the dolls on the shelves. His mother’s birthday is coming soon, with all the phantom thieves stuff going on and with his mother increasing shifts as of late they barely have time to sit and chat with each other. It would be nice to give her something that he put effort in-something to remember him by. He doesn’t have a lot of money to buy a ring or a necklace but maybe he can make her a good luck charm. He dug into his pocket and surprisingly found a pen, he clicked it open and drew a little lightning bolt on his wrist to see if it works-it does. He stood up and head over to the sign up sheet and write down his name and number. The class is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. From the other two names already written on the sheet Ryuji can tell that the class will be filled with girls and as exciting as it is to be stuck in a room with him and the teacher being the only guy. The idea of it also sounds a bit awkward.

Ryuji:

Free tomorrow afterschool?

Akira:

Yeah

Ryuji

Cool wanna join this class with me

Akira:

What kind of class?

Ryuji send a picture of the poster.

Akira:

Sure

Ryuji knows that his friend likes these sort of things, no matter how much he tries to deny it, the growing collection of gatcha and stuffed dolls in the attic speaks for themselves. He made sure to put Akira's name and number on the poster as well.

Mii-tan came back healthy. It had white cloth around it’s head and was wearing a hospital gown and it even had a little band around it’s wrist. It was like the doll really went to a hospital. Meika was happy as she carefully carried the doll trying her hardest to not ruin the “bandages”.

The girl then carefully looked between the man and Ryuji. “Thank you very much for helping Mii-tan.” She said. “It’s almost dinner time, I have to go home now.”

The man grin and gently pat the girl’s head. “Hurry on home then. Make sure ‘ta look both way when crossing.”

The two men happily waved goodbye at the girl as she left the shop, once she was gone Ryuji took out his wallet. “Thanks for everything man, how much do I owe ya?”

“A thousand.”

A thousand? It was much cheaper than he thought. He decided he should introduce himself since he’s coming back the next day. “I’m Sakamoto Ryuji, thanks for helping us out.”

“Tatsumi Kanji, I’m helping out my ma’s friend who owns this place. “

Tatsumi Kanji, that’s the name of the guy doing the class tomorrow isn’t it? He voiced his question to the other man.

Kanji nodded. “Yeah, you got a problem with that or something?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m just askin’ since my friend and I are going to join tomorrow. My mom’s birthday is next week and I wanted to make her a present.”

“Is that so?”

Before Ryuji could say anything else the man roughly placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting late, you should head home. I’ll see you later, you better not be late.”

As if Akira would let him be late in the first place. “Gotcha.”

And as Ryuji walked back towards his house he can’t help but to feel the captain somewhere in his head buzzing the same way he would feel whenever he’s around his friends. ‘It’s probably nothing,’ he told himself as he continue on his way back.

Is this the start of a new friendship? I just wanted the two blond momma boys to play nice. Also the image of a little kid on ryuji’s shoulder as he shouts ‘wee-woo’ won’t leave my head. If I do decide to make a part two it would be the class.

#sakamoto ryuji #kurusu akira #p5 #persona #P4 #Persona 4 #kanji tatsumi

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inosuketingz · 4 years

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the sheets are stained with blood [p.2]

( gif source rafikecoyote )

PART ONE [ PART TWO ] PART THREE PART FOUR Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: swearing, mentions of sex, violence, blood, spoilers for Birds of Prey Word Count: 1980 A/N: I promise I am not dead I just disappeared. I do plan on extended this fic to like far off places so if you want me to tag you in upcoming parts, feel free to ask!

Victor’s knife digs deeper into your neck and you groan. His face isn’t an inch away from yours, his breath able to tickle your nose.

“I’ve got a special place on my back for you, Night Hex,” Zsasz insists. You roll your eyes. People only started to call Night Hex after your first few encounters with Wonder Woman. It just so happened that they all occurred during the night, and now you’re stuck with that shit hole of a super villain name.

You grab onto his arm and he instinctively tries to jerk it away, but your grip is tight as you chant “Mutanter et nos, mutanter et nos, mutanter et nos.” One of the first spells you ever learned- it allows you to swap positions with whoever is in your grasp.

In the blink of an eye, you are standing where Zsasz stood, holding his knife into his neck. For a second a look of shock and confusion crosses his face until that shit-eating grin returns.

“Spooky,” he mocks you.

“I hate to rain on your parade, Mr. Zsasz, but I’m not in the mood to be another one of your slaughter animals.” You pull back, making sure to keep the weapon on you. “Maybe next time, though.”

He doesn’t move from the wall and you watch him watch you, waiting for him to say something. You two share a moment of silence, VIctor staring you down with hooded eyes.

You aren’t sure if you should get nervous right now. You could easily overpower him with one one of the plethora of spells you know. But, it’s not like you’re immortal or anything. All it takes is for him to grab the nearest sharp object to gut you- and you’re a goner.

“Why the hell are you here?” You question and quickly add “And how the hell did you get into my apartment?”

Again, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you watch him reach into the back pockets of his dress pants and you immediately slam his knife into his shoulder before he can pull anything out. A small, but joyful smile forms on your lips as you stare down at him. Your strength is in your witchcraft, not weapons. When your instinct led you to shove the knife into Zsasz’s skin, you were only about 50% sure you were strong enough to actually hurt him.

He looks up at you as he pulls the object out of him. “You didn’t even let me answer, bitch.” And then he tries to lunge at you. Again- you are a witch. Not a weapons-master nor a body builder. From what you’ve heard about Zsasz, his strength is impressive for a normal human. One punch from him could knock you out.

Since you started practicing your witchcraft after turning 18, you found out there were a lot of pros and cons that came with it. Pros are; with the right spell, potion, ritual, or object- you are capable of doing practically anything. Cons are; these things take time. So in cases where a psycho is attacking you with a knife, and you don’t have time to say a three-line spell, you have to act from the top of your head. Usually not the best idea.

And, in this scenario, as Zsasz’s hand’s only a little a couple of inches away from your face, your brain tells you to raise your leg and slam your foot on his groin as hard as you can. The chunky platform heels you’re wearing help with the effort.

Victor stumbles back, dropping the knife to cup his crotch in pain. You lurch for the weapon the second it slips out of his hand and shove Zsasz to the ground, straddling chest as his back hits the floor to keep him from moving.

Maybe dealing with Wonder Woman these past few years has its perks.

Holding the knife up in warning, you repeat yourself “What do you want, Victor?”

Again, he smiles. “So, you really don’t remember me, huh?” He, again, changed the subject.

“What?” You lowered your arm in confusion. “The fuck are you talking about?” A man like VIctor Zsasz is not one you could forget. But, he doesn’t let it go.

“I mean, sure, it was a couple of years ago, but c’mon. I wasn’t that bad, was I?” He’s amused as he speaks. He knows the more ambiguity he says, the deeper he gets under your skin.

You watch him chuckle and narrow your eyes in thought. Admittedly, your history is a long and fanatical one. Maybe you did come across Zsasz one time or another.

It's when he continues his monologue that the bulb in your brain finally lights up. “What was the name they gave you? Cosima or some shit?”

You struggle to come up with a reply. Cosima? In the least cliche way; you haven’t heard that name in years. Victor laughs at the shocked look on your face. “You do remember!” He feigns appreciation.

Your parents never took too great of a liking to you. As they raised you and your twin sister, with the knowledge that only offspring becomes a witch, it was clear that they wanted that witch to be the latter, Talia. You couldn’t blame them, of course. You were a little shit, constantly hanging with the wrong crowds and causing chaos around the city. And then, you inherited the powers. They were angry about it. A month later Talia went missing. They became angrier.

Their favoritism never really bothered you, and you and your sister were actually quite close. You didn’t take your sister’s disappearance well. What started as you stealing a few things from the corner store as a kid turned into sex, drugs, high theft, and more.

So, they kicked you out. For the first few months, you couch hopped from friend’s house to friend’s house. At this time, you had almost no experience with magic, so scamming your way through life using witchcraft wasn’t an option. Then, one of your friends proposed a job offer. She worked as a dancer at a gentlemen's club where there happened to be an opening.

Workers also got free housing, so you took the friend on her offer. You never imagined that you’d work as a stripper, but at that point- you were desperate for anything.

Rich men from all over the world came to the club, one of them being the rich Gotham entrepreneur Vikram Zsasz. He was well into his 40’s and brought with him a couple of employees for his company- as well as his 25 year old son, Victor Zsasz.

It was so hard to draw a connection to the Victor who lays cackling on your hardwood floor to the fresh-faced young man who visited that day. He was a completely different person, you wouldn’t have ever remembered it was him had he not mentioned it.

The younger Zsasz moved with energy and pride, like some arrogant frat boy. He was attractive, as he still is, with clear skin that lacked the tally marks that plague him now. When your boss escorted you and a few other girls to host the group of men, he was chugging a glass of scotch like juice, his platinum blonde hair styled in a messy side part.

You remember his attention always being on you as you sat with the party. You never thought much of it since there was always men and women lusting over you while you danced. His eyes watched you with adoration, unlike the disturbing leers he gives you now.

You would have declined his offer when he asked you to spend the night with him had he been anyone else. But, he was hot and you were horny so you accepted.

He was equally as cocky in bed as he was at the gentlemen’s club. He kept telling you to “lay back and let him do all the work”, something you didn’t have a problem with since it wasn’t like you planned on doing shit anyway. He attacked your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in days. The feeling of his tongue swirling against your clit and his fingers deep inside of you had you pulling at his hair.

When he inserted himself inside of you, you remember that he was rough. He took you from behind first and held you by your neck as he continuously ordered you to call him “Daddy” and praise his work on you.

For about two hours, all that filled the hotel room were your moans, his groans and the sound of your skin slapping against each other.

Your face warms and you feel yourself growing wet from the thought. You don’t even notice when he placed his hands on your thighs.

“Guess I wasn’t so bad after all, witch.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you’re reminded that the Victor you’re straddling isn’t the boy from your memories.

He’s an insane serial killer whose body count of corpses ascends over the Wayne Tower . A devil who lurks the streets of Gotham. One ready to take the lives of any that come too close to him, including you.

You push yourself off of him. “Don’t call me that, dickhead.”

“What else should I call you? My little slut?” He sits up on his elbows and smiles when you roll your eyes. “Or maybe a fucking cocksucker? That’s what you are anyway-”

“If you’re not here to kill me, stop wasting my time,” you cut him off. He’s trying to get into your head, with his twisted teasing and reminders. You’re not in the mood for any of it.

He glances at the stab wound on his shoulder. It wasn’t too deep, but his printed Versace dress shirt is stained with blood. “What, you’re not gonna help with Daddy’s wounds?” He taunts you.

~ ~ ~

Zsasz moans in comfort as he slips into the bath. His arm was stiff since you actually did wrap his gash on his shoulder. You made sure you tied it too tight, so much so that it almost cut the circulation off his arms. But that didn’t matter. It’s the fact that you did it which he cares so much about it.

He picks his phone from the pockets of his pants which he tossed on the bathroom floor while getting undressed. He opens the photo app and taps on an untitled folder. In it are images of you, ranging from low quality helicopter shots of your encounters with Wonder Woman to pictures he snapped of you from your apartment window without you knowing.

When he saw you that day at the club, he was immediately fascinated with your looks. When he returned to Gotham, you were all that took up his mind. He was obsessed, but he lost you. You were hours away, in the dangerous parts of Boston without anyone to watch over you.

His parents died a few months after his encounter with you. After that, his depression led him to the gambling addiction where he lost it all to Oswald Cobblepot. He was ready to end it all when he met Roman. By then, he almost forgot about you until your face showed up on nationwide news one day as everyone dubbed you Wonder Woman’s new foe.

He zooms in on a photo he had taken of you in the shower. Your breasts were nearly in full view, if it wasn’t for the stupid fucking plant you had in there that blocked much of the window. Zsasz smiles.

He’s lost everything. He lost his parents in the car accident. He lost his fortune in the Gotham casino. He lost Roman to that bitch, Harley Quinn. He’s lost everything. Everything except you.

#victor zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz x you #chris messina #birds of prey #bop #dceu

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Holy cow! This is one of the longest chapters I’ve written for anything in a long time! I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

Chapter Five

Courtship. The ideology behind romance to begin with never had settled with Zoe. If anything, one might argue she was married to her work. Dedicated. She'd had no time for dating, especially when it came to Count Dracula. But there she was, standing in a clothing store, feeling as if the very walls were closing in on her because she let it slip to one of her friends that she had an evening planned with a man that night.

"So you aren't even going to tell me who?" Meg, a fellow scientist at the Jonathan Harker Foundation, asked with a wide grin. "Is it Randall from Security?"

"Yes, because I find a man who sucks cheese puff powder off of his fingers and lacks the decency to use deodorant highly attractive," Zoe rolled her eyes. "And it isn't a date. It's more like a business meeting."

"He's cooking you dinner, Zo," the woman laughed, rifling through a rack of dresses. "If that doesn't spell romantic, I don't know what does. Here," she thrust a floral printed pink dress into the other woman's arms. "Anyway, can you at least humor me with where you met lover boy?"

"Oh God," the scientist moaned. "Please do not refer to him as that. Ever. I just started to get over my morning sickness." Zoe paused, trying to ignore Meg's pleading expression. "...If you must know, we met on the beach." She decided not to go with any further details on that account. The last thing she needed was for Meg to eventually put two and two together.

Meg squealed like a teenager and it took every bit of Zoe's energy not to conk her in the head. "That is literally the picture perfect setting for a romance novel. Oh, and this one," she draped another dress, this one yellow spotted, over the pregnant woman's forearm. "Is he cute? Tall, dark, and handsome?"

"Tall and dark," the other woman muttered. "But not in the way you're thinking." Macabre was a more fitting description. Handsome she didn't intend on going down that path. "Really, Meg, I appreciate the help, but this isn't a date. I'm just going over to chat. And trust me, it's the last thing I want to do." Hoping maybe to prove her point more, she motioned to the dresses. "I shouldn't even bother wearing something nice."

"Oh please, Zoe, you need new clothes anyway," Meg exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Your closet looks like you came from the late 1800's." She shook her head, ignoring the other woman's glare. "Besides, you're pregnant. You need to expand your wardrobe to accommodate, well…"

Meg didn't need to finish her statement for Zoe to know what she was getting at. Absentmindedly, the scientist's free hand rested on the swell of her stomach. Accommodation. That certainly was one way to put it. It was better than openly expressing that she was outgrowing her normal clothes. Twice as fast as most expecting women. She had the twins to thank for that.

"I suppose there isn't any harm in stocking up." The woman finally admitted, Meg's eyes lighting up at her friend's surrender. "But I'm not doing it for him. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good for myself."

"Whatever you say, Zoe." Meg smirked, taking a few dresses from her as they walked to the counter. "Anyway, he sounds like the ideal guy. I mean, showing interest in you despite the fact that you're about to have not one, but two babies." She paused, turning to meet her friend's gaze. "He does know you're pregnant right?"

Oh did he ever. It was his fault anyway. He'd been the one to knock her up in the first place. But admitting that to someone like Meg. Someone, who despite she loved dearly, had an issue with keeping her mouth shut and spreading the world's secrets to all. She inhaled, laying the dresses onto the counter before settling on an answer.

"Yes," she replied. And it wasn't exactly a lie. Just not the full truth. "He is aware of my pregnancy. It doesn't seem to concern him." Not in the slightest unfortunately.

"Who knows," Meg grinned widely. "Maybe if things work out, he could be your dream daddy! Knight of the dirty diapers! King of spit up, clean up! The royal…" She stopped abruptly when Zoe shot her a disapproving glare. "Look, Zo, all I'm saying is that this can be really good for you. Give the man a chance. Whoever he is. You of all people deserve to be happy."

"Yeah." Zoe muttered un-enthusiastically, retrieving her credit card from her purse. "If you say so."

Her idea of true happiness was being away from that vampire as far as possible. Especially with their-her children on the way. Christ, Meg merely suggesting that Dracula being the ideal family man and husband…No, she'd certainly have none of that.

As she grabbed the bulging bags of dresses and followed Meg out, she made a mental note to make a mock-tail of some sort once she arrived back home. She couldn't have alcohol, but she could at least pretend. Maybe then the disturbing images would vanish from her mind. Hopefully.

XXX

"If it were me, I'd go with that baggy pair of sweatpants of yours and that stained t-shirt in the closet? You know the one I'm referring to. I believe it's blue and has the name of that fish and chips restaurant you like so much?"

Zoe did her best to ignore Agatha's advice as she slipped into a navy blue dress. Simple. Nothing that particularly stood out. She didn't want to impress him, but at least look presentable at the clinic. Studying herself in the mirror, it was hard not to smile a little when her eyes landed on her stomach. What an odd thought it was knowing that two tiny...well, half humans had inhabited her womb. Growing rapidly day by day. Soon enough she'd be able to hold both of them in her arms-something she was greatly looking forward to.

"Despite your clear assumption, I am not dressing for Count Dracula." Zoe said as she glimpsed at her late niece's reflection in the glass. "I'm just fond of this dress."

"Yes, but you don't tend to wear those very often do you?" The woman frowned deeply at the ghost's words. "Do not go down an even slipperier slope, Zoe. Vampires are tricksters. He could reel you in before you even realized that he had."

"Patronizing me wouldn't get you anywhere." The scientist exclaimed as she gave her appearance one last look. "I am far more intelligent than you give me credit for. Not that this is, or has been, any of your concern to begin with."

Before the spirit could reply, there was a rhythmic knock at the front door. Grinding her teeth together, Zoe strode over and peered through the peephole. She was met by Dracula's wide grin as he stared right back at her. When he gave a friendly wave, she couldn't help but groan and pulled the door open.

"Are you going to invite me in?" The vampire inquired pleasantly. "You look quite lovely by the way. That dress does wonders." It was hard to tell if it was a genuine compliment or blatant sarcasm. It was difficult to know with him. "Well?"

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice…" Zoe exhaled as she stepped to the side. "Count Dracula, it is a great honor to allow you passage into my humble abode."

"Moody I see." Dracula commented as he entered. "Though I do appreciate the flair for the dramatic." His eyes immediately fell to her stomach, lips curving into a grin. "Twelve weeks?"

"Thirteen," she muttered. Christ, why did he have to stare at her like that? "We should get going if we don't want to be late. I could've just met you there, you know. I know how to operate a vehicle."

"I just thought this would allow us more bonding time." The Count responded as he reached to grab Zoe's fleece jacket from the coat rack. She didn't take it. "It's cold." He remarked with a slight frown. "And the waiting room is just as chilly."

"I'll take my chances." The scientist replied, pushing past the man.

She could feel Agatha's eyes staring at the back of her neck as she went. It didn't help matters when Dracula decided to bring the coat along anyway. Why was it so hard for people to just listen to her? When the vampire opened up the car door to let her in, she grew even more irritated. The Count could act as gentlemanly as he liked, but he'd always be just a bloodthirsty killer. Literally.

"Are you always so anti-social?" Dracula asked as he pulled onto the road. "You know, that isn't how you make friends."

"Shut up," Zoe grumbled. "And I'll have you know, I have plenty of friends."

"Really? Like who?"

The scientist snorted loudly at his question. "Do you honestly think I'd tell you? The last thing I need is for you to go about draining them dry." She folded her arms over her chest and stared idly out of the window. "I don't need you invading my social circles."

"That's a shame." He exhaled, though his disappointment was clearly false. "I came across this lovely little app that allows you to hook up with people."

Zoe grew rigid in her seat. An app? What was he talking about? "What do you mean an app?" The woman asked, trying not to sound at all interested. "A dating app?"

"Well," he shrugged. "I suppose you could use it for that. But I use it for other things."

She knew what he meant. It didn't take an expert. And yet, the idea that he was using it to find "victims" didn't upset her. No. No, it was the fact that it was a dating app. A strange sensation began to bubble in the pit of her stomach. An emotion that almost horrified her at the thought. Jealousy.

"Those things are rigged." She explained, trying to maintain her cool. "You could easily be cat-fished. I would've expected you to be smarter than to use some silly old site." Why should she even care? Why did she care? "I wouldn't bother with one of those."

Dracula looked at her in amusement as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting further, she got out of the car and began to speed walk towards the entrance. She was so caught up in trying to get away from him that she didn't notice the small pot hole in the pavement. The tip of her shoe caught itself on the edge sending Zoe tumbling towards the ground. Just as she was about to hit the pavement, someone grabbed her from behind.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to run in the street?"

Zoe, still a little shaken, turned her head to see that her "hero of the day" was none other than the Lord of Darkness himself. Pulling away from his awkward embrace, she stabilized herself. He wasn't smirking. Or chuckling for that matter. Actually, he looked a little concerned.

"Are you alright?" He ventured, his eyes scanning her.

"I'm...fine," she decided. "Thank you for that." Blood began to rush to her cheeks and suddenly she felt rather hot. "Let's just go in. We're already running late."

Neither spoke as they made their way to the Obstetrics and Gynecology ward. Something that Zoe was more than fine with. After she signed in, she took her seat beside Dracula-who, currently, was immersed in a magazine about water birth.

"This sounds intriguing." He commented, pointing to an image of a very pregnant woman sitting in a plastic tub with her partner. "Shall I tear it out for future reference?"

"I'm not getting naked in a tub with you!" She hissed, snatching the paper away. "Giving birth or for pleasure."

Tossing the magazine aside, Zoe was relieved when a nurse leaned out of the door and called her back. Dracula was the first to rise, offering his hand to the doctor to help her up. Ignoring him completely, the woman stood up unaided and the two filed into the back.

"Go behind the curtain while I change into the gown." Zoe instructed as she snatched up the folded clothes. "I'll let you know when you can come out."

"I've already seen you naked before." Dracula called out as she yanked the blind in front of him. "And I'm sure it will happen again!"

"In your dreams." Zoe muttered, slipping into the outfit. God, how unsightly it made her look. Frowning, she ran a hand through her hair. "Alright, you're allowed back in."

Dracula grinned as he reappeared. "I preferred the other dress," he commented. "But I suppose I could also adjust to this one."

Before Zoe could snap back, the door opened and Dr. Clyde strode in. He smiled at the two, clearly not realizing the current feud happening. Throwing one last glare at Dracula, the scientist slid onto the examination table and forced a smile onto her face.

"Zoe, it's so lovely to see you." Dr Clyde expressed giving her a warm handshake. "And you as well." Dracula smirked at the recognition and the woman did her best not to snarl. "Let's have a look at your twins. It's been a few weeks, hasn't it."

The paper lining the bed crinkled as Zoe laid back feeling uncomfortably exposed. As the obstetrician pulled the ultrasound machine over, the vampire moved closer to her side. If he tried to reach for her hand, she would, without a doubt, do her best to rip it off.

"And how have you been feeling?" The doctor asked, preparing the gel to smear across her abdomen. "Nausea starting to settle down? Any spotting or bleeding?"

"None." Zoe replied, going slightly ridged as the cold slime touched her bare skin. "I've been feeling okay."

"That's perfect," Dr. Clyde grinned, grabbing the probe. "That's exactly what we liked to hear!" He began to run the device across her lower stomach. "And…" Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of familiar thumping. It was as if a weight had been lifted off Zoe's shoulders. "There we go! Heartbeats located!"

Dracula and Zoe both peered up at the screen at the two blobs that looked much more human in appearance. Their blobs. The vampire smiled proudly as he studied the images carefully.

"Are they healthy?" Dracula asked, turning to the doctor. "Functional?" Functional. Zoe rolled her eyes at the word. "Why are they so close together?"

"Actually, a very valid question." The man smiled, taking his mouse to point at what seemed to be a thin line. A membrane. "It's around this stage that we can confirm what sort of twins we are dealing with. Fraternal or identical, I mean. And your two…" Again, he pointed at the screen. "Are, without a doubt, identical."

Identical. Identical. Jesus H. Christ. She was giving birth to clones! Well, not clones in the sense of copies of something. Well, they would look just like each other. How the hell was she supposed to tell them apart?! She didn't sign up to be pregnant. She didn't sign up for twins. And she sure as Hell didn't anticipate them being carbon copies of each other!

"Zoe? Zoe, are you alright?"

It was the sound of Dracula's voice that snapped her back into reality. When their eyes met, she was surprised how genuinely concerned he looked. Evidently her internal panic attack must've been a little external. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be just fine. She just needed to keep her grip on the string of her balloon of sanity and not let go.

"I'm fine." She assured them, nodding her head. "Just a lot to take in."

The two little creatures on the screen moved. Zoe watched as their little stubby limbs disappearing in and out of view as the doctor guided the probe around. Identical. She was still in utter shock, there was no denying that, but she already loved them dearly. Even though their father was Dracula. And that she might lose her mind figuring out which baby was which. They were her's and God she'd do anything for them.

"When can we learn the gender?" Zoe asked, her attention turning to the doctor. "Is it too soon?"

"Not for awhile, I'm afraid." Dr. Clyde admitted, wiping a towel across Zoe's midsection. "It's easiest to tell around eighteen to twenty weeks. There are ways to test earlier, but I'd suggest waiting. You're only a month or two away."

Zoe couldn't help but scowl as Dracula immediately grabbed the ultrasound images from the OBGYN. Proudly, he carefully folded them up and slipped them into his wallet. She made a mental note to attempt to reclaim them later on. They were equally her's after all.

"It was wonderful seeing you both again and I'm glad things are going well." Dr. Clyde smiled as he walked the couple out. "I'll have the receptionist schedule you for an appointment in a few weeks. Just to keep track since you are high risk. But no concerns whatsoever right now." He paused in the doorway. "If you have any questions, please feel free to call me and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible!"

It had begun to rain as they exited the hospital. When Dracula produced an umbrella, Zoe was not too shocked by it. The vampire always seemed to have many tricks up his sleeve. Though the idea of being close to him made her shutter, being wet wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling. Sucking it up, she got underneath and kept up his pace.

The drive from the clinic to Dracula's flat wasn't a long one which spared the need for small talk. Already the storm had begun to pass, the light of the moon reflecting in the puddles. The vampire seemed to move with more purpose and Zoe couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to avoid looking into them. Finally reaching the front door, the Count grabbed the knob and pulled it open.

"Ladies first." He smiled, motioning for the woman to enter.

Zoe frowned softly, but did as he said. Her eyes scanned the room as she took in the sight around her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The past few times she visited, every appeared to be in order. Placing her purse on a nearby table, she took a seat on a leather couch. It felt surprisingly good to be off her feet.

"It's nice to have someone to cook for that I don't intend on having for dinner later." Dracula commented, moving towards the fridge to retrieve some ingredients. "I'll have you know I went great lengths to make this perfect. Farm's markets don't operate at night. I had to send Frank out to purchase what I needed." The smirk that plastered itself on his face made her want to smother him with a pillow. "Only the best for the mother of my children."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response as she settled back into the soft cushions. Exhaustion. That feeling was becoming more apparent as her pregnancy progressed. Though she dared not admit that to Dracula. He'd insist on her staying the night and she knew what happened last time when she did that.

"Where did you even learn to cook?" The scientist asked, hoping that talking would keep her alert. "It's not like you need to eat regular food."

"Over the years you pick up skills." Dracula replied simply, dumping chopped vegetables into a sizzling pan. "Besides, I have guests to impress. It wouldn't look good if I wasn't a proper host."

"No," she sighed. "I guess it wouldn't."

It was almost relaxing observing him work. He did so with surprising grace. Zoe couldn't help but secretly wish Agatha was here to berate her for her decisions. At least that would've stifled the yawn she'd been trying so hard to suppress.

"Tired are we?" The vampire inquired, looking up from a pot of boiling water. "You are more than welcome to lay down and take a snooze."

"I'm fine." Zoe insisted, forcing her eyes to open wider as she pushed herself up. "I'm just bored."

"The remote is on the lamp table beside you." He informed her as he returned his attention to the food. "There are hundreds of channels to watch on there. Surely you can find one to suit your desires."

Television hadn't exactly been a preferred choice of entertainment for Zoe. A novel or, at the most, an audio-book was more her style. Despite that, she grabbed the clicker and turned the thing on. Flipping through the channels, she skimmed through the various sports, music competitions, before deciding on BBC Knowledge. Nothing wrong with a good, old documentary.

As she watched the bold logo appear on the screen her nerves began to settle. At least her mind could be focused elsewhere than her current, problematic situations. That immediately changed when the title of the episode popped up: An Exploration into the Lives of Nuns Throughout the Centuries. Immediately she clicked it off, tossing the remote to the side.

"Done already?" Dracula asked, eyeing her with a cocked brow.

"Nothing of interest," she lied. "Are you almost finished? I'd like to get home at a decent hour."

"You're in luck." The vampire replied, grabbing a plate of something. Whatever it was, the smell wafted through the air. Intoxicating. Rich. And her stomach growled with hunger. "Come sit at the table."

Reluctantly, she stood up and made her way over to the dining room table. There were at least two positives when it came to having dinner with Dracula. The first being that even if she wasn't pregnant, he wouldn't poison her. That would certainly ruin his meal. And, of course, the obvious one. She was carrying his children. He seemed very intent on having a part in their lives-even though she was very intent on keeping that from happening.

"What is it?" Zoe asked as she sat down, eyeing the plate warily as he placed it in front of her.

Thick, speckled with herbs spaghetti noodles drenched in a rich, red sauce that was topped with a breaded piece of meat-chicken perhaps-sat before her on a white plate. God, did it look good. Almost too good to eat. She looked to Dracula who was smiling proudly at his dish.

"Chicken Parmesan." He stated as he took the seat opposite of her. "With less garlic than the recipe called for, of course." How thoughtful. "Well go on," he nodded. "At least try it."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she grabbed her fork. Taking the smallest amount possible on the tongs, she placed the bite into her mouth. So one could really experience an orgasm in their mouth. Zoe chewed it carefully, savoring the flavors.

"Well?" The Count ventured. "What's my Yelp rating?"

"It's...edible…" She admitted as she went in for another forkful. "I'm impressed that you know how to do more than just suck blood."

"I appreciate the compliment." He smiled, folding his hands onto the table. "Now, now that we're settled down, I think we should talk about the twins." The scientist stiffened at his statement. "We have our differences, Zoe. But I have an equal right over them too."

"They're babies," she glowered. "They aren't something to trade around like a prize. After all of your literal crimes against humanity, what makes you think you are suited to be a father? I'm willing to fight you for them." It wouldn't be that easy and she very well knew it. It just felt good to threaten him. "You don't deserve a family."

"A rather harsh statement." The vampire replied with a nod. "But I suppose I have done some questionable things in that past." He paused before adding. "And perhaps in the present as well." Dracula leaned back in his seat and continued. "Although, it isn't fair of you to immediately assume that I would be a toxic parent without allowing me to prove myself first."

Zoe let out a sharp laugh. "What makes you think you have the right to even ask me to do that?" Her fork clanked against the bottom of her dish. "It was my mistake of even telling you that I was pregnant in the first place. I should've kept my mouth shut. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your shit!"

"I don't want to argue with you, Zoe," Dracula said with a frown. "I invited you over and cooked you dinner in the hopes we could discuss this like adults." He fell silent for a moment seeming to consider something. "Come with me."

"Why?" She snapped, her arms folding over her chest. "Do you plan to hold me captive until you can claim my children?"

"Can I show you something without you immediately jumping down my back?" He asked coolly, rising up from his chair. "I want to show you something."

Part of her wondered if she could reach the front door fast enough to get out without him catching her. Knowing that wasn't a possibility, she ceded and reluctantly followed the vampire. When they stopped in front of a room, Dracula flipped a switch and a beam of light lit up the interior.

Zoe gawked in astonishment at what she saw. The walls were painted an off-white, decorated by framed pictures of shades of green and gray abstract shapes. There was a french dresser sandwiched between two changing tables and the highlight of it all, two beautifully crafted cribs. A nursery. The bastard had installed a nursery!

"You…" She swallowed hard, hands balling into fists. "You did this?"

"Well, it's not finished yet." Dracula explained as he stepped inside. "But it is a step in the right direction, don't you think?"

Not one thing. She hadn't gotten a single thing for the twins. She sure as hell wasn't anywhere close to being able to create a nursery. Where would she even put the damn thing?! And now here he was, goddamn parent of the year with a room already ready for two kids she didn't even want him to have access too. Whether it was from the stress of it all. The hormones. The emotions. Zoe began to ball. Really, truly sob like she never had before. Oh Christ she was going to be a terrible mother.

"Zoe?" Dracula asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look like I'm okay?!" She hissed through streaming tears. "Do you have any idea what I'm dealing with right now?! With what I'm going through?! You built a bloody nursery! What are you trying to prove?!" Zoe held up a hand before he could answer. "You're a complete and utter prick! And an asshole! And I hate you!" How unpleasant she both sounded and surely looked right now. "And I...I…"

A pair of arms wrapped around her and through bleary eyes she met Dracula's gaze. For whatever reason she didn't fight it, leaning into his chest as she cried and cried. She'd regret this later. Agatha would be sure to make a scene when she returned home. But for now she gave into her emotions and the vampire's hug. Until that moment, she hadn't really realized how badly she needed one. Even if it did come from him. It would bite her in the ass later, but for now she closed her eyes. It wasn't too terribly bad after all. Was it?

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Gemini

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dweemeister · 4 years

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The Dragon Painter (1919)

Asian-Americans are often sidelined in Hollywood, whether they appear in front of or behind a camera. So when the exceptions come along, there is a tendency to label that actor, director, or writer (or whatever their role is) as – to put it bluntly – as representing all Asian-Americans. I do not know if actor Sessue Hayakawa ever felt that public burden during the peak of his popularity during the silent era, and I hope he never did. During the 1910s and early ‘20s, Hayakawa was a legitimate Hollywood leading man and a sex symbol – the sort of actor that will, on a rainy day and with a sizable puddle of water between the vehicle he is exiting and the sidewalk, have women willingly throw their coats onto that puddle to assure him safe passage. Yes, that story is real.

Many of Hayakawa’s silent films are now lost and the ones that are extant are either difficult to find (sitting in a vault with obscure/nonexistent home media distribution) or in poor public domain quality (though much credit has to be given to the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry for their restoration work). The subject of this piece is The Dragon Painter, directed by William Worthington and released by Haworth Pictures – Haworth was jointly owned by Hayakawa and Worthington and is pronounced by combining the first syllables in their surnames. Haworth was Hayakawa’s outlet to make films that avoided the damaging Asian stereotypes found throughout American filmmaking in the silent era. But as for cultural fidelity to Asian stories, values, and aesthetics, The Dragon Painter feels as if Hayakawa – who shines in the film with a ferocious performance – and Worthington are compromising that fidelity to appeal to general American audiences.

High in the Japanese mountains lives the painter Tatsu (Hayakawa), who spends his days gazing across picturesque landscapes, his hair unkempt, fixated on his artwork. Tatsu’s sanity is not clearly established, as he believes the gods have taken custody of his fiancée, a dragon princess. In Tokyo, the elderly painter Kano Indara (Edward Peil, Sr. in dreadful yellowface) is seeking a student, having dismissed many candidates over the years. One of Indara’s friends, Uchida (Toyo Fujita), stumbles upon the eccentric Tatsu and his paintings. Despite Tatsu’s untamed behavior, Uchida believes Tatsu has the artistry to be Indara’s heir. Thus, he invites Tatsu to Tokyo by claiming he knows the location of the missing princess. Tatsu, of course, follows. Once the backwoods painter arrives in Tokyo, he causes a ruckus at his own welcoming dinner but is calmed as Indara’s daughter, Ume-ko (Tsuru Aoki), poses as the dragon princess and performs a dance. They marry soon after, but their marital status comes at the expense of his painting abilities.

With many outdoor scenes filmed in Yosemite National Park in California, I – as someone with a casual appreciation for the history of the United States’ National Park Service – found myself utterly distracted by the view of numerous iconic features of the park that appear in the film. In the film’s first half, the constant backdrops of Yosemite Valley by cinematographer Frank D. Williams (a then-former chief cinematographer at Keystone Studios, with a credit in The Little Tramp’s debut in 1914’s Kid Auto Races at Venice) challenged my ability to take The Dragon Painter’s claim of representing an “authentic” Japan seriously. Worthington, seeking a sumptuous location, plays up the film’s geographic and cultural Orientalism. The installation of a torii gate in the middle of the Merced River and a Japanese village surrounded by flora that could only be found in Northern California is laughable today. Somehow, The Dragon Painter escaped such criticisms upon its release. But Yosemite, as a United States national park (and the place where the idea of national parks was born), was less than thirty years old in 1918. Generally, in America in the 1910s, there was far less knowledge about the national parks system, even about one of the crown jewels of the National Park Service. Today, with greater knowledge about at the parks nationwide, the film’s backdrops make less sense given one of the film’s central goals to depict Japanese culture.

The film’s cultural Orientalism is no better. With a white director, white screenwriter (Richard Schayer), and based on a novel written by a white woman (Mary McNeil Fenollosa), The Dragon Painter could deviate from its source material – even a minor change or two – to minimize its inaccurate cultural depictions. Worthington and Schayer decline that option. Indara’s household is filled with an aesthetically busy, incoherent, and period-clashing hodgepodge of Japanese art. Ink paintings, sculptures, and other works. It is a legacy of Japonisme, a French term on the popularity of Japanese art in the late nineteenth century following the nation’s forced reopening of trade.

The Dragon Painter goes even further than its set decorations and costume design as the film posits that in order to restore Tatsu’s artistic abilities after his marriage to Ume-ko, Ume-ko must sacrifice herself for him. That development should raise skeptical eyebrows, as no one should lay down their lives for someone else’s art – and predictably, the person who must perform the sacrifice is a woman in love. This angle of a Japanese woman killing herself makes The Dragon Painter, in its second half, a Madama Butterfly narrative. It is not known if Worthington or Schayer were influenced by Giacomo Puccini’s opera and John Luther Long’s short story (neither Puccini nor Long ever visited Japan), but the movie’s depiction of an obedient (if not subservient) wife that will even consider extreme practices to salvage her husband’s career comes from an inauthentic place. Contrast this depiction of a woman to the one in Kenji Mizoguchi’s The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums (1939, Japan), where Kakuko Mori’s life-straining altruism – and numerous female characters in dire straits found across Mizoguchi’s filmography – was based on Mizoguchi’s close relation to his older sister. Unlike Worthington, Mizoguchi frames his film of female sacrifice from the personal, rather than something offhand.

If Hayakawa intended to distance himself from the stereotypical, vehemently racist portrayal of Asians at the major Hollywood studios of the silent era, those intentions are constrained by the financial and production-related realities of The Dragon Painter. Though his and Aoki’s performances are satisfactory, the fact that Edward Peil, Sr. appears in yellowface as Indara contradicts Hayakawa’s goals. How much power Hayakawa had over The Dragon Painter’s production is an open question (as well as how he felt about the final product), but if Hayakawa wished to portray Japanese culture as faithfully as possible, he must have been disappointed at the results. In the 1910s, tension between the Japanese-American community and Hayakawa’s image – exotified romantic roles that nevertheless kept some distance from white women characters – precipitated into the creation of Haworth and Hayakawa’s promises to make films with less problematic Asian depictions. This tension – which also existed with Japanese moviegoers who saw Hayakawa as too Westernized – is almost never mentioned today, as Hayakawa’s reputation has been subject to hagiography for being the lone Asian leading man of silent era American cinema.

For Hayakawa, clashes with his film distributor, economic recession, and the State of California debating the prohibition of property ownership by resident of Japanese descent forced him to leave the United States for Europe, only to return to Hollywood sporadically for the remaining decades of his life. The Dragon Painter, once presumed lost, was rediscovered when a print was unearthed in France. In 1988, a joint restoration effort by the American Film Institute, George Eastman House, and New York City’s Museum of Modern Art brought renewed attention to the film. Six years ago, The Dragon Painter – as one of Hayakawa’s few existing films – was inducted in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry, deemed a national treasure, and marked for preservation for posterity.

I have spent most of this review dragging The Dragon Painter through the mud of my reservations and criticism, but I appreciate the film as a rare example of a leading Asian-American actor and actress (Hayakawa and Aoki were married) given top billing in a Hollywood film. For that reason alone, it deserves to remembered and appreciated in all its representational imperfections.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found at http://dweemeister.tumblr.com/ratings_system (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not allowing certain links to appear on tag pages, so I apologize for the clunky spelling-out of the URLs).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, they can be found at https://dweemeister.tumblr.com/tagged/My-Movie-Odyssey.

#The Dragon Painter #William Worthington #Sessue Hayakawa #Tsuru Aoki #silent film #Toyo Fujita #Edward Pell Sr.#Frank D. Williams #Richard Schayer #Mary McNeil Fenollosa #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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dontlickdatoad · 5 years

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All About Barn Stars & “Hex Signs”

I’ve written and re-written this post at least three times now because there’s so much to cover and it’s something I’m passionate about. Hell, there are multiple people who have devoted their lives to this topic! So what follows below the cut is the most bare bones, straight-to-the-point version I’ve managed to do. I can expand on it later if there’s interest or I can point people to some good sources for their own research.

Note: Image heavy post with most of the photos courtesy of the Pennsylvania German Cultural Heritage Center at Kutztown University.

So first: The Name

The tradition of painting these images onto barns goes back more than 200 years in Pennsylvania alone. Celestial images can be seen on multiple household objects in PA Dutch culture and back in Europe where the immigrants who settled here came from.

In the Pennsylvaanisch Deitsch (PA Dutch dialect) there are two terms most commonly used to describe these images. Blumme (flowers) and Schtanne (stars). While not reserved exclusively to refer to the art, these words predate anything else that we’ve called the images.

[Image description: 24 photos of barn stars next to each other to show off the similarities and differences. Good examples of Blumme style can be seen in the bottom three photos of the first column. The entire top row are great examples of the Schtanne style.]

Hex Sign is the most common name today thanks to a man named Wallace Nutting who created Pennsylvania Beautiful, a collections of images and descriptions of rural Pennsylvania created for a burgeoning tourist industry. According to a single source, the images were supposedly called “Hexafoos” or “Witch’s Foot” and were part of an ancient traction of warding off the devil. It should be noted that the word Hex means witch in the dialect.

[Image description: an ink image of a barn from Earl Township, Berks County featured in Wallace Nutting’s Pennsylvania Beautiful (1924) which links to the naming mix up.]

While Nutting likely did not mean to confuse people, it is VERY likely that there was some miscommunication. A “Hexefuss” (the standard spelling) is a mark left behind by a witch, often resembling the footprint of a bird. Depending on the type of animal print the mark can have slightly different names but crows were most popular in legends so that’s what’s linked to Hexefuss the most.

Another sign that Nutting was confused is the fact that the other domestic objects in his work were decorated in a similar manner but were not also given the title and mythical meaning.

Next: The Meaning

So if they weren’t to ward off evil, why were they there? What did they MEAN?

No one really knows. Some think it was “just for nice” since they’re often only on the side of the barn that’s facing the road. Celestial symbolism has deep ties with folk culture and the Blumme and Schtanne images could have different associations with biblical and natural events.

While most barn stars do not have any major superstitious or magical meanings, we will likely never know for sure. Barn blessing were not uncommon, they just often took a different form such as a paper charm hidden under floorboards or in peg-holes within the frame.

If you’ve heard that all stars have “meaning” like fertility, love, etc. you are likely thinking of the transformation to the art form that came around the 1950s.

The 1950s was a time of increased interest in Dutch Country. Many were fascinated with the “sectarians” or “plain people” like the Amish and even though they did not decorate their barns, business minded people knew there was money to be made. The “church people” or “gay” Dutch were the ones who decorated and who are responsible for the signs which before this point had not been sold commercially.

Jacob Zook, a screen printer, started selling disks with a predefined “meaning” and he along with two other hex sign painters in particular are most credited with changing how producers, consumers, and tourists understand hex signs. The two others are Johnny Ott, a self-proclaimed Hexologist from Berks County, and his protégé Johnny Claypoole.

[Image description: Johnny Ott posing for a postcard in front of his collection of new, stylized “hex signs.”]

Ott was the first to really introduce motifs like birds and interlacing flowers which had been around in other PA Dutch folk art but had not been seen on barns. Ott also sold his work on disks instead of painting barns directly. He was a charismatic man who enjoyed telling tall tales about the magical properties of his work, even claiming that the Delaware River flood of 1958 was due to a farmer leaving his hex sign for rain and fertility out too long.

[Image description: Johnny Claypoole painting a hex sign, in front of a wall of his other art.]

Claypoole continued his mentor’s tales and stylized art but also painted barns directly, something Ott never did. In fact, Johnny Claypoole and his son Eric are responsible for repainting many of the aging stars in PA. The term “ghost stars” which refer to the weathered outlines of old barn stars is attributed to Johnny Claypoole and these ghosts are used as templates for repainting to maintain the local history and aesthetics.

[Image description: A weathered barn star “ghost,” salvaged from a once-decorated wagon shed in Windsor Castle, Berks County.]

[Image description: Eric Claypoole painting a barn star in the traditional style]

Conclusion:

Since I’ve mentioned other big names in the art form, I’d also like to give a shoutout to Milton Hill. He was an active painter during the time of Ott and Claypoole but he strictly worked in the traditional style and primarily painted directly onto barns (later in his career he painted disks as well but still in the traditional style). He developed the famous “Hill Star” that can be seen in much of Berks County. His work is not better or worse than Ott and Claypoole, they are just different sides of the coin. All of it is beautiful and now a part of the cultural heritage at large.

[Image description: A photo of Milton Hill from a Kutztown Folk Festival. He is working on a smaller traditional scored and painted disk with a large rendition of his famous “Hill Star” on the far right of the photo behind three smaller pieces.]

#hex signs #barn star #folk art #pennsylvania dutch #pa dutch #information

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years

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A Fairytale Beginning (Star is Snow White AU)

A/N: First chapter of the “Star is a Disney Princess series”. These tend to jump around a bit as I just write whatever I feel like writing and don’t follow a particular order, but I had to start with the first Disney Princess ever. Enjoy!

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Snow White belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners.

Once upon a time in the far away kingdom of Mewni, there lived a beautiful princess with golden hair that sparkled like the stars that shined in the night sky and a heart so pure and kind that it was said that when she was happy heart-like symbols would appear on her cheeks and would bring joy upon any who looked at them. And her name was Star White. The reason for her strange and miraculous gift was because it was said that she had the ability to wield a lost art known as magic, aided by a powerful wand which had been past down to her by her late mother, Moon White. Armed with this mystic device, Star White was able to perform miraculous acts of good for her people and was beloved by all- Star White laughed at the passage on the scroll she was reading, the proclamation no doubt written by the Royal Wordsmith, who always tending to over-exaggerate things to fantastic proportions. “'Armed with the mystic device',” Star said in a mocking tone, waving around her wand in the air, goofily. “'She was able to perform miraculous acts of good for her people'.” Star continued to giggle incessantly, at the hilarity of it all. She sat down on the edge of the well she was drawing water from to rest, her stomach aching from laughing so hard. She was in the beautiful castle garden, a place she often liked to visit when her stepmother wasn't loading her down with a billion boring chores to do. “Seriously, like anyone would actually buy any of this junk,” Star said to herself, rolling her eyes. “I'm not more special than anybody else is.” “Here is the water you asked for, Your Highness.” Star looked behind her to see a shimmering butterfly holding the bucket she had sent it down the well with, the whole thing filled to the brim, the magical creature straining to hold the heavy object upright. “Great,” Star replied cheerily, smiling gratefully at the creature. “Just set it over there, somewhere.” She gestured to the marble stairs that led back into the castle, where a group of living brooms were already hard at work scrubbing every inch of the staircase, the whole thing already dripping with soapy water. The butterfly did a small mid-air bow, nearly sloshing some of the water out of the bucket, before slowly floating over to the hard-at-work brooms. Star took a moment to admire her creations attentively doing her chores, really in awe at the range of abilities her wand possessed, sometimes even managing to impress herself with how incredibly useful they could be. “Man am I lucky I found that living broom spell in my spell book or this would have been a disaster to clean,” she observed, laying down on the edge of the well, looking over the scroll again. “Now where was I,” she muttered, lazily. She scoffed, continuing to read the poetic garbage they were trashing out about her and her wand, the whole thing just so overly dramatic and cheesy that it was more silly than anything else. “Yeah right, like anyone would actually take any of this seriously,” she remarked, skeptically. … “What is the meaning of this?!” Queen Heinous screamed, crumpling up the scroll in her hands angrily, before throwing it to the other side of the room, one of her servants having to duck to avoid getting hit by the wad of paper. “How dare they print such disgusting dribble about that royal brat!” the queen continued her rant, stomping back and forth around the room in an almost temper-tantrum. “Gemini!” she called angrily. From another corner of the room, the queen's most trusted servant, Gemini, gulped in fear, not sure he had the strength to stand another one of the queen's jealous rages toward her stepdaughter. Queen Heinous had always had it out for Princess Star since the very beginning. Ever since she took the throne, taking over in place of Queen Moon, standing in for the young princess until she was old enough to inherit her own throne (the people feeling a child was unfit to hold all the powers of royalty) she had always hated the pretty princess. The biggest reason being that it was understood that once Princess Star reached the age of 21 she would be of legal age to take her stepmother's place as Queen of Mewni, which meant Heinous's time on the throne was limited. Not to mention that Star had of course inherited the most valuable heirloom in all of the Kingdom, the magic wand, being that only a true White family member could wield its incredible powers, which seemed to only be rubbing salt into an open wound, causing Heinous to grow more and more bitter and envious with every day that past. In fact, Heinous had begun treating Star more like a servant than the destined-to-be-queen she was, having her perform demeaning act such as cleaning up around the castle and refusing to allow her to wear her own crown in public. Though she was supposed to be teaching and guiding her to becoming a better leader she had done nothing to fulfill such a duty so far and that was not likely to change anytime soon. “Gemini, where are you?!” the Queen screamed again, her subject sucking in a deep breath, before stepping out of his hiding place and gingerly approaching his ruler. “Yes, Your Majesty,” Gemini greeted with a bow. “I would like to know the meaning behind these horrid scrolls!” Heinous demanded, Gemini trying not to shake with fear as the Queen's narrowed gaze rested on him. “Umm, well I believe it was to help promote the princess's image,” Gemini cautiously replied. “Image?!” Gemini flinched at the raised tone. “What about my image? I'm their queen! Are you honestly telling me that that little air-head is more beloved than me, their loving and merciful ruler?!” “Of course not, Your Majesty,” Gemini said in a comforting tone. “The people adore you, as they should.” “Well obviously they do not adore me enough,” Heinous scoffed, between clenched teeth, taking a seat back on her throne. She thought for a moment before saying in a commanding tone, “Gemini, send everyone else away. I need to be alone.” “Uh, yes, Your Majesty,” Gemini replied, with a small bow, fairly sure he knew where this was going. He quickly shooed the other servants away, clearing the room of any prying eyes until only him and his queen remained. Once they were gone, he approached his queen, who had a sadistic look in her eyes. “Milady, your not honestly thinking of consulting with it again, are you?” he asked, concerned. “Of course I am,” Heinous replied, rising from her seat and walking behind her throne, Gemini following quickly after. “It's the only way to know for sure if that little princess is going to be a nuisance to me or not.” “Yes but, you tend to get pretty emotional when it tells you something you don't like,” her servant pointed out and the queen turned to him with an angered glare. “I am not emotional!” she fumed and Gemini took a step back, quickly correcting his mistake. “O-Of course not, m-my queen,” he apologized, for being misspoke, bowing his head submissively. With a huff, the queen turned her attention back to the drapes in front of her, drawing them back to reveal her greatest and most well-guarded secret: a magic mirror. She took in a deep breath before saying, “Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the most beloved of all.” The mirror made a clicking sound as it became active, the image showing a small loading bar which was spinning endlessly. The queen tapped her foot impatiently as she awaited it to connect. Finally, the mirror image displayed a purple pixie looking thing which stated in an overly-cheery voice, “We're sorry but the person or magical creature you are trying to reach is not available at this time. Please call again at a later date. Thank you on behalf of Pixie Mirror Inc. for your patience and understanding.” And just like that the mirror went black again, Queen Heinous shouting in anger, “What?!” She began banging a fist a few times against the glass, trying to force it to reconnect. “Come on, you stupid-” she hissed angrily, before she called at the top of her lungs to her servant who was standing right behind her. “GEMINI! FIX IT!!” Her minion, ignoring the ringing in his ears, stepped closer to the magic mirror, saying, “Yes, of course, Queen Heinous,” while his queen crossed her arms, fuming unhappily. He cleared his throat, before trying a different phrase, “Mirror Mirror on the wall, please show us the One-who-knows-all.” The mirror once again began trying to connect, only this time a face appeared on the screen after a short wait, a small blue head just floating there in space. “Milady, he- uhhh it is here now,” Gemini said, turning to his queen. “Finally,” she huffed, shoving Gemini out of the way so she could get a good look at the mystical creature in front of her, recognizing it immediately by the same purple gem that was embedded into its bald forehead and its familiar long white beard. She also recognized the blank expression it always seemed to have on and she smiled. After a moment, the creature began to speak, in a loud, booming voice that echoed through the halls, as flames lit up behind his mirror image, “You have summoned forth Glossaryk, the One-who-knows-all, interrupted my life with your meaningless call. Within me lies the truths you so dearly do hunt, now all I ask is...” The flames instantly snuffed out and his voice lowered to a more normal level asking in a slightly annoyed tone, “What do you want?” Gemini gave his queen another begging look, not trusting the little creature one bit, his information often proving to be more troublesome than he cared to admit, but Heinous didn't even seem to notice her servant was there anymore as she asked, “I want to know who my people love more, me or my bothersome stepdaughter?” Glossaryk was silent for a moment, before saying, “The people do love her and adore her sweet ways, and this feeling only grows stronger over the days. Through her kind acts and heart that shines pure, she has stolen their attention with her gracious lure. In short, My Queen, it seems you worries were true, for Princess Star is so much more beloved than you.” “I KNEW IT!!” Heinous screamed angrily, her whole body shaking with rage. “That little brat is trying to take my throne away! Who does she think she is?!” “Um, the princess, Your Highness,” Gemini timidly responded. “Not anymore,” Heinous whispered darkly, pacing back and forth as she began scheming of a way to get rid of her happy-go-lucky competitor. “I'll just have her stripped of her royal power and sent to live with the peasants.” “Umm, my queen,” Gemini tried again, his voice even softer and more nervous than before. “I don't think that is a good idea.” “I'm inclined to agree, that would be unwise,” Glossaryk concurred in riddle. “A different plan I would advise.” Queen Heinous stopped pacing for a moment, thinking over what her two advisers were saying. “Perhaps you're both right,” she sighed, seeing the flaws within her seemingly brilliant plan. “W-We are, Your Majesty,” Gemini stated in disbelief, not sure if he had heard his ruler right. He was unable to think of a time when the queen had ever agreed to being wrong about anything. “Yes,” she said, putting a hand to her chin, still deep in thought. “Simply revoking her right to the throne is only a temporary fix. I need something more... permanent.” Heinous smiled evilly. “P-Permanent,” Gemini stuttered, feeling his body grow cold. He didn't like where this was going. Heinous chuckled to herself. “Oh yes, what I need is to get rid of the princess. And then no one could ever challenge my right to the throne ever again.” She turned to her servant, him and the still-active mirror thrown off guard by the crazed look in her eye. “Gemini, summon the nearest huntsmen to my chambers, I have an extra special job for him,” she command, rubbing her hands together mysteriously. For a moment, the two just stared at the evil queen with varying levels of concern, until at last, the mirror image Glossaryk spoke, not even bothering to rhyme his very true observation, “Well, she's gone nuts.” … “Are you sure this is the right way?” Star asked the huntsmen who had guided her into the forest, skeptically. She turned to look at the tall green frog, dressed head to toe in traditional hunting clothes. Buff Frog, who had been smiling nervously the whole trip, refused to meet her eye, sweat dripping off of his face. “Uhh, da, princess,” he said in a heavy Russian accent. “This is definitely right way.” “Really?” Star said, raising an eyebrow at the huntsma... uhh huntsfrog. “Cause we were supposed to be going to put out a fire at the Dry Wood Meadows...” “Which is totally true and not just lie I make up so you come with me,” Buff Frog quickly said. “What?” Star said. “What?” Buff Frog repeated immediately. “Annnyywho,” Star said, feeling an uncomfortable tension beginning to form. “According to this sign...” She pointed out the sign in front of her, reading if off for her animal-like escort. “We're at some place called, 'Isolation Point: where no one can here you scream.' Huh.” Buff Frog said nothing, more sweat pouring off of his face, watching the young princess closely as she continued to examine the sign, slowly drawing a knife from his belt. “Sorry to say this, Buff Frog,” she continued. “But I think you may have gotten us lost.” The frog looked down at the knife, which was shaking in his nervous grip, unsure what to do. He had been given strict orders from the queen herself to dispose of the princess, an order which he wanted nothing to do with, wishing he had never even heard the command. He, like many in the kingdom, adored Princess Star and wished for her to be the ruler instead of her tyrant of a stepmother. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to kill her in cold blood. But if he didn't finish his mission, the queen would surely have his head instead. So, Buff Frog swallowed down his guilt, stepping closer to the unsuspecting princess and raising the knife into the air, preparing to stab her. The girl continued to be oblivious to the danger directly behind her, cocking her head to the side and humming to herself as she tried to make sense of the directions. But just as Buff Frog was about to thrust his knife right into her unsuspecting back, his nerves got the better of him, the hunter dropping the knife to the floor and collapsing to his knees. Star, hearing the loud thud, turned in surprise as Buff Frog began begging at her feet, bowing as low to the ground as his muscular body would allow him. “I'm sorry, princess,” he wept in sadness and guilt, grabbing onto her legs. “Please forgive me.” “Uhhh, it's okay, Buff Frog,” Star replied anxiously, unsure what had caused the frog's sporadic mood shift. “I know you didn't mean to get us lost.” “No, I'm sorry I tried to kill you,” Buff Frog admitted, his voice still chocked with sobs, as he looked sorrowfully up at the girl. “Wait, what?!” Star exclaimed, taking a step away from the monster and out of his grasp, suddenly unsure what to think of him. “Is true,” Buff Frog continued to confess, disheartened. “I lied to you, so you would come out here, princess, and I so sorrryyy!!” “Why- Why would you do that?!” Star asked, shocked, pulling out her wand and holding it out toward her would-be attacker, demanding an answer from the huntsfrog. “Is not me,” Buff Frog said, rising to his feet again. “Is queen she wants you dead!” “What?” Star whispered, her eyes widening. “Queen Heinous? But why, I haven't done anything?” Buff Frog shook his head. “Doesn't matter. Queen, she is very jealous of you, she will do anything to keep throne for herself.” Star gave him a disbelieving stare, keeping the wand raised. “Please, princess, you must believe me,” he added, trying to urge her with his begging tone. Star said nothing for a moment, feeling extremely unsure of whether or not she could trust what the monster was saying. After all, he had just tried to stab her in the back. But, on the other hand... did it really seem all that far-fetched. After all, Star knew quite well of the spiteful feelings her stepmother often showed towards her. And the more she thought about the less crazy it seemed that her super jealous guardian would want to keep her away from the throne at any cost. Still, Star never would have thought she would have taken it this far. Star gave the monster a suspicious glare before asking, “Okay, let's say you are telling the truth and the queen does want me dead, why not just kill me, then, like she asked?” “Because I cannot kill beloved princess, even if means disobeying orders,” Buff Frog responded immediately. “I believe you make better ruler than her.” Though it might not have been the wisest choice, Star found herself believing the huntsfrog. After all, he had wasted his best chance to kill her a moment ago, when she had no idea the attack was coming. If he had really wanted to kill her, he would have done it then, confirming it in Star's mind that Heinous did, in fact, want her dead. But that left Star with a bigger problem to deal with... now what? Star definitely couldn't risk going home. She knew that this failure would do nothing to ward the evil queen off from trying something like this again, the blond knew just how persistent her step-mom was, going to any lengths to get what she wanted. And right now she apparently wanted Star dead. Star began biting on her wand, something she often did when she was deep in thought, as she tried to come up with some kind of plan, with no results. Come on Star, think, she urged herself. If you don't figure this out than you are looking at spending the next couple of years of your life dodging Heinous' assassins. Finally, she sighed in exasperation, lowering her wand. “Yeah well, if I don't think of some kind of plan, then I may not get a chance to prove you right,” Star said to the frog bitterly, crossing her arms, feeling overwhelmed. Buff Frog hesitated for a second, taking in the look of uncertainty on the girl's scrunched up face, before saying confidently, “Will not come to that, princess.” Star looked surprised by this, giving him a skeptical look, asking, “What makes you so sure?” “Because I go back and tell queen that I successful with mission,” Buff Frog volunteered, his tone strong and sure. “While you escape into woods.” Star instinctively turned to look back at the forest behind her, quite aware of the fact that they were relatively deserted and very rarely traveled, the place seeming like the perfect place to hide from Heinous and anyone seeking her harm. Star's face brightened as she turned back to the monster. “Oh yeah! That could work!” Star shouted in excitement at the suggestion, glad she had some kind of plan to work off of. “Nobody ever goes in there!” “Exactly,” Buff Frog confirmed, nodding his head in approval. “You will be safe there.” Star, without thinking, gave the huntsmen a quick hug around the waist, saying sweetly, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” As she pulled away Buff Frog could swear he saw small pink hearts on Star's cheeks, glowing and pulsing, but when he blinked they were gone, causing the frog to believe it had just been a trick of the light. “You are welcome, princess,” Buff Frog said, respectfully. Star turned to face the forest, building up her nerve as she prepared to enter it. Suddenly, Star thought of something, swerving back around to face the frog. “But wait, what about you?” she asked, in concern. “What if she figures out you are lying?” Buff Frog didn't seem frightened of the thought, putting a hand to his chest and bowing his head. “Then I gladly face consequences for actions.” Star stared at the frog silently for a moment, before she whipped out her wand, using it to make a small chest. “Here,” she said, handing it to the frog. “Give this to Queen Heinous, it'll help throw her off the scent.” “Thank you, princess,” Buff Frog said accepting the gift in slight confusion. “But what is it?” “It's my heart,” she explained. Buff Frog's eyes widened in horror. “Your heart?!” he repeated in almost disgust, holding the box farther away from his muscular self. “Yep,” Star said with a smile. Before adding, “The heart necklace that my mother gave to me. It's been passed down in my family for generations.” She waved a finger in the air matter-of-factly as she explained this to the frog, who visibly relaxed as she did. “Oh, I see, that much better,” Buff Frog said relieved, visibly sighing. “Well yeah, what did you really think I was gonna put my actual heart in there or something?” Star asked, with a dismissive scoff. “Ha ha no, of course not,” Buff Frog said, chuckling nervously. With that Star turned back to the forest, just looking up at the tall treeline that towered over her, unmoving. Though she was anything but afraid of the dark overgrowth in front of her, she still couldn't help but feel hesitant to cross into the woods. Once she had, there would be no going back, she was leaving her old life behind, possibly forever and that thought was causing her insides to twist up uncomfortably, for just a moment remembering the life she was giving up. Though it was far from perfect, she would miss the friends she had made in the kingdom and, well, it was her home she had grown to love it, deeply. She took a deep breath reminding herself of the stakes, before forcing her feet into motion running into the dark woods, alone.

#Star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Star is a Disney Princess #Star is Snow White #Starco

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vince-whoisleft · 4 years

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VINCENT SINCLAIR.

GENERAL INFORMATION ➤

Full Legal Name: Vincent Rahul Sinclair Nickname(s): Vince, Vinny (typically only family allowed), Arsehole Age: 21 Gender & Pronouns: Cis male, he/him Sexuality: Queerer than a bag of pixies. The only thing that’s clear is that he’s not heterosexual. Vince will flirt with anyone, anywhere, at any time and doesn’t much care about the equipment they have, though he tends to lean towards being more attracted to masculine types - it’s only when things start progressing past the flirting stage that he tends to start getting a little flustered. Or surprised, mostly, that anyone wants to get that far. Date of Birth: 18 February, 1957 Horoscope: Aquarius Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw Nationality: Vince was born in London, England but his father is full-blooded Scottish, which means his accent is all over the place depending on his mood. Occupation (and, if you’re one of the people playing a character close to graduation, future occupation): Journalist at the Daily Prophet. Professional pain the ass. Order of the Phoenix member. Summarized in One Word: Extra.

APPEARANCE ➤

Faceclaim: Avan Jogia Height: 5′7″ Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Brown Noticeable Features: Handsome and he knows it, long hair often pulled up in some kind of way, black eyes and bruises more often than not. Typical Outfit or General Fashion Sense: Vince takes a lot of pride in his fashion sense, and in a word it is: ridiculous. Just fashionably so. Loud prints and colors that always somehow pair well with everything else he’s wearing, trousers tight enough to be just short of straining the Prophet’s fairly lax dress code, bold socks and scarves and many stolen items of clothing from both his sister and Gretchen Ollivander - the former out of spite, the latter out of fashion envy.

HISTORY ➤

Hometown (and, if they’re a graduate or soon to be a graduate, where they live now or will be living soon): Born and raised in Muggle London, Vince still lives there - just right across the street from Diagon Alley. It’s a tiny little flat that he can pay rent comfortably on and still live almost as excessively as he’d like to, in typical Wilde-esque fashion. Financial Status: Somewhere right in the middle - his family gets by fine, and the Prophet pays him a living wage. Spoken Languages: English, some Gujarati - not completely fluently, but enough to appease family members at gatherings Dream Job: Journalist at the Daily Prophet... just writing worthwhile, important articles. Bad Habits: Vince Sinclair is definitely a product of his times, which means he can chain smoke with the best of them. He’s been known to engage in heavy bouts of drinking, even dabbling in drugs when offered by the proper sort of company; not terribly surprising, given his incredible tendency to not put much stock in his own physical well-being. It comes from less of a place of neglect or lack of self-preservation and more from a misguided sense of invincibility that he hasn’t managed to shake off just yet.

Getting into fights can certainly fit into this category as well, although now that he’s in the Order it’s being touted as more of a positive aspect - a willingness to jump into a dangerous situation head on, if you will. It’s not just the physical fights, either; Vince’s inability to keep his mouth shut means he can get into a verbal argument with the absolute best and worst of them. It’s not that he doesn’t have a filter, it’s that the filter is incredibly picky in what it considers is the wrong or right thing to say at any given moment.

FAMILY BACKGROUND ➤

Mother: Astrid Sinclair née Hughes Father: Raj Sinclair Sibling(s): Daniel “Danny” Sinclair (older), Lila Sinclair (older), Rekha Sinclair (younger) Pet(s): An ancient tortoiseshell cat named Agatha Grandparent(s): His father’s parents, Gujaratis who chose Scotland to settle in just before his father was born, are lovely folks who spoiled the hell out Vince and his siblings and who often come to visit the Sinclair London home. His mother’s parents were not too pleased about their daughter marrying an Indian man with a nigh-indecipherable Scottish accent, but a solid set of heavy threats against them never meeting their grandchildren led to some slightly more open minds as the years ticked by. None of them know about Vince’s magic. Cousin(s): Both his parents have siblings with children of varying ages of their own - Vince comes from a large family, and he’s the only magical one as far as he knows, but he’s close with many of his cousins. Especially the ones who live in England.

MAGICAL ABILITIES ➤

Wand: Redwood, phoenix feather, 13 ¾", slightly yielding. Patronus (and which memory they’re currently using to cast a patronus if they can, or which one they’d use if they could): Vince’s patronus is a magpie. The memory he’s currently using to summon one is the first time he saw his name in print at the Daily Prophet, and the look that was on his parents’ faces when he brought them the paper to show it off. Boggart: Vince’s boggart, distilled, is a fear of no longer having magic. The idea that he’d be yanked away from the magical world he’s grown to love, that’d he lose what he secretly always considered made him special, is horrifying to him. When faced with an actual boggart he would see himself stepping out of the closet or cupboard, a perfect mirror image, wand out and confident smirk on his face. The boggart would silently mouth a spell and then wait a beat, looking down at the impostor wand in sudden terror - only to watch it then be jerked out of its hand, as if taken by an invisible authority figure, and broken cleanly in half, not even sparking or fizzling away. OWLS: Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Ancient Runes, History of Magic NEWTS: Transfiguration (O), Charms (E), Defense Against the Dark Arts (A), History of Magic (E), Ancient Runes (A) What Kind of Magic do They Excel at:

Vince is quite brilliant at Transfiguration, explaining his solitary Outstanding grade on his NEWTs. It was always Vince’s strongest subject at school, but he particularly had a fondness for Conjuration. Leave it to him to perk up and really pay the required amount of attention needed to master a subject as soon as McGonagall said the words “out of thin air.” Not that he didn’t find Transfiguration as a whole endlessly fascinating to begin with, far more so than classes like Charms that gave him less of a challenge despite the faster payoff. He enjoys the fact that Transfiguration really requires quite a bit of creativity involved while also having to follow a strict set of rules to not go wrong; that was really how he learned best at school, ironically, given his downright callous ambivalence to most rule structures.

In his line of work he’s found Conjuration particularly helpful; whether it be for conjuring up suitable press passes when he forgets his at home, conjuring a last second cushion to protect himself from a fall from the top of a fence, or even just conjuring a perfectly-homey slightly-chipped mug to pour tea into for a shaken-up interviewee to help them relax. Not to mention conjuring up false papers to hide the very real ones he’s smuggling out of the Prophet every day.

PSYCHOLOGY ➤

MB Type: The Campaigner Enneagram: ENFP Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good Archetype:

53% Rebel. The Rebel is comfortable throwing caution to the wind—and bucking the system—if that means getting their point across.

27% Advocate .The Advocate is the one everyone wants on their side. In the name of justice, they are not afraid to challenge authority or speak up for others.

20% Performer. Taking center stage comes naturally to the Performer, whether at the water cooler or in front of an audience. They are magnetic and know how to inspire.

Temperament: Sanguine/Choleric mix

#character development #plot prompt friday #my feral boy

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

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Kira (4)

CHAPTER 4: Count My Doubts Like Breaths

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: a reveal; an aftermath

Warnings: an attempt at harrasment

Word count: I found out I don’t know how to spell pigeon.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The iridescent blue of the digital clock reminds Heimdall of the time he had first seen the strings tangle in front of him. He is still holding the two golden-eyed marbles like he did that day, his hands playing with the cold glass on a rhythm known only to those long, dark, experienced fingers. There is a flinch in the regular breaths on the screen initially. A microscopic jerk. The fingers curl around the black sheet covering the bare body before turning into fists, crumpling up the fabric beyond recognition at one point. One long inhale and unmistakable flutter of breath and eyelids. Heimdall watches the movements with a shade of worry wrapped quite sophisticatedly in observation -so sophisticatedly that he can fool his own self into thinking he did not care for the one he was looking upon- as if watching some dark ritual unfold in front of him.

In a way it is. In many ways, it feels worse. The sweat beads become distinct, glistening against the moonlight that enters through the glass doors and lazily roams about the room, touching everything it can get its hands on. There is a moment- a cautious one at that- where he even sees the veins give way through the skin, waiting to burst out as suppressed moans turn to feral grunts and the silence takes place of a repeated incoherent mumble. Even if he wants to, Heimdall has never been able to retrieve his gaze from the inevitable that happens every time. The shallow breaths and low but ominous moans slowly turn to delirious cries of someone wanting the tortuous voices to stop. But the man watching it all reasons that it is not his place; it never was. And so, the infamous man that is Loki Odinson continues to drown in the pool of sweat being created by his own gory dreams till he wakes up with a horrible yelp escaping his throat, bringing back the silence as and when his lungs allow him. Heimdall's features do not even flicker where he sits. But on the inside, he genuinely wonders the cause behind such horrid nights that are punishment enough for the man already paying for his deeds. The smooth squeak of the turn of the shower handle has now created a Pavlov effect on Loki's mind because he knows what waits for his heated head as soon as the cold metal turns to his liking. The raw water with the perfect pressure hits his head, creating a rough waterfall where the white foam ends and his black ravens begin, sticking down on the nape of his neck, slithering with the flow down them onto his shoulders, creating pathways for the water to follow down his back, which already has it's own story to tell as the freezing liquid snakes through the multiple unnatural tiny peaks and valleys of the skin that run along the otherwise smooth pale surface. Flashes come back in front of his eyes. Loki's hands rest against the wall, balancing his upper body's weight upon them as he tries to stabilise the incoherent cries swimming up to the surface from a long lost memory. The flashes are in pieces; pieces with sharp edges trying to find their way through the flesh of his overworked brain. Blood. Chains. Soul-wretching screams. A muddied chunk of crystal falling down on a hard surface with a clatter before engulfing everything around it in its light. The flashes repeat themselves. And then they do it again. And again. The shoulders rise and fall with surfaced breaths. The water pressure taints the face to drown out the sooty images. The spread palms ball up into fists against the cinnamon tiles, the knuckles bruised red with a rough press to the hard surface. Everything seems to accelerate, too fast for the senses to catch up till a low crunch is heard, the shower is shut and the shower temple is left with a cracked tile. You don't read newspapers. The everyday tragedies printed in bold over front pages forcing people to swallow the death and destruction is not something you like to start or end your day with. In fact, had it not been your job to do thorough research on the people Loki was in business with- or going to be- you would never keep yourself updated to what was going on around the world. Ever. Ignorance is indeed bliss sometimes. Today, the woman sitting by stairs of the station isn't begging but selling a bundle of a local newspaper and as usual, you try to walk by without giving much thought to watch she would do with the money she makes. But something stops you. Turning back you take a step towards the bundle lying by her soiled feet. A photograph covers one-fourth of the front page with a name and a face that is way too familiar to be ignored. But that isn't as relevant to you till the headline dances in front of your eyes. The time you take to go inside the station, wait for the tube, sit down in it, is a blur. A part of you wants to laugh. A part of you wants to scream a little. But whatever ounce of concentrated sanity you feel inside your blood forces you to dial a number on the phone. "Hi, it's me, Kira," you breathe the shivers out through your lips, "is it okay if we meet today?" "Breakfast, Master Loki," Ygritte calls from outside the room. Loki removes a piece of lint from his black shirt before flattening the most invisible creases and walking out of his room. As soon as he steps out the door, the air smells different. The faint touch of lavender and citrus in the air apart from the usual aroma of freshly baked bread- toasted and buttered- and served with sunny-side-up eggs and bacon tells him you are early to work today. Must have read the news, his inside voice smirks from a hollow abyss, nearly chuckling with bliss. Closing his bedroom door behind him, he struts through the hallway that opens up into the living room. He can already see your back towards him, sitting on the sofa, hair in a high bun today over a brown blouse that complements the tone of your skin quite well. With every step he takes towards you, his heart beats with anticipation to what reaction you would give him, readying his mind to capture the moment for his to cherish on a minuscule level. "You're early," he announces his presence behind you. He watches you straighten and move away from the laptop kept on the coffee table to get up and turn towards him. "We have quite a busy month ahead. Wouldn't want to lag behind with the preparation." You don't smile. You don't even blink. He knows you're lying right to his face about your reasons for being here. Had he not been good at the part himself, he would genuinely believe your words to be true. What else have you lied about, pupper? He wonders on the inside. Loki watches you sit down and go back to whatever it is you are working on, your expression null, your eyes fixated, your glasses adjusted as and when needed. "What all are we busy with this month?" Loki watches you take in one heavy breath as your hands fold one over the other. He notices that one ring that is always adorning your right finger (on the wrong hand). The gem- which he knows is a cheap mimicry of a precious stone- is a tinge of yellow trying its best to reflect golden at the cuts that mark it. The worn out silver band having zero lustre tells him you have a really old relationship with this piece of useless stone. "You," you stretch the word a little, "have a charity gala to attend to along with new tech expo happening with Stark Industries this month. It's a five-day affair. Lots of influential names from around the globe, heavy press, world leaders making a visit, deals to go down." Loki's brows furrow at the mention of Stark. "Stark invited me." He almost sounds sceptical to your ears. Your fingers lift the pile of files lying beside your laptop to show Loki the invite. "The invitations went out a month ago, I'd say you were a last minute addition," you quip quite smoothly, making Loki smirk on the outside. "I'm surprised he even thought about me," Loki mutters as he looks at the expensive invitation paper inscribed with golden calligraphy. "I guess everyone has an agenda in the corporate world for even breathing near someone else," you smoothly spew into the air, making his brilliant green eyes turn towards you, and watch a sliver of a smile creep over your lips. "I see you got the invitation too." A voice Loki is too familiar with, calls out from behind him with a soft clack of heels. That's when Loki realises the reason for a hint of a careful positive on your features. "Solaris," he greets the woman clad in a royal blue dress complimenting her curves the best way possible. Even you are in awe of the way she walks towards you. Silver heels glistening with every step she takes, you still are not used to the kind smile she spreads your way. "Hi, Solaris," you greet the woman with a bit more stretch in your lips and Loki watches the change in your posture on the woman's arrival. "How are you doing, Kira?" Solaris takes the liberty to give you a hug, which surprises not only you but Loki but neither of you says anything. On the contrary, the gesture fills you up with warmth inside your chest that you haven't felt in a long while. "I'm...doing fine," you assure, nodding your head and licking your lips before stepping back and busying your fingers to adjust your glasses. Solaris turns to Loki, one side of her flawless dark forest skin reflecting the green hues of the grass and trees swaying in the languid breeze outside. "I hope you have been taking care of her, Loki. Because of not, I'd be happy to take her away with me." Loki's sly smirk grows over his lips. "Quite a subjective question, Solaris. I believe Kira will be able to tell you more than I ever can." "Miss Solaris, Miss Kira," Ygritte calls out with a smile as she comes from the direction of the dining room at the far corner of the house, "would you be joining Master Loki for breakfast?" You look at the redhead dressed in white, her already pale skin looking paler in the combination of the sunlight and the clothing. She is shorter than you even if you are not wearing any heels and has a sweet smile stuck over her pink lips as she stops just a few steps back, her hefty figure coming to a standstill from walking nimbly. Solaris rejects the invitation before turning to you. "Oh, no. I'm good. Thank you, ma'am," you state, watching the redhead's eyes widen a smidge before crinkling with a smile. "Please, miss, call me Ygritte." You pause, trying to let your delayed brain function take in her words before nodding in assurance in her direction. "Everything okay, dear?" The door clicks shut behind you, you and Solaris being the only one in your office. A calculated inhale later, you walk to your desk to pick today's newspaper and show it to her. Solaris reads the headline, going through the article before his crinkled brows rise up to look at you. "Yes, this happened last night. Andrews' estate went up in flames. What's the concern, Kira?" You really want to stop yourself but the scoff escapes your lungs. The tick of the clock in your office echoes through the morbid silence with the only touch of serene in this hollow space being Solaris' perfume. It takes an effort for you to walk and sit down on the couch. "Solaris," you begin, the tremble in your voice quite evident to the woman who makes an effort to come to sit by your side, "why exactly am I here?" Solaris' blink is filled with doubt as she tilts her head in question. "You are the assistant to-" "To the one man who might as well be the most powerful person in this country in terms of his intellect, yes, I have heard that before. A hundred times." Solaris takes in a breath to speak while keeping her slender hand over your shoulder. "I know about the cameras in my house, Solaris. I know about my ID tracking my every movement. I know how closely your employees-well, I can't speak for others, but I sure as hell am being scrutinised," you manage to speak through the shiver in your throat that you just want to burn away, "so please, do not insult my sanity. Or whatever is left of it, that, at least I'm pretty sure you are aware of considering the textbooks steps you've been taking around me to keep as much of my anxiety at bay as possible." The silence comes back again as the last of your words break and are left into the air for your audience to weight in her heart. There is a faint sound of scratching on the closed door before the handle turns and in walk the silent paws of the wolf of the house. Fenrir sniffs his way to you and makes sure to take in a whiff of every part of you before settling down by your legs, his warm furry body resting right above your boots, which he rightfully does not care about once he knows he is in contact with you some way. Your right hand moves on its own to rest on his head and you feel him tilt back into your touch with a relieved exhale. "I'm not complaining about my boss. Neither am I asking you to rescue me if that's what you're worried about. I just want you to know that right now I am on whatever side Loki points me in, which means it will come with a thorough scrutiny of my own. For the sake of the company that I work for. Nothing else." You scratch Fenrir under his ear, forcing another exhale out of him as he closes his eyes. "And if I ever have to be the bait," you conclude, "I'd like to be made aware of it beforehand." "It's eight, Solaris." Loki watches the woman step into his office as he takes the aide of a sunless sky outside his window to gesture at the lateness. "I was going through Kira's progress. She's quite patient and thorough, I have to say. Really saved your hair in the Andrews case by involving the legal team." Loki carefully closes the folder he'd been going through before sitting back in his chair. His fingers rest over his lips in some calculated thought as he eyes Solaris taking a seat in front of her. "Too bad she couldn't save the man, though," he is a little quick to add. A smirk runs over her lips, making Loki wonder how many men and women he has seen fall for this beauty, profess their love, break themselves apart to fit to what the thought would her liking, threatened her with flowers and guns alike and yet she is untethered. Loki knows way too well why that is. "She is capable of far more than you give her credit for, Loki," Solaris settles back, picking up a paperweight in the shape of a glowing blue cube from his table. "Quite perceptive too." "Are trying to warn me about something?" Loki's words are soft, the smile over his lips even softer. "She knows," Solaris states. "I know she knows." Her brows rise up and she shrugs. "Of course, you do. I'd be surprised if you didn't and that's not my concern right now. My concern is you unconsciously putting her in the centre of annihilation you're causing for your ambitions, Loki." Loki gets up and walks towards the glass wall separating his office from the view to the lounge outside. "Just because she wants to do her job?" Through the intricate drawings done on the glass, he can see your figure sitting in the living room, working on your laptop. "She wanted to be a part of my world, Solaris," he coos into the air around him and he is quite sure of the fact that Solaris is rolling her eyes right behind him. "Loki." Her voice is threatening. "You wanted Donatella gone because she was making deals with the devil's pawns but you're practically throwing Kira to the beasts." Loki doesn't budge where he stands. His languid breaths send a prick of frustration down Solaris' spine but she brings back her calm; as always. "Loki," she announces delicately, "I'm sure you have something in mind for her. Whatever it is, mark my words, she better not pay for things that are your doing." A sharp inhale and Loki's head turns a little towards Solaris. "We have been working together for enough time for you to counsel my mother, haven't you? You know my goal better than anyone on this planet. So we'll, that you left your identity to follow me into the perils. After all that, you worry about that one woman." "I do. Because even if I have changed my name, I am still a spy working as a soldier in this shrouded battle. I do not take unnecessary lives." "Is that so, my pretty warrior? Did your royal ex-boyfriend agree with you on that?" Her arms crossing in front of her tells Loki she is done playing the word game for the day. "You are more interested in throwing her in your customised playground just because she won't play by your rules. Trust a woman who has some experience with the same." His lips twist in agreement and he nods. "You're not wrong," he iterates, "but I will have my fun till I get bored. Though I admire her tenacity even when she's clearly in no shape to bear the mind games." "Just don't do something reckless. She's a gentle heart and I'd rather she stayed that way. Even Fenrir thinks the same." Loki blinks. He doesn't like the idea of you having formed a bond with his pet so soon. In fact, he was counting on his wolf to play with you more. That fickle beast. Supporting his back on the glass wall behind him he looks at the woman right in her sparkling brown eyes. "You've been with the canines for quite some time," he mentions in Solaris' direction, "don't you miss your cats?" Solaris doesn't shift but her lips do, smirking at the man in front of her, causing him to mirror her. "Don't you miss your home, my lady?" Solaris smiles. "Don't you?" And there she lands him a low blow, forcing the most pleasurable chuckle out of him. "You can take the woman out of Wakanda," he speaks softly, "but you cannot take Wakanda out of the woman." The uncalled vibration of your phone over the coffee table breaks you away from the laptop screen. Ma, it says. You look at the time and curse out loud. It is past ten and you knew exactly why your mother- who did not bother with the time you came and left that much- was calling now, of all the times. Curse those wretched witches living in your building. Why do they even have her number? Picking up the phone, you assured your mother you were at your boss' place working late due to issues that your brain made up on the spot. Worried as she is thinking about you going home in the tube, she goes out of her way to tell you to stay over at your boss' place. You cannot believe the intense rage that rushes through you at the thought of you staying the night over at Loki's place but a part of you pours ice over the heat and tells her you'll message her when you reach home. It takes three tries before she finally agrees and you walk out of the house with your stuff, Robert already waiting by the car. "A bit late." He opens the door for you. "Yeah, sorry. I completely lost track of time," you stutter, "don't worry I'll be able to catch the late tube." Robert pauses as you get inside. "If you don't mind, Kira, maybe I should drop you home." As good at it sounds, you are too concerned about the prying eyes of your neighbourhood to pay heed to the concern in Robert's voice. "No, that's okay," you blurt out trying to calm down your roaring heartbeat, "just take me to the station." Robert doesn't say anything but he stands by the door for a lingering moment before closing it and moving to the driver's side. The drive to the station is quiet. Some roads inside the city are still a blur of busy while others are quiet as the night above them. Robert asks you again to let him drop you home when you reach the station but gives up in front of your adamancy. You take your earphones out as you climb the stairs but do not put on the music. The tube you board is nearly empty but for a group of young men sitting in the far corner singing crappy songs and having fun in their own world and an old man wrapped up in a jacket even in this weather. Feeling the bunch of keys inside your bag in your fingers, you place them near the mouth of the purse. The earphones stay in place but your ears look for any unusual sound around you, mostly from the corner where the young men sit, now gazing in your direction.

The ride back home in the tube seems longer the more silent the car gets. The man in the jacket moves a car further and stands by the door, busying himself in his phone while the men on the opposite end talk in hushed voices before getting up from their seat. Every so often you throw a casual glance in every direction, catching a few of those pair of eyes looking in your direction more than often and you feel a grim tingle in your back, recalling Robert's repeated pleas to take you home. The tube slows down to a halt at the station before your stop, the doors hissing open for arrival and departure. No one enters. The only soul present outside is a pigeon that flaps itself away from the platform to perch over the railings above. No one leaves. The hiss announces the closing of doors and you feel yourself breathe a little. That's it. Your stop's here. The group of men have slowly shifted to the car next to you watching something with curious eyes in your direction. Avoiding as much eye contact as possible, you keep your ears open, stand up beside the door and count the seconds till your destination arrives. "Excuse me," you hear behind you from the same direction, making your insides flinch just as the doors hiss open again and you nearly run out, never slowing down your pace till you hear them close back again. What you do miss, therefore, is those very men running against the direction of the tube inside it, tapping on the glass to get your attention to warn about something- or rather- someone behind you. But even with no music running inside your ears, you cannot hear the muted warning disappearing from the view behind you as the tube leaves the station. "Solaris has a flight out in three hours. Escort her safely to her destination, Robert." Heimdall waves his hand over the sensors radiating a soft golden light that shuts down all the screens lit up in front of him, filling the large room with darkness save for the splatter of stars shining above. Grabbing his keys, he walks out of his observatory and out of his place of stay to get into his own SUV and take his car for a ride. Tapping a number into the screen in front of him, he puts on a classical piece. The melody from the harp fills the space around him, bringing the tensed muscles in his forehead to a point of relaxation. That's it. That is all he needs for the next three hours to rejuvenate his soul before he can get back to work. Nothing else. That's what he thinks till an itch turns up in his gut. And without so much as a thought, his hand goes into his jacket pocket, taking out his two golden-eye marbles. One appears ordinary. The other seems to be glowing, a few of a clustered strands inside the glass, illuminating brighter than others. His features change within seconds and his other hand is already going over the screen in his car while his foot is off the gas, bringing his vehicle to a halt. The crickets nearby get the jump scare of their lives as the SUV screeches without any warnings and takes a one-eighty before revving and burning its tires as it zooms past the deadly silence of the brightly lit city night. The clack of your boots echoes down the stairs. The woman who was selling newspapers in the morning is sitting in her designated corner again. Her hands are moving in a repeated motion till you figure out she is stroking a cat sitting in her lap. The street you turn into barely has a soul walking by. Weekdays really suck the nightlife out this city. The local deli is already closed and you begrudgingly have to walk further to the twenty-four-seven store to grab something to eat. The only sound marking the surroundings is the howl of street dogs fighting for their territory, the crickets going about their business in the night, the occasional open hiss of a cat on seeing something- or someone- it doesn't like. And faint footsteps from behind you. A wave of alarm goes down your body as you realise how close they are behind you. Your steps freeze. So does your breath. The sound of footsteps stops too. And before you can inhale the rush beginning to burn inside your body, you hear them run towards you and grab you from behind. The muffled noise escaping your shut mouth does nothing to stop the heavy hands from dragging you away from the road to a back alley. "Tell Loki Mr Andrews sends his regards," a heavy voice filled with filth whispers in your ear. The panic rising inside you forces you to throw a punch down backwards right into his groin, painfully urging the man to loosen his grip on you. You try to make a run for it but he is quick to grab your leg and force you down on the ground. Turning around, you plant your hands over his shoulders to prevent him from putting all his weight over you. A grunt leaves the man while you notice the familiar jacket from the tube. Grounding one shoulder and the opposite hip, you make an effort to slither out of his attempted deadlock over your body, your legs kicking their way out from under him, your boots making an impact on his face. The escape is short lived as the man pounces over you. In the next moment, he is thrown off like a ragged doll. From the tears and fogged up glasses you notice a figure pick the son of a bitch by the collar to push him into the wall without any restraints and land his fist right into his jaw, making it audibly snap in just one blow. The man in the jacket groans as his limp body falls to the ground. The figure watches him for any movements, poking his unresponsive body by the shoes before turning its gaze in your direction. You do not realise when the dams had broken down your heated cheeks when you adjust your glasses and slide back to the wall, not sure what to make of the figure walking towards you. From the shadows of the alley, a face comes forward into the light as the figure squats down in front of you. "Are you all right?" A pair of brown eyes peer at your trembling figure with a heavy voice filled with apparent concern. You do not make eye contact for more than two seconds, trying to ground the shivers in your body by finding something to hold on to. "I promise I won't hurt you," the man says, "I'm-" "Heimdall," you hear yourself cry out softly. He pauses for a second before nodding in your direction. "You know about me," he responds with the same softness. You nod. "Y-you... you're Loki's...his father's-" Warmth engulfs you from everywhere, taking you a moment to realise a suit jacket landing over your shoulders to cover you up. "Your clothes are a mess," Heimdall tries to reason, even when he doesn't have to, "would you like me to take you home?" You nod again, making more tears break out as he helps you up. You try to strain your neck to look at your attacker but Heimdall is quick to wrap his arm around you to walk towards the car waiting for you both at the end of the alley. "He will be taken care of. Don't worry about it." A silent breeze comes in from the open doorway when Loki is halfway through the book he is reading on the discovery of ancient treasures and techniques of lost civilisations. A whine and a growl from in front of him snaps his attention away from the book towards Fenrir's almost invisible figure in the night outside if it wasn't for his glowing eyes. "Come back inside," he smoothly orders his pet. A painful howl breaks from the throat of the black beast filling the surroundings with a dismal air. "Fenrir," Loki commands, bringing the gloomy howl to a stop as the beast walks and restlessly settles beside him. "What is wrong with you?" The vibration of his cellphone takes away Loki's attention from his wolf to attend to the call. "What? My father's royal keeper is having trouble sleeping?" Silence fills his expressions as Loki hears what the other side has to say before cutting the line. He looks down at the beast with just one thought to linger in his mind. The reticence around his familiar environment seems somewhat hollow for the first time in a very long while. So hollow, that the movement of the pendulum feels like a mockery of the breaths he takes with every passing instant. "Looks like I won, Fenrir," he speaks softly to the little one before settling his hand over his head to give it long gentle strokes. "And still it feels like I didn't." TAGLIST

@shockwavee @meganlikesfandoms @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @alexakeyloveloki @kcd15 @tarithenurse @itheoneofmanyfandomsi @joyofbebbanburg @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock @moonlightprime @henloamkitty @confessionsofastrugglingteen @keepingupwiththelaufeysons @loki-the-fox @loving-life-my-way @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @ultraslytherwin @supernatural-kinda-girl @magiclolipopqueen @yzssie @cauraphernelia @lokis-lady-death @l0kisbitch @lokixme tags are open

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gladio-to-meet-you · 5 years

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God of Destruction (ft the Chocobros, Nyx, and Luna)

This draws some instances from things that have happened to me, I'll leave y'all guessing which is real and which is fabricated

Not proofread, hope you guys enjoy it/maybe even get some laughs from this!

I’ll work on other prompts I have, but I may not post anything else today, idk for sure though

~~~

Ignis

You took it upon yourself to try and lighten the burden laid upon his shoulders since you managed to get put of work early. There was pep in your step as you hurried home to change and rush out to the store. You planned to surprise him with dinner! He'd have one less thing to do and you could prove that you did know your way around the kitchen, at least enough so that he didn't have to constantly cook for you guys. You pointedly decided to ignore the precious mishaps that had happened that he teasingly brings up every one in a while; you were better now!

After getting the necessary ingredients, you pay and leave and practically run home so you have time to finish everything. It all started off okay enough, you felt confident enough that things would work out. That was before you nicked your finger and had to clean and bandage it to avoid contaminating the food. While hurrying to the bathroom for the bandaids, you managed to knock a ceramic baking dish off the counter.

By the time Ignis walked in, ready to make dinner and just relax, talking about the day with you, he's met with an absolute mess. You're still in the kitchen, fingers covered with bandaids and cursing as you try to clean up the shards in the floor with smoke lingering in the room, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "Oh, honey, let me get that," he'd say and sweep you off your feet to deposit you on the couch where you wouldn't risk cutting your feet up. There would be a fond smile curling his lips as he opened the windows to air the place out and went for the broom, deciding take out sounded nice.

Prompto

He thought you were just exaggerating your bad luck with electronics until he had the privilege of living with you. Then he saw what you meant. The gaming system you guys bought together would only turn on and work right, not freezing, if he turned it on. The coffee pot would always make a mess the first time you used it and it would always come out tasting burnt. Your laptop was a lost cause. Your phone that was newer than his was spastic with you, you'd have to restart it once or twice a day and delete and reinstall apps to get them to cooperate.

But the best - the worst? - of this was that he accompanied you into your office one day so you could print some papers off to turn into your boss before the weekend and he got to see just how bad the electronics you used the majority of the day reacted. After an hour of computer problems and having IT come back two separate times for completely different issues, you pointed at your partner and gestured to the computer. "I don't want to be here all day, help!" You demanded in a small voice, stomping your foot, moments away from pouting.

He laughed a little at the situation but sat down and followed your instructions to find the particular file that needed printed off. Once the papers were handed in, he draped his arm around your shoulders as you guys left the building. "I thought you were kidding, babe, but technology hates you. But that's okay, I'll help you any day! In all seriousness though...why do you have an office job?"

Noctis

You decided that since Noctis had caught dinner, you’d try to help Ignis with cooking it. You forgot that since you guys were camping, that meant dealing with a campfire. You hadn’t ever done more than roast some marshmallows over the fire, you didn’t trust yourself. But since you had spoken up, Ignis gladly accepted your help.

So you sucked it up and followed his instructions very carefully, from helping him prepare the fish and the fire to actually starting the cooking process. You made sure you copied every moment he did so you wouldn’t mess it up. You were envious of the other three that were just sitting around, waiting for dinner to be ready. Noctis and Prompto were huddled together on their phones, probably playing King’s Knight, while Gladio appeared to be reading.

It wasn’t until you and Ignis both smelled something burning that you turned back to the fire, only to screech in alarm. You had somehow managed to catch your jacket on fire when you set it down?! You rushed forward and yanked it away, dropping it on the ground and immediately stomping on it to try and put the fire on the sleeve out. After you panic passed, you heard Noctis wheezing with laughter. “You weren’t kidding, were you? You really are a danger magnet,” he teased you as you all sat down around the fire with dinner, you sitting a bit further away than normal after that.

Gladio

He had been with you long enough to realize that if anything at all could go wrong, it probably would. He started carrying around a small first aid kit with him, knowing it would be used at some point by you. He’d seen you trip over nothing, break things with an ease that betrayed your small size, and he’s seen the really bad days where things just keep going wrong one after another.

He thought he had seen it all, but he was wrong. You guys went to one of the first places you had gone on dates to, hoping to recreate one of your first dates. While waiting on food, you mentioned running to the bathroom. He realized that by the time the food was delivered, you were still nowhere to be seen. Instead of freaking out like he would’ve when you guys first started dating, he just sent you a text inquiring where you were.You looked down at your phone and then back at the door that had been a barrier for that last couple minutes.

You hesitated on responding and tried turning the door knob to open the door again. Nothing. It wouldn’t budge. So you bit the bullet and sent Gladio an SOS message, requesting he get the owner to free you from the damn bathroom. You heard his laughter before he got within ten feet of the door so you stomped your foot as you pocketed your phone. “Stop laughing, Gladdy! It’s not funny!” You pouted as you heard the two men discuss the best way to handle it. In the end, the hinges were removed so the door could be moved out of the way and you could leave the bathroom. The owner was apologetic as he had been told before that the lock had been sticking and even let you guys eat for free.

Nyx

This man had seen your destructive powers in full swing before. You had gone to the bar together and you broke no fewer than five glasses in the span of ten minutes. You had managed to knock the table over and spilled everyone's drinks while simultaneously breaking them as they hit the ground. The owner was actually pretty cool about it, saying he had new glasses he hadn't been able to put into rotation yet, so it wasn't a big deal. The mess was cleaned up and your group was jokingly given plastic cups after that.

However, after that night he didn't expect it to get any worse, he thought he had seen it at its worst. Nope, not at all. He took you to a newer restaurant that members of the Glaive had told him about, saying it was great food for the price and he wouldn't regret it. He didn't regret the food. He regretted letting you drink there and allowing you to go to the bathroom unsupervised, knowing your luck got worse the more that you drank. You hurried out of the bathroom, eyes a bit wide, and giggles escaping your lips. You were glad Nyx had been in the process of paying the bill when you left the table because it would make for a quicker getaway this way.

You tried to school your face into a serious one, but your lips kept twitching and he eyed you cautiously, knowing something had happened. especially when you got back to the table and started grabbing the takeout containers. “We need to leave, now,” you whispered urgently. When you got out of there and to his car, you collapsed into the seat laughing until you were crying and gasping. He had to wait until you calmed down to hear your story, and even then it was interspersed with you laughing. He finally heard the story and couldn’t help but laugh in astonishment. You had heard someone in the bathroom make an “oop” sound and found out, by asking and revealing that you were probably as tipsy as they were that they had broken a handle off the sink. You went to the other sink and the hot water handle literally came off in your hand as you tried turning the water off. You had both replaced the handles and tried to discreetly leave the bathroom.

Luna

You made sure you spelled it out for Luna, how badly accident prone you were, how bad your luck seemed to be on the daily, but she waved your concerns away. You guys hadn't spent a full day together since you got together, both busy with your duties, but she had seen some of the cuts and bruises you came home with. She never brought them up because they were always minor though, trusting that you'd say something if you got into a fight or something. "Babe, I'm serious, I should just live life bubble wrapped in a protective bubble!"

She'd giggle at the mental image that would provoke and assure you, again, that everything would be fine on your date. It was like your luck took that as a challenge and accepted it with gusto. On the way to the little bistro you guys planned to eat lunch at, you tripped no less than three times and it was a short walk! You also almost fell into traffic when someone bumped into your side as they passed.

At the bistro, you expected things to calm down. Nope! You went to sit in your chair and when it shifted, you knocked your phone off the table and in the process of bending over to get it, you smashed your head into the edge of the table. When you jerked up from that, you rocked the table enough to rattle the drinks and splash them over the table. You paused to take a deep breath and reached for the napkins to clean up the mess while Luna was still at the counter and somehow managed to give yourself a damned paper cut from the napkins you had grabbed. "Luna, that's it, I'm done, I'm going home to live in my bubble!" You called to her with a pout. She giggled as she came back to make sure you were okay, deciding that maybe you hadn't exaggerated that much.

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famous-aces · 5 years

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Benjamin Banneker

Who: Benjamin Banneker

What: Author, Scientist (Naturalist and Astronomer), Mathematician, Urban Planner, and Proto-Abolitionist

Where: American (active in the US)

When: November 9, 1731 – October 9, 1806

(Image Description: the front page of one of Banneker's famous almanacs [this one from 1795]. It reads "Benjamin Banneker's Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and Virgina Almanac, for the Year of Our Lord 1795; Being the Third after a Leap Year" [end title] then there is a simple ink portrait of Banneker as a young man. He is a Black man with short tightly curled hair and wearing clothes typical [if formal] to the late 18th century. The portrait is labeled "Banneker" in all caps. Banneker is spelled as it sometimes was with the first two vowels being A's rather than A and E. Below the drawing is written the words "Printed for and sold by John Fisher, Stationer. Baltimore.". End ID)

Banneker is often regarded as the first African-American scientist and potentially the first American-born Queer scientist (he was born in Maryland). He became one of the most accomplished and recognized Black men in 18th century America.

He was a largely self-taught freeman who spent most of his life observing, writing, and theorizing. He often put his exceptional brain to public use.

He was one of the surveyors of Washington DC, but was best known for his highly sought after and extremely accurate almanacs (the title page from the 1795 edition above). In 1791 Banneker began correspondence with Thomas Jefferson, using Jefferson's own writing to try to sway him to the abolitionist cause, pointing out how hollow the Declaration of Independence was while slavery was legal and common as well as pointing out the slave-owning Jefferson's hypocricy.

In Banneker's private life he constructed an all wooden clock (gears included) that kept time from its construction when he was a young man until at least his death. He kept journals much of his life, in which Banneker documented many natural phenomenon both astronomical and of the earthbound natural world. This includes keeping track of 17 year cicadas (one of the first to do so) and behaviors of honey bees.

His almanacs were extremely popular and ran annually from 1792 to 1797. He did all the observations and calculations for them himself without any outside assistance. He also included literature as well as humanitarian and political commentaries in the almanacs. For example, in 1793 he included his letters with Jefferson (and challenged the racism of the statesman) and in 1795 he included a report on the 1793 Philadelphia Yellow Fever epidemic (bringing information to Philly citizens who may have survived the plague but not known the official findings). Banneker made his own race increasingly obvious over time, for a very clear reason: to show white people that Black people were every bit as intelligent and capable as they were, indeed Banneker was very clearly smarter and more accomplished than most of them could ever hope to be. As his personal friend Statesman James McHenry put it in a poem dedicated to Banneker, "Long may thou live an evidence to shew, / That Afric's sable race have talents too."

Probable Orientation: gay ace, perhaps gay grace or aroace

There is basically no evidence of Banneker being interested in sex or romance on much of any level. He never married, his surviving journals never make mention of any particular partners in his life, romantic, sexual, or queerplatonic. He expresses no real distinct interest (sexual or romantic) in anyone either. He did have close familial bonds with his grandmother, parents, and sisters. The only evidence he may have been gay is one offhand comment that may have implied his having interest in men, but that is really just speculation, and nothing about the entry is innately sexual. He never seems to have expressed or shown interest in anyone in particular, not even in the journals no one else was ever supposed to read. The quote reads

"...[G]uilty passions dart into the heart..."

He is disgusted by this attraction, seemingly his own, but there is nothing actually sexual about it. It is merely some form of attraction, probably to men, given era and context. Again, it is not a lot to go on. However, I argue that because he lived alone all his adult life and there was never a particular object of his affections these feelings (whatever they were) were not overwhelming.

(Image Description: a stamp featuring Banneker. It used art by Jerry Pickney and released by the USPS in 1980. It has a green background and at the top it says "Benjamin Banneker" (spelled the conventional modern way, i.e. A, E). In the background is a bust portrait of Banneker. He is a black man probably middle aged. His face is unlined but either his hair or wig is snow white. It is tightly curled in the way natural African American/Black people's hair is rather than the style of a powdered wig. His eyebrows are black and his expression is calm and thoughtful. He looks out at the viewer. He is wearing a purple/wine red suit with a white cravat. In the midground are some trees/bushes. In the foreground is Banneker with his surveying equipment. He is wearing a green suit and a black tricorner hat. He has one hand on his hip and the other holding some plans at his side. On the bottom of the stamp it reads "Black Heritage, USA" and the stamp's worth at the time, 15 cents. End ID)

#lgbtq #queer #asexual #ace #history #aromantic #aro #gay #grace #authors #american #scientists #usa #north america #activists #mathematicians #18th century #19th century #bio

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lovinitkpop · 5 years

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Brown Sugar and Honey

This one is about a new girl group at SM. You could say EXO sister group there may be a love line put in it who really knows. I mean I know but then again I might not know. Heads up I’m sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes after rereading it over and over I can’t deal with it.

Oh the reason I came up with this title is because the main OC is black and DO KyungSoo looks damn sexy and handsome when his skin is dark and tan and NOT WHITE WASHED!!!!! STOP THE WHITE WASHING!!!!!!!!

If there is a love line then it will be my first Kyungsoo series. Hope you like it but if you don’t guess what I don’t give two shits leave my blog then. Anyways enjoy bye.

Warnings: Fluffy, Angst, Language, Bullying, Stupid, May not make senses, Brain frat, May not have smut, Trigger, Suicide talk, Racism, Blood, etc.

Pairing: OC x DO Kyungsoo

Chapter 27

April 24, 2019

Renesmee lays on top of Kyungsoo sleep. Kyungsoo looks at his phone as he lays there mindlessly playing with her hair. Renesmee whines stirring a bit in her sleep.

“Shh…” Kyungsoo quitely shushes her rubbing her back. Renesmee turns her head still whining as she grips his shirt. “Relax Renesmee it’s just a dream; no one is going to hurt you.” He whisper gently as he rubs her back.

Kyungsoo plugs his phone up setting it on the side table. He reaches up turning the light off pulling the covers over them. Kyungsoo gently pulls her closer singing softly as he lays there.

Renesmee lets go of his shirt as a soft moan slips out. He looks down at her feeling her relax as he sings. Renesmee turns her head again adjusting herself. Kyungsoo closes his eyes letting the dreamland pull him in.

Renesmee rolls off of him whining again. Kyungsoo turns over to his side reaching out putting his arm around her. Renesmee turns over again kicking her legs. She rolls onto her side her head hitting his chest and she stops.

Kyungsoo groans turning his head before moving a bit. Renesmee moans taking in his scent as she relaxes again. Kyungsoo sighs in his sleep rubbing her back.

After an hour Renesmee wakes up coughing. She rubs her eyes trying to wake herself up. She slowly tilts her head back feeling Kyungsoo breath hit her face.

“Hmm…” She looks around then over at her phone checking the time. “Ugh I overslept.” She pouts sitting up going through her phone.

Renesmee sighs getting up going to the bathroom to freshen up. Once she finish she walks back out heading to the kitchen. “Ow.” Renesmee whines gently touching her side.

“Need to take my pain medicine.”

She grabs a bottle of water and her medicine taking one before putting them back up. Renesmee sighs looking down at her feet thinking.

“Who is Ximen?” She says looking at the photo on the counter. Renesmee sighs hitting her head against the wall. “Who is he?”

Kyungsoo groans waking up hearing the noise coming from the kitchen. He looks over to the side and sighs getting up. He makes his way down the hall to the kitchen. Kyungsoo rubs his eye yawning as he walks.

He stops seeing Renesmee hit her head on the wall. Kyungsoo slowly walks up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist pulling her back. “Hitting your head on the wall won’t help.”

Renesmee gasp being pull back and she turns her head hearing him. “Yo…you’re up?” She says looking at him and he nods. “I…I me…mean did I wake I didn’t mean to.” She says looking down at the floor.

Kyungsoo smiles kissing her cheek hearing her. He closes his eyes gently rubbing her sides and she looks down at the floor. “Remember what I said?”

He speaks softly and Renesmee hums looking back up turning to the side. “You shouldn’t try and force it.” He says before pressing his lips against her temple.

Renesmee closes her eyes releasing the breath she didn’t know she was holding. She lets her shoulders relaxing. “Everything will be clear one day just let it come to you.”

Kyungsoo smiles tilting his head seeing her shoulders fall. “Fine I won’t force it anymore.” Renesmee says looking back at him and he nods.

“Good then let’s go back to sleep I have the day off.” He says grabbing her hand pulling her back down the hall. Renesmee hums tilting her head as she walks.

“What exactly are you boys doing?” She asks watching him and he just shrugs. “I know Chen sunbaenim got his solo and Xiumin sunbaenim is leaving so…”

“It’s complicated I know.” He speaks looking at her and she stops.

Renesmee nods as she looks up at him. She looks away pouting before pushing him back sitting down. “What’s with the pout?” He asks folding his arms across his chest.

“Just thinking about something.” She says laying back on the bed sighing. Renesmee whines in pain closing her eyes. Kyungsoo sits down next to her humming.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asks looking at her and she turns her head looking up at him. Renesmee whimpers as she sits up pushing her hair back.

“Well I just took my meds so still really bad.” She says looking down at her feet. He hums nodding his head. “It’s 9 in the morning and I overslept.”

“How about we sleep for two more hours then I take you to see your doctor just to get X-rays and make sure everything is healing right?” He says watching her and she just nods laying back down.

Renesmee reaches up pulling him down next to her. Kyungsoo grunts being pulled down causing him to laugh a bit. Renesmee pouts laying her head on him.

“Such a baby.” Kyungsoo says reaching over turning the light off before pulling the cover up. Renesmee whines hiding her face and he just smirk pulling her closer. “My baby.”

April 26, 2019

Renesmee sits there in the car looking at her lap. “What’s wrong?” Kyungsoo asks looking at her before looking back at the road.

“I don’t wanna go.” Renesmee whines closing her eyes kicking her feet. Kyungsoo smirks looking out the corner his eyes watching her.

“This is why I call you a baby.” He says turning the corner pulling into the parking lot. Renesmee pouts folding her arms across her chest. “You agreed since you didn’t go the day before you go now.”

Renesmee whines kicking her feet again. Kyungsoo sighs as he parks turning the car off. “What if they call my manager nope this isn’t a good idea.”

“Funny how you mention your manager; because he’s waiting inside for.”

“What!”

Kyungsoo nods leaning back as he sits there. “Your mom called him.” He says smiling folding his arm.

Renesmee groans opening the door. “It’s official I hate everyone.” She says getting out the car and Kyungsoo just smirks.

“See you later I have practice.” Kyungsoo says before she closes the door. Renesmee shakes her head walking up to the doors. Kyungsoo hums taking off out the parking lot.

Renesmee walks inside looking around. Her manager looks up sighing and he gets up walking over to her. “What took you so long?”

“Uh Déshì drives slow.” She answers nodding before looking around. “So what are you doing here?” She asks rubbing her neck looking at the wall.

“You mother…” He starts to speak but the doctor walks over.

“Good your actually here seeing how you didn’t come yesterday.” He says grabbing Renesmee arm pulling along. Renesmee whines being pull and he just shakes his head.

“You’re not running off this time.”

“But I’m okay really, we don’t have to do this.” Renesmee says trying not to trip over her feet.

“Um excuse me can you tell me what’s going on?” Her manager asks pulling Renesmee back.

The doctor turns around looking at him. “I’m her doctor and she’s being missing her appointments.” He says before pulling Renesmee back making her face him.

“He told me what you’ve been doing.” He says pointing his finger at her and she pouts. “You better hope you didn’t make it worse.”

“You can’t believe him what does he know?” Renesmee quips folding her arms. Her doctor smirks watching her.

“He said you’ve been working out even though I said not to.”

“Ugh idiot never keeps his beak closed.” Renesmee looks at the floor sighing. “Okay so I may have been working out when I wasn’t suppose to.”

“Who is he talking about?” Her manager asks standing there. Renesmee just shrugs shaking her head.

“Walk now, you better hope you didn’t mess them up.” He points and she turns walking off. “Naeun get the room ready for X-rays.”

“X-rays?” Her manager says watching him as he walks off. “What is going on?” He sighs shaking his head.

After 3 hours of waiting the doctor walks into the room holding a folder. “Okay Nessie results are in.”

“Can someone please tell what’s going on?” Her manager asks.

“The results on her ribs.” The doctor says pulling out the prints.

“You told me you were okay!” He says looking at her and Renesmee just smiles innocently. “Don’t give me that look!”

“Anyways look.” The doctor says turning the light on showing the images. “Before 3 broken and 4 bruised now…”

Her manager looks at the images then back at her. “Now all healed plus the bruises on your body are gone.”

“Then why do I still feel pain?” Renesmee asks sitting there looking at her feet.

“Because they’re still sore you still need to take it easy and work on breathing exercises.” He replies waving his hand. “Along with light stretches nothing to big.”

“See I really am better making me sit out of this promotion did help me.” Renesmee says jumping up smiling. “Well thank you doctor for everything.”

Renesmee claps her hands grabbing her bag. “Not so fast Nessie I mean it with still taking it easy.” The doctor says stopping her and she pouts folding her arms.

“Only for a week that’s it then you can go back to acting crazy.”

“Yay!” Renesmee jumps up spinning around clapping her hands. “Okay bye thank you.” She bows before running out the room.

“Uh thanks doctor for everything.” Renesmee says walking out the room. Her manager sighs bowing before following Renesmee.

“I’m free!” Renesmee shouts once she’s outside in the open. “Man I don’t want to go back to the dorm.”

“Come on lets go now.” Her manager says pushing her gently. Renesmee sighs following him.

May 10, 2019

“Okay what is it now hyung?” Sehun asks walking into the room. “You ask me to get everyone here?”

Kyungsoo looks up from his phone nodding. “Well we need to start part two of my plan.” He says getting up looking at him.

“You mean the part Jisoo came up with?” Jongin stays watching Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo reaches over and hits Jongin. “Oww!”

“Anyways I’ve heard the song already and it’s really good.” Kyungsoo says looking at them. “We just need to get people to stream it when it comes out along with the MV.”

“Jisoo said that the numbers dropped on the last album because Nessie wasn’t on it.” Sehun says and they all look at him.

“Wait what?” Junmyeon asks as he looks up from his phone. Sehun nod crouching down next to him.

“Yeah she said when Nessie sat out for the last album the number of sales dropped.” Sehun replies pulling up the MV. “Even the fans commented wanting to know where Nessie was.”

He speaks showing them and Junmyeon takes his phone looking at the comments. “Why wasn’t she there for this comeback?” Jongdae asks looking at the phone.

“Remember fight her and hyung got written off.” Baekhyun says handing Sehun back his phone. “It’s all apart of her plan.”

“Anyways we should help promote the upcoming album.” Kyungsoo says watching them.

“Okay how?” Jongdae asks.

“Through social media duh.” Chanyeol answers looking at Jongdae. “Just post about it; you have a YouTube channel you could do a cover of one of the songs.”

Jongin hums looking at Kyungsoo as they stand there. “Oh I’ll do a cover too.” Baekhyun says nodding his head.

“Hmm dance challenges are still pretty big.” Sehun says looking at them and they nod. “But Jisoo told me this is their hardest dance.”

“How is that possible?” Jongdae asks looking at him.

“Well she said Nessie came up with the dance then when she had to sit out Sora and ChaCha redid it.” Sehun replies folding his arms.

“Even with so many comebacks happening I really think they have a chance with this one.” Kyungsoo says looking down at his phone.

“Even though you won’t be here.” Jongin says watching the older male. Kyungsoo stops and looks over at him. Jongin looks away heading to the door. “I’m going to find out about this dance.”

He says leaving the room and the others just stand there looking at him then back at Kyungsoo. “What was that about?” Junmyeon asks looking at Kyungsoo.

“Maybe he’s upset that I’m enlisting early.” Kyungsoo replies putting his phone in his pocket.

“But we all said we were okay with it.” Baekhyun says folding his arms.

“Yeah I think he was just hiding his feelings.” Kyungsoo says before leaving. “I have work to do.”

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childofthemoon86 · 6 years

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@weekofhetalia Day 6: Mermaids/pirates

The Drowned Rose

Pairing: none Characters: America, China, Turkey, Estonia, Denmark, Prussia, England (mentioned). Rating: K+ Word count: 2445 Cross posted on FF.net Summary: A rumour of a lost pirate ship is all it takes to set a rag tag group of unlikely friends on the hunt for sunken treasure. But out in the deep blue sea, just what will they find? After all, no one really knows what just might live in the endless black…

“We’re close, I can feel it.” Alfred grins excitedly as he looks over the displays, watching the changing sonar graph for even the smallest object below. “You say that about every dive.” Spinning on his swivel stool, Al blinks up at the man leaning up against the cabin wall. Yao Wang, the supervisor and project manager for this little excursion, frowns down at him. “This time’s different,” Al insists, “it’s definitely here, it’s just gotta be.” “Humph, it better be, or this is coming out of your pay.” Yao huffs. This’ll be their sixth dive of the area, and Yao is far from pleased with their lack of progress. “Ah, lay off him.” Sadık calls as he comes in, “He’s got spirit, and out here that counts for more than you might think.” “Yeah!” Al proudly agrees, glad to have the backing of their lead historian. “None of that will matter if we don’t find anything.” Yao counters. “Just wait, you’ll see.” Al frowns, before the beep of the sonar grabs his attention. He spins his seat around, eagerly looking back to the graph. But, as a diver, Al’s no expert in reading the bright oranges and whites that form fuzzy shapes against the blue background, not that that stops him trying. Rather that job belongs to their navigator. “Is it the ship?!” Al cries at the strange block shape on the graph. Sitting at the other side of the console, Eduard leans over, only taking a second to scan the graph before deciding, “Could be a smaller wreck, but not the one we’re after. It’s far too small, and the depth is wrong.” Sagging at the false alarm, Al slumps a bit in his seat. “Chin up kid,” Sadık says, “if it’s out there, we’ll find it.” Turning to Eduard, he adds, “how much farther to our search zone?” “We should be entering it any minute now, right Mathias?” At hearing his name, the energetic blond up front gives a thumbs up, steering the boat out to the deep waters. “We should be over the drop riiiiight abouuuuut… now!” On cue, the sonar graph starts to change, showing the sudden increase in depth to the sea floor, and hopefully, the wreak they’re all looking for. “Look sharp boys, we’ll be heading down soon!” Gilbert shouts from the bow, getting the his and Al’s dive gear set up. “Now all we gotta do is cross our fingers.” Sadık grins, leaning over the controls to stare out at the open sea before them. X It all started with a rumour. As a salvage diver, Alfred makes his living recovering all sorts of lost or destroyed wreaks, but his favourites have always been sunken ships. There’s just something eerily beautiful about dropping down into waters so deep and dark, that only his flashlight can show him the way, to find the untouched remains of once grand seafarers. He’s been on hundreds of dives, and helped bring up everything from lost WW2 planes, to sea mines, to cargo containers. But ship wreaks have always had a special place in his heart. So when working on a dive in the Caribbean, and he over heard a rumour of a lost pirate ship, he just had to get in on it. Getting a team together was the easy part, he’s made more than a few crazy friends willing to go on a possible wild goose chase with him. Convincing Yao to dedicate the resources needed however, that was the hard part. He needed proof that this ship existed, and might still be out there. And who better to help him get it than his good friend Sadık? “A lost pirate ship huh?” The man parroted, quirking a brow at Al over his desk. “Yeah, you think it’s the real deal?” “Hmm, could be, plenty of pirates ran those parts in 15 to 1800’s. Know who’s it might be?” “Not a clue.” Al grins, “all I heard was it was an English ship, and apparently it had some sort of super important, stolen treasure on board when it sank.” Chuckling, Sadık shakes his head at the young man across from him, “Don’t they all?” But before Al can say anything more, he nods, “Alright, I’ll look into it.” And that was how Alfred and his rag tag team now find themselves searching the wide blue expanse far from the coast of the Caribbean. After several weeks of research, and a few rough guesses on location and time frame, Sadık came through, and with a bigger pitch to Yao than even Al could have hoped for. “I think we might be looking for the Blood Rose.” Sadık grins broadly, only to be met with blank stares from the rest of the group. “And what’s that?” Yao huffs. “Only the single most prolific pirate ship of the early 1600’s. Reported to have been responsible for sinking over 100 naval ships, both French and Spanish, committed upwards of 70 raids in more than 8 countries, and captained by one Arthur Ignatius Kirkland, a man arguably more blood thirsty than Red Beard himself.” Al, Gil and Mathias’s eyes all light up at the description, even Eduard seems intrigued, but Yao is a hard man to impress. “And?” He taps his foot impatiently, staring Sadık down. “Heh, always about the profit, right Yao?” Sadık smirks, “Well how’s this take your fancy?” Flipping open a rather old and tattered log book, he points to a page filled with writing. “This is a list of all the items stolen from a Spanish fleet transporting, among other things, silver and gold medallions from the New World back to Spain. And here we see it’s listed as having been attacked by an English ship. The date coincides with the last known sighting of the Blood Rose, before she mysteriously vanished eight days out to sea.” As Yao reads over the cursive script, the others can slowly see him being won over. “That’s a lot of gold.” He murmurs, blinking as he reads further down the page. He then frowns as something catches his eye. “Escalas de sirena? Mermaid scales, really?” he asks, pointing to the strangely circled item. Shrugging, Sadık gently closes the book. “All sailors believe at least some myths, why not Mermaids?” Choosing to ignore the strange item, Yao finally makes his decision. “Well what are you all just sanding around here for? Go pack, we’ve got a wreak to salvage.” X The beeping of the sonar brings Alfred out of his daydreaming to blink down at the screen. Lifting Al’s arm out the way, Eduard looks over the screen, before smiling. “Looks like we’re got a hit.” “Is it our ship?” Al asks, suddenly back to being full of energy. “Hmm, the size is right and it’s in the right place.” Eduard nods, adjusting the read out to get a better look, then turning to Al, “Only one way to find out.” “Sweet! Mathias, park us right here!” Al cries, jumping to his feet. “Way ahead of you!” The man laughs back, idling the engines. “Finally.” Yao sighs, finishing off his tea. Rushing to pull on his gear, Al hurries to join Gilbert on the stern. With oxygen tanks checked, wet suit snugly in place, and cameras at the ready, the pair waste no time in jumping in. Once off the boat, Gilbert leads the way down, following Eduard’s instructions to the suspected wreaks location. It’s an easy routine for both divers, but they also know they still have to be careful, anything could go wrong, and at these depths, pressure is their biggest danger. They continue on down, the dappled light from above quickly dying out as they encounter a shoal of fish being chased by dolphins. They both pause for a moment, Al turning his camera to the frenzy for a few shots of the rare sight, but time is against them here, so they carry on down, into the endless black below. A light mounted to their caps and one on their chest light the way, until finally, after a near twenty minute dive, they reach the seabed. All manner of fish and crustaceans scuttle away at their presence, Al even spots an octopus swim past, but none of that is what their here to find. Following the directions of the sonar, they swim onwards, keeping to the sea floor as they look for anything man-made to point them in the right direction. “You should be coming up on the structure now.” Eduard’s grainy voice crackles in Al’s ear, filling him with excitement as he hovers by Gil’s side. Then, finally, after weeks of searching, they find it. A huge man-of-war styled frigate sitting on it’s side, half resting upon a bed of rock and the centre of it’s large hull caved in. But they can’t be certain until they see the name. Not wasting a second, Al powers forward, heading for the broadside, where he know’s he’ll find what’s left of it’s name. While Al gets to work, Gil turns his camera to the wreak, transmitting the images back to their boat. “Holy shit.” He smirks, “Even if this isn’t our wreak, this is one hell of a find.” “It sure is.” Sadık’s voice crackles back in awe. “Gil!” Al shouts needlessly into his mask, “It’s her! It’s the Blood Rose, we found her!” Coming over to join Al, Gilbert dutifully films the uncovered name for the rest of the crew to see. In large fancy print, the mostly faded red letters spell out the ships name, even if it is half covered under coral and sea creatures. Though the ship has clearly seen better days, now mostly rotten at the bottom of the sea, it’s once grandeur is clear to imagine. But none of that interests Yao. “What are you two just floating about for?” The man snaps, crackling in their ears, “Get to work! I want to know everything this wreak has to offer.” Both divers roll their eyes at their boss’s demand, but they do as told anyway. This time it’s Al who takes the lead, carefully surveying the opening in the hull, before going in. Gilbert hovers close by, acting as Al’s early warning in case of danger. Who knows what’s made it’s home in here, sharks especially they have to watch out for. It takes some time, as they manoeuvre their way around broken beams and rotten floors, down to reach the cargo hold. It’s not like in the moves, where gold glints and shines back at them the second they’re in, rather they have to go looking if they want to find anything of value. In a wreak like this, the goods might not even be in the ship anymore, possibly having been lost in the sinking, now scattered across the seabed. If that’s the case, they’ll be lucky to find a single coin or two. Not to mention, Alfred’s least favourite part, all the skeletons. “Wah!” He jumps, flailing around as he comes face to face with a skull sitting beneath a beam. Laughing Gil swims past him, picking at the few remaining bits of cloth still covering the bones. “Kesesesese, never gets old.” “Oh shut up.” Al huffs, moving on. Seems they’ve found the crew, no doubt having been trying to save the ship from going down. But them all being in cargo hold is unusual. “Hey Gil, you see what I see?” “Hmm?” Looking over, Gil frowns at the sight before them. “If the ship had this much damage to it, why’d all the crew head here?” Dozens of skeletons clutter the very back of the hold, not where the damage is, but where a number of crates sit piled together. “If I had to guess,” Gil smirks, “I’d say they were trying to save whatever’s in those boxes.” Both divers know a jackpot when they see one, and, as much as Al hates skeletons, that doesn’t stop him from getting to work moving them out of the way. But unseen by the pair, a shadow watches from within the black, eyes trained on their every move. Tossing the bones to the side, they quickly uncover one of the crates, but it’s seized shut with years of rust and rot, making it impossible for the pair to open. Down here any way. Instead, testing the weight, and deeming it able to be moved, they make their decision. “Oxygen is getting low,” Gil sighs, “Mathias get ready for pick up, we’re coming back.” “And we got a present to boot!” Al laughs as the pair begin the long swim to the surface, crate carefully carried between them. “Good,” Yao crackles, “hurry back now.” “Will do.” Though they say that, surfacing is just as precarious as the rest of the dive, and both of them know they can’t rush it, not if they don’t want to get the bends. As they leave, the shadow trails after them from a safe distance, but it does not depart the ship, head tilting as it watches them take the box away, until both are nearly out of sight. Once gone, the shadow worms it’s way back through the ship, to bones scattered with little care. A strange whine escapes it at the sight, before gently reaching, it picks up a skull, holding it close in a strange hug as it moves to set it back atop one of the crates. By the time Al and Gil surface a short distance from the boat, both Sadık and Mathias are eagerly waiting at the stern for them. They swim over, lifting the box up to hand over first, before climbing on board. “Ahh…” Al sighs, flopping back across the floor the second he removes his tank. But he doesn’t lie about long, as Yao is quick to order everyone around. “Jones get up, your leaving a puddle. Beilschmidt I wan’t you ready to dive again as soon as possible. And Adnan, I-” “Want the crate open, yeah, yeah.” Sadık waves Yao off, doing his own inspection of the box first. “Aha!” He cries, “Look, there’s still a partial print of the Spanish navy on here. We’ve definitely found something stolen from them. While he gushes over the discovery, photographing the symbol for his records, Mathias returns from the cabin, looking a bit too happy to be wielding a crowbar. “Give me that.” Sadık laughs, “can’t have you destroying artefacts now.” Together the group gather around, all holding their breath as Sadık slips the bar in, and counts, “1, 2, 3!” Cracking the lid open, he hurriedly slides it back to reveal…

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